Page 67 of Play Along

There’s literally not a single part of her that’s being dramatic. From the looks of it, she’s barely feeling the hurt she should feel, and even that’s not good enough for them. It’s as if these people won’t allow her to be anything other than exactly what they want her to be.

I feel that way sometimes too. Set by my own precedent, but still.

Connor continues. “You did the same thing. I saw the newspaper article. You two have been together for years, right?” He drapes an arm over Mallory’s. “Well, so have we. We’re even now.”

We’re even now.

Fuck. Him.

Kennedy was never unfaithful. We haven’t been together for years. We’re not even together now.

And she can’t even correct him.

I squint in confusion. “Why are you still talking?”

Dean chuckles under his breath. “Because the guy is obsessed with the sound of his own voice.”

“It’s okay, you know.” He’s still fucking talking to her. “We’re not what each other needed. You needed whatever the hell you found in this guy who can hardly dress himself properly, and I needed someone who could kiss me in public without having a mental breakdown over it.”

“Shut the fuck up—”

“Shut the fuck up, Connor. You pretentious, entitled asshole.” That’s Dean, jinxing my words and ironically calling his brother-in-law a name I’ve used on him once or twice.

“It’s okay.” Kennedy quickly stands, her body still sandwiched between my open legs. “He’s right.”

She’s looking right at me, eyes pleading for permission. Permission for what though, I’m not entirely sure.

“He did need someone who would kiss him in public and we all know that was never going to be me.”

Her small hand reaches up to cradle my cheek, her index finger grazing over the small birthmark by my right eye before she leans down and does the most shocking thing she’s ever done.

She presses her lips to mine.

Soft. Cautious, but warm. Measured and practiced, like she needed to become the perfect kisser before ever trying it for the first time.

Once I catch on, I inhale her scent, her presence, the moment.

Her lower lip nestles into the dip between mine and I’m beyond tempted to suck it into my mouth and see what kind of noises I could pull from her throat.

She’s kissing me.

Kennedy is kissing me.

Her other hand comes to bracket my jaw before her fingers move to the back of my head, cupping my skull and pulling me close. Her body sags into mine, perfectly nestled between my hips as her lips take their time exploring my own.

She works to find a pace that feels right for her, and I let her lead. I want her to have the moment of taking control when she hasn’t been allowed any.

My palm curves around the back of her thigh, rubbing along her soft skin, and apparently the movement acts as a reality check because she instantly pulls away.

Hands still around my face, her eyes go big and a little bit wild, shocked that she kissed me.

I’m shocked that she kissed me.

“Well, goddamn,” Dean chuckles, throwing back another shot. “Looks like Kennedy found someone she actually wants to kiss in public.”

Utter disbelief is plastered on her face, lips I finally touched now trembling slightly.

She doesn’t take her eyes off me, but she’s drowning. She was brave, trying to prove a point, and now she’s drowning.

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