Page 110 of The ABCs of You & Me

“Yeah, because Mr. Walsh is happy all the time. He’s always happy when you’re at school.”

“I’m happy when he’s at school too.”

“Miss Hore.”

“Yeah, Pete?” I laugh.

“I knew he loved you.”

“Oh?”

He nods, squeezing the rock. “His eyes told me.”

“You know, Pete, you may have a superpower some of us only dream of having.”

He sits up, suddenly very interested. “What superpower?”

“The power of perception.”

When I’m back in my office, I replay what Pete said.“I knew he loved you.”I think deep down I may have known too, but I have heard those words before, and the longer I sit with them the more I question them. I believed them the first time, and they led me down a very long dark road.He loves youwas something I told myself on the hardest days. They kept me in place. Those three words blinded me to what was going on. What if I can never trust them?

“Nineteen fifty-three,” Foster says, and I write it down. “Technically they’re still at war,” he whispers.

“Why is it so hot that you know that?”

“Because knowledge is sexy.” He smirks back.

“Can a pub quiz be considered foreplay?” I ask, dragging my foot up his calf, earning me a look of warning.

“Absofuckinglutely,” he growls, and I find myself overwhelmed with excitement that I single handedly seem to have broken him out of his no swearing cage.

“Which tsar was the last to reign in Russia?” the quiz master calls out.

Foster doesn’t break eye contact when he mouths “Nicholas,” and chills spread across my body.

“Which Canadian city hosted the World’s Fair in 1968?”

I know this one, but I let him lean closer until his lips are brushing my ear. His hand slips over my thigh and trails up until his fingers run along the center seam of my jeans. I don’t move, but I’m looking frantically around the dark room for any prying eyes. No one is paying attention to us; this is a serious quiz with serious competitors. They don’t care about the way he’s teasing me. They have no idea how he applies just enough pressure to make me slam my thighs shut, trapping his hand there.

“Montreal.”

I think I write it down, but I can’t be sure. I know my pencil touched the paper, but what he says next has me dropping it and rushing from the pub, Foster hot on my heels.

His lips are on mine before I even have a chance to open the car door. Hands in my hair, a hard body pressing me into the door. Someone whistles in the distance, but I don’t care. All that matters is how he’s touching me, kissing me, driving me wild.

“We’re doing R tonight,” he growls. “I’m going to absolutely ravish you.”

His hand has a vice grip on my thigh the entire drive to his apartment, and it’s amazing we ever make it inside since we stop every five feet to make out some more.

Once inside he immediately bends me over the counter and gets my jeans off using some kind of sex-crazed sorcery and then he kneels.

To say he ravishes me is an understatement. By the time he’s on his feet again I’m not even sure of my own name.

Hours later, with only the streetlamp illuminating the room, I trace theLord of the Ringstattoo on his chest with my finger. I know I should close my eyes and go to sleep, but it’s hard when he’s here with me. Part of me is afraid that I’ll wake up and this will all have been a dream. I’m terrified of opening my eyes again and seeing Gregory in his place.

Being with Foster is the opposite. He is the antithesis of Gregory and all he stands for.

“What are you thinking about, sunshine?” Foster asks quietly.

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