Page 25 of Let Me Love You
And it isn’t a sweet kiss.
It isn’t a chaste kiss.
It’s downright dirty and naughty andhot.
Without waiting for permission, he shoves his tongue between my lips and drags it against mine, thrusting it in and out of my mouth as a whimper lands in the back of my throat.
Damn you and your kisses, Mr. Thorne.
The man can play me like a fiddle.
Satisfied he has me right where he wants me, he smiles against my mouth and lets me go.
“What was that for?” I ask breathlessly.
“Just showing them what you do to me, so they never have to question it.”
Well, damn.
On shaky legs, I stand up and head to the bathroom. I don’t know what my problem is. Actually, that’s not entirely true. I know exactly what my problem is. It’s the puck bunnies. The girls who watch Colt on the ice and feel like they have the right to drool over him. The right to fantasize about him. The right to scribble whatever they want on posters and hold them in the air during his games in hopes of grabbing his attention.
It isn’t Colt I’m frustrated with.
It’s those girls.
Girls like the ones outside.
Girls who think they know my man. Who think they can treat him better than I can. They’re wrong. And thankfully, I trust Colt enough to know it. But it doesn’t make them go away, no matter how much I wish it would.
Once I’ve finished my business, I wash my hands in the sink when the bathroom door opens.
Two girls walk in, their high heels clicking against the tile as they head straight toward me. One of them is the girl who took a selfie with Colt, and the other is her friend from the table. Both of them were ogling Colt while staring daggers at me.
Did they actually follow me in here?
My annoyance battles my insecurities as my attention slides down their little red dresses. Of course, they’re matching.
Classy, ladies.
“Hi,” the blonde with fried ends who’d taken a picture with Colt greets me.
The crinkle of paper is my only response as I dry my hands on a paper towel.
“Surprised you’re still in here,” the other girl tells me. She’s prettier than the blonde. Her hair is darker, and it hangs down her backless dress. I shouldn’t notice, but I’m pretty sure assessing the greater threat in any situation is woven into our DNA, and I can’t help it.
“Awfully trusting of you. Leaving Colt out there all by himself. If I were you, I wouldn’t let him out of my sight,” she states, examining her blood-red nails.
My lips thin, but I stay quiet as I toss the used paper towel into the trash. They’re growing bolder lately. Probably because they know I’m too nice for my own good. Or maybe it’s because Colt has graduated, and they know their window for sinking their claws into him is limited. Neither option leaves me with many warm fuzzies.
Annoyed, I reach for the door, but the brunette steps in front of me.
“You know what I think?” she continues.
“What?” The blonde chirps as she crosses her arms, pushing her massive boobs up until they’re practically spilling out of her dress. If she’s going for sexy, she isn’t exactly pulling it off. Nope. The girl looks cheap as hell. Like a prostitute only freshmen can afford.
Gross.
“I think while Colt’s exchanging his LAU jersey for a Lions one this upcoming season, he might as well exchange his current girlfriend for an improved one too.”