BENNETT
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
I should probably be offended by how hard Merritt’s laughing right now.
No, scratch that—I definitely should. But I just can’t stop fucking staring at her, savoring every second of the laughter pouring past her lips.
It’s real.
The first real, genuine laugh I think that I’ve heard from her since we met. And fuck, I’m… enchanted.
That’s the cheesiest shit I’ve ever said in my life, but it doesn’t make it any less true.
Stabby Merritt is beautiful. Stunning, really.
But this version of her is breathtaking. Literally, I’m having a hard time sucking in air right now.
Even though she’s laughing at what I just said to her as if it’s the funniest thing she’s ever heard in her life.
Yeah, sure, it might be kinda crazy, but I dunno what’s funny about it.
But it’s definitely the first time I’ve ever asked a girl to fake date me, and also the first time a girl has ever laughed at the prospect of dating me in any fashion.
Consider me humbled.
Well, as humbled as I can be, that is.
“Wait…” Merritt mumbles through her dramatic fits of wheezing and laughter. She sits straighter and sobers slightly. “You’re being serious?”
“Why would you think I’m not being serious?” I counter, lifting a brow.
She stares at me for a beat, her expression as if I’ve lost my mind. “Oh, I don’t know. Because you’re you? And because that’s fucking insane?”
“First of all, I would never joke about something as serious as our fake relationship. Second, I am capable of being serious about shit, Mer Bear. And I am serious about this.”
I shift on her bed, exhaustion creeping in as the adrenaline from tonight’s game has started to fade, leaving me so fucking tired.
“Yeah… no,” Merritt sputters with a half-hearted laugh. “No. That’s insane. Actually, you’re insane.” She shakes her head, her long, inky waves billowing. I resist the urge to reach out and wrap a silky piece around my finger.
I bet it would be so fucking soft. Just like her pale, creamy skin.
Focus, Bennett. For fuck’s sake.
“Need I remind you that you kissed me first?”
Her jaw flies open, the smooth space between her brows crinkling adorably. “Oh, so now suddenly I’m to blame for your insanity?”
My mouth twitches. “I mean…”
Suddenly, a lime-green pillow is hurdling toward me, smacking me directly in the face.
She threw a pillow at me.
A laugh tears out of me, and I toss it onto the bed, holding my hands up between us in mock surrender.
“I was just joking, woman, chill!” Her brown eyes narrow, and her lips tighten into a scowl.
“About it being your fault, I mean. Not about the fake dating part. And honestly, could you blame me though? That kiss…”
That fucking kiss.
I could say a hell of a lot more about kissing her, but I’m not that stupid. Next thing she throws will probably be that metal water bottle sitting on the nightstand beside her, and that one will definitely hurt.
Merritt rolls her eyes. “Okay, that’s it. Time for you to go.” She slides out from beneath the blankets and off the bed, giving me a delicious view of her smooth thighs that makes my dick twitch.
Jesus, she’s fucking perfect.
Not a word I throw around without merit… get it?
Focus, you asshole. Merritt’s legs are off-limits. No fantasizing about what they would feel like holding you in place between her thighs…
I tear my gaze from her legs just as she passes toward the window, and I reach out, circling her wrist with my fingers.
Tiny compared to my hand, and I try not to focus on how hot that is when my dick is already misbehaving like the fucker he is.
Look, I might have taken a vow of celibacy, but I am a man who’s insanely fucking attracted to the woman in front of me.
I’m doing my best.
We’re not on the same page, my dick and I, and my attraction to Merritt is dangerous. More so by the second.
I hear her sharp intake of breath as she peers down at me, and the corner of my lip ticks up into a grin. “Wait. Just listen, okay?”
There’s no doubt that she wants to say no. I can see it written on her face, but she doesn’t pull away.
I’m still holding her in my hand, and now I know I was right.
She’s so fucking soft and smooth, and I’m truly starting to question my sanity when I’m getting hard over her wrist.
Her wrist.
“Five minutes, and then I’ll leave, I swear. Please, Merritt. Just hear me out,” I murmur, my chin tipped to look up at her.
She’s so close that she’s nearly fit between my spread thighs, so close that all I can smell is the sweet scent of her bodywash. A mixture of something fruity, maybe cherries? And vanilla?
A groan nearly rumbles out of me.
The shit I would do to be able to taste it on her skin.
I watch her throat move as she swallows and then pulls her bottom lip between her teeth and narrows her eyes.
The air surrounding us buzzes with something… the chemistry that neither of us is going to admit to for vastly different reasons.
“Five minutes. That’s it. Promise.”
I nod, gently tugging her back down to the bed beside me.
Despite her reservations, whatever the fuck they are about me, she doesn’t hesitate.
The mattress dips as she sits back down, pulling her legs up into a crisscross.
I notice for the first time the thin silver anklet circling her ankle, much like the other jewelry in her ears and on her fingers, an extension of her personality.
It’s got tiny little ladybugs on it.
I should get her one with little knives since she’s so stabby.
“You know that hockey players in general are superstitious. It’s just kind of how we’re wired, and goalies even more so.
We’ve got a fuck ton of pressure on us, and we’re the last line of defense.
It’s make or break.” When she eyes me warily, I add, “I have a point, I swear. I’ve had a…
challenging start to this season, and it’s the worst fucking time imaginable.
This is my senior year. If I’m not at my best, my chances at being signed to a team…
they could be gone entirely. Long story short, we’ve lost every game we’ve played so far this season.
And I’ve been playing like shit. Until…”
She lifts her brows, clearly waiting for me to make said point.
“Until the day I kissed you. The day at the bakery I told fuckass Gauthreaux you were my girlfriend. And we fucking won the next game, Merritt. I played what might be the best game I’ve ever played.
I got an assist on the winning goal. Do you know how rare it is for a goalie to have an assist? ”
Judging by the blank expression on her face, that would be a no.
Okay, so this makes this pitch a little bit harder, but I got this.
“Pretty fucking rare, Mer Bear.” My lips twitch when she glares at the adorable nickname I’ve given her.
“Seems like you’re my good luck charm. You’re the reason I won that game, that I played the way I did.
So, I need to kiss you before I step foot on the ice.
Before every game. And okay, I realize it sounds a little crazy, but I’ve been thinking about this.
It’s a win-win situation. This could benefit us both, not just me. ”
Merritt laughs, unamused. “Yeah, I somehow doubt that.”
“No, I’m serious. Listen,” I say, twisting to face her more, “I have no clue what’s going on with Dickface, and that’s cool, I don’t need to, but clearly there’s some history there, and I know he’s a fucking idiot who cheated on you.
Who keeps blowing your shit up, trying to get you back, clearly not getting the hint.
But he already thinks that we’re dating after the other day, so let’s do it full stop.
Yeah? We fake date, and then he leaves you alone.
He knows better than to fuck with me. If you’re my girlfriend, he backs off.
Honestly, I can’t imagine a better way to stick it to that asshole than dating me.
We hate each other. We’re enemies in every sense of the word, and now you’re dating me?
Yeah, he’ll be punching the goddamn air.
It’s set up already, so we just up the charade, and we both win.
I get my good luck kisses, and I’m killing it in the net, and you by saying fuck you to the guy who cheated on you. ”
I have not a single fucking clue if this spiel is going to work, but I’m praying to Gretzky that it will, because I need her.
I wouldn’t be here asking her to do this if I didn’t truly believe that she’s what I need to turn it all around. I know it sounds nuts, but superstitions work, and when you find the one that charges you, you double the fuck down.
I exhale, waiting for her to respond, but she just stares at me, her deep brown eyes bouncing between mine, and I can’t get a read on her expression.
Is she going to kick me out now or consider what I’m asking?
Fuck, she’s got a great poker face.
After the most tense seconds of my life, she rolls her lips together and finally says, “I don’t give a shit about Blake. He’s an asshole.”
“The biggest. Which is why being my fake girlfriend is a win-win situation. He’s the only one who loses here. And what is he gonna think if we were dating at the bakery, and now suddenly we’re not?” Fuck, my palms are actually sweating right now, that’s how nervous I am.
I don’t get nervous.
I’ve never walked into a room and thought, oh shit, this might not go how I planned, and I realize that’s the delusional part of my brain, but hell. This girl has done literally nothing but bust my balls and humble me since I met her.
It absolutely turns me on, in a fucked-up kind of way, but right now…
I need her to take me seriously.
“Gauthreaux is in a tandem with me this year. Which… TLDR means that we’re both fighting for the net, and truly nothing would make me happier than that asshole losing.
It’s not just about competing for number one goalie; it’s that he’s an actual fuckwad who’s never going to be a team player.
He can fuck with me all he wants, but he’s disrupting the team dynamic too. ”
I just need Coach to see that, to see what I’m seeing and stick Gauthreaux’s ass on the bench for the rest of the season. And pissing him off and riling him up might be just what I need to make his true colors show for everyone.
I clench my teeth, my jaw working, “Only an asshole would treat you the way that he did, Merritt. He deserves far more.”
She’s quiet for a beat, but then she sighs, breath tumbling out unevenly. “This feels… complicated.”
“Not if we don’t make it complicated.”
Holy shit, is she actually… considering it?
I probably shouldn’t be hopeful, but fuck, Mawmaw Judy was right about her superstitions, and I’m convinced Merritt St. Pierre is the only good luck charm I need.
Without a fucking doubt.
I just need her to say yes.
“We kissed once. Why are you so sure that it’s the reason that you’re suddenly playing well and winning games?”
How do I explain that it’s a gut feeling, intuition, without sounding like a total crazy person?
“Dunno, I just do. Call it intuition.” Tossing her a smirk, lifting my shoulder in a shrug, I add, “If you don’t believe me… then let me prove it to you.”
Merritt arches her brow. “And how are you going to do that?”
“Like this.”