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Flames ignite in my eyeballs. I probably look like an angry bull in a cartoon because what Scott just said has me seeing red.
“He,” I nod my head at Kyle as I step closer to Scott, “is nicer, better looking, and far more intelligent than you.Andhe doesn’t steal my money!” I lunge at Scott, but Kyle grabs me before I can make contact, holding me back, but I keep thrashing and flailing. “He knows a lot of cool shit aboutStar Wars, he has a Baby Yoda—I meanGrogu!—and his bed smells like heaven compared to the nasty sheets you probably haven’t washed in two years!” I continue to scream and make a scene in the hallway like we’re on an episode of Jerry Springer while Kyle holds me to his chest but doesn’t try to stop my tirade.
Scott tries to inch past me, his back sliding along the wall so he can escape without injury, but his eyes do go wide at that last piece of information.
“He kisses a million times better than you, and he’s a way, way,way, better snowboarder!” I scream as a couple of heads pop out of their doorways to watch the show.
Scott finally makes it out of the thrash zone and to the main door of the apartment building while my date keeps his arms wrapped around me. He bolts out into the snow, and it’s not until the door closes behind him that Kyle finally releases me.
I huff in frustration and roll my shoulders.
“Are you okay?” he asks, smoothing down my tousled hair and tucking a few strands behind my ears. Between that and the smudged lipstick, I probably look like a rabid squirrel.
“Yeah,” I breathe out, trying to straighten my shirt, as if I have any dignity to hang on to.
“You’re beautiful when you get all worked up,” he quips.
I guffaw, but then grin.
“What can I do to thank you for defending my honor?” He holds his hands together and bats his eyes like a sweet little damsel.
I grab his shirt and drag him into my apartment. “I can think of a couple ways…”
* * *
Kyle
Once the douche rocket left and Gwen got the lipstick off her face—and cleaned the scrape on her knee from a living room accident that happened prior to my arrival—she proceeded to burn dinner, then order us a pineapple and olive pizza.
Since she’d slept in my nerd cave and let me introduce her to snowboarding, I figure it’s my turn to get a look at what she likes. The little eighties buff insisted we watchBack to the Futureafter miming getting stabbed in the gut when I admitted I hadn’t seen it.
She’s already slept in my bed, and we shared an epic kiss in the snow this afternoon, but tonight we’re acting like nervous teenagers, holding hands on the couch, gradually nudging ourselves closer.
I’ve never been into eighties music and movies, but my beautiful date is showing me what an idiot I’ve been for holding out on the era. Gwen snuggles into me during the prom scene and confesses how she’d love to live in the fifties and hang out in the malt shop with a hair scarf and saddle shoes. By the time Huey Lewis is crooning about going “Back in Time” and the end credits roll, our pheromones have mingled adequately, our skin warming to each other. All I can think about is tasting those lips again.
I shamelessly take Gwen’s face in my hands and bring it close to mine, slamming my lips against hers. Her response is to straddle my lap while my boner rises between us in approval. Our tongues tangle, and she moans into my mouth. She shifts her hips, dragging her center along my dick, creating friction and amping up my need. I grab hold of her waist, pushing my hands up under her shirt. Her skin is smooth and warm, and when my hands meet a satiny bra, I can’t resist the urge to explore the breasts cradled inside. I give each handful a gentle squeeze, then pull up her shirt and break our kiss to bring my mouth down on one.
She groans as my tongue comes into contact with her nipple. The sound makes my cock jolt in my jeans, but when she takes my bottom lip between her teeth, I swear I almost come in my pants.
“Bedroom,” I pant out, not pulling any punches.
“End of the hall.”
Without releasing the sexy angel in my arms, I rise to stand with her wrapped around me like she was on the snowboard ride earlier. I walk us to the end of the hall and enter her dark bedroom.
When I set her down on her plushy white duvet, I have to reluctantly pull my lips from hers.
“Hang on,” I tell her. “I brought you something.”
CHAPTER7
Gwen
Kyle retreats from the room, and I awkwardly wait on my bed, rubbing my thighs together to keep the fire blazing inside me from dying. I hope he’s not gone too long. Fortunately, he returns within seconds, carrying something—is that a flashlight?—at his side.
What’s up with the—oh…I get it.
“Is that what I think it is?” I coo.
