Page 102 of In the Net
Out of his grasp, I jump at my chance. “I lo?—”
He’s too fast, though, springing at me like a cat, wrapping me up in his arms and pressing me tight against him. My face is buried in his shoulder, too tight to get a sentence out, even one that’s only three words long.
“I lo—” he begins, but I’m able to wiggle my head free. This time, I shut him up by pressing my lips to his.
Neither of us can form any words as we both sink into this kiss, our lips sliding, our tongues tangling. I kiss him like I need it to survive. He moans into my mouth like he’s been starving half to death, and this kiss is his only source of nourishment.
Pure contentment like I’ve never felt before suffuses through me.
I slant my lips deeper into the kiss with the boy I grew up with, who became the guy I hate, who’s now the man I need like I need air to breathe.
His lips feather over mine once more before we pull just slightly away, our brows and noses still touching.
“I love you,” I sigh.
Sebastian pulls in a deep, slow breath, like he can smell those words and he’s savoring it.
After a beat of silence, he says, “I let you win.”
I open my eyes to see a haughty look in his and a crooked smirk on his lips. We’re not enemies anymore, but something tells me we’ll never stop trying to one-up each other. I wouldn’t have it any other way.
“Did not,” I protest.
He shakes his head, smiling like he can’t believe this is happening. Then he presses another soft kiss to my lips. “I love you, Harper. And did too.”
Instead of arguing, I just kiss him again.
“I’ll let you win the next competition,” I say.
He shakes his head. “I’ll win it myself.”
I roll my eyes. “Cocky.”
“Cocky, and in love with you.”
Sebastian gathers me in his arms and marches me upstairs to my room. An hour later, after I’m spent and satisfied and curled up against his body in my bed, I tell my very real boyfriend that I love him once again.
He says the same thing back, and we both know there’s nothing fake about what we have this time.
EPILOGUE
SEBASTIAN
“What a relief. Now I don’t have to hold that grudge against you anymore.”
Harper laughs by my side as we step out of the Louvre, after having spent a full eight hours inside.
“Truly turning over a new leaf in our relationship,” she snarks next to me.
I wrap my arm around her and pull her close as we walk toward the Jardin des Tuileries outside the museum.
Harper and I graduated from Brumehill just a couple weeks ago. Before I have to start training for my first NHL season and she has to start her move to Yale where she’s been accepted into a Literature PhD program, we decided to take a summer trip back to Paris.
“What if I got sick again, right before our ticket entry?” she asks.
I tilt my shoulder. “I’d leave you in bed and go alone. You think I’m missing the Louvre asecondtime?”
She digs her elbow into my ribs, and we both laugh. Obviously, we both know I’d drop literally anything to take careof Harper when she needs me, no matter where we are, no matter what I’m missing.
