Spring Fling (Dating Season Book 1) Laurelin Paige (best ereader for graphic novels .TXT) 📖

finally finishes his meal and leans in. “Is the popcorn a deal breaker?”

I laugh, but maybe. “You like what you like.”

“Do you like me more than kettle corn?”

What kind of question is this? “Are you asking me to give up kettle corn?”

He chuckles. “No, but I think I could satisfy you more than kettle corn.”

Finn has thrown down the gauntlet and I don’t know what to say back. I let the blush speak for itself, as recommended. Plus, the waitress arrives to refill our lemon water. By the time she leaves, it’s much too late to go back to his comment with something flirtatious.

On the ride home, we discuss music, and he plays his favorite songs. I never would’ve pegged him for classical. Mozart and Beethoven fill the cabin and whoa, I’m turned on as his fingers dance across an imaginary piano.

As far as the seat belt will allow, I lean toward him, chin in hand on the armrest. “Do you play piano?”

“A little.”

Well, that’s enough for me. The soft light of the moon shades him in artistic shadows, and I could almost see a vision of me preferring him over kettle corn.

He pulls into my driveway and parks.

“So, you think you’ll come see me compete?”

“I don’t know. What’s in it for me?” He opens and closes his mouth a couple times, and I realize he doesn’t know I’m flirting. “Like…do I get to see your abs?”

“Oh.” Without breaking eye contact, he lifts his shirt in a slow tease, and holy wow, he is ripped. I’ve never seen this in real life. I tentatively touch the etches on his stomach. They feel…huh. So weird. Like iron encased in velvet.

“You could have your own, you know.”

His raspy voice tears my gaze from his stomach. “Oh, I don’t think…”

“I could be your trainer.” He grazes his teeth along his lower lip, and maybe this fitness talk is foreplay.

“Oh, yeah? You’d…spot me?” I know very few workout innuendos.

“I’d spot you a mile away.”

With a groan, his hand grasps my neck, pulling me closer. And then I get my kiss. Our tongues collide and somehow I’m straddling his lap. His massive hard-on rocks into me.

“Fuck, Chloe. I want to rip your dress off right now.”

I want that too. Especially when he squeezes my nipple through the thin material.

“Mm. You like that?”

“Yeah.”

Fingertips glide up my thighs and under my dress. He palms my ass, grinding me against him. This was a brilliant wardrobe choice. The steel outline of his dick teases my clit through the thin fabric of panties. I press down and circle my hips. Finn moans, easing me back and forth. If he keeps this up, I’m going to come. It’s been so long. He’s so long.

He nips and bites his way down my neck, and as much as I don’t want to, I somehow find the strength to say the words recommended by the dating gurus of the interweb: “We should stop.”

He halts immediately, but his chest rises and falls in ragged movements. “Sorry. I couldn’t control myself.”

“No, it’s okay.” I untangle myself and return to the passenger side.

He rakes a hand through his hair, adjusts himself, and walks me to the door. We kiss again, long and slow, but I don’t invite him in.

When I climb into bed, I can’t help but think, maybe Charlotte was right about the opposite theory after all. Only for a millisecond did I imagine he was Austin.

Five

Studies show that couples who sweat together, stay together. I should be searching for a new place right now. Instead, I’m standing in the SuperFit gym, in my super uncomfortable Spanx-style leggings, staring at a list of exercises scrawled on a chalkboard, wondering if it’s too late to fake sick.

You can’t tell me a man didn’t come up with these names—burpees, snatch, wall balls, clean jerks? None of which I’m certain I can complete, much less the required number.

When Finn invited me here, I was still riding the high of our make-out session. Of course, anyone making out with Finn’s abs would have made this mistake. Surely I can do something on this list. I’m in reasonable shape. There’s a decent amount of lifting and whatnot I do at my job. The clay slabs are five pounds apiece, so I can’t possibly embarrass myself too much.

“Chloe?” a feminine voice says from behind me.

I turn to see Austin’s girlfriend.

“Lucy, hi.” She’s not dressed for a workout, unless she does so in trousers and heels. “What are you doing here?”

“I had a meeting with the owner to discuss PR for the gym. He’d like to franchise it.”

Lucy is only five years older than me, yet I feel she’s ten years ahead as far as accomplishing life goals. No wonder Austin is with her. She’s already a vice president. I just have vices.

“I didn’t know you work out at SuperFit,” she adds.

“Well, I don’t. My guy friend works here and is giving me a training session today.”

Her blue eyes widen. “Your guy friend? Guy friend as in boyfriend?”

“No, he’s not my boyfriend. Just kind of dating. It’s still really new.”

“Are you exclusive?”

Well, hm. That’s a great question. It hadn’t crossed my mind whether Finn is handing out rocks to other women. Are people on dating apps monogamous once you go on more than one date? The pro-tip article said couples take up to eight dates to declare themselves exclusive. I kind of figured there was an honor system here, but now I don’t know.

“It’s still really new,” I repeat.

This is all so strange to discuss with Lucy. We barely know each other. Finn and I barely know each other.

Think of the devil and he’ll arrive. Finn saves me from further inquisition. “Hey, you.”

He snakes an arm around my waist and pulls me flush for a peck on the lips. Lucy handles his lack of PDA restraint as if he just shook my hand. Of course, Austin does use handcuffs, so this is probably quite tame on her