Page 16

savannah

If I didn’t want to kiss his friend so badly, I would be making out with Maverick as a thank you for interrupting whatever that was.

“Excuse me, sorry.” I push and squeeze past groups of people in search of Chloe. Desperation claws at my insides, begging me to get the fuck of here.

Alexa, play Deja Vu.

For the second time, I’ve found myself absolutely out of my mind when it comes to Noah—and for the second time—I’ve run away from him like my ass is on fire.

With no sign of Chloe, I scan for the next best thing. A bathroom. Or a closet. Honestly, I’d take a mouse hole in the wall if I could fit in one at this point.

I take my chances halfway up the carpeted stairs, hoping the vantage point will help me find what I’m looking for.

To my horror, a full head of dark hair comes barreling into the room, his eyes scanning the crowd.

I decide that this house doesn’t seem like it belongs to the type of guys who would get mad over someone going up their stairs.

I book my ass to the top, knock on the first door I see, and when no one answers—I peek inside and find a surprisingly clean bathroom.

Exposed brick walls, a raised, white sink, and a large, wooden vanity.

It definitely doesn’t match the rest of the house, but it’s a quiet room—and right now, that’s my only requirement.

I dig both palms into my eyes, inhaling deeply in hopes of dousing the flames that have sparked in my stomach. The ghost of his tongue rolling over my sensitive skin sends a shiver up my spine and I stutter on my next breath.

Breathe, Savannah. He’s hot. So what?

I’m not stupid enough to deny the invisible web of attraction between us, but I’m smart enough to ignore it.

After a few deep breaths, I peel myself from the door, dragging myself to stand in front of the mirror.

I expect my reflection to be somewhat dizzy or disoriented, but with the much-needed space between us, I no longer feel drunk on the scent of him or his overwhelming presence.

I know who he is, and I have to actively choose to remember why it’s never going to happen.

A sturdy knock on the door makes me jump. I steal one last breath and reach for the handle, ready to leave my quiet safe space.

“It’s me,” a gravelly voice sounds from the other side of the door, and I rip my hand away in response. “Open the door, Savvy.”

My lids fall heavy over my eyes, and my hand reaches for the brass knob, pulling it open. My pulse now beats wildly in my throat, and when I open my eyes, I’m met with a devilish look in Noah’s.

Ay dios mío.

“Why’d you run away down there?”

Because another second with you and I would have lost my battle of wills.

“You were being requested for an important game of flip cup. ”

He hits me with that irresistibly devastating grin of his and steps into the bathroom, closing the door behind him. “I wasn’t done with you.”

I take a step back and he follows my movement. My hands search wildly behind me until I find the vanity and grip it like a life raft.

“No?” I ask, not recognizing my breathy voice.

“Not even close.” He closes the last bit of distance between us, backing me up until I hit the counter.

I try to hold my breath, but my nipples brush against his chest on a shaky inhale.

Only his eyes move when his gaze trails down between us, and the corners of his mouth pull up in a satisfied smirk. “This might be better though.”

“F-for what?” I stammer.

“Collecting on my bet.”

Ten bucks and a kiss says, by the end of the night you’ll be eating out of the palm of my hand.

A thread stretches and pulls between my body and my mind.

My body is begging me to give in to him, but my mind is desperately trying to remind me why it’s a terrible idea.

I try to make a mental checklist of all the reasons that this was never supposed to happen.

At the top in bold, red letters: Hockey players will do whatever it takes to get to the top.

No matter who they have to hurt in the process. Underline. Underline. Underline.

I’m about to mentally write down number two when Noah’s fingers trail through my hair, sending a shiver through my body.

Is it cliche to think that one time will definitely get him out of my system?

He tucks a strand of hair behind my ear, and the rough pads of his fingers graze my sensitive neck, throwing me slightly off balance.

“Are you done?”

“Done? ”

His arms cage me in when he places his hands on either side of me, gripping the vanity. My eyelids flutter shut as he leans forward, his breath caressing the shell of my ear. “Denying this.”

Slowly and seductively, he drags his nose along my jawline. I inhale sharply at the contact but do nothing to stop him, and I’m deeply aware of every cell in my body lighting up like a million, tiny fireflies.

It might be the lust talking—or the acute lack of thoughts I can process with his pouty lips now peppering kisses at the base of my jaw—but just because this can never go anywhere shouldn’t mean that I need to deny myself everything.

As soon as the thought forms, the pull between my mind and body lets up just enough.

I tilt my head slightly, exposing more of my neck to him.

Almost as if he anticipated the movement, he responds by pressing an open mouth kiss over my beating pulse, causing heat to erupt across my neck and down my back.

My knees buckle beneath me, and before I can process what I’m doing, I reach up and grab ahold of his shoulders.

A rumble sounds from the back of his throat and one of his hands latches onto my hip.

The extra support steadies my wobbling legs, but only further escalates my heartbeat.

His mouth continues kissing and lightly sucking my neck, while the thick pad of his thumb slips under my shirt and drags across my bare skin.

My fingers dig deeper into his shoulders, and I bite down on my lip, suppressing a moan.

The warm air feels cool against my damp skin and my heart almost lurches out of my chest when he pulls back the tiniest bit.

His intense eyes burn into mine with a silent question.

He says nothing with his mouth, but everything with the darkness now brewing in his eyes.

Once soft and bright, they are now inky and bold.

I can’t look away. They remind me of a storm during the dead of summer.

I can see it on the horizon, announcing something is coming, and trying desperately to alert me. If I want to stop, now is the time.

Somewhere in the furthest part of my mind, I know better. Every logical part of me is screaming at me to slide out from under his body. It’s telling me to leave this room and never look back. But, my body. My body betrays me. Wanting him. Needing him.

One kiss. One kiss with Noah won’t change anything.

My lips part, and I answer him with the same intensity in my eyes. Ever so slightly, I dip my head, but I know he caught the silent confirmation based on the way his teeth dig into the middle of his bottom lip.

He drops his forehead to mine and I’m eager to meet his lips with my own, but not before I place a hand on his chest, momentarily stopping his descent.

“Just so you know, this won’t change anything between us.”

His hands snake up my body until he’s cupping my face between both of his palms, and his fingers splay down my neck.

So close.

I need to close the fracture of space between us, and it’s now that I realize what he’s doing.

He holds my head still, brushing his lips over mine, but not quite touching them. They’re so close that I can feel the hum of electricity dancing between us.

His tongue runs along his bottom lip, and licks mine for half a second too short. I can’t stand any more of this torture. The anticipation is killing me.

Just when I’m ready to drop to my knees and beg him to kiss me, he whispers against my lips in that deep, rumbling voice of his. “ Liar .”

The thread snaps and his mouth finds mine, pressing firmly, but somehow gently at the same time.

He parts my lips with his tongue and the sensation consumes me.

It’s overwhelming and I become frantic. One of my hands clutches the back of his head, while the other fists the front of his black, cotton shirt.

Both of my hands are clutching him to me, but it’s not enough.

I press up on my toes, my body desperate to somehow be closer to him.

His scent engulfs me, wrapping me up in him.

No.

No, that’s his arm. His right arm has snaked around me, his palm hovering just above the curve of my ass. His fingers send crackling flames radiating across my back, over my hips, and down my legs.

I startle at the loss of his mouth on mine when he pulls back, his lips are fuller than before, and his heady eyes are dark. “I knew I liked this mouth of yours.”

Fuck. I shouldn’t like the things he says so much, and I sure as shit shouldn’t be enjoying the feeling of his arms around me or what his mouth is doing. I swallow, momentarily considering if his mouth would be just as skilled on other parts of my body. My face heats and I swat the thought away.

“Shut up.” I pull him back to me, reclaiming his lips on mine, and I want to roll my eyes when I feel him smile against my mouth.

I don’t know what I thought this happy, problem-free, alleged good-guy, hockey player would be like in the bedroom—or in a frat party bathroom—but it definitely wasn’t this.

Every touch on my body is magnified, alerting me when his hands move from my back down to my hips. The width of his thigh slides in between mine, and my breath catches at the new sensation pulsing between my legs. What was just an empty ache before is now filled with heavy pressure.