She smirks, clearly not believing me. “Close your eyes. I’ll kiss you, but you have to close your eyes.”
I study Wick, looking for the game, and damn if I can’t read her anymore. Her face is composed, but those eyes . . . they’re going light again. Lighter.
Okay, she’s a little freaked. That’s . . . well, it’s not good, but maybe we can work around it. I hold my breath, close my eyes, and keep my hands at my sides. They curl into fists when I feel her touch me, palms against my chest.
“Fuck,” I mutter. If I’m this tense and she’s just touching me—her lips graze my cheek and my eyes pop open.
She’s grinning. “Deal’s a deal, Griffin.”
I gape as she waltzes past me. I didn’t—she didn’t—oh, hell no. She is not going to turn me inside out and get away with it. I snake one arm around her waist, lifting her onto my shoulder.
“Hey!” Wick knees me in the chest and, when that doesn’t work, starts in with her fists. “Put me the hell down!”
Sure thing. I toss her in the pool.
“Motherfu—” She surfaces in an instant, pawing wet hair from her eyes. “You bastard!”
“Yeah, pretty much.” I offer her one hand. “Not such a nice guy after all, huh?”
She bats at me, kicking toward the pool’s edge. “Is that what this is about? Proving you’re a dick? How third-grade are you?”
“What can I say? You bring out the worst in me.” I extend my hand once more and, this time, she grabs on and hauls me face-first into the pool. I twist, trying not to land on her, but her hands have dug into my shirt and now my arms have pinned her to my chest. I force us to the surface and she gasps, her fingers gripping my hair.
I kiss her.
I press my palm to her low back, grinding us closer as Wick’s mouth opens to mine. I touch my tongue to her lower lip and she shivers, fingernails biting into my shoulders. Our tongues brush and I taste mint gum and . . . her.
Christ, I’ve wanted this for so long. I take my time, enjoying it . . . until her arms circle my neck and she’s urging me to her. The kiss hardens, deepens. My brain goes fuzzy and, even though we’re rammed into the pool wall, I feel like I’m free-falling.
Having Wick in my arms feels like the downhill swoop of a roller coaster and it does. Not. Stop.
I pant against her mouth, grinning. “Three years, Wicked. I waited three years and you were worth every damn second.”
Now she’s grinning and her lips curve so close to mine I taste her answer before she whispers, “Again.”