Page 74 of Fake Shot

“I won’t be screaming your name,” she says with a laugh.

I bend my head back down to her clit, circling it with my tongue before sucking it between my lips. The moan she lets out borders on a scream, so I lift my head again and say, “Want to bet?”

I’m determined to give her an orgasm that beats anything she’s ever experienced and is more than she ever hoped for.Using my tongue on her clit while my fingers sink deep inside her, I have her moaning and thrashing, chasing that orgasm in mere minutes. Trailing my free hand up her side, I skim my palm along her breast and over her nipple before I spread my thumb and fingers to grasp the base of her throat. I only apply light pressure, not enough to prevent her from breathing, but it sends her body into overdrive. Her hips slam into my fingers as she sets the tempo, and by the way she’s gasping my name in between moans when she finally comes, I’d say I was successful in helping her let go of control long enough to show her who owns this pussy. Because as I pull my fingers out of her and use my tongue to lap up every bit of her cum, there’s only one path forward...us, together.

“I love the way you taste,” I tell her.

“Oh yeah? How do I taste?”

I lean forward, planting my elbow on the bed next to her shoulder as I bring my lips to her forehead. “Like you’re mine.”

“I didn’t know ‘mine’ was a flavor,” she says, her sass fully back intact like she didn’t just fall apart on my tongue. “What does it taste like?”

“You.”

Chapter Twenty-Nine

JULES

Colt’s parents’ house is chaotic and loud, but still warm and inviting. His aunt and uncle sit at the kitchen table, sipping tea and eating croissants while his cousin, Lane, plays video games with Colt’s nephew, Simon. Simon is the spitting image of Gabriel—he has a dark complexion with dark brown hair like his dad, but he has his mom’s pale eyes.

I know he said that sometimes his nephew comes down to Boston with his parents, and it makes me wonder how Colt feels every time he sees Simon, who is the literal embodiment of his brother’s betrayal. He’s also an incredibly good-natured teenage boy, and from what I can tell, he seems like he really looks up to his uncle.

Colt said yesterday that everything worked out exactly as it should have, which makes me think of the saying my mom used a lot:Everything happens for a reason.After she died, I hated that saying with the burning passion of a thousandsuns. It felt like a lazy way to dismiss real pain and suffering with a casual promise of a better future.

But now, when I look at Colt’s family and think about how different his life would have been if that baby had been his, or I think about how different my life would have been if my parents had both survived my mom’s illness and my brother hadn’t retired from hockey to raise us...I don’t know that I disagree with the saying as much as I used to.

Both of those things led to good. Not that our lives wouldn’t have each been good without those catastrophic events, but they’d be different. We definitely wouldn’t be in this complicated as hell situation we’re in...but it’s feeling less complicated, and more real, by the minute.

Colt tightens his arm around my shoulder where we stand, leaning against the kitchen counter near the stove where his mom is heating the kettle to brew more tea.

“I got you that cinnamon kind you like,” she tells Colt, and then asks me if I drink tea.

“Sometimes? I drink it like my dad used to, with some milk and sugar.”

“How very Irish of you,” Colt says and kisses the top of my head. “You want to try my favorite kind? I’m sure it’s good with milk and sugar.”

“Sure.” I relax into his side, feeling more at peace than I’ve felt in a long time, despite the fact that Gabriel and Cheri are standing on the other side of the island. Based on their history, it should be awkward, but Colt seems more okay with it than he was yesterday. I’m trying not to read too much into it, though it does seem that me being here with him is what’s making the difference.

“How are you feeling about round two of the playoffs?”Gabriel asks him. Next to me, Colt stiffens the tiniest amount—it would be imperceptible to anyone not touching him.

“Good. Carolina’s got a really strong defense this year, but so do we.”

They talk for a few minutes about the game, and based on some of the details he mentions, I realize that Gabriel must follow his brother’s career closely. As his mom hands us our mugs of tea, I wonder if Colt is picking up on this too.

“Jules and I are going to take our tea down to the pond. I want to show her where I learned to skate. But also,” he says specifically to Gabriel, “I got tickets for Mom and Dad to come see the game on Thursday. I realize you guys probably have work and Simon probably has school, but I could get three more tickets if you guys want to join them.”

Gabriel looks at Cheri, and her mouth pops open, but she seems lost for words.

“You don’t have to decide now,” Colt says quickly. “Just let me know.”

And with that, he moves his hand to the small of my back and guides me through the sliding glass door that leads to a raised deck. We follow the stairs down to the ground, and then take the steps built into the steep hillside to the pond below. When we get to the dock, Colt unfurls a heavy wool blanket that he must have grabbed on our way out.

The crisp spring morning air smells damp, the way soil does after it rains. He wraps the blanket around his shoulders and then sides so that his butt is on the blanket and there’s just enough space between his legs for me to sit on it too. I settle in, leaning back against him and sipping my tea as he pulls the blanket around us to ward off the chill.

“I’m proud of you for what you did back there,” I say.

“Inviting them to the game?”

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