Page 104 of My Merry Mistake
“Does it bother you?” She turns and looks at me.
I stand. “Does what bother me?”
She shrugs. “Not being the star.”
“Pssh. No,” I say, chuckling. “Believe me, I just feel lucky to be here. I’m never going to be a Burke or a Hawke, but how many people get to say they played with those guys?”
She watches me and, for a second, I feel almost naked, like she’s solving a puzzle about me that I haven’t even started.
“You’re probably wondering why I’m not wanting more, huh?”
She shifts. “Well, kind of, yeah. What’s the point of doing something if you’re not trying to be the best at it?”
With that, I see right into what drives Raya Hart.
And I’m the complete opposite.
“I don’t need to be the best to be happy,” I say.
She doesn’t move.
“Foreign concept to you, right?” I say.
“Yeah, kind of. It seems like a waste of time to do something at the level you do it at, spend all of that time and energy and money, and not want to be the best.”
“My dad always says ‘Perfect is the enemy of great.’ When you take away the need to be perfect, you can be happy with whatever’s left.”
Her eyes go wide. “Wow, that was almost . . . deep.”
“Don’t be so surprised,” I say. “There’s a lot you don’t know about me.”
“Oh yeah? What other secrets are you hiding?” Her tone is different now, almost playful.
Without hesitation, I turn and say the first thing that pops in my head, “I’m an excellent kisser.”
She doesn’t look away.
I didn’t mean to say that. It was too forward, especially since I meant to keep things light and flirty, and we’re finally on common ground here—but . . .
She doesn’t look away.
I keep my face neutral, a little shocked she isn’t blustering at the comment, but now that I’ve said it out loud, I can’t reel the words back in.
Iwantto kiss her.
I’ve wanted to kiss her for a very long time.
“I’m really glad you came to check on me, Hart.” The air between us shifts, and I pray I’m not misreading it. I take a step closer and reach up to brush her hair away from her face. She goes completely still, but I know Raya—she’ll let me know if she wants me to back away.
I let my fingers trail down her neck, resting on her collarbone. I rub a thumb over the warm skin there. I want to bring my lips down to that exact spot, to press kisses into her soft skin, along her chin until I reach her lips.
Instinctively, my eyes dip down, not that I need a visual reminder of what her lips look like—I think I’ve got them memorized.
What am I doing? This isRaya.
And yet—she’s not pulling away.
My free hand skims down her back to her hip, my touch so light I bet it doesn’t even register. She doesn’t move. Almost like she’s waiting to see what happens next.
