Page 72 of Rematch
“Having fun?” Preston murmured in her ear.
She loved being held by him this way but she wanted to see him, so she twisted, delighted when he kept his hands on her waist. “You were incredible, Preston. And I’m now a believer. Hockey is the greatest sport.”
He gave her a kiss on the cheek. “I loved knowing you were there, in the stands watching me.”
She blushed, thrilled to her toes by his admission. That, paired with Erika’s insider information about Preston’s feelings for her, and Ethan and Allyson’s advice that she seek her own happiness as well as Lennon’s, meant Chelsea’s attraction—okay, horniness—was currently off the charts.
Lifting on her tiptoes, she gave him an impulsive kiss. She meant for it to be quick, but Preston wasn’t just fast on the ice. His grip on her tightened as he extended the kiss, drawing it out. His tongue swiped her lower lip, and she obliged by opening her mouth. Lifting her hands to his shoulders, she pressed her body firmly against his, recalling the way he’d caged her beneath him on the couch.
While Chelsea rarely drank enough alcohol to get drunk, the same couldn’t be said for Preston’s drugging kisses. When he wasn’t kissing her, her brain functioned just fine. But the second his lips landed on hers, she was wasted, all reasonable thoughts drowned in lust and desire.
Preston broke the kiss, his forehead pressed to hers. “I’m trying to play by your rules, Joy, but it’s not fucking easy.”
He had been…for the most part. While he hadn’t kissed her since that day on the couch, he’d still been seducing her with touches she couldn’t exactly chastise him for. Because friendly hugs, a gentle hand on the small of her back as they walked, and holding her hand could all fall into the platonic range. If they were done by anyone other than Preston.
“Maybe…” she started, as that impulsive side her mother kept bitching about emerged. “Maybe just for tonight, we could bend the rules. A little bit,” she stressed.
Preston’s smile was pure wickedness, and she was here for it.
“I’m very good at bending the rules,” he whispered in her ear.
Then he spent the rest of the night proving just how good he was, as he insisted she sit on his lap, even though there were plenty of chairs at the table. Preston snuck countless kisses, some on her lips but just as many on her cheek, behind her ear, on the side of her neck. One of his hands drifted beneath the jersey, stroking her back in a slow way that was maddeningly sensual. And while those touches were enough to stoke her embers into a flame, his whispered words—half compliments/half list of all the ways he wanted to take her—added enough fuel that her body was a raging bonfire by the time the celebration ended.
Preston wrapped a firm arm around her waist as he walked her, Ethan, and Allyson to the car at the end of the night.
While her friends—both tipsy as hell—giggled and climbed into the car, Chelsea leaned against the driver’s-side door, facing Preston. Driving away from him tonight was going to be harder than walking away from him in that hotel last year had been.
There was no denying she wanted him.
Physically.
Sexually.
However, the part of her that hadn’t completely caught up to the others was the emotional bit. Because she was still trigger-shy, suffering from PTSD, and racked with indecision. Not to mention, she was letting her mother live in her head rent-free.
“I know we were only bending the rules tonight,” Preston said, as if he could see the direction her thoughts had drifted.
“I…” she started, feeling as if she owed him some sort of explanation for why she was still holding back when she’d made it very—VERY—clear her attraction to him was off the charts.
“All your reasons for holding back are still there, Joy, and there’s nothing wrong with that. We’re taking this at your speed, I promise.”
And just like that, the pressure she’d been feeling simply melted. Like magic.
Preston tilted his head. “What?”
She’d whispered the magic part aloud. But she didn’t know how to explain how he seemed to have some mystical power that quieted all the chaos inside her, so instead, she just said, “Nothing. Never mind.”
“You still okay to come Christmas Day?” he asked. “I could always stop by your place with my parents for a little while, if that’s easier.”
Jesus. No part of that would be easier.
“Lennon and I will come to you,” she said.
Preston had met her mom and dad earlier in the week, stopping by for an hour. Dad had been awesome, asking Preston a million and twelve questions about hockey, all of which he answered kindly. Mom was also polite, if reserved. She offered drinks and snacks, then hovered a bit too nearby as Preston held Lennon. It was a short visit, and one that would have been very awkward if not for Dad and Preston keeping the conversation rolling, while Chelsea sat on pins and needles.
She suspected future get-togethers would be easier, but not if she scheduled it on Christmas.
Even if it had upset her mother, Chelsea’s decision to split the holiday between her family and Preston’s had been a simple one to make. Mainly because it didn’t upset Mom enough to convince her to uninvite Rick and his parents, despite Chelsea telling her point-blank she didn’t want to see her ex.
