Page 43 of Fly Boy
“What was I supposed to do? Wait until Monday when you fly me back to Colorado?” She huffs incredulously. “Oh, wait, I can’t because you’re too chickenshit to face me.”
Stopping by the fridge, I shut my eyes and inhale, asking the big guy upstairs for the strength to deal with this firecracker standing in my home. Without a glance back, I pull open the fridge. “Beer?”
“What?”
Lifting two off the shelf, I close the door. Her face is screwed up in confusion, watching me as I pop the caps and hold a bottle out for her. “If you want to talk, I need a drink.”
The empty one in my living room is not going to be enough.
“Fine.” The tips of our fingers graze as she takes the glass from my hold, her hands still cold from standing outside.
For fuck’s sake, could I be any more of an asshole?
“Or I can make you something else? Tea, maybe?”
“This is fine.” Shaking her head, she leans against my counter, picking at the label. Her wet hair curls around her shoulders and down her chest, goosebumps breaking out all over her skin. I could offer her something of mine to change into; it would be better than wearing soaked clothes, but the idea of her inmyclothes… No.
“Miss Cart—”
Her head whips up, fire blazing in her eyes. “Call meMiss Cartwrightone more time,” she snarls. “You and I both know we’re way past formalities, Wyatt. I thought at the very least I wasPhillipato you.”
I rub my hand over my chin, squeezing the stubble brushing against my skin hard as frustration twists in my stomach. “Phillipa. You shouldn’t be here.”
“And I shouldn’t want to jump your bones, but here we are,” she replies, and I nearly choke on my mouthful of beer at her candor. She smacks down her untouched bottle on my counter, the glass snicking loudly on the granite, before prowling closer. “You said I shouldn’t play games, but you’re the one playing them, Wyatt.”
Okay, so she’s just going for it then.
“You say this yet act differently. You rub up against me in the hotel… nearly kiss me today at the rink.” She jabs a finger at me. “Don’t even try to deny it. I was there. I know what would have happened if the Zamboni guy didn’t interrupt us. I catch you staring at me from across the plane when you think I’m not aware. I can tell what’s playing inside of your head, Wyatt, because mine is picturing the same damn thing all the time.”
I bristle, uncomfortable that she’s managed to see straight through me like glass. I thought my shields were higher, tighter, impenetrable, but instead they’re a flimsy piece of plastic, knocked over with a bat of her eyelashes.
“Phillipa,” I warn, the hair on the back of my neck standing on end as she takes another step forward.
“I can’t have you in my head, Wyatt. I should be focusing on the Grand Prix final, on proving to everyone why I deserve my spot on Team USA. But instead, for the last week, it’s only been on you.”
“So why are you here, then?” I yell, stalking toward her and forcing her back until she’s caged between the counter and my arms. “Why bother coming?”
“I can’t have distractions.” Her gaze bores into mine. “Not when every competition is leading up to my goal. But you're proving to be one the more we’re together. I need that to stop.”
“Thenleave.” I watch her throat work on a swallow, watch as her pupils dilate. “All I am is a fascination to you. A shiny new toy you’ve been told you can’t have, and like a brat, you won’t stop pushing until you get it. Did you ever think about what would happen if we were caught? If your father found out?” She blinks once, her gaze steady, her chin held high. I stab a finger into my sternum, injecting an undercurrent of a hiss into my words. “I’d be out on my ass while you would be safe in your castle, the little princess who could do no wrong.”
“Stop calling me that,” she says through gritted teeth, a vein in her forehead popping out.
“Why?” I smirk, closing the almost nonexistent gap between us so there is no way out, just her and me, nose to nose, that I can feel her breath on my lips as she exhales. “It’s what you are. The billionaire's daughter gets what she wants at the snap of her fingers. The billionaire’s daughter who kept pushing and pushing until all that was left was for her to send him careeningoff a cliffside to his inevitable demise. Because she was too selfish to see the bigger picture.”
“Fuck you,” she spits, her gray eyes darkening. “You don’t know a damn thing about me.”
Only I do.
Our chests rise and fall, our breaths uneven as we glare at each other. I’m trying to anger her, rile her up enough to make her leave, only with her proximity, the phantom touch of her body on mine as we stand close, all I can think about is lifting her onto the counter and sinking inside her, fucking that look of defiance off her face.
She moves first. Her hand snaps out and grabs the back of my neck, her lips smashing roughly to mine. She doesn’t make a sound, just forcefully presses her sweet, pillowy softness to the unexpected thin line of my own. It’s no more than a few seconds, but it’s plenty of time to send sparks that jolt and bounce around my body, the current strong enough to wrench my mouth from hers. I grip her shoulder, pushing her away and breaking the kiss. My fingers bite into her flesh as I stare down at her, frustration and anger surging in my veins.
Her eyes are wide, her cheeks flushed, her lips parted slightly as she wets them with her tongue, the pink tip running along them like she’s trying to taste the remnants of our simple kiss. The long, slender column of her throat bounces as she swallows, the movement drawing my eyes to her perfect skin, begging for my mouth.
“Fuck,” I growl before tugging her back, colliding our mouths together with no finesse, swallowing her gasp and then her moan as my tongue delves inside. It’s downright filthy, the baser instinct totakeas I taste her. She’s everything I thought she’d be. Sweet and salty at the same time, matching the girl I’ve come to know over the last four months.
Once again, it’s over before it begins, as this time, Pippa’s small hands shove at my chest, her strength sending me backward. Her lips are swollen from my ravaging kiss, her fingers trembling as she reaches up and lightly touches them to her mouth. She looks stunned, unprepared for my actions, but it morphs into a scowl, her eyebrows knitting together as she glares.
