Page 61 of Slapshot Baby

Her hand slides further up my thigh toward my hardened cock.

I pull back just enough to look at her. Flushed from her chest to her hairline. Lips parted. Eyes dark.

"My mom thinks we're dating."

I don’t tell her it’s Mira who believes that. Mom is already halfway to accepting Ava as my girlfriend anyway. Twisting the truth a little won’t hurt.

The desire in Ava’s eyes dies. She leans back, hand leaving my thigh. The distance she creates is inches at most, but I feel the loss of contact down my whole side.

"Then you should correct her," she says.

"Why would I do that?"

"Because we're not dating. That's usually a solid reason to not let your mother believe otherwise."

"You could tell her yourself. I’ll give you her number."

"That’s not the point."

"Call her. Explain how you kiss her son like it means something, then insist you're just friends. I'm sure she'll understand."

A small, involuntary laugh escapes her. She kills it quickly, pressing her lips together.

She turns away just as a flush crawls from her collarbones up to her jaw. It takes everything in me not to put my mouth on it.

"This is insane," she breathes.

She drops the swatches and pulls her knees up, wrapping her arms around them.

I turn my body toward hers. My hand finds her hip, fingers settling against the strip of bare skin where her sweater has ridden up. It’s warm, impossibly soft.

She sucks in a breath through her teeth.

I smile. "My parents organized a family weekend at our lake house to celebrate my recovery. The extended family will be there, so there’ll be nothing intense."

"Good for you. That sounds nice."

"Come with me."

"No."

"Ava."

"Absolutely not. Meeting extended family is not a casual thing."

"My parents already invited you."

She presses her forehead against her knees, holds it there for a while, then lifts her head. Her cheeks are flushed.

"I'm not your girlfriend."

My thumb draws a slow line along the skin above her waistband. Back and forth. Her stomach muscles flutter under the touch. Her breathing goes shallow and uneven,

"Sure. If you won't be my girlfriend, fake date me for the weekend instead."

She goes still. "You're not serious."

"My family already believes we're together. You show up, we play along for two days. Nobody gets let down, and Monday morning you can go back to telling me we're friends."