She snorts at the nickname for the woman who nearly ruined my life, my muscles relaxing at the sound. “If it bothers you that much, I can sleep on the couch.”
“One-hundo percent no. This is your place, Kenni. You’re sleeping in your own bed.”
Her lips tip up at the corners, her smile shyly crawling across her face as her gaze softly drifts into mine. “You called me Kenni.”
I swallow hard, squeezing my eyes shut. “Oh, shit. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to call?—”
“It’s okay,” she reassures me. “I like it. That’s what my friends call me.”
I take a deep breath, realizing I’m not in trouble. But the pang of disappointment hits my chest. “Friends. Right. We’refriends. Fake dating friends.”
She cocks her head as she dissolves the distance, her chest touching mine. “Exactly. We’re just…friends. But…” she says in a long, drawn-out, singsong voice. “I’ve been thinking.”
I suck in a sharp breath. Her lips areright there,so close to mine I can nearly taste them. “You have?”
“Mm hmm. Since we’re friends, and friends help each other out, what if I can help prove you wrong?”
“Wha…what? Wrong about what?”
“That you’re bad in bed.”
Shit on a fucking hockey stick. Is she implying what I think she is? That we?Ohmygod, ohmygod, ohmygod.My lungs burn like I just inhaled pepper spray. I need air.I can’t breathe.Findthe air in the room, Jordan, and breathe. It. In. I take a breath, barely enough to calm my nerves, let alone speak. “And how…” I clear my throat and continue, “how would we do that?”
“We practice,” she responds like she’s telling me tomorrow’s weather forecast, meanwhile, my eyes expand wider than this big ass apartment.
“Come again?” I squeak.Does she know what she’s implying?We’re not practicing pickleball dinks and volleys. This is like…sexstuff.
She smirks. “You’re a fantastic kisser. What if you’re fantastic at otherthingstoo? You are ridiculously talented at hockey. You perform as if you were born to stand out. I’m just saying there’s a pattern here. But I want you to know that I’m not doing this to trick or hurt you. We wouldn’t do anything you’re uncomfortable with. I just thought since we’re fake dating and living in the same apartment, peryourrequest,” she says, poking a finger at my chest, “why not have some fun and help you along the way.”
My chest rises and falls rapidly at her words, her touch. “Kennedy, I don’t want you to do this out of pity.”
“This is not pity,” she says sharply. “Look. You’re worried about not being good, so who better to test that with than your fake girlfriend? The one who happens to be attracted to you.” My eyes bounce between hers, her words almost making sense. “Do you trust me?”
“Yes.”
“I don’t want to freak you out, but I need you to pick a safe word. Not because we’re doing anything crazy, not yet, but I want you to feel comfortable. Okay?”
“Okay.”
“Good. Now, what’s your safe word?”
My eyes go wide.Fuck. I never in my life thought I would need a safe word.Isn’t that some 50 Shades shit?But the wayshe’s making sure I’m comfortable makes my heart melt and my dick leak. “Frites.”
She lets out a wicked laugh. “Frites, huh?”
I shrug. “It’s just what came to mind.”
“It’s perfect,” she says softly, placing a hand on my cheek. “If you need to stop, you say frites, and we stop. Got it?”
“Yes.”
“Good.” She steps back and removes her T-shirt, casually holding it out to the side, before letting it slowly drop to the floor. My mouth dries as she removes her leggings. Kennedy Kramer is standing in front of me in nothing but a bra and panties. Seeing her like this—the smooth curve of her hips, the glow of her skin, the soft curls falling across her bare shoulders as she shakes them free—has me seeing stars.
I. Am. Unwell.
“Give me your hand.”
I respond immediately, my hand unsteady. She places my palm on her shoulder, gently guiding it down between her cleavage. I feel her eyes on my face, but I can’t tear my stare away from our intertwined fingers. She drags our joined hands further down her abdomen, placing them directly between her legs.Her panties are fucking soaked.I suck in a shuddering breath as she rubs our hands across the wet fabric, pressing my fingers against her.
