Page 80 of Four Letter Feelings

He knew she was attempting at casual indifference, but he could tell she didn’t want to leave from the look on her face, and the fact she hadn’t made a move towards the door to leave.

“Nice try.” He closed the gap between them and she backed herself away from him a half step at a time until her back found the fridge. “I know you’re scared of realizing you have actual feelings for a hockey boy, Chels, but you can’t just run away from them forever.”

“I can try,” she answered, her voice small and full of pain.

“Is it really so bad? Having feelings for a hockey player?”

“You have no idea—”

She tried to turn away to avoid his piercing stare but he wasn’t going to let her, not right now. If this was the only chance to truly connect with her, beyond the sarcasm and sass, he wasn’t going to let it slip by. He leaned his left elbow on the fridge above her head and gently pinched her chin between the finger and thumb of his right hand, turning her head to face him.

“If you want to leave, clearly I won’t try to stop you. But I don’t want you to go, and, for a change, I’m not even talking sex. I mean, don’t get me wrong, obviously I want to take you to bed.”

She giggled softly and smiled up at him.

“But I’d be quite happy to watch a movie, or play scrabble, or go for a walk or something. Look Chelsea, I don’t know what your ex did to you to make you swear off hockey players forever, and to be honest, it’s really none of my business. But what I can tell you is this, we aren’t all the same, and I know you’ll struggle to believe that, but it’s true. Some of us even have feelings beyond the nerve endings in our dicks.”

She giggled again.

“I like you, Chels. I like you a lot, and I can’t stop thinking about you when you’re in Iowa. When you’re here I want to see you. Can you at least open your heart up, just a tiny little bit, to the idea that I might not be a douche canoe? I mean, I fully admit to the fact I can be a douche canoe, don’t get me wrong, I’m not perfect by any means. But I’m a good guy, and I think if you could set aside your fear of hockey-boy-heartbreak, you might like what you see, and if you don’t, that’s cool. But I’d really like it if you’d think about it.”

“Can it be?” She grinned up at him. “Jeremy Lewis beneath the sarcasm, ego and quick wit might actually have a heart?”

“Are you going to make fun of me, or are you going to kiss me?”

“Are those my only two options?”

He tilted his head in curiosity.

“What if I don’t want to stop at kissing?”

He didn’t hesitate as his lips crashed against hers, or as he picked her up by her hips and wrapped her legs around his waist. Their kiss was hungry, desperate and wild. He poured every urge he’d ever had to kiss her…

“Wait!”

“What?” she demanded, clearly frustrated and agitated that he’d stopped kissing her.

He chuckled. “Sorry, m’lady, but I was simply going to ask if you wanted our first time to be right here against my fridge or if you had a preference for somewhere a little more… comfortable?”

“Why… the fuck… are you still talking right now?” she rasped, her chest heaving. “Take off your goddamn clothes!”

“Protection is upstairs, Chels.” He managed between frantic kisses.

“I appreciate the consideration, Jer, but I’m on the pill.” She pulled back for a moment. “Unless there’s a chance I’m going to catch something from you?”

“Dang, Chels. Don’t hold back. No. I’m clean.”

“Then get naked. Do it now.”

Her neediness and near desperation was all the indication he needed to spur him on. He stood her up, held her gaze and kissed her again as they both unbuttoned their jeans. He pushed his down just enough to have the freedom to do what he needed while Chelsea stepped out of the pile of denim and underwear on the floor and looked up at him expectantly.

“I don’t like to be kept waiting,” she challenged.

“Yes ma’am,” he answered as he picked her up and pressed her against the door of the fridge.

***

By the time they made it to the bedroom he’d had his way with her on just about every surface downstairs. After the fridge, it was the dining room table, then the sofa, and somehow, they’d even made it work on the stairs, because neither of them could wait the extra thirty seconds to get to the top of the stairs.

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