I really need to ask what her deal is. That’s two games she’s worn shirts that aren’t the home team’s.
“Well, that one’s going to be tricky. Eloise and I tried to give her a new shirt, but she wasn’t into it.”
“Edith’s tried too.” Apollo crunches into an apple behind us on the stairs, and we all turn to look at him. “You’re talking about her friend, Penelope, right? Always wears shirts from the opposing teams? She’ll never change. She’s totally trolling us.” He smirks at Tate. “Good luck with that one, buddy. If Tori won’t give you her number, I can ask Edith for you.”
“She’s the one who was in the crash with you, right?” I’m not great with names, but I’m pretty sure that’s who he’s talking about. Eloise says she’s recovering from surgery on her leg, but she bets she’ll be right here with us once she gets better.
Apollo nods.
“She’ll respect Girl Code, even from down under.” I’ve chatted to Eloise about Edith, and even though she doesn’t know her all that well, she adores her.
“What’s a hockey player gotta do to get a beautiful girl’s number?” Tate smacks his thighs with both hands, blowing out a sigh of dejection.
“You’ll get the girl, bud. You just have to work at it like the rest of us.” Apollo pats his chest as he turns to head back downstairs. Did he just come up to chitchat?
“I’ll talk to Penelope, see what she says.”
Tate’s face is turning an adorable shade of embarrassed. “Thanks.” He follows Apollo downstairs. “You kids be safe.”
There’s no chance he knows what he’s said, but Raffi cracks up into hysterical laughter, which results in a wicked dose of the hiccups.
“You didn’t say anything at all on the stairs,” I mention.
His room is sparse—light blue walls, a picture of his parents on the small desk next to the window, and a framed hockey jersey hanging on the wall next to the door to the bathroom.
I climb onto his bed and scooch all the way into the corner.
“I don’t need to speak for you with my friends. You can handle yourself.” He shrugs, pulling up a swivel office chair next to the bed.
The fact he hasn’t assumed I’m going to bone him and jumped right up onto the bed next to me is so fucking hot. He’s also not wrong.
I text Penelope, asking if I can give Tate her number. He seems sweet, and pretty determined to work for it, so the least I can do is ask if she’s into him.
When I tuck my phone away, Raffi’s eyes linger heavily on my face. “You back with me now?”
I barely get to nod before he slides my phone out of my pocket and puts it on his desk. “I really want to kiss you. But I don’t want to assume.”
Patting the bed beside me, I beckon him over. “No assuming. I most definitely want in your pants. Not sure it’s my smartest idea ever. But?—”
His finger covers my lips as he climbs onto the navy-blue quilt. “No buts. I know you’re scared, but please, can we just see where this goes?”
His words soothe the pain in my chest like aloe on sunburn, and when his thumb brushes the tears from mycheek, I almost fall apart. His lips brush against mine, sending shocks of warmth down my spine.
“Of course we can.” He dots kisses on my forehead then my damp cheeks before his lips return to mine.
How can I say no to this man? He’s sweet and kind, respectful and funny, and he kisses like he was made just to lie here and kiss me.
I want more, need more. My clothes scratch my burning skin. Why isn’t he ripping them off me? Why am I not naked yet?
Dude. I’m all for being respectful but just take off my fucking clothes already.
Fine. If he’s going to be all gentlemanly and not rip my clothes from my aching body, I’ll take things into my own hands. Literally.
Breaking apart the kiss for half a second, I figure out where the bottom of his shirt is and start tugging it. He’s chuckling into my mouth as he keeps kissing me, his hand sliding around the curve of my jaw and into my hair.
“Impatient?” he breathes between kisses. “Can’t I just savor this time with you?”
“Not to sound like a raging horn dog, but can we savor without the clothes?”
