Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 86422 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 432(@200wpm)___ 346(@250wpm)___ 288(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 86422 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 432(@200wpm)___ 346(@250wpm)___ 288(@300wpm)
I don’t think, I just act. I dip down and brush my lips over hers. Fireworks explode in my brain at the simple, gentle contact. Fee exhales a quiet gasp, and her fingers close around the lapel of my coat, fisting the fabric to keep me close. So I kiss her again.
This time she whimpers, and that one pretty sound shatters my frayed restraint. I slant my mouth over hers, desperate to taste more of her. She parts for me, hand curving around the back of my neck, the other still fisting my jacket. Our tongues slide against each other, and I groan into her mouth. I want more of this, of her, of the taste of watermelon gum and her velvet tongue tangling with mine.
I wrap my free arm around her waist and pull her tight against me as I explore her mouth. Fee’s hands move to my hair, and her nails drag down the back of my neck. I deepen the kiss, suddenly ravenous.
“Maybe try doing that behind a closed door!” some guy calls out.
Which is the moment I realize I’ve been trying to climb inside Fee’s mouth outside her apartment and break the kiss.
“Holy shit. Is that Mac Meyers?” a girl mutters as she passes.
“Okay, well, night night!” Fee hastily retreats into her apartment, leaving me to deal with the fangirls while also battling an epic hard-on.
But that first kiss is totally worth the case of blue balls.
CHAPTER 14
FEE
“Crap! Crappity, crap, crap!”
“What’s wrong?”
I startle at the sound of Mac’s deep voice behind me.
Cammie makes room for him to join us. I haven’t seen Mac since we kissed. Yesterday he had hockey practice and a study group for one of his classes, and I had an art project to work on. I spent eight hours in the studio and only came out because my stomach was complaining so loudly it sounded like a lamenting yeti lived in there. Which means Mac and I have not talked about the kiss.
“My sister has a big game in less than an hour and the bus takes forever to get there.” I can Uber, but I try to reserve that for emergencies, and a trip will be expensive this time of day.
“I’ll take you,” Mac offers before any of my friends can offer their cars.
“I can call a ride,” I hedge. I’m anxious about being alone with Mac. What if he wants to talk about what happened? We didn’t discuss how long this situation was going to last. What if he’s only offering so we can have some privacy and he plans to fake dump me?
I’m already spiraling.
“My car is in the lot behind this building. We can be on the way in two.”
“Sounds like your problem is solved,” Cammie smiles serenely.
“Should we go?” Mac looks at me expectantly.
“Yeah. Yes. Let’s do it.”
A few minutes later I’m sitting in the passenger seat of Mac’s car, huffing his cologne, palms damp, and mouth dry. “Thanks for driving me.”
“You came with me to my hockey gala, and you’ve been helping me on the ice, so I’m happy to return the favor,” he replies.
I tell my brain not to read into that. The toe-curling good-night kiss from the gala two nights ago could be chalked up to date-night vibes.
It was just a kiss.
An amazing kiss.
Probably the best kiss of my life. I haven’t stopped thinking about it.
Three times I try to summon the courage to just say something, but I lose my nerve, afraid I’m setting myself up for a trip down Languishing Road, where I could drive off a cliff into a pit of longing and unrequited desire.
When we reach the arena, I expect Mac to drop me off the at the door, but he finds a parking spot instead. “You don’t have to come to Callie’s game with me.”
“I don’t mind.” He smiles and hops out of the car.
I scramble to do the same, but he has long legs and I’m discombobulated, so I’ve just finished unbuckling my seat belt when he opens the passenger door for me.
“Thanks.”
“No problem.”
He’s all dimpled smiles and it does nothing to help the roll in my stomach, but at least I’m no longer huffing his distilled cologne.
I haven’t told my sister about my boyfriend because of the fake part. I’m still trying to figure out how to handle this when we reach the rink. The game has just started, and I scan the seats, Lexi and Roman are near center ice with little Ariel bouncing around between them, Connor Grace, a Toronto Terror player, and his wife, Mildred, who everyone calls Dred, with them.
I issue a warning, “So Roman’s dad vibes are a bit extra.”
Mac’s eyebrows pull together. “You mean Forrest-Hammer?”
“Yeah.”
“Wait.” Mac freezes mid-stride. “He’s here?”
“Yeah.” Empathy replaces anxiety at his suddenly nervous expression. “Roman tries to make all her games. He’s like a…pseudo dad for Callie.” It’s the best way I can explain it. Callie is almost finished with middle school, and Roman is old enough to be our dad, which is how she sees him.