Page 52 of I Blame the Rival

“I will never be your hero, Flower. I’m not ambitious and I’m not brave.”

He catches my earlobe between his teeth and tugs it gently.

“I’m not even cool enough to be a villain.”

I grab his face and pull him up until those bloodshot eyes are on mine. His hair is wild and tangled, his eyes are swollen and puffy, and his flawless skin is tainted with red splotches running along his cheeks. He’s a complete and utter disaster.

Yet so perfect for me.

“Why would I want a hero or a villain when I can have a boy who leaves me messages on sunshine tissues?”

Skylar stares at me with dilated pupils, his heavy breathing pushing against my chest. I cradle his face, rubbing off the last of the grainy residue.

“It’s not even a competition because I choose you.” Wrapping my arms around his neck, I breathe out the unfiltered truth, “I will always choose you, Skylar.”

His mouth is on mine the moment his name leaves my lips. I stumble back, bumping into the edge of his bed, and we go tumbling on top of it. Our lips stay fused together as Skylar rolls over so we’re side-by-side, carefully keeping his weight off of me.

My lips part and his tongue slips inside, drawing out soft moans with every stroke. Body burning with desire, my hands wander down the length of his back before sneaking under the edge of his shirt. He hisses out a breath when my fingers brush his bare skin.

“Is this okay?” I whisper the question and he responds by sitting up and pulling his shirt over his head.

Lying back on the bed, I soak in the sharp edges of his narrow chest, pale skin and lean muscles greeting me at every turn. My eyes drop to the skin stretched tight over his stomach and I let out a gasp.

“You said you weren’t an athlete!”

Skylar blinks, his gaze unfocused as he glances from me to his exposed torso.

“I’m not.”

“Liar.” I point accusingly at the abdominal muscles obscuring my vision, “How do you explain those then?”

He shrugs, “Skinny boy abs. It’s a thing.”

“Nuh uh. Those are fit boy abs.”

His face lights up with a smile, “I didn’t realize there was a distinction. Do you want me to put my shirt back on?”

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

I pull him back down and relish in the quiet laughter flowing through his body. Amber was right, Skylar does have the most beautiful smile.

But nothing beats feeling it pressed against my own.

My palms press against his skin and he tenses, reaching up to grip the comforter above my head. Sliding my hands upward, I trace every bump and line as Skylar latches his lips back on mine. I'm memorizing every inch of his skin, feeling every shiver that goes through him, but it doesn't take long for me to realize something is wrong.

Breaking away, I glance at the white knuckles clenching the comforter.

“Skylar?”

“Yes, Flower?”

“Why aren’t you touching me?”

He blinks, our proximity close enough that I can see the thought process flash through his eyes.

“I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

A blush hits my cheeks and Skylar lets go of the comforter to stroke it.

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