Kiss and Don't Tell(71)

I squeeze her side and she laughs while handing Holmes back his phone. This time she really does yawn and then curls farther into me.

“Tired?” I ask her.

She nods.

So, I take that moment—before the boys can tell more stories, because there are more—to stand from my chair. “I’m exhausted,” I announce, and pull Winnie up with me. “Out of fear of what you might say to Winnie, I’m taking her with me.”

“Sure,” Taters says, “That’s why you’re taking her with you.”

Ignoring him, I say good night and so does Winnie, and with my arm draped over her shoulder, we head into the house and down the hallway to our rooms.

“I had an awesome day today,” Winnie says. “You’re a great time, Pacey.”

“I’m surprised it’s taken you this long to recognize that.”

“So full of yourself.”

“All hockey players are,” I say as we reach her door. She turns toward me and leans against her door.

“Are you going to kiss me good night, Pacey? Or am I going to have to make the first move again?”

“Can’t a man play hard to get?”

“Is that what you were doing?” she asks, tugging on my shirt and pulling me closer.

“I’m not going to give away my secrets.”

She chuckles and smooths her hand up my chest, and I take that moment to prop my hand against her door, next to her head, and then reach up and grip her cheek. It hasn’t been just a good day. It’s been one of the best I’ve had in a long time. Part of me feels like shit for getting information about Josh, but I did genuinely want to know how to please her. For her. And watching her get along with my boys . . . Nothing beats that, really. They’ve accepted her, can see her worth. Her quirky mischievousness. They like her, too.

“You’re awesome to hang with too, Winnie.”

“Yeah?” She tugs me closer. “Prove it.”

Smiling, I use my thumb to angle her chin up right before my mouth descends on hers. Sweet, full lips meet mine and I immediately get lost in the taste of her. We really did keep everything PG today. Besides the occasional handholding or snuggling, we didn’t kiss and all hands stayed above clothes. It made the day that much better, because instead of letting the sexual attraction we have for each other take over, we got to know each other on another level.

It was the perfect day.

And now has the perfect ending as I push my body up against hers. She gasps when I slip my tongue inside her mouth and demand more. Her hands grip the fabric of my shirt and one of her legs curls around mine. She clings to me, wanting more, needing more, and it makes me feel so goddamn amazing. This beautiful, fun, witty girl wants me.

But she doesn’t want me because I’m a famous athlete. She couldn’t care less that I play hockey—I’m not even sure that part of my life registers much with her. No, she wants me on a deeper level. She wants me because of the man I am, the true man.

Our tongues twirl together, twist, and because I can’t keep my hands off her, I slip one hand under her sweatshirt to her bare skin. She gasps as my thumb swipes across her stomach before I guide my hand to her back. My fingers play dangerously with the waistband of her pants. I’m tempted to slip them in, to grab hold of this sumptuous ass, but I also know I don’t want to ruin today with a quick grab, a quick feel.

This kiss is where it stops. I pull away despite her protests and press a small kiss to her nose. I push off the wall and take a step back. I watch as her eyes slowly open, her chest rising and falling at a rapid rate.

“You’re mean,” she says, making me laugh.

“I’m mean?” I point to my chest. “How am I mean?”

“Kissing me back and then pulling away. It’s not fair.”

“What’s not fair is how damn good you look in my sweatshirt.”

She smiles and clutches at the sweatshirt. “Do you want it back?”

I shake my head. “Nah, it looks better on you.”

I take another step back so I don’t feel tempted to peel that sweatshirt off her myself.

Sensing my retreat, Winnie says, “Thank you for today, Pacey. Thank you for making the day . . . well, unique. It was good to laugh again.”

“Anytime, Winnie.” I give her a quick wave. “Sweet dreams.”

“You too.”

And with that, she slips into her bedroom and shuts the door. Once I hear it click, I move down the hallway to my bedroom, where I shut my door and flop back on my bed. I drape my arm over my eyes and take a deep breath.

Holy fuck.

I like a girl.

This was the last thing I was expecting after that nightmare ending to the postseason, but life has a funny way of happening. Instead of focusing on my flaws, my fears, I’ve completely forgotten about them, and I’ve been distracted by a girl who has imprinted her laugh and those eyes on my brain.

I’ve never had this feeling before. As if I’m itching all over while my stomach tumbles over and over again. The only way for the itching and tumbling to stop is to see her.

It’s all new to me. And if she loved today because she was able to laugh, to forget that her loss is still so recent, so heartbreaking, then I’m glad to be the man giving her that. And want to give it to her again tomorrow.