Heartache and Hope (Heartache Duet #1) - Jay McLean Page 0,81

against the chain-link fence of my front yard and pulls me between his legs. I link my fingers behind his neck and just look at him, really truly look at him. He’s in dark jeans and a plain gray hoodie, and his hair’s wet, or… I reach up… there’s product in his hair. I sniff him. “Are you wearing cologne?”

He nods. “You like it?”

“Did you wear it for me?” I ask, half joking.

“Actually…” he starts, grimacing. “One of the guys from the team is having a party tonight, and I said I’d go.”

Oh.

“Is that okay?”

“Connor, you don’t need my permission to go out.”

“I know.” His shoulders lift with his shrug. “I just wanted to check anyway.”

Well, not really. He’s already dressed and ready to go, so he’s beyond checking. He’s just… informing.

“Rhys is coming to get me. He should be here any second.”

I get on my toes until my mouth is level with his. “So we only have seconds to get in days’ worth of making out?”

His mouth covers mine without a response, his head tilting, getting better access. He pulls me closer again until there’s nothing between us. I squeal when his hand covers my ass, squeezing, and then laugh into his mouth. “A little handsy, no?”

Chuckling, he kisses me once more. “I still have a ton of adrenaline. I had a good game.”

“You did?” I ask, annoyed at myself for not checking first. I drop down to the heels of my feet. “Shit, Connor, I haven’t even had time to check. I’m the worst girlfriend ever.”

“You are,” he deadpans. But there’s a gleam in his eye, a slight smile playing on his lips. “You better make it up to me.”

“How?” I ask with a flirtatious lilt.

He’s quiet a breath, his eyes on mine, lips parted. “I was talking about that crazy lasagna you make, but whatever you’re thinking right now, I choose that.”

I tug down on his hoody until his ear is to my lips and whisper, “I want to know what you feel like in my mouth.”

Instantly, he has both hands on my butt, lifting, and my legs go around him, holding on to him as he starts carrying me to his house. “Fuck this party,” he hisses.

I can’t help but laugh. “Your dad’s home, and my mom—”

“Get a fucking room,” Rhys shouts, pulling up to the curb.

We’ve barely made it into Connor’s yard when he releases me back on my feet. I push him toward Rhys’s truck. “Go. Have fun.”

He kisses me quickly. “Love you.”

“I love you, too.”

Rhys says, “I love you both; now hurry the fuck up.”

Connor kisses me again. “Can I message you when I get home? Maybe get that goodnight kiss?”

I nod. “Hey. No talking to girls tonight,” I joke.

“Yes, ma’am,” he says, kissing me again before opening the car door.

“You’re so whipped,” Rhys remarks.

“I don’t mind it.” Connor laughs. “Besides, she knows how to dispose of a dead body with little to no evidence. And I like breathing. It’s fun.”

Mom’s stirred twice since I put her to bed, but she hasn’t fully woken, which is an improvement from the previous nights.

It’s close to midnight, and I’m working on these stupid college applications when a text comes through.

Connor: I is home, woman. Kiss me.

Ava: Are you drunk? Come to my window. BE QUIET.

I open my blinds, lift the window and rest my elbows on the frame, half out, looking for him. He appears, a silhouette lit only by the phone he’s looking at. “Connor,” I hiss.

“One second.” His thumbs are moving, and so is he, closer and closer. When he gets to my window, he finally looks up. “God, you’re beautiful,” he mumbles at the same time my phone goes off.

Connor: I be there soon.

I drop the phone, reach out and pull him toward me with the ties of his hood. “How much did you have to drink?”

He shrugs, his eyes hooded. “Just a couple beers to take the edge off. I’m not drunk.”

I eye him sideways. “How many girls did you talk to tonight?”

“Twelve.”

“That’s an oddly specific number.”

“I made it up. No girls.” He shakes his head. Then he reaches up, holds my entire head in his grasp. With his eyes on mine, he says, a seriousness taking over him, “You’re the only girl for me, Ava Elizabeth Diana.” He kisses me, soft and sweet, and then pulls away. “Can you turn your light on?”

“Why?”

“I always wonder what your room’s like, and every time I come here, it’s dark. I just want