Page 65 of The Enemy Face Off

"It's not okay," he mutters to himself then swings his eyes to meet mine. "I'm sorry about my reaction. Off the ice, I'm not aviolent person at all, but that was just…" He blows out a breath. "That was a lot."

"You're fine," I assure him. "Really. It was…kinda nice actually."

He releases my fingers and lifts his hand up, hovering near the side of my face. "May I?"

I'm not quite sure what he's asking permission for this time, but I nod anyway.

He smiles tenderly as he grazes my cheek with his fingers. My heart melts at the tenderness of the gesture.

He stops suddenly and pulls back, staring at my hands. "Oh no. I just broke the one-kiss rule."

"Technically, you did." But him kissing my knuckles before was such a sweet thing to do, I'm willing to let it slide. "But if we're getting all technical about things, I meant kisses on the lips."

"Right." His voice has turned husky. "Okay…"

I can tell he's itching to say something more. "Yes?" I prompt.

"Well, you weren't exactly clear about something else either."

"And what might that be?"

Our eyes meet. "Whether your one kiss rule meant one kissever, or one kissper day."

"Hmm. I guess I didn't spell that out."

"No. You didn't. That was incredibly confusing of you."

"Shut up."

"You know, I could probably sue you for emotional ambiguity."

I giggle. "Shutup."

He grins. "Make me."

Oh, I'll make him all right.

I scooch over to get closer to him, grab the sides of his face, and launch into a frenzied kiss.

Some guys might get funny when the girl takes the lead, but I'm confident Milo doesn't mind the way my hands are messing up his hair, the way my tongue is probing his mouth like a search team on a mission, or the way my hands slide across his chest, tracing the hard muscles under his T-shirt.

My only note about last night's kiss was that it was too short, so I make sure not to repeat the same mistake today.

"One kiss a day," I clarify, murmuring hungrily into his mouth.

He responds by tightening his grip around my waist, signaling his approval of our arrangement, and I can't help but moan at the heated touch.

It's only the sound of approaching footsteps that eventually makes me let go of him.

"So," I say, straightening my shirt and fixing my hair.

"Right," Milo says, doing the same.

By the time the middle-aged couple walk by us, exchanging friendly hellos, we manage to erase all signs of this kiss.

Which doesn't feel good because I didn't want to erase all signs of the kiss.

But maybe it's for the best?

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