Page 38 of Butter My Biscuit

This makes him chuckle. “Yeah? And how did that work out for you?”

“Not sure. He still didn’t seem too convinced. Maybe you being my coach won’t work.” I laugh. “You’ll scare all of my dates away.”

Harrison breaks his eye contact and gazes out in the water. “He doesn’t have to worry aboutmestealinghispotentialwoman.”

“As if you could,” I say.

He lifts his brow. “I could.”

“Too cocky.” I shake my head. “I’m not fallin’ for that. I’m immune.”

He shrugs. “Whatever you say. All it takes is one kiss, and women fall in love with me. It’s not called the Harrison Valentine Kiss of Death for nothing.”

Now, I’m laughing. “Really? Let’s test your theory then. I’m not scared.”

“What?” He smirks, taking a step closer.

“If you’re so confident, let’s see. I’d love to be able to deliver you a good old-fashioned ValentineI told you so.”

“Nah. I’m good. Maybe some other time,” he tells me, shaking his head.

I’m not sure why I feel rejection.

I shrug. “That’s fine. Just didn’t think you’d be such a chicken at the chance of a lifetime.”

“No one—and I mean, no one—calls me achicken.”

Harrison straightens his stance and turns toward me. Then, he brushes his thumb across my cheek before dipping down and sliding his mouth against mine. I open my lips a bit wider, and his tongue darts inside, massaging mine. The kiss deepens further, and my control slips as I thread my fingers through his hair. I moan against him, feeling weak in the damn knees as he slowly pulls away. He creates space between us, and I place my fingers over my lips as he smirks.

Right now, I’m too stunned to speak, my throat is dry, and my thoughts are a tangled mess in my mind. “I, uh … I …”

“Cat got your tongue?” He’s not even fazed by the hum of electricity streaming between us.

“I think you’ve still got it.” My body is on fire, and the only thing I can blame is the alcohol. “I don’t think it was supposed to feel like that.”

“Like what?” He doesn’t meet my gaze, and right now, my heart is racing too fast for me to articulate the right words.

Were there fireworks?

I shake my head. “Nothing. See, not madly in love. No cupid eyes. Here’s yourI told you so.”

“We’ll see,” he mutters, and I see the hint of a smile on his lips—the lips I kinda want to kiss again.

“I guess we will.” I swallow hard, holding on to the railing.

He tilts his head, his eyes still scanning over the water. “Ya see, the thing about me is … Ilinger. I crawl under your skin and bury myself there. It starts slow, and you don’t realize it until I’m always on your mind. Or at least that’s what all the women who’ve demanded I see them for the second time say. So, it’s official; you got the Harrison Valentine Kiss of Death. Maybe I’ll be delivering you a good ole ValentineI told you so.”

I playfully roll my eyes. “I am not an option. Even you know that, especially with my track record.”

“Yeah, and the last thing I want to do is prove all those rumors right since people around town are so convinced there’s something going on between us.” He laughs.

“You’re absolutely right.” Though I can’t deny how fast my heart is pumping blood right now.

I’m trying to act normal. It was nothing, right?

I remember when we were fourteen and kissed, but we were kids with overactive hormones. What’s my excuse now?

“So, how long until your Kiss of Death fully activates? I want to put a calendar reminder in my phone.”

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