Page 249 of Faking the Goal

He's gotten me off a couple more times since then, and whatever awkwardness should probably come with casually adding orgasms to our relationship disappeared embarrassingly fast. At this point, all it takes is one look held a little too long or Kentaro grabbing me with a little more intention than usual, and somehow we always end up in his bed again, with his head between my legs and me screaming his name and begging him not to stop.

And afterward, instead of freaking out about what the hell we're doing, we just... go back to being us. Like this has somehow become another completely normal thing we do together.

Which is probably something I should examine more closely.

Preferably another day.

Because the second I step inside and the bass rattles straight through my ribs, something in me wakes up.

God, I missed this.

I missed music loud enough to make thinking impossible. I missed getting dressed up for absolutely no reason beyond wanting to look hot. I missed dancing until my legs hurt and drinking something fruity enough to disguise the fact that it could probably strip paint.

Apparently, the guys have been trying to drag Kentaro out with them for weeks with absolutely no success. Which shouldn't surprise anyone. My fake boyfriend considers a successful Saturday night one where nobody bothers him and he gets to be in bed at a reasonable hour.

Tonight, however, his teammates finally discovered his one glaring weakness.

Me.

"Taylor wants to go," Liam had announced earlier, approximately thirty seconds after learning that I did, in fact, desperately want to go.

Five pairs of eyes immediately turned toward Kentaro.

He looked at me.

I gave him my sweetest smile.

He sighed.

And that was pretty much the end of the discussion.

So here I am, fulfilling my very serious responsibilities as Kentaro Azuma's girlfriend by accompanying him and the rest of the Warriors on a night out.

Such sacrifice.

I spotted Claire maybe ten minutes after we arrived, already here with some friends of her own, and the second she saw me, she practically kidnapped me from the guys' table and hauled me onto the dance floor.

I didn't exactly resist.

Now we're somewhere in the middle of the crowd, several songs and two drinks later, dancing like I haven't spent the last few weeks becoming alarmingly domesticated.

Every so often, I glance back toward the guys.

The twins are talking to a couple of girls near the booth. Cody is saying something to Reese that has Reese laughing into his drink.

And Kentaro...

Kentaro is watching me.

Of course he is.

He's leaning against the edge of the booth with a drink in one hand, listening to whatever his other teammate is saying beside him, but his eyes keep finding me through the crowd.

Even when I turn away, I can practically feel them.

He's been doing that a lot lately. Watching me. Keeping track of where I am whenever we're out, his attention finding me even when he's supposed to be focused on something else. And since that night, there's been something different about the way he looks at me too. Something heavier. More openly possessive. Like now that he knows what it's like to have me, some part of him doesn't particularly enjoy sharing my attention.

I probably shouldn't like it.