Page 64 of Empty Net

“Well, I want to, Fox. I really, really want to.”

I want to say something cool like,What are you waiting for?But I don’t have it in me.

All I can manage is, “Lilah.”

It’s the last thing I say before she presses her lips to mine, and my whole fucking world flips upside down. My hands fall to her hips on instinct, and I pull her to me, dragging her up until her toes are barely touching the floor as she kisses me with fervor. Her hands crash into my hair, tugging me in and hanging on just as tightly as I am like she’s afraid this is all going to disappear soon.

And it should disappear. We shouldn’t be doing this. This is a very, very bad idea that feels so, so good.

Stop this, Fox. Stop it now before it’s too late.

But I don’t listen to myself. I can’t. She feels too fucking good. Too right. Too much like…mine.

Thatbrings me right back to reality because she’s not mine. What we’re feeling is because of the situation we got ourselves into. That’s it.

“Wait, wait, wait,” I whisper, pulling away even though every part of me says not to because this feels better than anything I’ve ever experienced in my life, and I want more of it so damn badly that my hands are shaking.

Still, this is a big deal right now. It was all supposed to be fake, just a favor, and her lips on mine don’t feel fake at all. What she’s suggesting isn’t fake. It’s all too real and feels all too good, like something I could get dangerously addicted to if I let myself. And while I really want to let myself, I know I shouldn’t.

“We shouldn’t.”

She juts her bottom lip out in a pout, and I hate that I want to lean forward and sink my teeth into it. “Why not?”

“You know why not, sugar.”

“But I don’t,” she says, pressing closer to me again, and I groan. She’s warm and soft and feels like absolutely everything I want right now. “I don’t understand why not. We know what this is, Fox. We know there are no other expectations. Why not have some fun?” She dances her fingers over my chest like she can’t help but touch me right now. “Because isn’t that what this whole thing is supposed to be about? Having fun?”

“Having fun messing with your parents. Not having fun like this.”

She drags her fingers down my chest, tracing over my abs, not stopping until she’s brushing the edge of my jeans. “It can be both.”

She tugs my shirt, her soft touch tickling my bare skin, and I might have had too much spice tonight. I must have. It’s the only explanation for why I’m sweating so much from such a small touch.

“Lilah…” I say. No, Ibeg. “It’s a bad idea.”

“I don’t think it is. I think youwantit to be a bad idea because if it’s not, you might have to admit you’re not always a gentleman, admit you want this and you want to do dirty, dirty things to me…use me. You want to fuck me and release all this tension you’ve been holding on to so you can play better hockey.” She tugs on my jeans, dragging me closer, her lips mere centimeters from mine. “And honestly, Fox, I want you to.”

She’s right. I do want to do dirty, dirty things to her. I want to bend her over this countertop and pull those jeans that make her ass look so damn good right down her legs. I want to push myself between her thighs and taste her until she’s screaming my name. Then I want to slam into her, fuck her until her legs are nothing but jelly and I’m all she feels tomorrow when I’m between thepipes, winning us a game. Because Idothink this will help with my game. Tremendously, actually.

So, yes, I want this, but it doesn’t change the fact that I shouldn’t.

“Please, Arthur. Let me help you. Let me do this for you.”

I don’t know what does me in, don’t know if it’s the way she says my name or her pleading, but I don’t care. Not when she’s staring up at me with hooded eyes, her hands still toying dangerously close to the button on my jeans. And especially not when I don’t want to resist her anymore.

“Oh, what the hell?” I mutter. “Fuck it.”

Then I grab her, sliding my hands into her hair that’s just as silky as I hoped, and drag those soft, plump lips of hers right back to mine, kissing the hell out of her. She gasps into my mouth, then again when I swing her into my arms and spin us both around, dropping her onto the counter and pressing between her knees. I drag her to the edge of the stone, fitting myself against her, wanting her to feel just what she’s been doing to me.

If the soft moan that leaves her is any indication, she definitely feels it.

“This is a bad idea,” I tell her, trailing my lips from hers and down her chin, sucking at her neck.

“Maybe, but it feels good, doesn’t it?”

“Mmm,” I hum, sinking my teeth into her soft flesh.

“It’s just fun,” she says, and I’m not sure if she’s telling me or reminding herself, but I don’t really care.

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