Rock Bottom Girl(36)

“I’m admitting to nothing,” she said, taking a sip of the beer. “But tell me more about this poetic justice.”

“Vince Snavely is a sniveling, steroid-eating weasel. The only thing he cares about is winning, and he imparts that lovely wisdom on impressionable teenage boys.”

“Huh. He really does look like a weasel,” Marley said.

“Come on. Admit it. Tell me you did it. It’ll make you feel better,” I told her, nudging her with my elbow. I liked the way it felt when our skin brushed. There was something chemical there. A reaction every single time.

She sighed. “When am I going to learn that pranks never make me feel better?”

I had a feeling she was thinking back to Homecoming our senior year. People still talked about it. “Still waiting for a confession.”

“How do I know I can trust you? Are you a narc?”

“I brought you beer that I’m drinking on school property,” I pointed out.

“Yeah, but maybe you’re wearing a wire,” she joked.

“Do you want me to take off my shirt?” I offered.

She paused mid-swallow and coughed.

“Because I’d be willing to do it. If it convinces you to trust me.”

“Keep your shirt on, Flirty McGee.”

Playfully, I tugged at the hem of my t-shirt and watched her eyes follow the movement.

“Marley, do I need to remind you that you’re not the only one with prankster cajones? Remember junior year when I built a ramp and jumped the principal’s car with my bike?”

She cocked her head to the side. “Oh, that was you?” she asked innocently.

Damn right it was me.

She looked me up and down. “You don’t look much like that guy anymore. You look…well-behaved. Like a Boy Scout.”

It was an insult, and we both knew it. “I may portray myself to be an upstanding adult during school hours. But I assure you, after school I’m a little rougher around the edges.”

“Hmm.” She considered me, then shook her head. “Nope. Don’t buy it. There’s no sign of the teenage rebel.”

Challenge accepted. “Allow me to reacquaint you with him.” I leaned into her space, happy when she didn’t retreat. I remembered that about her. She didn’t back down or give up.

“Oh, so you’re going to kiss me?” she asked. Her tone was lighter now, her eyes sparkled.

“Yeah. Get ready.”

“I’m ready. Impress me.”

I started to lean in, slow. Building the anticipation. She parted her lips, and I could hear that little intake of breath. Almost like a whisper. Oh, I was going to enjoy this. Marley put a hand on my chest, and I stopped just an inch shy of her mouth.

“You’re going to be better at this than you were in high school, right? I mean, I assume you’ve had some practice since then.”

I laughed softly. Yeah, I liked this woman. She was sneaky funny, and there was something a little sad about her. Both were my personal kryptonite when it came to women.

“I think I was pretty damn good in high school,” I argued.

She smiled at me, and I felt my heart take a nose dive right into my gut. I really liked that smile.

“What does this mean?” she asked suddenly.

I didn’t pull back, instead I held my ground. We were so close I could feel her body vibrating.

“What does what mean?”

“You showing up here, with a beer, a kiss? Is this a pity thing? Is this a one-time thing? Are you gonna suddenly give up your bachelor ways and fall head over heels for me? We work together. I’m only here for the semester. And given our history, you’ll forgive me for wanting a clarification.”

“You worried I’m gonna want to put a ring on you, Mars?” I asked reaching out to take her long, slim fingers in mine. I let my thumb trail over her ring finger. “Get my heart broken?”

Her breath hitched, and I felt my heart rate kick up a notch.

“I just want to know what I’m getting into.”

“How about we start with a kiss and see what happens?”

She hesitated. “Okay. As long as you make it a good one.”

“Hey, it takes two for a great kiss. You better hold up your end,” I teased.

I set my beer down and took hers, placing it next to mine. Taking my time, I cupped her face in my hands. I could feel the tension in her, the impatience, and that delicious little sliver of nerves. This was a pretty stupid move on my part. We worked together. I never dated anyone I worked with.

But I really wanted to kiss her. And I didn’t like not doing what I really wanted.

I let my thumbs stroke her jawline, noted the way her bottom lip quivered. Her neck was soft, smooth, warm. It made me want to sink my teeth in. But I was knocking on forty. That was a little too old for hickeys.

“Why aren’t you kissing me yet?” she asked.

Our mouths were so close. Her lip brushed mine when she spoke.

“Because sometimes it’s more about the journey.”

“I’m more about getting there—”

I closed the distance, cutting her off.

Her lips were ridiculously soft and inviting beneath mine. I had to bite back the urge that rose up and took me by the throat to deepen, to take, to chase.