Page 74 of I Can't Help It

SO FREAKING GOOD

Luke

The fall festival has officially started, and I officially feel lost. There’s so much going on! How are we even supposed to decide what to do first?

“They have a candy corn jar guessing game!” Ava informs me with wide eyes. “We should go play!”

And this is just another example of why we’re good together.

I grin at her enthusiasm. “Yeah, we definitely should.”

Never mind that I suck at guessing games because I always want to change my answer.

She tugs me toward the booth, and we get in line behind a couple of chatty teenage girls. Apparently, they couldn’t care less about candy corn. They’re only interested in talking to one of the guys running the booth.

Ava and I exchange a shared look, then she leans in closer to me.

“So, if you guess the right amount, are you going to share your candy corn with me?”

“I might,” I drawl, matching her flirty tone, “for the right price.”

Her green eyes glint mischievously. “You’re not getting any of my tickets.”

“Who said anything about tickets?” My voice is low as I glance at her mouth. “Maybe I want something else.”

She does that lip-bite smile combo again, and it’s still irresistible as heck. “Maybe there should be some kind of down payment then.”

“Hmm,” I hum, tucking some hair behind her ear, “I think that sounds like a good idea.”

Our lips make contact for the second time today, and my stomach clenches with each languid touch and stroke that follows afterward. Everything about the kiss is tender. Intimate. Playful. Amazing.

Her fingers brush my jawline.

My hand slides to the back of her neck.

She nips my bottom lip.

I fight to catch my breath.

Then, a few moments later, she puts a slow, torturous end to our kissing.

“How was that for a down payment?” she asks, her mouth lingering close to mine.

I’m still hazy from the sensation of her lips, but I manage to answer the question. “So freaking good.”

My husky reply causes her to kiss me again, and the moment is entirely too short.

“Then you’re definitely sharing the candy corn with me if you win.”

At this point, I’m pretty sure I’d give her anything she asked for.

Once it’s finally our turn to guess the count, I glance at what Ava is writing on her slip of paper.

Is that a three or an eight?

“Hey, no peeking!” she scolds, folding up her paper. “You have to guess your own number.”

Sure, but how the heck am I supposed to guess without any hints or a possible number range? There are too many choices! And I know it’s only candy corn, but what if I choose the wrong number? It’s embarrassing when you guess something that’s not even close to the right answer.

---