Page 11 of Slapshot & Sweet Potato
“Stop talking, Slapshot.”
Then I kiss him.
For a heartbeat, the world narrows to firelight and the taste of cocoa on his lips. His hand slides to the back of my neck, anchoring me, pulling me closer. The soft sound he makes against my mouth—half sigh, half growl—undoes every defense I’ve ever had.
Chapter
Five
WALLACE
The fire pops. Another gust rattles the cabin walls. Wendy inches back, eyes simmering.
I’ve wanted this since our first meeting. But the timing was always off. Then, when Liam and Cass got together, it complicated things.
Wendy’s heat, her taste, her soft curves are all I can think about as I wrap my arms more tightly around her, sinking into her mouth again.
This isn’t just lust. It’s release from every wall we’ve built against each other. Which makes it scary as hell, trusting the deepest, most sacred parts of myself to the girl who loves to hate me.
“So much for freezing by the fire,” she says against my mouth, hot breath sending shivers through me.
“You complaining?”
Icy flakes hammer against the window, the scent of smoke and chocolate thick between us.
My hand comes up, cupping her delicate cheek, marveling at our size difference. She makes me feel like a giant crashing into her world—everything about her delicate, beautiful, small but mighty.
I lean into her again, but her breath catches, and she pulls back, eyes wide. “This isn’t just a convenience thing for you, is it?”
“Convenience?” My jaw tightens.
“Like I’m here, available, and temporary, so why not?”
“What in the hell are you talking about, Sweet Potato?”
She shrugs, but her bottom lip trembles. “I see you down there on the Player’s Bench, surrounded by beautiful women. Tall, camera-ready women with long hair and lashes that could fan a fire. They look perfect?—”
“They look like plastic,” I grumble.
Hope flares behind her eyes. “Maybe, but still. I’m short and round with a sassy haircut most men revile. I’ve had to rely on being thefunny fat girlmy whole life just to get some kind of attention. But how could that ever be enough for a guy like you?”
“You are small and curvy, smart-mouthed and acerbic … in all the right ways. It’s what I love about you, Wendy, even when you use all of that wit and sarcasm to hate on me.”
“I have never hated on you.”
“Okay, then, to hate on my public persona. But what if I told you I think you’re perfect? Every curve, every roll, every dimple. What if I told you my only fear right now is getting you off so monumentally you’ll choose me over any other man?”
She swallows hard, sage-green eyes dilating. My hand comes up, thumb gliding over the pulse point in her neck before my lips descend … an act of worship.
“You’re not another photo op, Wendy. And it scares the hell out of me. But you know what scares me more?” My eyes find hers.
“What?” she manages on a shaky breath.
“The regret I’ll have to live with if I let you go.”
I brush a stray hair from her face, falling in love with the flush of her cheeks, the prettiest color of pink. Only topped by the radiance of her thick lips.
“But I don’t want any of this if you don’t want it, too, Sweet Potato.” I grab her hand, place it flat over my chest where my heart pounds.
