I feel the exact moment my heart flips over itself. It lasts maybe three seconds, maybe a lifetime, and then it’s over before I know it.
Skye pulls back just enough for our foreheads to nearly touch. Her eyes are darker up close, still lit with adrenaline.
She doesn’t say a word, but she’s looking at me. Steady, searching my face like there’s a question wrapped inside her mind.
And then…
“SKYE!”
Her team approaches, and they grab her shoulders from behind. Someone else, a few feet away, is shouting about team photos, and others are yelling “SEMIFINALS”.
Skye’s hand falls from behind my neck, her fingertips lingering for a few moments before she takes a step back, dropping a folded piece of paper into my hands. She doesn’t look embarrassed or unsure as she gives me a small smile before she’s swallowed by the noise of celebration.
I’m left standing here, frozen. My lips are tingling, and I lift my fingers to touch them without thinking. Like I need proof it actually happened.
My first kiss with Skye.
I replay it in my head.
I didn’t pull away. I didn’t hesitate.
I’d wanted it.
It wasn’t an experiment; it was right.
Whatever this is between us has changed.
And there is no going back.
Chapter Twelve
Skye
The winter house smells like sweat, takeout, and victory.
My team is way too loud for this hour, but no one’s about to tell them to calm down. Not after the win we just had. Sticks are propped by the door, gloves litter the room, and someone’s blasting music from a tiny speaker in the kitchen. Paige is reenacting her glove save in slow motion for the tenth time, and every replay gets more dramatic. Just like Paige.
I can’t say I hate it. It was pretty epic.
We’re heading into the quarterfinals.
I should be in full captain mode. Hydration, rest, and recovery type speeches for the ladies. Instead, I’m sitting in the corner of the couch, Dr. Pepper Zero in hand, staring at absolutely nothing.
All because I can still feel her lips on mine.
I hate that our first kiss was a drive-by, but I had to do it. I had to know what her lips tasted like.
I’ve never been so feral when it comes to women before. Whatever spell Violet has on me, I don’t ever want it to wear off.
It was fast. Only a few seconds. Standing in the arena where everyone could see us, pressed against the wall with the Olympic logo painted on it like we were some kind of sports advertisement. She’d looked at me like I hung the moon instead of just winning the last preliminary game.
I’d planned on saying something cool or smart. Instead, I kissed her. And she kissed me back. All that time, wondering if she’d blow me off because I wasn’t sure if a woman would give her the same thrill as a man, and now I know.
Men can fuck right off. I want this woman.
My phone vibrates once in my pocket. When I pull it out to look at the screen, I stifle a laugh at the sight of a message from Violet with nothing but question marks.
Now is not the time to bring up the contract I made for her. Hopefully, tonight, if we talk.
