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“Won’t be the first time.”
“You mean they’ve come after you before?”
“Not those three, but others. It’s never the same ones twice. They find out they made a mistake, and then they leave me alone.”
“Who are they after?”
“Brad Falcone. He’s a junior at Bishop Academy. His dad is an attorney with lots of mob ties.”
“Oh.” She didn’t know what to say to that, so she made small talk. “I guess Brad sounds a lot like Brett.”
“Especially when you have the IQ of a tomato.”
Kathryn laughed. “See, you are intelligent, Brett. You can recognize when someone is stupid.”
“I don’t need to be intelligent to recognize a retard, Kath.”
“I suppose not. But you are smart. I’m still amazed that you figured out the whole negative times negative equals positive thing.”
“Are you positive?”
“Yeah. Positive.”
Stupid joke between them, but it made her warm. She and Brett had a private joke.
Silly, but nice. Nice and warm and fuzzy.
Geez, Kathryn, you’re getting all fluffy and perfumey, like Michelle Bates. Can’t have that. Kathryn was not the frou-frou cheerleader type that Brett Falcone liked. She never would be.
Yet, he seemed to like her. He liked kissing her and he was leaning toward her now.
“Just a minute.” She backed away. “I’m not done with you, yet.” She squeezed some anti-bacterial ointment onto her fingers and rubbed it gently over his cheek.
He winced.
“I’m sorry. I’m trying not to hurt you.”
“I know.”
When she finished, she went to the kitchen and scooped Belgian chocolate ice cream into two bowls, then returned and gave one to Brett.
“Here. You look hungry.”
He laughed. “Shit, that hurt. I am, actually.” He took a bite of ice cream and winced. “Hurts to open my mouth, though.”
“I know. I’m sorry.” She scooped some ice cream into her spoon, but on its way to her mouth, the cold custard glopped onto her neck. Nice. Be a clutz in front of the Italian Stallion. Could this day get any better?
Before she could grab a tissue from the box on the end table, Brett leaned forward and licked the ice cream off her warm skin. Tingles shot through her. Without thinking, she wrapped her arms around his neck and brought his mouth to hers.
Chocolate dreams…His tongue found hers and danced around it. His mouth hurt, she knew, but it didn’t seem to faze him. The kiss was raw and pure. Raw emotion and pure need. Pure love.
At eighteen, could she really be in love? With the Italian Stallion?
When his lips trailed kisses down her neck, licking up the last of the ice cream, she closed her eyes and sighed.
Yes, I love him. She loved Brett Falcone.
Her hand shaking, she reached toward the crotch of his jeans and touched the bulge underneath. It pulsed against her fingers.
