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“Water skiing isn’t hard. I’m sure I could teach you.”

Violet snorts. “Yeah. I can barely get the hang of yoga, and you want to strap boards to my feet and drag me across water?”

“You make it sound dangerous.”

“All sports are dangerous. Especially hockey.”

Once inside, I hang up her coat. Her dress is killing me. It’s one of those wrap things with a tie at the waist. I try not to stare; it makes her tits look fantastic. I don’t want her to think the only reason I invited her here is for sex. I haven’t spent the past month trying to get her to go out with me to screw it up. However, I can appreciate her stunning cleavage.

To avoid jumping her immediately, I give her a tour of my house. I don’t take her upstairs, seeing as my bedroom would be a bad place to end up right now. I show her the main floor, then the game room in the basement. It’s as far from my bedroom as we can get.

“You’re such a dude.” Violet snort-laughs, covering her mouth with her hand.

Maybe the eighty-inch flat screen, movie style recliners, gaming consoles, and accompanying chairs are a bit much. “I don’t get a lot of down time, but when I do, I like to play.”

“I’m not making fun. This is great. Buck would be in heaven here. So would Sidney.” Violet checks out my wall of trophies.

I hope they don’t make me look like an arrogant ass. I worked hard for them; I’m proud of my accomplishments. My figure skating trophies—I have a lot of those, too—are all at my mother’s house in my childhood bedroom.

“You don’t need to look at those.”

I stand behind her, admiring her ass. It really is nice. Soft. Plush. Good for grabbing. I’d like to feel that curve against my dick again. Later. Maybe.

Violet turns around, her tone teasing. “Yeah, I’m sure you have them all out here so people ignore them.”

“They work with the room, don’t they?”

“They’re impressive. I only ever won the participation ribbon on Track and Field Day. If I had these, I’d highlight them with a flashing neon arrow. In my personal opinion, you’re understating your awesomeness.”

“You don’t think flashing neon is too overt?”

“Not even a little.” She scans the room, pausing at the posters hung on the wall. “Wow! Look at all those ads. Ohhh. You’ve even done one for Tim Horton’s. I finished that tin in like a week.”

“I must look like a narcissist, eh?” I rub the back of my neck, more uncomfortable about these than I am the trophies.

She glances over her shoulder. “Are any of these hanging in your bedroom?”

“Uh. No.”

“Not even the milk ad?”

I grin. “Not even the milk advertisement.”

“Then you’re not a narcissist as far as I can tell. By the way, if you happen to have a spare copy of the milk ad lying around and you weren’t sure what do to with it, I’d be happy to take it off your hands.”

“I might be able to get you a copy.”

She gestures to the posters. “Do you have to do a lot of these?”

“It depends on the season. We’re doing well this year, so there’s more demand. They’re good for exposure. I’ve had some interest from some big campaigns recently, so we’ll see what happens.”

“What kind of campaigns?”

“Sports companies. It’s something I’ve been working toward.”

“I hope you get it, then.” She moves away from the posters. “You have an air hockey table! Sidney has one. Buck used to try and hustle me all the time.” She claps excitedly. “Let’s play!”

“No one plays air hockey here without putting something at stake.”

“You mean a bet? I’m gonna warn you, I’m good.” Violet taps her fingers on the lip of the table. “I beat Buck all the time.”

I suppress a smirk. “Oh? In that case, if I win, I get to take you out again after this series of away games.”

This is far from fair; there’s no way Violet will win. But I want something beyond the glory of beating a woman who reads during hockey games and refers to the penalty box as the “time-out box thingy.”

Violet blushes. “And if I win, I get to take the cool car in your garage for a ride.”

At first I think she’s joking. Violet has no idea what my car is worth or the time and energy spent having it painstakingly restored. I’m not worried. I’m going to wipe the floor with Violet’s ass. Well, I’d like to do something to Violet’s ass—maybe while she’s on the floor. In the context of the game, I’m going to win.

“You’re on.” I reach across the table to shake on it.

Violet’s smile is pure calculated innocence as she slips her hand into mine and yanks, pulling me forward unexpectedly. Her grin becomes a sneer, her eyes narrowing with something like malice.

“Be prepared to have your balls handed to you, Waters.”

“You think so, eh?”

This is going to be fun. I remove my tie and toss it on the chair in the corner. Next I unbutton my shirt and shrug out of it.

“Is this strip air hockey?” Her eyes drop to my chest. All distractions are good distractions if they work in my favor.

“No. I’m just getting comfortable.” My T-shirt is less constrictive than a button-down.

Violet takes a ready stance. The deep V of her dress gapes slightly, and the luscious swell of her breasts press together to create amazing cleavage. I’d love to fuck her tits—dammit, now I’m distracted.

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