Page 44 of Getting Lucky Number Seven

Or was I more of a pushover who kept her feelings to herself?

Damn it, why can’t I go back to not worrying about this, and just having fun, no labels or pressure?I forced my feelings into a dark corner to be explored later. We were at a party, and it was time I started acting like it. The beat from the music flowed through me, and I bobbed my head to it, bumping against Beck until he grinned. No matter what else was going on, seeing him smile made me feel better.

“Davenport!” Someone yelled across the room. “Get over here.”

We headed toward the guy waving him over. Apparently there was a big beer pong tournament going on, and they wanted to recruit Beck. Within a few minutes, teams had been drawn up and Beck was seated across the table from one of his other teammates.

I thought about mingling while he was playing, but thinking of being “on,” meeting new people and trying to make small talk exhausted me. And what would I do in the unlikely event of a guy hitting on me? Would Beck care? Either way, I wasn’t interested in dealing with it tonight. So I watched as Beck played, getting louder and more flushed with every drink.

“You want next?” One of the hockey players—Daniel, I think—asked me when his and Beck’s game wrapped up.

“Oh, I’m driving,” I said with a shrug.

Beck grabbed my hand and pulled me onto his lap. “She’ll play, and I’ll drink for her.”

I glanced over my shoulder at him. “You know that I’ve never played, right?”

“One more college experience to check off your list, then.”

“It also means I’ll miss a lot. And that you’ll have to drink a lot.”

“There are worse things that could happen. Now, go on.” Beck dropped the Ping-Pong ball in my hand. “Just aim for the middle until you get the hang of it.”

Aim. Right. It didn’t help that I was distracted by being on Beck’s lap, one of his arms loosely circled around my waist. It wasn’t really a boyfriend-girlfriend gesture—and it hadn’t happened until he’d gotten a buzz going—but at least I didn’t feel like he was embarrassed of me. In fact, I was feeling other things, and I might’ve rocked back and forth more than I needed to.

Beck had just finished yet another cup, thanks to my poor beer pong skills, when he brushed my hair aside, moved his mouth next to my ear, and whispered, “You’re killing me in this skirt. You know that, right?”

Goosebumps swept across my skin. I turned my head to his, our lips so close, and I wondered what he’d do if I kissed him in front of everyone. His hand circled my thigh, and want throbbed through me, making me crave being alone with him.

“My turn,” one of the guys yelled, and we were forced out of our seat. Beck pulled me aside, and with the way he was having trouble walking in a straight line, it was clear the drinks were catching up to him.

I’d never seen Beck really drunk before. He was giggly. Handsy. “You might have to carry me to my room tonight, Lyla. Make sure to take advantage of me.” He laughed, and I shook my head, laughing, too.

Maybe having the perfect boyfriend who got you and your humor, was happy about a long-term relationship, and gave you so many orgasms you could barely move afterward was a myth. Maybe you had to choose one or the other. A guy who wanted to be your boyfriend but was slightly boring or licked your chin, or the no-attachments guy with the sizzling physical chemistry.

With Beck moving closer, his hand sliding over the curve of my butt, I’d have a hard time saying which I wanted more—my hormones were screaming too loud to consider the safe boyfriend option.

So maybe I’m learning I’m more of a relationship person than a no-strings sex buddy, but I can hold back my expectations and that longing for more for a little while if it means more time having this.

Besides, the safe choice failed me before. Might as well know the danger before it unexpectedly dumps me on my butt.

“You know why else I wanted to come here with you?” Beck asked.

I looked up into his half-lidded eyes and then went ahead and ran my hand down his cheek the way I wanted to. “Why?”

“This is my last season of hockey, and I wanted to celebrate the end of the regular season right. Our regional matchup is against a tough team with a better record, and honestly, it could be my last game ever.”

My heart tugged at the sadness weighing down his words. “Wait? What? Why wouldn’t you play hockey next year?”

“Family stuff. I might need to stay in Canterbury. Start learning more of the business.” He wound his fingers through my hair. “I’ll miss you if that happens. You’re the only person I can really talk to. Around you, I get to be just me.”

So much of what he was saying confused me, but that last line hit me hard. He was the only person I got to be just me around, too. Whether it was the cat pictures, chemistry jokes, or the hidden side of me that I’d never shared with anyone before—the side that wanted to conquer my fears and be bolder. To embrace my sexuality and experience all the things I had with him. Because of him, really.

So instead of holding back and questioning if it broke the rules of our arrangement, I tipped onto my toes and pressed my lips to his. As he drew me closer and deepened the kiss, I closed my eyes and melted into him until the music, the crowd, and all my worries and cares faded away.

Chapter Twenty-Four

Beck

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