Page 48 of The Casanova Complex

I tear my gaze from her legs just as she passes toward the window, and I reach out, circling her wrist with my fingers.

Tiny compared to my hand, and I try not to focus on how hot that is when my dick is already misbehaving like the fucker he is.

Look, I might have taken a vow of celibacy, but I am a man who’s insanely fucking attracted to the woman in front of me.

I’m doing my best.

We’re not on the same page, my dick and I, and my attraction to Merritt is dangerous. More so by the second.

I hear her sharp intake of breath as she peers down at me, and the corner of my lip ticks up into a grin. “Wait. Just listen, okay?”

There’s no doubt that she wants to say no. I can see it written on her face, but she doesn’t pull away.

I’m still holding her in my hand, and now I know I was right.

She’s so fucking soft and smooth, and I’m truly starting to question my sanity when I’m getting hard over her wrist.

Her wrist.

“Five minutes, and then I’ll leave, I swear. Please, Merritt. Just hear me out,” I murmur, my chin tipped to look up at her.

She’s so close that she’s nearly fit between my spread thighs, so close that all I can smell is the sweet scent of her bodywash. A mixture of something fruity, maybe cherries? And vanilla?

A groan nearly rumbles out of me.

The shit I would do to be able to taste it on her skin.

I watch her throat move as she swallows and then pulls her bottom lip between her teeth and narrows her eyes.

The air surrounding us buzzes with something… the chemistry that neither of us is going to admit to for vastly different reasons.

“Five minutes. That’s it. Promise.”

I nod, gently tugging her back down to the bed beside me. Despite her reservations, whatever the fuck they are about me, she doesn’t hesitate. The mattress dips as she sits back down, pulling her legs up into a crisscross. I notice for the first time the thin silver anklet circling her ankle, much like the other jewelry in her ears and on her fingers, an extension of her personality.

It’s got tiny little ladybugs on it.

I should get her one with little knives since she’s so stabby.

“You know that hockey players in general are superstitious. It’s just kind of how we’re wired, and goalies even more so. We’ve got a fuck ton of pressure on us, and we’re the last line of defense. It’s make or break.” When she eyes me warily, I add, “I have a point, I swear. I’ve had a… challenging start to this season, and it’s the worst fucking time imaginable. This is my senior year. If I’m not at my best, my chances at being signed to a team… they could be gone entirely. Long story short, we’ve lost every game we’ve played so far this season. And I’ve been playing like shit. Until…”

She lifts her brows, clearly waiting for me to make said point. “Until the day I kissed you. The day at the bakery I told fuckass Gauthreaux you were my girlfriend. And we fucking won the next game, Merritt. I played what might be the best game I’ve ever played. I got an assist on the winning goal. Do you know how rare it is for a goalie to have an assist?”

Judging by the blank expression on her face, that would be a no.

Okay, so this makes this pitch a little bit harder, but I got this.

“Pretty fucking rare, Mer Bear.” My lips twitch when she glares at the adorable nickname I’ve given her. “Seems like you’re my good luck charm. You’re the reason I won that game, that I played the way I did. So, I need to kiss you before I step foot on the ice. Before every game. And okay, I realize it sounds a little crazy, but I’ve been thinking about this. It’s a win-win situation. This could benefit us both, not just me.”

Merritt laughs, unamused. “Yeah, I somehow doubt that.”

“No, I’m serious. Listen,” I say, twisting to face her more, “I have no clue what’s going on with Dickface, and that’s cool, I don’t need to, but clearly there’s some history there, and I know he’s a fucking idiot who cheated on you. Who keeps blowing your shit up, trying to get you back, clearly not getting the hint. But he already thinks that we’re dating after the other day, so let’s do it full stop. Yeah? We fake date, and then he leaves you alone. He knows better than to fuck with me. If you’re my girlfriend, he backs off. Honestly, I can’t imagine a better way to stick it to that asshole than dating me. We hate each other. We’re enemies in every sense of the word, and now you’re dating me? Yeah, he’ll be punching the goddamn air. It’s set up already, so we just up the charade, and we both win. I get my good luck kisses, and I’m killing it in the net, and you by saying fuck you to the guy who cheated on you.”

I have not a single fucking clue if this spiel is going to work, but I’m praying to Gretzky that it will, because I need her.

I wouldn’t be here asking her to do this if I didn’t truly believe that she’s what I need to turn it all around. I know it sounds nuts, but superstitions work, and when you find the one that charges you, you double the fuck down.

I exhale, waiting for her to respond, but she just stares at me, her deep brown eyes bouncing between mine, and I can’t get a read on her expression.