“Babe, this isn’t a competition.” I level him with a knowing stare. “It is. You always make it one.” “You do realize you’re the competitive one. I’m just here, going at a leisurely pace. Just enjoying the view.” “What view?” He shrugs, green eyes falling to my chest. My mouth falls open. That bastard. His grin is Disney villain–worthy. “The faster I went, the faster you’d go, and the higher they’d bounce . . .” I pretend to punch him in the chest, flustered. “You’re diabolical.” He grabs my wrist and pulls me flush to him, the heat of our bodies melding together. He gives me a chaste peck on
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