Page 36 of The Do-Over Girl

KALI

He moves in on me, and I realize I might have been a little hasty in dragging him into my room for a quiet talk. The look in his eyes tells me he has something else in mind besides talking.

The sudden erratic beating of my heart tells me I might not mind so much.

A part of me—a big, giant, stupid part of me—is glad he was lying about that being our last kiss.

“We need to talk.”

“No, Kali, we don’t. I know exactly how you feel. It’s written all over your face.” He lowers his mouth to mine, and I flutter my eyes closed as he brushes his lips over mine, whispering, “Why do I still want to eat you alive like you’re my last meal after all these years?”

It’s a rhetorical question. I know it is, but insanity flickers at the edge of my mind where all reason seems to escape me. I love his words, believe what he’s telling me, want him to devour me. Right now.

Shit. I can’t let him devour me. I moan. “Nash, I can’t…”

He stops kissing me, withdrawing all the sexy heat of his mouth from mine, and I moan again.

“Which is it, Kali? Do you want me, or don’t you?” He whispers the very question I’ve been asking myself for days, weeks, ever since I saw him again.

“You think I have the answer to that?” I sigh and step away, out of his reach. “That’s why we have to talk.”

“So, you can tell me you’re attracted to me, but you still hate me, so you feel conflicted?”

I nod. “Hate is a strong word. What about you? Do you still hate me underneath all that heat?”

“Hate’s a strong word.”

“I know—I don’t hate you. It’s…that I just can’t seem to forgive you.”

“You forgive me? What about you?”

I frown. “Me? I didn’t do anything wrong that night—”

“You sure about that, Lollipop? Because I remember something that sounded a lot like an ultimatum.”

I suck in a breath because he’s right. It’s the same thing Nikki said, and it’s true. But was I wrong to give him an ultimatum, or was it the smartest thing I ever did? I remain silent and more confused than ever.

“That’s what I thought,” he says. “I’m outta here.” He leaves my room, closing the door behind him with a solid thud, loud enough to send me a message without announcing it to the entire house.

Shit. Where does that leave me? What do I feel?

Besides feeling vaguely dissatisfied and more miffed than ever, I am more convinced than ever that Nash Lewis is a jerk. Sometimes.

* * *

I’mon pins and needles the entire week every time I see Nash—which is only in passing. I don’t want to be a fool. I don’t want him to think I’m flirting because I’m not. Or I shouldn’t, and I scold myself for wishing I could.

He comes home late from the rink every night, missing dinner to spend extra time with the team. Friday is the last pre-season game, and I’m surprised to see him in the kitchen for breakfast.

He grins at me from the doorway and pours himself a cup of coffee.

“Whatever you’re making, Mrs. Pike, it smells like heaven and sin.”

She laughs. “My special recipe French toast. I’ll make you a stack to keep you going. If I know you—and I’m getting to do just that—you won’t take time for lunch or dinner on game day.”

“You’re right. Stack ’em up.” He sits down with me, treating me to a smile that makes me feel like I’m the only person in the world—his signature smile, the one that made me fall for him as much as anything else about him.

But I was foolish back then, wasn’t I?