Chapter 32
THIRTY-TWO
I was about to pull out my sociology assignment when there was a knock on the door.
Those butterflies that had made a home in my stomach over the last several weeks fluttered happily as I opened it to find Foster on the other side, his backpack slung over his shoulder.
“Hey,” I said, leaning against the door.
His smile grew. “Hey, yourself, Gorgeous.”
He stepped forward, closing the distance between us, and wrapped his hand around my neck, pulling me closer as he dipped down.
The moment our lips touched, I melted against his body.
I didn’t have a lot of experience, but I’d had several kisses in my past and not a single one held a candle to how Foster kissed me—like I was something worth treasuring while at the same time he couldn’t get enough.
He pulled back but kept his forehead against mine, both of us taking a moment to catch our breath.
“You’re dangerously addicting,” he said.
“Don’t distract me or you won’t be allowed to study here,” I teased him.
He put up three fingers. “Scout’s honor. I’ll do my best to behave. Just try not to be so tempting, okay?”
We moved to the couch and pulled out our study materials while he told me a story about Liam and Drew’s latest antics at practice. Apparently Drew tried to fake a pulled hamstring to skip sprints, and Gordy nearly launched a puck at his head.
“How’s the semester going so far?” I asked, nudging his leg gently with mine.
He let out a breath and leaned back, running a hand through his hair. “It’s fine. I mean, the classes are manageable. Just more of the same—business this, management that. All stuff I’m supposed to care about.”
The way he said it made my chest pinch.
“But you don’t?” I asked carefully.
His mouth lifted in a crooked half-smile. “Let’s just say I’m not exactly as passionate about my major as you are. But it keeps my dad happy, and passing keeps him off my back.” He looked at me then, softer. “And having you around makes it suck a whole lot less.”
“What major would you choose?”
His smile seemed a little wilted at the edges. “Never really thought about it because it’s never been my choice. My dad has planned for me to take over his business since I was born—actually probably since the pregnancy test came back positive. I’m just lucky he let me do hockey.”
That took me by surprise. “He didn’t want you to play?”
“He’d rather I spent that time doing something ‘productive’ that could help his business. To him, hockey is frivolous.”
“Isn’t it also really expensive?”
“Yeah, but he had a client who was big into hockey when I was a kid—hence why I started so young—and then let me keep playing because that client led to more clients and he could still brag about me being good. But my success on the ice isn’t necessarily something he’s proud of—more something he uses to his advantage when he can.
And now hockey is in my blood. For a long time, it was the only thing that got me excited to get up in the morning. Until I met you.”
My cheeks flushed and I shook my head as I bit back a smile. “Flattery will not distract me from the fact you came here to study and that’s what we need to do. I will not be held responsible for the star hockey player failing his classes.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he said with a mock salute, but instead of opening his book, he leaned closer to me, his blue eyes darkening slightly. “But first…”
His mouth found mine again, and despite my halfhearted protests about studying, I found myself responding eagerly. His hand slid to my waist, warm and secure, and I let my fingers thread through his soft hair.
“Foster,” I mumbled against his lips. “We’re supposed to be studying.”
“I am studying,” he murmured, trailing kisses along my jaw. “I’m studying how your breathing changes when I kiss you here.” His lips brushed the sensitive spot below my ear, and I couldn’t suppress a small gasp. “And here.” He moved to the curve where my neck met my shoulder.
“That’s not going to help you pass your classes,” I said, though my voice lacked conviction.
He pulled back just enough to look at me, his expression surprisingly serious.
“You know what? I think it actually might. Whenever things feel like too much—when the pressure hits, or my brain won’t shut up—I’ll think about you.
About this. The way you make everything feel a little less heavy.
You made me feel that way even before I knew who you were. ”
As Peach.
His thumb brushed my cheek. “You’re the calm in my chaos, Abby.”
My heart raced at his words. It was these moments—these glimpses of sincerity beneath his confident exterior—that had gradually broken down my defenses over the past few weeks.
“That’s…actually really sweet,” I admitted.
“Don’t sound so surprised,” he said with a laugh. “I can be sweet.”
“I know.” And I did know. Despite my initial reservations, Foster had proven himself to be thoughtful, determined, and genuinely kind. “But we still need to study.”
He sighed dramatically. “Fine. But I’m going to need brain breaks. Regular ones—that include kissing.”
“Deal,” I said, trying to sound stern but failing miserably when he grinned at me.
Only half an hour later, he closed his textbook and stretched. “Brain break time?”
I rolled my eyes but couldn’t help smiling. “You just want to make out again.”
“Can you blame me?” He leaned back against the couch cushions, his arm stretching along the back. “But actually, I was thinking we could talk about something.”
“Oh?” I set my notes aside, curious about his suddenly serious tone.
“Yeah. The hockey house always throws a big party early this time of year, and it’s happening next weekend. Will you come with me?”
I bit my lip. We’d only been dating for a couple of weeks, but a party at the hockey house felt significant somehow—like a public declaration.
And I guess in college, showing up to one of the biggest parties of the year on the arm of the guy who hadn’t had an official girlfriend his entire college career was definitely a declaration.
“It’s okay if you don’t want to,” he added quickly, misinterpreting my hesitation. “I know parties aren’t really your thing.”
“I’d love to,” I told him sincerely. He was right that parties weren’t my thing usually, but I felt like this was the year I would finally break out of my comfort zone. And I wanted to be at Foster’s side.
This time when he kissed me, there was something different about it—a certainty, a promise. His hand cupped my face, his thumb tracing my cheekbone with such tenderness that my heart ached. I leaned into him and my hands rested on his chest, feeling the steady thump of his heart beneath my palm.
The kiss deepened, and he gently guided me back until I was lying on the couch with his body hovering above me, his weight supported on his forearms. His body was warm against mine, and when he shifted, a rush of heat spread through me like a wildfire.
“Is this okay?” he whispered, his eyes searching mine.
I nodded, unable to find my voice for a moment. “Yeah,” I finally managed.
His lips returned to mine, more insistent now. One of his hands slid down my side to my hip, his touch leaving a trail of fire even through my clothes. I let my hands explore the broad expanse of his back, marveling at the firm muscles beneath his shirt.
When his mouth moved to my neck, I couldn’t hold back a soft moan.
He groaned as his hips pressed against mine in a way that made my breath catch.
The evidence of his desire was impossible to miss, and while it sent a thrill through me, it also triggered a flutter of nervousness, and I stiffened beneath him.
Foster must have felt it because he immediately pulled back. “Too much?” he asked, his voice husky.
“No, I…” I took a breath, trying to organize my thoughts through the haze of lust. “I just… I don’t have a lot of experience with this.”
His expression softened. “We don’t have to do anything you’re not ready for, Abby. I’m perfectly happy just kissing you.”
“I want to kiss you,” I assured him. “And…more. Just maybe not everything. Not yet.”
He smiled, brushing a strand of hair from my face. “We’ve got all the time in the world. No rush.”
The tenderness in his voice made my chest tighten. How had I ever convinced myself that this man was just a shallow jock? The Foster I’d come to know was patient, considerate, and surprisingly vulnerable at times.
“Thank you,” I whispered.
“For what?”
“For being you.”
He laughed softly. “That’s the easiest thing I’ve ever done.”
I pulled him down for another kiss, feeling a new confidence. His hand remained at my waist, respectful of my boundaries, but when I arched against him, he groaned into my mouth.
“Abby,” he murmured, his voice strained. “You’re killing me here.”
“Sorry,” I said, though I wasn’t really sorry at all.
“No, you’re not,” he said with a knowing look.
I bit my lip, trying to suppress a smile. “Maybe not.”
His eyes darkened as he watched me, and then he was kissing me again, more intensely this time. I felt his hand slide tentatively under the hem of my shirt, his fingers warm against my bare skin.
“Is this okay?” he asked again.
“Yes,” I breathed.
His hand moved slowly up my side, his touch gentle but confident. When his thumb brushed the underside of my breast, I gasped, and he froze.
“Still okay?”
I nodded, unable to form words because it felt so good. He continued his exploration, his hand cupping my breast through my bra. The sensation was overwhelming in the best possible way, and I found myself pressing into his touch, wanting more.
We were so lost in each other that we didn’t hear the key in the lock. It wasn’t until the door opened and Sam’s voice called out, “Honey, I’m home!” that we sprang apart like guilty teenagers.
Foster sat up quickly, running a hand through his disheveled hair while I adjusted my shirt, my face burning with embarrassment.
Sam stood in the doorway, a knowing grin spreading across her face. “Well, well, well. What do we have here?”
“We were studying,” I said lamely.
“Mm-hmm. Anatomy, was it?” She winked at Foster, who had the good grace to look slightly abashed despite the smile tugging at his lips.
“We may have gotten a bit…distracted,” he replied.
Sam laughed. “No judgment here. I’m just going to grab something from my room and then head back out. Don’t mind me.”
As she disappeared down the hallway, I buried my face in my hands. “Oh my God.”
Foster chuckled, gently pulling my hands away. “Hey, it’s okay. We weren’t doing anything wrong.”
“I know, but…” I gestured vaguely. “It’s embarrassing.”
“Why? Because your roommate knows you’re attracted to your boyfriend?” He raised an eyebrow. “I hate to break it to you, but I think she already suspected that.”
I couldn’t help but laugh at his teasing tone. “You’re impossible.”
“And yet, you like me anyway.”
“I do,” I admitted, the words coming easier than I expected.
His expression softened, and he leaned in to press a gentle kiss to my forehead. “For what it’s worth, I like you too. A lot. More than I knew was possible to like someone.”
Our gazes locked and the air seemed to thin between us under the weight of his words.
Sam broke our trance when she reappeared, a jacket slung over her arm. “Alright, lovebirds, I’m out. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!”
She blew us a kiss and left, the door closing behind her with a click.
Foster and I looked at each other for a moment before bursting into laughter.
“Well, that was…” I began.
“Perfect timing?” he suggested.
“Not the words I was going to use.”
He smiled, reaching out to tuck a strand of hair behind my ear. “Maybe it’s for the best. I was getting a little carried away.” He glanced at his watch and sighed. “I should probably actually study a bit more before I head out. As much as I’d rather keep doing…other things.”
“Responsible of you,” I teased.
“I have my moments.” He picked up his textbook again.
We settled back into studying, though there was a new awareness between us, a current of electricity that hadn’t been there before. Every now and then, our eyes would meet over our books, and I’d feel that now-familiar flutter in my stomach.
After another hour, Foster reluctantly packed up his things. “I gotta go. Early practice tomorrow.”
I walked him to the door, suddenly shy again despite everything we’d shared. “Talk tomorrow?”
“Definitely.” He kissed me once more. “Goodnight, girlfriend.”
“Goodnight, boyfriend,” I replied, the word still new and thrilling on my tongue.
I’d never had a boyfriend before.
I closed the door behind him and then leaned against it, a smile spreading across my face. If someone had told me six months ago that I’d be dating Foster Kane—that I’d be falling for him—I would have laughed in their face.
Yet here I was, my lips still tingling from his kisses, my heart full in a way it hadn’t been in years—maybe ever.
For the first time since my mom died, I felt like I was truly living again, not just going through the motions.
And it felt amazing.