Page 61 of Pitcher Perfect
No. No, she didn’t want that. You’re screwing yourself, Corrigan.
Slow down, slow down, slow down.
“Slow down,” he said thickly against her mouth. “Too fast. Too much.”
I’m at the point of no return.
“Please keep kissing me.”
Fuck it. A little longer.
“Okay, baby. Okay.” A slanting of lips, followed by the slowest, most perfect twist of hard on soft, an unbelievable rush of surprise and pleasure inside of him over how they anticipated each other’s movements, rough for rough, savoring for savoring. The taste and texture and scent of her broke into his brain like a burglar and ransacked the place, his heart thumping crazily in his rib cage.I could kiss you for the rest of my life.
That was the thought that had Robbie breaking away, struggling for breath.
Struggling not to look at her and start their engines again, mauling her mouth until tomorrow came and went, Robbie ordered himself to let her down carefully, both of them panting as he backed up, putting distance between them that he hated as much as he needed, purely for his own self-preservation.
“That’s enough... for now.”
She blew a piece of hair out of her face and his heart turned over. “Huh.”
Leaving Skylar breathing hard, dazed and flushed against the door, was the hardest thing he’d ever done in his life, including NHL training camp, but he managed to pick up his bag and get out the door with his heart still inside of his chest.
“Bye, Skylar,” he rasped, unable to resist kissing her temple on the way into the hall.
“Bye, Robbie.”
It only took him half a mile to realize he’d been dead wrong. His heart—and apparently all his common sense—had been left behind in Rhode Island.
What the hell did he do now?
Chapter Eighteen
Skylar parted the hanging beads leading into the underground burlesque club, a swanky, swoony, old-fashioned melody guiding her toward the performance area. The Gilded Garden was smoky, but not from cigarettes. The fog machine positioned at the entrance to the club was Skylar’s favorite of Eve’s ideas.I want people to feel like they’re walking through a screen and stepping back into the past.
Youdefinitely nailedit, Eve.
As soon as Skylar emerged from the fog, the lights turned a citrine blue, and she was surrounded by Roaring Twenties decor. Black-and-white pictures of performers in various stages of near undress hung along the hallway walls, showcased by golden art deco frames. The entire ceiling was made up of pink feather plumes that hung down, close enough to tickle Skylar’s forehead if she went up on her toes. A familiar brassy and crystal chandelier hung at the end of the hallway, beckoning customers forward, along with the sensual hibiscus fragrance, to the mouth of the club where the stage and tables were nestled into the sapphire darkness.
Skylar wasn’t a club person. She was the “drink a gallon of water, get a lot of sleep, and wake up refreshed” type. But she envied the creativity it took to start with Eve’s father’s no-frills strip club and build something like the Gilded Garden out of it. To have a vision for something so fantastical and make it happen.
Her surroundings only drove home the fact that Skylar and Eve had opposing personalities. Perhaps they never even would have been friends, except for the day in middle school Skylar had overheard Joe Logan asking Eve if she planned on stripping at her father’s club after graduation, because he’d be first in line to pay the cover charge. Skylar might have left her defense of Eve as a simpleshut up andleave her alone, Joe.
Then she’d witnessed Joe pinch Eve’s butt.
Skylar decked him, instead.
Well worth the three-day suspension during which Eve had arrived at the front door of the Page household with a stack of Skylar’s homework. She’d gone and collected it from all of Skylar’s teachers, saving Skylar from having to do the legwork upon her return to school.
“Are we even?” Eve had asked, stone-faced.
Skylar had propped her shoulder against the doorjamb, pretending to think about it. “No, I’m pretty sure I still owe you. I’ve wanted to punch that fucker for years.”
They’d been inseparable from that day forward.
Eve attended all of Skylar’s softball games, though she read a book in the stands and didn’t participate in the chants or cheers. Skylar did her homework with Eve in the office of the strip club, too, from time to time, though she’d wisely omitted that truth from her parents.
Skylar crossed the half-full lounge to the ornate black-and-gold bar, intending to order a Sprite. Somehow the words “vodka tonic” came out of her mouth, instead.
