As long as Woody was around on the periphery, I had a feeling he wouldn't let me forget.
CHAPTER 13
SABLE
I didn't argue when Forrest called for the car to pick us up. If the option was to take the subway or walk home with Woody lurking around, a car would be safer.
To be honest, I wasn't sure how often Forrest would take my side if Woody kept coming at me. Forrest and Woody were friends. I had a feeling they shared some sort of common bond, something that tied them together. They wouldn't let someone like me get in between, no matter what happened.
How did I feel about that? Could I have Forrest in my life, knowing Woody would be a part of it too?
What about vice versa? I couldn't imagine Woody being too impressed having me hanging around for the rest of, well, forever. Forever was a long time to spend time with someone you hated.
Trust me, I've been there. Some of the days in the past? They felt like forever.
Only now I was starting to realize time was fleeting and that was behind me.
"Have I converted you to following hockey?" Forrest asked lightly as he slid into the seat beside me.
"I think you might have," I said. "I'll have to get myself a hockey jersey and one of those giant foam hands."
He chuckled. "You'd look adorable with a giant foam hand. The hands you have are beautiful too, though." He took them in his and kissed the back of my knuckles.
It was a small thing, but it ignited my blood, which, to be fair, had been running hot for most of the night. The pulse between my legs throbbed, politely asking for more.
She was also shy from the past, or she would have begged.
"Do you think I'd look good in Garrett Ryan's number?" I asked teasingly.
Forrest tipped his head back and laughed. "I'd love to see the expression on Leif's face when he saw you in that, but I think you'd look better in Rooks’ colors. Black, red and white would suit you."
"Although," he said slowly, drawing me over toward him, "you'd look better out of any jersey."
He brushed his lips over mine.
I didn't see him do it, but suddenly the glass rose between us and the driver, blocking us from view.
Forrest deepened the kiss, pressing his tongue against my lips, encouraging but not insistent, asking not telling.
For now.
I opened my mouth to let him slide his tongue inside. He tasted like cola and nachos. I started to pull away, but stopped myself. Instead, I tentatively sucked on the tip of his tongue.
It was my turn to watch for his reaction. Was that something he liked? Was it even something people did outside romance novels?
Apparently it was, because he pushed his tongue in deeper, giving me more to suck.
He rested one hand lightly on my hip, tracing circles across the fabric, gentle at first, then firmer between kisses. He slid hisfingers up the front of my sweatshirt, ghosted them lightly over the skin of my stomach. His touch was warm, gentle but at the same time, made my blood burn hotter still.
Gradually, he moved his hand up, ran his knuckles across the underside of my breast, then up to my nipple. He rubbed the heel of his hand over the sensitive peak. It hardened under his touch.
I found myself quivering. My breath shaky.
"You like that?" he said.
"I do," I agreed.
I couldn't remember the last time anyone touched me with such care, making sure what he was doing was what I wanted, what I needed. It wasn't a stretch to suggest he knew what I needed better than I did, but he was being very sure before moving on to my other nipple.
