Page 33 of The Quarterback Sneak

“You mean like when I tried to hold your hand in the hallway the other day? You were so flustered you nearly jumped out ofyour skin.” I sigh at the reminder. It isn’t his fault I’m not used to PDA. “Wouldn’t it be better to get the awkwardness out of the way here instead of in there?”

He has a point, but kissing him when no one is watching feels strange and a little foreign. Zach raises his hands. “Come on, just one kiss to loosen you up. I promise I’ll keep my hands to myself.”

I bite my bottom lip, look into his eyes, and smile. He’s trying to help me relax, and maybe that’s what I need… To go with the flow instead of being so stuck in my head all the time. Slumping, I unbuckle my seatbelt and turn to face him. “Fine, but if you get too handsy, we have to stop,” I warn lightheartedly.

“Don’t you worry, Meatball. My hands will be pinned to the pink leather of your seats.”

Groaning, I roll my eyes and whack his chest gently. “Are you ever going to stop with the nicknames?”

“Not until I find one that sticks. So far, none of them suit you.”

“What if I don’t want a nickname?”

He doesn’t answer, prompting me to raise a brow. “Sorry, Q-Tip. You’re getting one.” He offers a small smile and fingers a tendril of my hair, then brushes it behind my ear. To stop myself from flinching, I focus on his green eyes, straight nose, and bow lips. He is beautiful. His body leans in closer, and I keep myself in place, pushing any worries I have aside.

His lips are mere inches away before he grazes them against mine, capturing them in the softest kiss I’ve ever experienced. It feels almost like butterflies fluttering against my skin, and I sigh into the touch. He presses his lips a little harder, careful not to touch me anywhere else. I press back, letting him know I’m okay with this.

He takes advantage when my lips part for the slightest of seconds and skates his tongue across my bottom lip. His noserubs against mine, and my brain goes so fuzzy I can’t think straight.

The kiss is shorter than I expect and he’s watching me when I open my eyes. Deep and mossy-green, his eyes draw me in, and are just as beautiful as the rest of him.

Our breaths mingle, the familiar minty scent from last time making my body tingle. Memories of our first kiss and how different I felt afterward cross my mind. I want that feeling again, and I don’t want this kiss to end.

Tipping my chin, I bring my lips back to his, and there’s no hesitation. He kisses me back. This time, though, it’s firmer and more reminiscent of when he kissed me against the wall in the football tunnel.

With one hand resting on my thigh and the other clasping my back, Zach pulls me closer. My body tingles at his touch, and I lean in as much as the console between us allows because for the first time in a long time, I want more.

I open my mouth on a dare, inviting him in, and a small thrill teases at the back of my spine and heads straight to my burning belly when his tongue grazes mine. Zach’s hand moves from my side, sliding to the back of my head, placing me exactly where he wants me.

His other hand tickles up my thigh, and those tingles ignite, giving me the same adrenaline kick as when he first kissed me.

I like this.

I want to keep going.

So, I pull at his jacket, smashing our lips together. His lips, his scent, and his taste devour me, and I’ve never wanted to get lost in something more. Fingers tease my upper thighs, moving inward, and my hips jut forward, chasing his touch.

Is this how it should feel when someone kisses you? Like you’ve lost your mind but you don’t care?

If there was any hesitation left in me, it melts away when his fingers flex against my scalp, drawing me in. In that moment, I feel it. Zach’s pain and frustration at the world. He kisses me more aggressively, and I happily take it because every ounce of his pain feels better than my own.

I feel it. I feel him, and it’s the most connected I’ve felt with anyone.

Bang, bang, bang.

Zach jolts away from me, leaving me gasping. “Get a room,” a muffled voice calls as they walk to Eric’s house.

Breathless and a little hazy, I look over to Zach. His shirt is now ruffled, his hair no longer pristine, but most importantly, his face is smeared with my lipstick.

Was he as affected as I was by that kiss?

“Good technique,” he mumbles, sounding more like his coach than a guy whose fingers were so close to my center I could almost feel it. Swallowing, I nod slowly and tuck my lip inside my mouth. His taste still lingers there, and embarrassment sinks in. He was going along with it, helping me loosen up. That meant nothing.

“Thanks,” I reply, almost mechanically. “We should, uh, go inside.” I grab the door handle, refusing to look at Zach because I’m beyond confused about what just happened. The feelings I had weren’t supposed to be there. His door slams, and before I know it, he’s by my side, offering his hand as I step out in my six-inch heels.

I gingerly accept, and when our palms connect, I feel it again. There’s this electricity charging me from the inside. A small zing that makes me feel like I’m on top of the world, which is only solidified when Zach smiles at me.

Oh, God. What the hell am I doing? Am I starting to fall for my fake boyfriend? After only two kisses and no commitment. No wonder Jamie found it so easy to manipulate me.

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