Page 68 of Scoring Lessons

I loved it.

What I loved even more? Matching her energy.

“Of course,” I replied easily.

“Because that’s what a man who’s trying to court me should do?” she mocked.

“Maybe.” My shrug was casual. “But also”—the corners of my mouth turned up into a soft grin—“I like flirting with you.”

Her throat bobbed, and that turned my grin triumphant. “Careful, player.” She tried to sound casual, but I knew it was all part of her bravado.

“Playing the game fair and square, Livvie girl.” I winked. “You scared?”

Her cheeks flushed, turning this cherry-blush color that quickly spread to her chest, even though she looked like she was trying her damn hardest to keep her cool. “No. I just hate it. It’s weird when you flirt with me.” She breathed out the words.

“I don’t know.” I let out a small sigh, trying to keep the amusement that wanted to slip through my voice in check. “Your body is telling me something different.”

She straightened her shoulders as she crossed her arms, like the way she stood was going to put an invisible barrier between us. “I’m going to go browse now.”

I stifled a laugh as I followed her through the bookstore aisles, giving her the space to get lost among the shelves and take full advantage of the little time she had.

Her hair rested against her hips in light waves, and the overhead lights followed every strand of fine hair, making it shine. Her dress was burgundy with some sort of delicate pink floral print. It was the opposite of what she usually wore, and yet…I was obsessed. The neckline gave her the perfect amount of cleavage, and I had the sudden urge to run my lips across it, to drop featherlight kisses until she was begging for more. The high front slit that exposed her tattooed thigh made my pulse spike as arousal tried to pool in my lower belly. Her legs were long, and her skin was a milky color, like porcelain kissed by moonlight. Freckled shoulders. Chest. Arms. Like a million stars colliding and giving me a road map to her body. My eyes flicked to her right arm. All the ink she carried told a story I was dying to know more about. There were parts of Olivia that were still a mystery, every layer probably more complicated than the last, but I was eager to discover every single one.

“You ready?” I asked once the twenty minutes were up.

“How am I supposed to choose? Also, I didn’t bring a suitcase. How am I getting these books back to Chicago? At this rate, we’ll have to get another bookshelf for your place!”

“Our place.”

She settled me with an exasperated look. I wanted nothing more than to wipe it off by colliding our mouths together. Like I needed to taste the defiance off her lips just to be able to breathe again.

“Don’t worry about the logistics, and do not hold back,” was the last thing I said before starting the timer.

But in true Olivia fashion, she was holding back.

That was who she was to her very core—impossibly stubborn. Beautifully frustrating. While she was distracted grabbing books, I was picking up the ones she’d touched and studied before. Once the time was up, the basket I carried was holding on by a thread.

When I placed it on the checkout counter, Olivia’s eyes bulged in shock.

“Did I grab that many? There’s no way.”

I lifted my shoulder nonchalantly. “We’re definitely going to need an extra bookshelf for our place now.”

When she didn’t try to fight me on the fact I’d said our place, warmth spread through me like wildfire.

A good thirty minutes and four—very heavy—bags later, we stepped outside.

The sun was still bright, and the Florida breeze had the perfect amount of warmth. A rare day where the Sunshine State wasn’t trying to work humidity against us.

“I can help you carry some,” she said as she tried to grab a bag from me.

“Please. What kind of man would let you do that during a date?”

“I’m not a damsel in distress.” When her eyes flicked upward, I tried to fight a smile, but miserably failed.

“I know,” I drawled. “But I want to do this.” I nodded at an Italian restaurant on the other side of the street. It was dainty, with small bistro tables and lights that hung between palm trees. “You hungry?”

Her natural frown turned into a bright smile. “For pasta? Always.”