ChapterTwenty-Eight
Aulie Desfleurs
Play:Lollipop by the Chordettes
“Aulie.” A soft, raspy voice beckons me from dreamland, where I’ve spent the past two days being thoroughly wooed by Jack Parker.
It had to be a dream. There’s no way that the man I know and love as a friend has been harboring a secret, sweet and romantic side. The real Jack Parker would never set up an elaborate birthday dinner to tell me he liked me, right?
Soft phantom lips graze my forehead like a whisper.
I haven’t slept this well—maybe ever—which would explain the detailed dreams.
My limbs, still heavy with slumber, fall across my body pillow, and I pull it tighter against me.
“Jesus, Dessy.” A low rumble vibrates against my chest.
“Mmm?” I hum. So maybe I’m closer to dreamland than I thought if I’m imagining my pillow is Jack.
“I have to get up today.” Fingers trail the nape of my neck, moving my hair over my shoulder and continuing slowly down my back.
With each light touch, I accept that this is real and better than any dream I could have imagined. Jack is here, in my bed.
“Why?” I murmur. Tilting my chin, I let my eyes flicker open. A soft-lopsided grin greets me as my eyes focus on Jack, highlighted in the soft glow of my reading lamp. He’s lounging rather sinfully with his hand propped behind his head. His bicep flexes, and I follow the curve to his shoulders and dip down to his chest, where the messy lines of…something…lay across his chest. My fingers graze along the ink, following the curves of the letters. “Can’t we just lie in bed for the rest of the day?”
True, after not working on my birthday and spending all of yesterday indisposed in here with him, Ishouldwork today, but this little bubble has been impossibly glorious, and I don’t want to risk facing reality and losing it all.
“Trust me, I wish I could, but I have to get to skate, or Coach will have my ass more than he already does.”
“Boo. Don’t you already know how to skate? Isn’t that enough?”
“I vaguely remember being a professional athlete or something, so no,” he says, leaning forward and kissing the tip of my nose.
“I couldn’t have someone like that for a bed guest. Seems fake,” I say, dropping my head back down to his bare chest and exploring the ridges of his abdomen with my fingers. “What time is it, anyway?”
Jack hums, shifting in the bed like he’s savoring my touch. “Five-thirty. Seriously, temptress. I gotta get to the rink.”
The nickname elicits a smirk from me.Temptress.Yes, I could be wicked.
I play with the hem of his waistband, and he gently grabs my hand.
With a huff, I fall onto my back. “Why do you have to go so early?”
“Really?” he asks, climbing over me and caging me with his body. I’m not sure how he plans to exit the bed this way, but I won’t complain about it.
“Well. Let’s see.” He dips down and engulfs me with his warmth. “Some beautiful,” he kisses the column of my throat. “Kind.” Another word. Another kiss. “Overly punctual woman—” His tongue swirls over my exposed skin as he presses his mouth above my breast. My back arches, and he groans slightly, slowly peeling my camisole down and exposing my right breast to the chilly morning air. Instantly, my nipple pebbles, and he runs his finger over it. “Gave me shit about getting to the fair on time. So here we are.”
“But your time at the fair is over.”
“I booked everything for the same time for consistency when I got here.”
Wait, has he been getting up this early every morning just to make sure he made it to his one week of the fair on time?
“Okay, and I thank you, but now the beautiful, kind, overly punctual woman wants snuggles,” I whine, writhing underneath him. Temptresses probably use sexier words, but I’m still a work in progress. Princesses don’t change their tiaras overnight. “And maybe some other things. Don’t you think other things are just as important for your game?” I reach for Jack, trying to pull him closer, desperate for a kiss on the lips.
“If you want to explain that to Coach, I’d welcome the phone call. But unfortunately, darling, I have to be an adult this morning.” He kisses me with a finality I don’t appreciate, and well, boo.
“You’re so boring and responsible.” I pout as he withdraws himself and stands.
