Page 51 of Perfect Pact

Chapter 10

Beth

IfellvictimtoDusty Jacob’s charm, and now I’m spending the day with him as if we haven’t been at each other’s throats since he came to town.

This is what I was trying to avoid. Being with someone, letting them see me, who I really am. I did that before—and look how that turned out. An empty bank account and a mountain of debt.

Dusty, though…doesn’t need anything from me. Just my time. And he has it.

“Penny for your thoughts?” Dusty pulls me away from over analyzing my love life.

Love life?

Do I even have one? Is this what that is…love?

No way.

I may have given into temptation, but this isn’t love. It’s impossible to fall for someone that hard so fast. This is just me watching a movie with guy who’s funny, charming, and incredibly hot.

“Okay, you win—a quarter.” Dusty brushes my hair away from my face as we sit side by side on the couch.

I tilt my head up, and the most beautiful blue eyes I’ve ever seen lock on mine. Can men have beautiful eyes? Dusty does. And they are homed in on me. Gone is his signature smirk. In its place is something different. I don’t know what it is. Concern? Content? Satisfaction? I’m not really sure, but whatever it is, I know it’s because of me.

Here you go again…

“Fine. A dollar.”

“Now you’re getting somewhere.” I lean my head on his chest as he wraps his arm around my shoulder. “I was just thinking this is much better than the hose incident.”

“Really?”

“Yeah—” I glance up at him. “I hate wet clothes.”

“I kind of liked it. But I agree. Clothes should be optional next time.” Back is the sexy smile.

“Dusty!” I smack his chest.

“I mean, it wouldn’t be the worst time.” He reaches for me and tickles my side.

“Stop!” I wiggle around. “I don’t like to be tickled.

“Hmmm?” He shifts in his seat, leaning his back on the arm of the couch.

I sit up.

“I think you’re full of shit.”

“Nope. I hate it.” I stand firm.

“I bet I can find a place.” Dusty walks his fingers up my bare thigh, and my eyes follow.

“You think?”

He moves his way to the opening of my shorts. If he wanted to tickle me there, I wouldn’t complain.

“I do.” He dips his fingers inside my cotton shorts. He doesn’t move any further, and I don’t ask. I just wait for him to make the first move. “But since you don’t like to be tickled, I’ll stop.” And just as I felt his finger graze over the lace, his touch was gone. I wish it back. I wish I were bold enough to tell him not to stop.

I groan.