The Matchmaker's Playbook

“Wow.” She exhaled loudly. “Thanks.”


“So . . .” I ran my fingers up and down her arm. It was instinctual; I couldn’t keep my hands to myself and didn’t want to. She was wearing a loose pink racerback tank top and a pair of spandex shorts that showed off a good chunk of her curvy ass and nice legs. “What’s on your mind?”

“Do you ever . . . ?” She tensed a bit then, as if telling herself to relax, and leaned into me. “Do you ever think that what you thought you wanted isn’t actually what you want anymore?”

“You mean . . . like you’ve lived your whole life in pursuit of one goal, and suddenly the goal changes?”

She jerked away from me and stared at me directly in the eyes. “Yes, that’s exactly what I mean.”

I sat up a bit. “Blake, that’s life.”

“But”—she ran her hands through her hair and retied it back into a low ponytail—“it just seems too wishy-washy, to go from one thing to another.”

“That’s part of what college is for.” I frowned. “Discovering yourself . . . Realizing that, hey, maybe wearing Adidas flip-flops from 1992 isn’t as cool as I originally thought.” I smiled.

Blake burst out laughing. “They aren’t mine, you jerk.”

“So you stole a stranger’s ugly flip-flops and decided, Hey, let’s bring these suckers back.”

She scrunched up her nose. It was freaking adorable. “Not really. They used to be my brother’s, and . . . after he died, I don’t know . . . I just . . . wanted to be close to him.”

“So you raided his closet?”

“Everything smelled like him.” She glanced away, her face distant. “It was comforting.”

“Until you had to wash them.”

She burst out laughing again. “Until my dad forced me to wash them, yes. It’s only been two years. I still miss him.”

“How’d he die?”

“Car accident.” She ducked back under my arm. “Drunk driver. The usual. Used to piss me off talking about it, but when I started wearing his clothes, it almost felt like this invisible armor.”

“I hate to break it to you, sweet cheeks, but those shoes are anything but invisible.”

A pillow flew at my face.

“Hey,” I yelled as she tried to get up and escape from me. “Oh no you don’t.” I grabbed her by the waist and tossed her back onto the couch, then hovered over her.

“Stop!” She flailed underneath me, laughing her ass off. “You can’t make me stay!”

I quickly leaned down and licked her cheek. “Sorry to break it to you, but if you lick it, it’s yours.”

Her laughter faded.

“Is that so?”

I nodded seriously. “First rule of kindergarten. Didn’t you listen in class?”

“Must have missed that lesson.”

I nodded. “It’s right up there with fire safety.”

She gripped my head with both of her hands and pulled. Our foreheads nearly touched. Breathing suddenly became extremely difficult as her eyes stared down my lips. And then very slowly, she turned my head and licked up my cheek.

Every single part of my body felt that lick.

And wanted to feel it a second time.

I closed my eyes and shuddered. “Thought I told you not to play a player?”

“Just following your rules.”

“Sometimes”—I cupped her cheek with my hand—“I really hate my rules.”

She swallowed. “Me too.”

I wasn’t sure who did it first, me or her, but suddenly we were kissing, or more importantly, I was straddling her, and kissing the shit out of her while she hooked her legs around my body and jerked me against her.

It was heaven.

It was hell.

Moaning, we both tumbled to the floor, her on top, then me, then her, then me.

She didn’t kiss like she was innocent. She kissed like her mouth was starving for mine. And kissing her back was like finally finding the one girl I wanted to kiss, possibly even more than screw.

Because her lips felt so damn good that releasing them to take off her clothes would have been a crime.

Our tongues tangled as she ran her hands through my hair. I moved to her bra, and she kicked off her flip-flops, nearly hitting me in the head.

“Easy, tiger,” I mumbled against her mouth.

She laughed, then kissed me harder, our teeth nearly knocking together as I deepened the kiss. Doubt became a fire alarm clamoring in my head, but I ruthlessly hammered it away, desperate for more of Blake. Her lips moved beneath mine—hot, wet, welcoming, and so demanding that she was nearly sending me over the edge.

The front door closed.

We stopped kissing.

But we didn’t pull apart.

I knew there wouldn’t be time.

“Whoa.” Lex surveyed the situation. “Either he drugged you, or—”

“Training,” I blurted, sharing a look with Blake. “We’re setting up a date night for her and David. He’s moving through the stages so fast I imagine he’ll try something during the movie.”

Blake’s body went rigid, and she averted her eyes from mine, then gave Lex a forced smile. “I think I got it.”

With a shove, she had me on my ass and was grabbing her phone and purse.