Intercepted (Page 34)

“Yes, Mr. Pope, we’re going steady.”

He doesn’t say anything to my answer. Instead, he saunters across the room, his gorgeous manhood swaying between his legs with every step until his gets to the edge of the bed and climbs over me.

“What are you doing?” I ask when he starts moving down the bed.

“Giving my girl a kiss.”

“But my head is up here.” I pop up on my elbows, watching as he pulls the comforter from my stomach.

“I’m kissing a different set of lips,” he says and punctuates it with his tongue dipping into my core.

Damn.

“Holy shit,” I whisper to the ceiling. “I love being your girlfriend.”

And the vibrations from his quiet laughter between my legs only make me like it that much more.

#Bliss

Twenty-three

It wasn’t what either of us wanted, but Gavin went home later that night. I was finishing up on one of my final freelance projects before I focused entirely on HERS. Plus, I had to get all of my stuff from my parents’ house before I even went into work.

Adulting sucks.

The next morning, I wake up to knocking on my door. When I open it, on the other side is Gavin, standing there in his Mustangs sweatpants and sweatshirt, holding a large vanilla latte and a croissant.

Swoon.

My boyfriend is so dreamy.

He gives me my goodies and a quick kiss—which turns into a long kiss—before swatting me on the butt and leaving to go to practice.

I go back inside, and even though I technically still have thirty minutes to sleep before I need to be up, I get an early start on the day.

When I walk into HERS an hour later, not only am I early, I’m grinning so wide it’s a wonder I don’t have bugs stuck in my teeth.

“Well, well, well,” Brynn says when she sees me. “Looks like somebody’s date was a success.”

“If me being Gavin’s girlfriend means it went well, then yeah. You could say that.”

“Freaking finally. You two were driving me nuts. But dammit!” She looks around the room and stops when she finds Paisley. “You win, Paisley. They’re dating now.”

“What the hell? You bet on us?”

“Of course we did.” She looks at me like I’m the crazy one. “He was sending you like, a million flowers a day. You thought we weren’t going to get in on that action?”

“Jerks.” I shake my head and walk away before my smile breaks free again.

The rest of the day passes like my days normally do. Uneventful. Which, after the last week, I should be happy about. But I don’t know. Gavin Pope’s my boyfriend. It kind of feels like confetti should be thrown in the air whenever I walk into a room.

Since business was slow today, Brynn let me leave early and I took the time to do some grocery shopping. Gavin’s going to be coming over more and I hate eating out all the time, especially now that I work at a restaurant, so I try to keep my kitchen stocked. Before Gregory Scumbag Thomas was arrested, my dad was driving me to and from the store, but now that the coast is clear, I grab my little grocery cart from home and hop on the train. Not having my dad nagging me about looking at every aisle, I take longer than I mean to and when I leave, the sun is long gone. I walk to the train, trying to think happy thoughts as the streetlights flicker on and off over my head.

Once at the train platform, I park my cart of groceries next to me and sit on one of the empty benches. I open my text messages, about to send one to Gavin, when a hand grabs on to my shoulder. A scream rips out of my throat, probably pushed out from my heart trying to escape with it. I jerk my shoulder out of the grasp and I’m not even all the way upright before I start to run.

“Marlee,” Gavin calls my name before I make it to the edge of the platform. “It’s just me.”

“Holy shit!” I stop and turn around. “You almost gave me a heart attack!” I put both of my hands over my head as I make my way back toward him. My breathing is still ragged and each inhale causes the burn in my chest to go a little deeper.

This is why I avoid running and haunted houses at all costs.

“I called your name two or three times before I came over here.” He reaches for the backpack I was willing to abandon. “What were you doing that you couldn’t hear me?”

“I was thinking about what to text you.”

“Ooh . . . you were, were you?” His voice drops, and he wiggles his eyebrows.

He looks ridiculous, but I’d still totally do him. Who could blame me? A girl’s got needs.

“Not that kind of text.” I pat his shoulder. “What are you doing here anyway?”

“I went to see you at HERS, but Brynn said you went to the store. I was heading there when I saw you pushing your old lady corral.” He wraps his arm around me, pulling my freezing body into his warm one. “Plus it’s cold. You don’t want to wait out here, do you?”

“Aren’t you the sweetest.” I hug him a little tighter.

“I am, but don’t tell anybody,” he whispers even though we’re alone. “You’ll ruin my street cred.”

When we arrive at his truck, ever the gentleman, he opens my door for me before walking to the driver’s side and climbing in.

“Can I sleep at your place tonight?” he asks over the radio. “I know we both have work tomorrow, but one night in bed with you and you already have me addicted.”

“Of course you can. You don’t even have to ask.” Thankfully, the dark sky prevents him from seeing the way my cheeks flame and the way my thighs press together, but the grin that overtakes my face is unmistakable.

“Good. It would’ve been embarrassing to have to explain why I have a duffel bag with my stuff in it if you said no.” He points to the bag I didn’t even notice under my feet.

#ShortPeopleProblems

“I’m not sure if you’ve noticed this yet or not, but I seem to have a really hard time telling you no.”

“Since you said that, maybe now is as good a time as ever to mention . . .” He says that terrifying sentence and then stops.

“Mention what? You can’t stop there, Seacrest! This isn’t American Idol, there are no commercial breaks before the announcement.” When in doubt, always use reality shows to help drive home your point.

“Did you just call me Seacrest? I’m pretty sure I have about a foot and sixty pounds on that guy.”

“Oh my god. First, that was a fantastic metaphor. Second, will you just say what you were going to say already? You’re freaking me out!”

“You’re the only person I know who argues with pop culture references.”

“Gavin!” I’m about to resort to physical violence, but he seems to sense I’m getting there and starts talking.

“I talked to Dre today. He said Naomi misses you at the games. And I want you at the games. So I was hoping you’d start going again. The next two games are away, but after that, would you want to come?” He rushes out in a single breath.

“Why wouldn’t you just say that!” I slap him, feeling relieved that’s all it was but still on edge from my fleeting nerves. “I’d love to go. I don’t know if anybody has told you this yet, but I’m kind of the shit when it comes to showing up at the stadium on Sundays.”

“No, Dre warned me. He said Naomi hasn’t been able to decide if she enjoys not fearing you starting a brawl or not.”