13. Chapter 14
Chapter 14
CHARLOTTE
I lie back in my bed as I contemplate heading to the dining hall for breakfast when my phone rings. Reaching out, I snatch it up, answer, and press it to my ear. “Hello?”
“Well, hello there, you naughty, naughty girl,” Brynn says, and I can practically hear her grin over the line. “How’d you sleep last night?”
“Like a baby,” I lie. I slept like shit. Mostly because I kept replaying the Kiss. The one where Chris caged me in and declared war with my mouth. Not the one that followed an hour later with Danger. That kiss paled in comparison. Sadly, Danger’s kissing skills don’t live up to his name, nor do they hold a candle to Chris’s, a fact I now know firsthand and am more than a little bitter about.
“No sex dreams about a certain blond-haired blue-eyed footballer?”
“You mean nightmares?”
Brynn’s answering chuckle tells me she’s not fooled. “Come on, Char. Even you have to admit that was the hottest kiss you’ve ever had in your life. All I had to do was follow the trail of steam coming down the hall. It led me straight to you.”
I ignore her steam comment and instead say, “It was . . . unexpected.”
Mostly because it was the best fucking kiss of my life.
“So, what about Danger? Do you think you’ll see him again?”
“Eh, probably not.” I sit up in bed and fling my blankets off, then head to my dresser and pull out a pair of leggings, sliding them on. I’m still wearing the hoodie Danger gave me last night when I complained about being cold. I contemplate changing it before deciding to leave it on. “He might not be the best kisser, but his hoodie is damn comfortable.”
“So the spark isn’t there?” Brynn asks.
“Nope.”
Thanks to fucking Chris and that damned kiss.
Annoyed, I place Brynn on speaker while I run a brush through my hair.
“And you’re sure there’s nothing there between you and Chris? Because the kiss I witnessed says otherwise.”
“Nothing,” I spit out as I mess with my bangs until they perfectly frame my face.
“What prompted him to kiss you anyway?”
I sigh. “Do we have to rehash this? It was nothing,” I say, hating how it feels like I’m trying to convince myself more than her.
“Let me think.” She hums. “Yes! I seem to recall you and Samantha going wild when you found out that Jace and I locked lips for the first time. You wanted details, and you got them, so I intend to collect.”
I groan and flop back down on my bed, grateful at least that I’m only having to discuss this with Brynn and not all the girls. “I pulled Chris aside to ream him out for showing up because we both know their invite was no accident.”
“Agreed.”
“He started hating on Danger, and the next thing I know, he’s pressing me up against the wall and assaulting my mouth. And you know, maybe it would’ve been hot, but as usual he ruined it afterward by opening up his big, fat mouth.”
“What? Why? What did he say?” Brynn asks in alarm.
“He tapped my head and said ‘If you’re going to spend the rest of the night talking with him, then I’m going to be up here every fucking second.’”
Brynn grunts. “Damn that’s hot.”
“Um, no. Not hot. It was infuriating. I mean, who does he think he is?”
The words are punctuated by a knock on the door.
I frown, rising to my feet. “Hold on,” I say as I turn the lock and open it. “Someone’s?” The words die in my throat the minute I see Chris standing there, all sleepy-eyed and rumpled like he’s just rolled out of bed, a drink holder with two paper cups in his hand.
My gaze flickers down the oversized Griffins football hoodie he’s wearing to the gray sweats, and my mouth goes dry.
“Tell Chris I said hi,” Brynn singsongs over the line.
I grip the phone harder. “Traitor!” I hiss, turning away from him. “You knew he was on his way over here. That’s why you kept me on the phone, isn’t it?”
“Er, maybe? I mean, he may or may not have woken me and Jace at the ass crack of dawn to grill me on your favorite breakfast foods, so be nice. Gotta go. Bye!” she shouts, and then the line goes dead.
I stare at my phone, holding it in a death grip before I spin back around and glare at the man in front of me. Crossing my arms over my chest, I lean against my door frame, unwilling to let him inside. “What are you doing here?”
“Bringing you breakfast.” He shakes a paper bag out in front of me. “What does it look like?”
Chris flashes me a goofy grin, and I hate that it does funny things to my chest.
“I have a meal plan and perfectly good food waiting for me at the dining hall.” I start to slam the door in his face, but not before Chris’s leg darts out with catlike reflexes and knocks it back open.
“Yes but does the dining hall have your favorite chai tea?” he asks, brushing past me to step inside the room.”
“Um, excuse me?” I start, but before I can finish, he swivels around and freezes, gaze locked on my chest, the glint of something dark in his eyes I can’t place.
I glance down at the hoodie, unsure of what he finds so offensive when it clicks. It’s an AAU Soccer hoodie, which means he knows exactly where I got it from?or rather, who I got it from?but he doesn’t know how .
Oh, this can be fun.
I pinch the jersey out in front of me and glance down. “Like it?”
“What the fuck, Lettie?” He stares, his gaze unblinking as the muscle flexes in his jaw.
“What? You don’t like it?” I ask, rubbing the fabric with a hand, practically purring when I say, “It’s a little big on me, but it’s so soft. Kept me warm all night.”
“Change.” The deep timbre of his voice takes an ominous tone. “Now.”
“I don’t think I want to,” I say, and then, knowing I’m playing with fire based on the murderous gleam in his eyes, I lift the fabric to my nose and inhale, closing my eyes as if in ecstasy. “Still smells like him.”
It doesn’t. It smells like beer and the Taco Bell take-out I got at midnight on the way home after giving up on Danger because Chris was all I could think about, but I’m sure as hell not about to tell him that.
“I’m serious.” Chris fake gags, retching sound and all, as he says, “I can’t fucking eat while you’re wearing that thing.”
“Sounds like . . . not my problem,” I chirp, suddenly happier and hungrier than I was moments before.
Moving closer, I reach out and snatch the bag from his clenched grip, only for him to form a ball with his empty fist as I peer into the bag.
I grunt at what looks like the biggest, densest cinnamon rolls with cream cheese frosting I’ve ever seen. My absolute favorite indulgence.
With a skip in my step, I take the bag to my bed and sink down, only for Chris to follow, stalking toward me until he’s towering over me like my second shadow. “Take it off, Lettie, I swear, or I’ll take it off for you.”
I risk a glance up at him and stifle a gasp.
His normally light blue eyes peer down at me, every bit as dark and turbulent as the sea. He leans down, his face beside mine as he whispers into the shell of my ear, “And something tells me you won’t like my methods.”
I shiver, hating the ball of heat fisting at the base of my spine before I curse my racing heart and spear him with a look.
Our eyes lock, and it takes everything in me to keep my gaze steady on his when he licks his lips.
Several seconds pass that feel like hours with neither of us wavering.
My heart pounds, echoing inside the walls of my chest, begging me to test him?to see exactly how he plans on getting my top off while my inner voice screams at me to cave.
He licks his lips again, an indescribable sound rumbling in the back of his throat as he very slowly sets the drink tray on my dresser, then turns to me. Leaning down, placing both of his arms on either side of me, he forces me back further onto the bed and brings his mouth only inches from mine.
Panic claws up my spine, warning me to surrender.
The kiss from last night flashes in my head like a warning.
I’m not sure I can survive another, so I release a shaky breath and roll on my side. “Fine.” I huff out as he pulls back.
Lifting the hoodie up over my head, I tear it off, tossing it onto my desk chair. “Better, you big baby?”
Chris grins, his gaze sliding to the tiny camisole I’m wearing. “Much.”
I growl and remove the biggest cinnamon roll from the bag. “You’re unreal.”
“I know, thanks.” He winks, and it makes me want to strangle him.
“You can go now,” I say, motioning for the door, but his big stupid muscley body is already sinking down beside me on my bed. “You came. You delivered my breakfast. I’m good.” I stare at him with an arched brow, willing him to leave.
Chris snatches the bag from my hands, completely ignoring me. “You can’t eat both of these.”
“Who says?” I yank the bag back, but he already has a roll.
“One alone is the size of your head. Oh, and your dirty sugar water is up there,” he says, motioning toward the to-go cups on my dresser.
I scoff and rise to my feet, grabbing my cup. “Like your burned bean water is so much better.”
“There’s no question. Coffee is far superior to tea. Ask nearly anyone,” he says, his mouth full of cinnamon roll.
“Barbarian,” I mutter, then, “Why are you here?”
I frown as I settle back onto my bed, making sure there’s plenty of space between us, and take a bite of my roll.
He shrugs. “I wanted to bring my girl breakfast.”
“I am not your girl.”
“Yet.” He winks again, and my stomach flutters.
“I see your delusions are alive and well this morning,” I say, taking a sip of my chai, and I have to admit, quality chai tea and gooey cinnamon rolls are a far superior breakfast than the overcooked eggs in the dining hall.
“Brynn may have also mentioned you asking whether she and Jace might be able to take you home sometime this week, and I just thought, seeing as how it’s Sunday, and I have the day off . . .” He shrugs. “I thought we’d go get your car today and fix it, so you can drive yourself when you need it.”
My mouth thins. I’m going to kill Brynn and her big mouth.
“There’s no point.” I shake my head. “The mechanic called me with an estimate. I can’t afford to fix it right now, so it looks like I’ll be bumming rides until winter break so I can earn some cash to pay for the repairs.”
“Right, I know,” he says with an amused grin as he polishes off the rest of his cinnamon roll. “That’s why I’m going to fix it.”
“Um, no.” I shake my head. The last thing I want is to be in debt to him. “No way. I can get it fixed myself as soon as I can pay?”
“It’s the transmission, right?”
“How did you . . .” I trail off, narrowing my eyes as he rubs a hand over the back of his neck with a guilt-stricken expression.
“Lockport is a small town, and there’s only one mechanic between your mother’s and father’s house, so I made a few calls.”
I gape. “You called around about my car?”
“Maybe.” He tips his chin toward me. “Depends. How pissed does that make you?”
When I don’t immediately answer, his gaze shifts to my mouth, and I wonder if he keeps thinking about the kiss like I do.
I bet he tastes like sugar and cinnamon and . . . Focus!
I shake my head as if I can rid myself of the thoughts. “You’re not going to fix my car.”
“Why not?”
“Because I don’t have the money to pay you.”
“I don’t want to be paid.”
“And the parts?” I gawk. “Last I checked, transmissions aren’t cheap.”
Chris shrugs like it’s no big deal. “I know a guy, and he owes me a favor. He got me one from the junkyard.”
“So, you’re telling me you can fix my car for free?”
“Pretty much.”
I narrow my eyes. “And what’s the catch? Because if you think I’ll change my mind?”
“Shit, Lettie, can’t a guy just do something nice for you without wanting something in return?”
I stare at him for a moment because, quite frankly, no. Not that I have a lot of offers from men banging on my door trying to help me with my problems, but even if I did, I wouldn’t accept. I pride myself on my independence. I don’t rely on men, ever. Reliance means dependence.
Just the thought makes my skin itch.
But I could really use my car.
Even though it’s only been a couple of days since my visit home, I need to check in with my mother, and a car is essential if I’m to commute from her place to school, and back again. Plus, I’d love to rub it in my father’s face that I managed to get my car fixed so quickly on my own?with help from his fiancée’s son, no less.
Still, I don’t want something for nothing. If I’m to take him up on his offer, there needs to be an equal exchange. Tit for tat. Otherwise, I feel like I owe him in the future, and owing debts is something I try to avoid.
“Fine. But if we do this, I’m giving something to you in return. So, what do you want?”
His gaze heats as he leans back on his hands, his gaze flickers down my body and back. “What are you offering?”
“Not that .”
Chris chuckles.
“I don’t know,” I say, flustered with his eyes on me. “Help with homework or a school paper?”
“I get great grades, and I like to do my own work,” he says, licking his lips. “Try again.”
“Laundry.” Most guys I know hate doing laundry. “I’ll do yours for a month.”
He purses his lips like he might consider it. “Tempting, but I actually don’t mind doing my laundry.”
I growl, growing more and more irritated by the way his gaze makes my stomach flip-flop. “I’ll cook for you, or wash your car, or . . . I don’t know.” I growl in frustration. “What do you want?”
“I’m glad you asked.” His lips curl, and I already regret asking. “Go on a date with me.” I open my mouth to protest, but he raises a finger. “One date. That’s it, and if you decide you still hate my guts, I’ll leave you alone.”
I run my tongue over my teeth, thinking. It’s pretty fair terms, honestly, and it may just get him off my back once he sees how incompatible we are. “My hatred runs pretty deep,” I muse.
Chris grins. “Then I guess you have nothing to lose.”