Page 87 of Under Pressure

I lean in and run my nose along the back of her ear. “Do you want my prizes for yourself?”

She shivers, sucking in a breath. “No.”

“Really? Because it sounds like you do.”

“Maybe I just don’t want to listen to your endless bragging tonight.”

I drop my voice to a low murmur, teeth ghosting the edge of her earlobe. “I’ll let you shut me up, then. You can even choose how you want to do that.”

“You’re shameless.”

Gliding my hand higher up her leg, I squeeze the softness I find. “For you, I’m just about everything.”

“Look at them, Ruthie. Have you ever seen a man so enamoured?” Rox sighs.

“Shhh. You’ll distract them.”

Quinn’s lips rise when she turns her head and drops her hand to cover mine, not to pull it away, but to hold it in place. “How long do you think they’ll last before they interrupt?”

“At least another minute.”

She hums, our lips only a hair apart.

“Want to give them something to gossip about? We’re here to put on an act, aren’t we?”

Her pupils expand. “We are.”

“Don’t slap me.”

And then I’m kissing her.

I keep it light and more romantic than feral, even if that’s not a choice my dick agrees with. I ignore the way it aches in my jeans and cup the side of her face, simply holding it in my palm. The way her skin heats in response makes mine do the same. It’s intoxicating knowing that I can pull this reaction out of her.

A moment later, I force myself to pull back and run my thumb across her cheekbone before releasing her entirely. She slowly opens her eyes as I return my hand to her thigh and decide right then that I’m not removing it for the rest of the night.

Once Quinn recovers, she reaches for her dabber and uses it to point to the table at the front of the hall. Without so much as looking at the women at our table, she speaks firmly enough to make it clear she’s trying to distract herself and everyone here from what just happened.

Or maybe the way she didn’t want our kiss to end. If she’s feeling the way I am, then she’s already thinking about when we’ll be doing it again.

“We have another game to play, don’t we?” she asks firmly.

I follow her lead. “Are you sure you want to lose again?”

Ruthie laughs, the cheerful sound relaxing Quinn. “How many times have you played, Beck?”

“I’ve been going with my grandma for . . . five years now? I’m actually surprised we’ve never come here before.”

“Well, the next time you get together, you’re more than welcome to join us. I’d love to meet her. Have you met his family, Quinn?”

If she had water in her mouth, it would be spraying across the table. Her quick cough doesn’t go unnoticed by anyone here, but we pretend otherwise as she shakes her head.

“It’s still really early for that.”

“Now, what did I say about timelines?” Ruthie asks her.

“This isn’t the same.”

“Isn’t it?” The older woman looks to me now, her smile encouraging. “If you wait for the right time to do anything in life, you risk never finding one. Follow your heart, not some predetermined schedule of how things should go.”