Page 69 of The Foul Out

“I lied.” I swallowed, pulling back a little and blinking.

She inhaled a little sharply, her eyes narrowing on me.

“In fairness,” I said, rushing the words, out, “when I said it, it was true.”

“I don’t understand,” she said, frowning, each word pressing against me.

“I said I didn’t want anything from you. But lately, I have this want—this need—and I can’t stop it,” I admitted, resting my forehead against hers.

“What is it you want from me?” she whispered, closing her eyes.

“The ability to call you mine.”

Her eyes flew open, and her lips parted in a shocked breath.

Without second-guessing myself, I stole my chance and dropped my mouth to hers.

As I cupped the sides of her face, keeping her close, she melted into me. I swept my tongue along her bottom lip, then into her mouth, dominating, dancing with hers, every move full of desire, of need. The tastes of her flooded my mouth, made me desperate for more.

She looped her arms around my neck, pressing every soft curve of her body against me.

My heart pounded, causing blood to rush in my ears and to my cock, as I savored each moment her soft lips touched mine. It was a perfect kiss—sweet, warm, and wet. But as a soft moan left her lips, I remembered exactly what I needed to say.

I pulled back and rested my forehead against hers. Our ragged breaths mingled, and her soft, sweet scent surrounded me, making my cock throb. I wanted her. More than I’d ever wanted anything.

“Harper,” I panted, “before this goes any farther, I need to tell you some things.”

Slowly, she blinked once, twice, and focused on me, her eyes swimming with need. “Kyle, I know a kiss isn’t a promise of forever.”

I frowned, my heart sinking. That wasn’t at all what I meant. I’d probably said those exact words more than once, but that was the furthest thing from my mind right now. With Harper, there was no need to seek reassurance that she was good with just one night, becauseIwanted more than that.

That little line appeared between her eyes again, and for the first time tonight, I didn’t enjoy the sight of it.

“I’m not going to cry or freak out if you don’t call me tomorrow.”

I wanted to call her tomorrow. What was she talking about?

“Don’t worry,” she said, her tone far too even, unaffected.

“No. Call me any time you want. Hearing from you is the highlight of my day.” I shook my head and pulled back a bit more. “I’m not walking through this door if you’re thinking this is just a one-off.”

“Oh.” Her lips parted, her eyes going wide.

I traced her plush bottom lip with my thumb. She shivered in response, the unintentional move making my gut tighten. I angled in, ready to claim her mouth once more, but before my lips could touch hers, I forced myself to stop. Words. Dumbass.

“I…just.” I sighed, straightening again. Start with the easy part. “You need to know that I’m the one paying for Piper’s therapy.”

In an instant, she went from chocolate syrup, warm and gooey, to solid ice, rigid and cold and sharp.

“What?” she hissed, yanking her arms from around my neck and taking a step back. “You, as in Hope Speaks, you mean.”

The desperate hope in that sentence made me feel like a jerk.

I shook my head. “No, me. Kyle Bosco.”

She reared back, stumbling into the door in her haste. And when I reached out to steady her, she flinched away. A sharp piece of that ice pierced my heart. Dammit. I hadn’t intended to hurt her. I wanted to help.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

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