Page 41 of A Major Puck Up

“Will you play the song for me again? But this time in English?”

She drops her focus to the floor and shakes her head. “You still haven’t kissed me.”

My chest goes tight as I study her lips for the hundredth time today. “Believe me, I fucking know.”

She sighs and motions at the space between us. “What is this? You slept in my bed and held me all night. Then you took me from café to café, smiling at me, holding my hand.” Her face is etched with worry as she considers me. “I can tell you’re attracted to me.” She steps closer. “I can tell you want to kiss me. So why haven’t you?”

“Have you talked to your father?”

A small gasp escapes her, and she steps back, almost as if I slapped her. “What?”

I grasp her wrist and brush my thumb across the smooth skin there, hoping she knows my questions come from a place of genuine care. “Have you spoken to your father about music? Did you tell him you were upset when he gave half the company to Lake? Have you talked to him at all?”

She tucks her chin, avoiding my gaze, and shakes her head.

My heart sinks. Dammit. For months I’ve hoped she’d worked to heal those wounds, but nothing has changed.

“You’re upset with me,” she says slowly, like the pieces of a puzzle are slotting together, her version of it, at least.

“No. I’m realistic. I wanted to see if what we had was real. Wanted to know if, outside the sex, this was something more.”

Her lips turn down, and disappointment flashes in her eyes. “And it isn’t?” Her voice is a sad whisper.

I reach for her hand again, and this time, I hold it against my chest and press a kiss to her forehead. With a deep breath in, then back out, I grasp her chin and tilt her face up so I can look into those big golden eyes that captured me the very first day I met her.

“No, Peaches. It’s not more. It’s everything. Being with you this weekend, without the sex, has shown me that I’d rather sit in a room and do absolutely nothing with you than spend an hour living it up with anyone else. This isn’t about sex. It’s not about the forbidden. It’s not a game or a mid-life crisis. I like you. A lot.”

“Then why won’t you kiss me?”

“Because you’re not ready.”

Her brows furrow in an adorable, annoyed expression. “What? How can you say that?”

“Because you’re living in a city you don’t love and spending your days doing work you couldn’t care less about because you refuse to have a conversation with your father. My best friend.” I grasp her chin a little harder, hoping she sees my sincerity and how much I desperately want her to have it all. “You’re not ready for us, and I can’t force you to get there.”

“What are you talking about?” She takes a step back. “I like my job.”

“You want to write music. But you’re hiding in your apartment, and when my sister isn’t working you to death, you’re writing music on a piano fit for a toddler.”

Her eyes go hard and her nostrils flare. Dammit, she’s gorgeous when she’s angry. “Last time I checked, you’re not actually a coach either, Gavin.” She takes another step back, but I follow, cupping her cheek this time.

“I’m not saying this to hurt you, Millie.” I rub my thumb over her smooth skin. “I’m saying this because I care about you. I care about you so fucking much it doesn’t make sense. I’ve been friends with your father for years, and he’d fucking kill me if he knew what I was doing, but I’m doing it anyway because I. Care. About. You.” I annunciate each word, hoping I can get through to her.

She lets out a defeated sigh and crosses her arms. “I’ll talk to him.”

I shake my head. “Don’t do it for me. Do it for you. I want you to do it when you’re ready.”

Her eyes are glassy as she surveys me. “That’s not fair.”

I smile, despite the ache in my chest. “Don’t I know it. Talk to me about fair. The girl I’m crazy about is half my age and my best friend’s daughter. Plus she lives three thousand miles away.”

“How do you even know you’re still crazy about me? You haven’t even kissed me in more than a year.”

I drop my forehead to hers for a breath, then pull back. “You’re working hard for that kiss.”

“Maybe I just need proof of your feelings. And a little motivation.”

With a dark chuckle, I brush my lips against hers, and fuck, do I want to own these lips. I want to shove her back onto her bed, strip off her clothes, and take my time with her. But she’s not ready, and I can’t force it.

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