What is happening?
His mouth takes mine, almost tentatively, his hands cupping my cheeks ever so lightly. Sensuous and soft, his lips sear me as his tongue touches mine, begging for entry. With a sharp inhale, I let him, and the kiss deepens, his lips insistent. He makes a sound—I can’t describe it—and a spark is born, a fire that builds and burns until my toes curl.
My first instinct was to shove him away, but that hope is dashed. I’m lost in the spicy male scent of him, the sound of his shirt rubbing against my chest, the way his scruff teases my face. I’m not sure where to put my hands, and they falter, finally settling on the sides of his chest. His body is hard and tense, as if he’s holding himself back…
I sigh into his mouth and he murmurs my name. Electricity dances over my skin where his hands touch. My face, the curve of my neck, my shoulders. His lips glide over mine as his palms press into my hips, guiding me against him. His cock is hard, and my chest heaves at the ache in my body. My inner self—the one who knows what a player he is—yells for me to stop, but I want this kiss to last forever.
Suddenly he’s wrenched from me with force as if someone yanked him off of me, but when I open my eyes, he’s only pulled himself back.
He’s panting and his lips are lusciously pink and swollen. His hair is mussed—did I run my hands through those strands?
He says something, but I’m not paying attention.
He towers over me, his gaze deep like the ocean as he takes me in, lingering on my lips. We’re still so close. I could kiss him again.
My lips are tender as I touch them. Ryker Voss kisses like he’s gearing up for a season on The Bachelor. I picture us naked, on that pirate ship from earlier, only this time we’re in the captain’s quarters rolling around on the bed. He wraps my hair around his hand and pulls me to him for a deep kiss, our tongues tangling. I beg him to do it again—
He whispers, bringing me back. “Slap me!”
Why does he want me to hit him?
Somehow my foggy brain remembers the whole point of the kiss is to get Connor’s attention.
Ryker’s eyes widen as they look over my shoulder and then back at me. “Snap out of it. He’s looking now.”
Well, he is asking for it.
I slap him, mostly a nervous reflex.
“Goddamn, Red. You’ve got a mean right hook,” he whispers in my ear before he takes a full step back and speaks loudly. “I’m so sorry, Penelope. I just couldn’t resist kissing you…” He lifts his hand and rakes it through his hair, appearing to fidget as he moves from one foot to the other.
His voice carries the few aisles over to where Connor is, and I feel the gazes of several patrons move to us.
I’m impressed.
Has Ryker taken a drama class?
“Just keep looking at me like you’re angry,” he says in a lowered voice. “He’s trying to get up the nerve to come over here.”
“How do you know?” I hiss.
“Because I know dudes. He can’t resist being a knight in shining armor.”
I nod, his eyes steady on mine as we stare at each other, and I’m acutely aware that I like him saying those pretend words to me.
I just couldn’t resist kissing you.
“Er, is everything okay over here?” a low, masculine voice cuts through. It’s Connor, standing next to me with an earnest look of concern. A rush of excitement tingles through me. Wow… Up close, I notice the golden hue of his eyes and the cleft in his strong chin. He really is handsome, in that boy-next-door way.
“It’s none of your business, Dimpleshitz,” Ryker retorts, though his tone lacks any real bite.
Connor brushes him off—good for him—and turns his attention to me. “Are you alright? Should I call security?”
I shake my head quickly and clear my throat. “No, but thanks for checking. Everything’s fine. Ryker and I just…” My voice trails off. Great, we don’t have a backstory aside from that article, and that doesn’t fit here. “He’s sorry. Right?” I glance at the first-rate kisser, silently pleading for help. Is this what I’m supposed to do—play the damsel he rescues?
Ryker gives a slight nod. His eyes say it all: It’s about time you caught on. Then a smirk spreads across his face, and I can practically hear him thinking: My kiss really knocked you out.
“In your dreams,” I mutter.
“What was that?” Connor asks, glancing between us. I dart my eyes from Ryker to him. “Nothing,” I say, shaking off the moment. “Ryker was just… uh—”
He cuts me off. “I asked her out, and she turned me down. I thought kissing her might change her mind. Guess you can’t win them all.”
“Well, just don’t do it again,” I say, crossing my arms and playing my part. “If that’s what you want,” Ryker replies, his tone dripping with sarcasm.
“I do.”
“If you say so.”
“I just did,” I snap.
“Sometimes your body says more than your words,” he retorts, arching one eyebrow.
How does he do that? It’s virtually impossible for me to only lift one eyebrow.
“Sometimes you need to just move on,” I quip back.
He smirks. “If you really mean that, why do you think about me all the time?”
How does he know I think about him?
I frown. “I don’t.”
“Uh-huh.” He gives me a look like he knows something I don’t.
I glare at him, widening my eyes. What’s his game? He’s gotten Connor over here—shouldn’t he be moving on now?
“Uh, did you guys used to date?” It’s Connor speaking as he moves in closer, and he’s definitely wearing Polo cologne. My nose flares at the familiar high school scent, and my first reaction is to recoil, but it’s not the worst scent in the world, I suppose. It’s not Old Spice.
“No,” we both say.
“Ah, well, you heard her then,” Connor says. “Maybe you need to give her some space.”
A long exhale comes from Ryker. “I think you’re right, Dimpleshitz.” With that, he grabs his backpack, gives us one more look, and takes off down the aisle.
I shake my head, watching his broad shoulders as he walks away. “He might be a genius,” I say, mostly to myself. Even though Connor does hear it, he doesn’t appear to understand my meaning.
He watches him, a small scowl buried in his forehead. “He’s an enigma for sure. Too bad about his involvement in the gambling thing.”
I turn toward him, wearing a frown. “It wasn’t gambling, and he was cleared by the NCAA.”
He gives me a careful glance. “I see…but didn’t you write an article about him?”
I nod. “I wrote a follow-up one as well.” “Ah, you’re defending him.”
My lips flatten. “No.”
Connor’s face is thoughtful. “But you’re into him?”
I shake my head. “Absolutely not.” Work with this, Penelope. Ryker has given me an opportunity, and I’m not going to screw it up. Make conversation. I touch his arm and smile brightly. “Trust me, we’re just friends.”
He smiles boyishly, one corner of his lips turning up in a crooked grin. “I
thought you two didn’t like each other, but then I can be a little oblivious.”
I nod. “Same here. I barely notice anything. Look at us, two peas in a pod.” I laugh. “So, how are you? How’s calculus?” I’m rambling and gazing up at him with doe eyes, and the attention seems to be working.
He blushes and dips his head. “Great. I saw that you were in there. Are you on your way to class?”
I nod, and when he helps me pick up some of the books I scattered on the floor in my earlier haste, it’s the closest we’ve ever been. I take in a small pimple near his chin and the tiny piece of pepper he has stuck in one of his teeth, probably from breakfast—I hope—and it’s a decidedly unromantic thought, but I figure he’s human like the rest of us. We make small talk, and I nod right along as he goes into a rather long and detailed discussion about Professor White and how much he enjoys his teaching style.
I try to pay attention—I really do—but before long I feel a pricking, as if someone is watching me, and I glance around the bookstore.
My perusal around the establishment lands one aisle over where I see a sliver of khaki pants behind a tall display of atlases. Craning my neck, I see his mass of wild hair.
I stuff down my grin. Ryker.
He’s listening to us.
Maybe it’s part of his…tutelage?
Admittedly, it does encourage me to try harder.
My phone vibrates with a text, and while Connor is checking out the mechanical pencils and going into detail about which one is best for each class, I pull it out stealthily and read.
Good job with the talking, Red. Keep it up and he’s all yours.
“Hmmm,” I say to Connor’s question about paper choices as he bends down to look for a five-subject notebook.
What do I talk about? I text.
Find things you both like. Books? Chess? Dungeons and Dragons?
Hell, I don’t know. Nerd stuff.
I’ve seen you reading in the library before. Does that make you a nerd, Baby Llama?
I get no reply and focus on Connor, who’s still talking as he stares at the notebook selection. I feel my phone buzz and arrange it on top of the workbook so I’m not actually holding it but I can still read it. Being stealthy, I peek at Ryker’s response.
I’m guessing you call me Baby Llama because of my hairy chest, is his reply. I see you looking at it. It hypnotizes you. I actually wore my button- down today so you’d get a good view.
Oh, he is such a scoundrel!
I’M NOT FASCINATED BY YOUR HAIR, I reply. Maybe I call you
that because your face is rather long.
I think you want to touch my chest, he replies. Maybe later after Connor is gone I’ll take my shirt off for you. I bet you won’t touch my chest.
Go to hell, quarterback, I text.
I remember that time you saw me coming out of the shower at the Tau house with only a towel on. I saw your open mouth. You were… IMPRESSED. Do you have fantasies about my naked chest?
I’m going to slap you again next time I see you. Or pull out one of those hairs.
As long as I get to kiss you first, he says.
My breath sucks in. Oh, he’s just teasing me. Then he sends me a string of laughing crying emojis with a string of llamas. See. A joke.
What a player, I think with a small smile.
It was a great kiss, I tell him.
I know.
I roll my eyes. Thank you for getting him over here.
Another text comes in a few minutes later. By the way, where is Forks, Seattle?
It’s where the Cullens live. Hello, Twilight? You’re really into bloodsuckers.
If he only knew. I have most of the books and movies memorized.
Edward’s face is on my pillow.
LOL, he replies. Maybe it’s time you gave up your book crushes and focused on real life more.
And I assume Sexy as Hell Athlete is the one to help me with that? Did I not just get you Connor? Now stop texting me and talk to him.
I’m chuckling when I hear my name and look up at Connor. His face is inquisitive.
“I’m sorry.” I gesture to my phone. “Important message. Did you say something?”
“I asked if you liked to play pool.”
I squint. How did we get from school supplies to pool? I flounder, my eyes running around the store, trying to recall details of a game I played once or twice in my aunt’s basement when I was a kid. I reach into my purse for my lipstick, a sure sign I’m nervous. I know there’s an eight ball…
He gives me a slightly perplexed look. “You know the game with the balls and sticks? Billiards, if you’re fancy.”
“Oh, pool. I thought you said tool.” I laugh. “I played in high school actually, was even in a league with…teams and such.” God. Do they have those?
“I didn’t know schools had those.”
I nod. “They do! I went to a private school here in Magnolia, and it was all the rage.”
His face lights up. “That’s awesome. It’s one of my favorite pastimes since my dad owns a pool hall back in my hometown.”
I’ve read that widening your eyes when you talk to the opposite sex shows interest, so I flare mine open. “Where’s that?”
“Memphis.” He gives me an odd look. “You okay?” I nod emphatically. “Yeah, why?”
“Your eyes got big.”
“Oh, just a speck of dust. It’s fine.” I wave dismissively. “I love Memphis! Graceland’s there, home of Elvis, right? It’s the best. Lots of dancing and music…stuff.”
He brightens. “You like Elvis?”
“Achy Breaky Heart guy with the great hair and shiny outfits? Totally.”
He frowns. “No, that was Billy Ray Cyrus, and I’m not sure where he’s from. Elvis sang in the 60s and 70s—and he’s dead. You know that, right?”
Oh God. I’m losing my mind. Of course, I know who the heck Elvis is! This is Ryker’s fault…somehow. My eyes shift over to the map display where I swear I can hear stifled laughing. I clear my throat. “Duh. My brain is mush today. First couple weeks of classes and all.” I pause and smile. “My favorite Elvis song is ‘Love Me Tender’. It’s very romantic.” I briefly shut my eyes in mortification.
What is this nonsense coming out of my mouth?
I need a reboot. Stat.
“Yeah.” He stares down at his hands for a moment before looking back up at me. “You know, I’ve wanted to talk to you several times, but I never seem to find the right time. I’m glad I ran into you today. Do you play chess?”
I blink at the non sequitur but smile at him, and he blinks a little, his eyes lingering on my lips. Thank you, cherry red lipstick. “Yes, I love it so, so much.” At least that much is true.
He grins. “I didn’t realize we had so much in common.” “I know. Amazing.”
“I’m headed to a chess tournament this weekend, but maybe you’d like to get together soon—if you’re not seeing anyone?” He blushes.
This is so easy. All I have to do is agree with everything.
“That sounds great. I work a few nights at Sugar’s and at the library, but if I know in advance, I can ask for it off.”
He nods. “Cool. I’d love for you to come to Cadillac’s with me. Maybe show me some of your moves from high school?”
Cadillac’s is a local bar where students from Waylon hang out. There’s a collection of pool tables there. Dammit.
It’s like a soap bubble has burst.
“Uh…” I freak out internally as I emit a nervous laugh. “I may have to study…you just never know. I’ll check my schedule.”
He takes his glasses from his shirt and slips them on. He really is adorable. “Nah, just bring your books with you. We can go over whatever you need to do after we play.”
But…
How in the hell am I going to fake play pool when I don’t even know what end of the stick to hold?
“So, it’s a date then? Maybe next week sometime?” God. He actually said the words…
Damn. Ryker did it. Connor actually said date. I exhale. “Uh, yeah.”
He asks for my number, and I give it to him, my gaze flicking to the area where I know Ryker is lurking.
Connor offers to walk me to class, and I give him a nod then tag along.
We walk out of the student center and head to the science building for our class. We’re halfway there when I get another text.
You might need to brush up on your Elvis. And pool.
I smile to myself.
“Who’s that?” Connor asks. I sigh. “No one.”
