Page 31 of Kiss Me Tonight

“But you hate it.”

I study her. The way the ends of her blond hair are starting to dry and curl. How her lips are flat and uncompromising, but her blue eyes are lit with barely leashed curiosity. “Maybe I wanted to come over and discuss what we’re gonna do about the damage to my truck.”

She pauses for only a moment, biting into the tip of the pizza slice and moaning like the damn thing is the answer to all her prayers. Or my prayers.

Women who prefer to be called by their surname shouldn’t be allowed to moan like that.

They shouldn’t, but not two seconds pass before she does it again.

Blue eyes squeezed shut. Head tipped back in bliss. Those unrestrained tits of hers swaying under the loose fit of her tank top.

Jesus.

I shift my weight on the bar stool, angling my hips away from her. Harden my voice and pray that she’s so into the pizza that she won’t notice how much my dick is into those breathy sighs of hers. “You don’t believe me.”

“Believe that you’re here to demand that I pay up?” She cracks one eye open to stare me down. “Not even a little bit.”

I fold my pizza in half, lengthwise like a paper airplane, and take a bite. Chew. Swallow. “Maybe you’re wrong. Maybe I’m here because your kid hit my truck, and a paint job is gonna run me almost a grand, if not more.”

A telltale blush warms her cheeks. “I am sorry about what happened. Really. Topher is just—”

“A teenager. We’ll work out.” Forearms propped up on the counter, I cock my head to the side when I catch her sucking her bottom lip between her teeth.She looks like a woman trying to hold the words in.I wave at her. “Go ahead. Spit it out.”

Startled, her gaze snaps up to meet mine. “Spit what out?”

“All those thoughts you’re trying to hold under lock and key right now. I can see the wheels spinning.”

The blush staining her cheeks, though still there, takes a back seat to the glint in her blue eyes. Never once averting her gaze from my face, she says, “I just can’t help but get the feeling that you’re here because the whole town is buzzing about your arrival and you want to hide out with someone who doesn’t get a lady boner just by breathing the same air as you.”

Pizza halfway to my mouth, I freeze. Twist my head to get a real good look at the woman scarfing down God’s best creation like it’s her only job. “Did you just say—”

“Lady boner?” Wiping her hands on a napkin, she jumps off the stool and ambles toward the fridge. “I mean, I guess I could phrase it differently. Tingling nub, maybe. Swollen clit, for sure.” She snags the stainless-steel handle then props open the door with her hip. Two seconds later, she’s holding a bottle of water in each hand, one of which she deposits in front of me. “Don’t tell me you’ve never revved up a woman enough to know what I’m talking about.”

Revved up a woman . . .

Jesus fuck.

“Or maybe all the women you’ve slept with are too scared to clue you in that you’re doing something wrong,” Levi continues, unscrewing the bottle cap and taking a hearty swig. When she pulls it away, a bead of water glistens on her upper lip. She sucks it off with little aplomb. Then meets my gaze head-on. “I mean, if you’re sleeping with a famous person, it’s probably best to just lie back and think of England, especially if it sucks. Don’t want to hurt their fragile egos.”

“You’re insane.”

Another sip of water as she rakes her gaze down over my chest. “It’s only an opinion, Coach.” Her lips quirk up in a smug grin. “Sorta like the one you had about London having a taste for nepotism? Just like that.”

Silence permeates the kitchen, and then the sound of laughter bulldozes the quiet into smithereens.

The sound ofmy laughter.

It sets my chest ablaze, and hell, but it feels crazy good to let go and give in. The pizza’s tip droops like a wilted flower as I rub the back of my wrist against my face, right under my eye. Pretty sure I haven’t laughed this hard in ages. Years, maybe.

Levi—Aspen—thinks she’s got me all figured out. Her blue eyes are dancing; she’s rocking onto the balls of her feet like she can’t hold still as she waits for my reaction. So, I give it to her.

“Probably goes without saying that opinions are like assholes, everyone’s—”

“Got one?” she finishes for me, reaching into the open pizza box for another slice. She nabs her plate and doesn’t even bother to sit down as she digs right in, standing not two feet away from me. “Funny, I said the same thing to Topher’s dad when we divorced. He said it was in his right to play around outside our marriage. I told him to shove his opinion up his ass and sign the papers.”

Fucking prick.

Disgust swirls in my gut at her revelation. Sinks into my bones and reminds me of what little I know of my biological parents through court records. I let the past linger for barely a moment before I push aside the sympathy rising to the forefront, courtesy of her unexpected show of vulnerability. In my experience, people open up only so they can maneuver you to their liking.

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