Page 97 of Can't Kiss the Chef

“It was. We spent a lot of the night reminiscing,” I add.

Isla flashes Arie a toothy grin.

“We actually did the same thing.”

The local pop station is cranking out the sultry beats tonight. As the car falls silent, Trey Songz voice is the only one filling the car.

Aerie’s eyes move from the rear view mirror back to the dimly lit road.

“It’s kind of cool that my dad actually came to pick us up,” Byron whispers.

My heart grows at the childlike giddiness in his voice. His eyes shine like someone that’s just crossed something off their bucket list.

Byron uses the silent moment to distract me and sneaks his hand higher up my skirt. I try to close my legs but of course the division I athlete has the reflexes of a cat and is able to run his fingertips over the growing wet spot of my panties.

I bury my head into his shoulders to stifle my moan. Not really needing him to draw his parents attention to the tomfoolery going on in the back seat.

I swat Byron’s hand and lace my finger through his as a safety precaution. It may be his birthday but I do not need his parents hating me. I actually want these parents to like me.

Luckily the drive from Jasper’s to the hockey house is a short one and Byron finds the strength to restrain himself. That restraint snaps the moment we get home.

Byron unlocks the front door and wastes no time pulling me through it and pinning me against the wall. The lips that land on mine are assertive, knowing exactly what they want.

When his tongue slides against mine he lets out an animalistic moan that spurs something in me. I grind against Byron’s hardening dick causing the wet spot between my legs to grow.

“This has been the best birthday I’ve ever had.”

Byron moans as he pepper’s kisses down my neck. Causing a shiver to jolt up my spine.

I think it’s the growing tension that causes the chills until a breeze comes through the open door to my left.

Byron’s hand snakes under my top and starts pinching my hardening nipples through my barely there bralette.

“Byron,” I say panting. “Maybe we should close the door and move this show upstairs before anyone else comes home.”

He lets out a huff, but must agree with me because he slams the front door and walks toward the stairs without missing a step. I pepper kisses down his neck and he squeezes my ass almost reflexively when I get to the sensitive spot on his collarbone.

He kicks his door open before placing me on the floor.

“I really wish you kept the wig on.”

The words take a moment to register because I’m lost in his darkening blue eyes. I move back as he stalks forward until the back of my knees hit the bed. I clumsily fall back on Byron’s bed.

He wastes no time falling to his knees in front of me and shimmies my panties off me.

He pushes the short purple skirt up to my waist.

“Please just touch me,” I moan.

If the build up lasts any longer I’m going to explode the moment his finger touches me.

Byron being the frustrating jokester he is, takes his time kissing up my legs. When he realizes that my legs won’t move any wider he orders me to stand up. He spins me around. He runs his fingers down my back until reaches the zipper of my skirt. The skirt is barely down my thighs before he tugs my top up from behind.

When I look up I realize that we are facing the mirror above his dresser. I lock eyes with Byron through it. I make a show of reaching behind my back and unclipping my bralette.

Byron tries to reach around me but I step away before he is able to touch me.

“It’s my birthday night. And I want to see you naked too.”

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