Off the Grid (Full Throttle, #1)

by K. Bromberg

But when we part, when we step back and our eyes meet, it’s obvious he’s as staggered by my kissing him as I am over the way the touch of his lips made me feel.

Nope. What I felt the first time definitely wasn’t a fluke. It was real—is real. The tingle, the ache, the sweet burn. All three are owning my body for a second time.

Or at least that’s what I think it is until I turn it over and see the bright blue DARE printed in fancy font across the top in bold letters. And then the following words written beneath: Find the woman least likely to be hit on and get her phone number.

It’s only once I shut the bathroom stall door that I sag against it and let the emotions hit me. Shame. Anger. Disbelief.

“They bet me that there was no way in hell I could get the prettiest woman in here to give me the time of day so . . . here I am. Trying to win that bet.” Well, he was right about one thing—trying to win a bet. And I was right too—that I was the one who looked the most gullible. The easiest mark picked so he could win his fucking dare.

“Save it.” I hold up my hand to stop him from speaking. “No need to explain to me why grown men think shit like this is funny, just like there’s no need for me to tell all your friends that your game is pitifully weak and your kissing skills are subpar.” Shock flashes through his eyes. “But hey, we all can’t be good at everything, right?” I say with a shrug and a fuck you smile. “Lose my number.”

“I wouldn’t have kissed you a second time if the card were true,” he blurts out.

I study him and wonder who this man is. Cocky one minute. Crass the next. Sweet the moment after. Curious constantly.

“Ignore him,” Wills says. “He’s an obnoxiously happy drunk.” And it’s then that he gets a closer look at me and his eyes shock open when he recognizes me from the track. Or the bar. He might be slow on at least one of them. “Holy shit. You’re—” “Mine,” Riggs says, shoving him playfully in the chest and stepping in between Wills and me. He lets out a big sigh as his gaze lands on my lips and then grins. “Hi again.”

“I told you. Curves are sexy. And yours?” He kisses his fingers. “Are chef’s kiss hot.” He groans. “Fucking loved having my hands on you.”