Page 12 of The Fangirl and the Playboy

Keegan lets out an impressive wolf’s howl, and a laugh barks out of me, unbidden. She beams at me for it, and the two of them dance around me for a moment before settling in on either side of me.

“Thanks for inviting me,” I say. “Though I have to say, I’m feeling a little overdressed.”

I motion between them, all decked out in pajamas with cartoon characters printed on them. I’m wearing jeans and a button-down shirt with the long sleeves cuffed at the elbows––not formal, by any means, but not pajamas either.

“Take it off,” Keegan shouts toward the ceiling, making her voice deeper as she cups her hands around her mouth.

Pressley laughs and shakes her head at her friend, and I feel my nerves over this whole thing start to settle. These are real people having real fun, and there’s nothing to worry about. I don’t have to act like I’m having fun.

I can actually justhave fun.

And I do. We mix Planter’s Vodka with various different juices and sodas, then taste them while the women continue to bounce around on the balls of their feet. We gush over this one and that one, and “meh” over others.

By the end of filming, I’m a little bit tipsy and rocking my hips to the music. It’s obvious Keegan is a little bit more than tipsy, and she begs me to howl for the camera before we end the video. I laugh and decline, then I’m glad I did when I catch Trace frowning in my direction.

Keegan follows my line of sight and chuckles as she bounces over to him and plops down on his lap, calling him “Wolf Daddy” again before snuggling into his chest. I stifle a laugh at his obviously exaggerated frown, and he narrows his gaze at me for a second before his expression turns indulgent as he cuddles his girl.

A longing bursts inside me so violently, I have to look away. I want that kind of love for myself. I might have had it once, but I lost it. Shaking my head and swallowing against the gobstopper-sized lump in my throat, I wander over to where Bram and Pressley are talking.

I can sense a little light flirtation between them, but they seem to be trying to keep the line firmly drawn at friendship. I can understand that. Pressley lives in Seattle, and Bram lives here.

I was faced with a similar situation once, myself, and it sucks.

* * *

Eleven Years Ago…

I’m back in Evening Shade, and even though it’s only been a month since I was last here, it feels like a lifetime. I’m at the lake, waiting for Willow, and memories of my last night here, at this very spot, rush through my head and make my heart beat a little faster.

The stars glinting off the water.

The crackling fire.

Willow’s hand in mine.

That kiss.

My brain was telling me not to do it, that we were only friends, but my body refused to listen. I couldn’t stop wondering if her lips were as soft as they looked. Turns out, they weren’t. They weresofter. Warmer. More perfect than I could’ve imagined.

The sound of a motor snaps me out of the memory, and I turn to see a small, green hatchback driving up the dirt road toward me. It’s bright and shiny, brand new, and it suits Willow perfectly. I walk toward the vehicle as it rolls to a stop, and Willow’s wide smile as she climbs out makes my heart thump in my chest.

“Nice wheels,” I say as I approach her.

“Thanks,” she says, then lunges forward, slamming into my chest.

Her arms circle around my waist, hugging me tightly, and I hug her back with the same gusto. Fuck, I want to kiss her again, but I don’t really know where she stands. We haven’t mentioned it in our text messages over the last month by some silent agreement, and I’m dying to know if she regrets it, or like me, is dying for a repeat.

Then she pulls back slightly, her liquid eyes shining into mine as she parts her lips the tiniest bit, and I lose whatever control I thought I had. Dipping my head, I brush my lips over hers lightly, almost cautiously, giving her every opportunity to pull back. I don’t want to be that guy that just assumes I can kiss her whenever I want just because she allowed it to happen once before.

A mix of relief and elation flows through me when she doesn’t pull away. Her lips move in a tender slow dance against mine, then a quiet groan rumbles in her chest as she releases her grip on me to reach up and drive her hands into my hair.

My heartbeat races as she parts her lips, inviting me in. Fighting my baser instincts to ravage her mouth, I dip my tongue inside tentatively, truly tasting her for the first time.

Andfuck, she’s delectable.

Her entire body shivers as my tongue brushes against hers, and she copies the movement eagerly and a bit clumsily. Something primal rises up inside me as I realize this is probably her firstrealkiss.

And it’s all mine.

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