Page 93 of Offside Rules

I swallow. Saying that was easier than I expected. The rest isn’t.

"My family still hates you. And you’re leaving for Boston."

"I know."

"My kitchen will be finished in two weeks."

He watches me, waiting for me to get to the point.

"What if we just had this until then?"

"This?"

"Us. Whatever this is." I glance down at his shirt, then back at him. "We don’t have to figure out next season or Christmas dinner. We just know it ends when I get my kitchen back."

"Two weeks."

I nod.

"You’re sure that’s what you want?"

I think about Saturday. About standing in his kitchen, watching his expression while I tried to explain why I couldn’t want him. Then I think about the last few weeks. His coffee waiting for me. His handwriting on the schedule. The way he looked toward the seats tonight.

I’ve been looking forward to seeing him every day while telling myself that wasn’t what I was doing.

"Yes."

He lifts his hand from my waist and brushes my hair behind my ear.

"This has nothing to do with the bet."

"I know it doesn’t," I tell him.

"You can stay here all night and watch your show. That’s what I asked for."

"I heard you." I lean closer. "I’m asking for something else."

His eyes drop to my mouth.

I kiss him before I can spend another night talking myself out of it.

His hand settles at my back, drawing me closer, and this time there’s no knock at the door. No order waiting to be packed. When I pull back, he’s looking at me with an expression that makes the two weeks feel much shorter than they did a minute ago.

"Still sure?" he asks.

I nod and kiss him again, slower this time. He lets me set the pace, careful with his shoulder, and I’m grateful for the chance to touch him without either of us rushing to explain it away.

He reaches for the remote and pauses the television.

For once, I don’t object.

He reaches down and grips my ass, pulling me tighter against him so I can feel how hard he is. I whimper against his mouth at the feel of him between my thighs.

His fingers slide under my shirt, and I help him lift it over my head before he discards it beside the bed.

I pull back long enough for him to see me completely topless, my nipples hardening as his pupils dilate at the sight of me.

"Come here, Cupcake," he says softly. Before I know it, he turns, sliding me under him and bracing himself on his good forearm so he doesn’t put his full weight on me. His mouth meets mine before I can think of another reason this is a terrible idea.