AllFreeNovel
Share Us
It’s adorable.
Straight out of a romance novel.
The enemies-to-lovers kind that makes you devour a book.
I pat my tummy and make a face that hopefully conveys pain. “The popcorn really did a number on me.”
“Oh.” Her expression turns sympathetic. “Are you feeling better?”
“Yup.”
My gaze unconsciously wanders to Ford, who’s seated at a bunch of tables that have been shoved together for the hockey team. There’s lots of laughter and good-natured camaraderie going on. Even over the pumping beat of the music, they’re giving each other shit.
Riggs is seated next to Stella. Much like Ryder, he has his arm tossed casually over his bestie’s shoulder. They’re both laughing at something Hayes is saying. Colby, Maverick, Wolf, and Madden are also seated at the table. There’s a ton of puck bunnies buzzing around, searching for available laps to settle on. At this very moment, Darcy Erickson is trying to capture Ford’s attention.
He has yet to spare her a glance.
In fact, he’s not giving any of the girls the time of day. It’s like they aren’t even there.
Since we arrived an hour ago, his gaze has been locked on me. No matter where I am in the bar, I feel the heat of it as if it were an actual physical caress. I’ve never been more attuned to another person in my life than I am to Ford Hamilton.
There’s something hot and needy that scratches beneath the surface of my skin, begging to be unleashed. Even now, I can taste him on my tongue. There was something so sexy about going down on him in the hallway when anyone could have turned the corner and stumbled upon us. The way it felt to be on my knees, staring up at him while I sucked him down my throat is enough to have my panties flooding with heat.
What I hate is the flare of jealousy when I meet his gaze and find all those girls touching him.
Talking to him.
Trying to convince him to take them home at the end of the night.
It’s tempting to stalk over and stake my claim. Instead, I remain rooted in place, refusing to do what every instinct is prodding.
It shouldn’t matter if every girl at Western flirts with the guy.
We’re not together.
We’re hooking up.
And once it gets stale, it’ll be over.
Those are the terms we agreed to.
I blink back to awareness when a loud cheer goes up and I realize that Sully, the owner of the bar, has lumbered onto the stage.
He spears a beefy finger toward the crowded tables of hockey players. “Our boys brought home another win tonight and you know what that means!”
“Karaoke!” everyone screams in unison.
“You got it!”
Already people are hustling to the stage. They’ve been waiting for the chance to sing their little hearts out all night. The first performance is by a trio of girls who shimmy their asses across the platform and do a whole lot of unnecessary twerking. Then a couple of younger hockey players do the same—minus the twerking. They have surprisingly good voices.
Color me impressed.
Ryder drags my girl up there and they belt out a duet.
‘Grenade’ by Bruno Mars.
They’re so barfy.
