Page 53 of Match Me if You Can

Slowly, I draw my gaze up Violet’s legs, knowing by the shifting around me, my brothers are doing the same.

Slender ankles and calves bared to the world. Shapely thighs that are mostly hidden by the material of her skirt—except for the fact that it’s so skintight, I can imagine exactly what they would look like if she were naked.

Something I would know for certain if this was real and I actually had a chance to experience some of her fire while we were both naked and horizontal.

My mom giggles and my eyes flick to her, see that she’s in love.

Fuck.

I don’t know if that’s good or bad.

Probably bad.

Because there’s nothing real between Violet and me.

“The boys like to mess around,” my mom says.

What she means is that we like to find ways to appropriately take out our frustrations on each other.

And I don’t know if it’s the way Violet is staring at me—like she sees me as nothing but a dumb, violent idiot—and I want to push her buttons, or if it’s that tight bun and skirt of hers. Or, worse, if it’s because the fucked-up part inside me, the one that implodes my life on the regular, wants her to stay, wants her close.

Wants to have an excuse to touch her.

All I do know is that when my mom says, “We should leave them to their manly stuff. I have a bottle of wine in the fridge,” I can’t stop myself from interjecting.

“Or,” I say, “you could play with us.”

My brothers and dad freeze in the middle of climbing up to their feet, and normally all five of them gaping at me like I’ve lost my fucking mind would be hilarious.

If only I wasn’t holding my breath, waiting to see what this woman who’s full of contradictions will say next.

And she doesn’t fail to show me another side of her.

This times it’s the sex kitten.

She lifts one foot, stretching the material of her skirt even more tightly across her thighs, so tightly that my cock twitches.

Or maybe that’s the result of her I’ve-got-a-secret smile that follows.

Or maybe it’s her husky voice—soft like I’ve just been inside her and felt the tight clasp of her pleasure around my dick—when she says, “I don’t think I’m wearing the right shoes, honey.”

Honey.

God, I like that.

Almost as much as I like the way the straps of her sandals wind around her ankles, crisscrossing over her calves, stopping just south of her knees.

Lex jerks, and I tear my gaze from the temptation known as Violet Lamour to see that he’s shifted…

Christ, so that Violet can’t see that my brother, who’s barely out of his teenage years and clearly needs to learn some fucking self-control, has a boner.

I shove him, send him toppling face first into the grass, then slip out from between my siblings, push away from my dad, and find my feet.

But even as I reach for her, Noble’s there, slinging an arm around her shoulders, drawing her into his side. “Come on now, Vi,” he cajoles. “There’s no singularly more powerful bonding experience than an Ambrose Family Football Game.”

“I don’t really want to break ankle.” She winks at him. “Or a heel. They’re expensive.”

“This is a good point,” he says, glancing down at her in a way that makes me want to commit murder. “They’re nice ankles.” He winks back. “And really nice shoes.”