Page 54 of Blue Line

I back out of the parking spot and make my way toward home.

Food first, and then I’m broaching the topic of our kisses because I need to know where they leave us. If she feels the same way as I do—that I don’t want this to be fake between us anymore.

Hell, I never wanted it to be fake, but I took what I could get. Now that I have a good idea that she feels the same way about me as I do about her, it’s time to change our relationship. Move the proverbial puck over the blue line and toward the net.

Chapter twenty-one

Hadley

“Can we address the elephant in the room?” Weston asks as we’re cleaning up the Chinese food we ordered for dinner.

Here we go. I wondered when this was going to come up.

I whirl around, hands on my hips. “What elephant?” I glance around the room. “I don’t see one.”

He raises an eyebrow, matching my stance from across the room. “Don’t play dumb, Hadley Jane.”

I’m not playing dumb. I’m playing coward.

“Perhaps you can enlighten me about this elephant, Weston Robert.”

“Not my middle name, Hadley Jane. The kiss.” His tone softens. “I want to talk about the kiss the other day. And our kisses today.”

“They were fine as far as kisses go.” I shift back on my heels. If she were here, Callie would be yelling at me to just talk to him. To be honest with him. “There’s not a whole lot to talk about.”

He takes a tentative step closer to me. I step back, needing to keep distance between us.

“Is that so? You’re telling me it didn’t make you feel anything?” He moves closer to me, and I cross my arms and back up, hitting the counter. “Not a thing?”

I shake my head. “No, Weston Maxwell. Nothing. You’re a pretty decent kisser though. A for effort.” One ticket for the denial train please.

His gaze darkens as he crowds me against the counter. “Are you sure, tornado?” he whispers in my ear, his breath tickling against my neck, and I force myself to not react to his proximity. “Me being this close to you isn’t doing anything to you? Because I swear I saw you shiver when we kissed earlier.” He runs a finger over one of my arms, and I hate my body for betraying me with goosebumps everywhere he touches.

He leans closer to me, tracing his nose along the shell of my ear, and I press my lips together to keep from whimpering.

“Because I can’t stop thinking about it,” he says so quietly that I think I’m imagining it. “And I think you enjoyed it too. I saw the way you reacted. I was there. You want me.”

“Fuck you, Weston Reynolds,” I spit out, although there’s not a lot of heat behind it.

As soon as the words come out, I realize my mistake because his eyes darken.

“We can arrange that.”

“You can’t handle me.”

This I can do. Bantering with him is safe.

“I bet I could.”

“Bullshit,” I tell him, even though my vagina is begging me to take him up on it, to pull the emergency break, and jump off the denial train.

I haven’t had sex in a while, and toys are fun and all, but it’s not the same as a real dick. Especially when said dick belongs to a man who I expect knows how to use it. Stop thinking about Weston’s dick.

He holds his hands out. “All you have to do is ask, Hadley Jane. Happy to show you my moves.” He bounces his eyebrows.

“I can take care of myself, but thanks.”

That’s the safe thing to say, right?