Page 66 of Racking Up Penalties
“Really? I wouldn’t want to impose,” Tessa says, but there’s an unmistakable note of hope in his voice.
“Trust me, she’d be thrilled,” I reassure her, feeling the warmth of anticipation bubble up inside me.
“Alright then, count me in,” Tristan says with a nod.
Ethan, however, has been strangely quiet, his gaze lingering on the textbook in front of him. The moment hangs heavy until he finally looks up, his brown eyes searching mine.
“Would your mom really be okay with me coming over?” There’s an underlying current of doubt in his voice, and I understand instantly.
“Of course, she would,” I say firmly, meeting his gaze straight on.
He holds my gaze for a long moment, and then the corner of his mouth quirks up in a small smile. “Alright, I’m in.”
“Great,” I say, feeling a weight lift off my chest. It wouldn’t have been the same without him.
“Thanks, Liam.” Tessa presses a kiss to my cheek.
“You are in for a real treat.” The idea of sharing Mom’s cooking with them, seeing their reactions, it’s something I look forward to.
“Seriously, man, thanks.” Ethan’s voice is quiet, but the gratitude is back, just as real as before.
“I have practice at six in the morning so I have to go,” Tristan says, packing his bag.
Ethan follows his lead and follows him out the door.
The sound of the door closing signals the end of our study session, leaving just Tessa and me in the now-quiet room. She’s slowly organizing her things, clearly in no rush to leave.
“Need any help?” I ask though I’m not ready for her to go either.
“Nope, I got it,” she replies, her hazel eyes catching mine with a sparkle. “Thanks, though.”
We stand there for a moment, the rest of the world fading away, and I think about how easy it is with her—the teasing, the studying, the silence. Everything.
“Hey, Liam?” Her voice is soft, almost hesitant.
“Yeah?”
“Thanksgiving… with your mom. It’s going to be special.” She says it like a promise, one I intend to keep.
“It will be,” I agree, the air between us filled with unsaid words and unexplored possibilities.
With deliberate slowness, Tessa zips up her bag and slings it over her shoulder, the weight of her gaze heavy on me. There’s an unspoken invitation in her eyes, a subtle tilt of her head that points toward the stairs leading up to my room. My breath hitches, anticipation coiling tight in my chest.
“Want to stay over? We can go upstairs?” I murmur, my voice low enough that it’s almost drowned out by the pounding of my heart.
“Lead the way,” she answers with a playful smile tugging at her lips, her hazel eyes dancing with a light that sends a spark straight through me.
We ascend the stairs side by side, close enough that our hands brush with each step. When we reach my door, I push it open and we slip inside, instantly cloaked in the privacy of my space.
She drops her bag beside my desk.
Closing the distance between us, my fingers find the softness of her cheek, and I pull her closer.
Our lips crash together in a rush of need, a mingling of urgency and relief. I taste the familiar sweetness of her mouth. She responds with equal fervor, her hands threading through my hair, grounding me, pulling me deeper into the moment.
Tessa’s back hits the wall with a soft thud as I press against her, my hands roaming over the curves of her body. She gasps into my mouth, a signal that sends my pulse racing. With deft movements, I slip my hand under the hem of her shirt, seeking the warm skin beneath.
Her breath hitches when I find the waistband of her jeans, dipping below it to explore further. Her hips arch toward my touch, silently pleading for more.
