Strike by Jennifer Ryder Page B

mouth forming an O .
    “Yeah. Oh .”
    “Hurts, doesn’t it?”
    “Yeah, it did. I was just pissed I didn’t see it coming. Apparently they’d had a thing before we’d gotten together, but neither of them told me about it. I didn’t find out what happened at the party straight away. They both tried to pretend they were innocent, but I knew something was up. They were weird around each other, around me. When I asked Lisa about it, she told me she’d slept with some random guy, but I didn’t believe her. I confronted my mate, and when he admitted it I beat the crap out of him.”
    “Did you love her?”
    “No.” I’m pretty sure I would have known if I did. I’ve never been in love, and hadn’t put myself in a position since where that might happen. The way people carry on about love, his or her ‘other half’, it’s as if you can’t breathe without that someone. I’ve never had anything remotely like that. Lisa and I were young. And I was dumb. “After that I wasn’t interested in a relationship.”
    “Yeah, I get that. Anyway, enough. Tell me about your very first kiss.”
    ****
    * APRIL *
    A cheeky smile spreads across his face. “I started young,” Spencer says, running one hand up the inside of my leg from my ankle to my knee.
    I try and pretend, that even though I’m still kind of annoyed at him, that his touch doesn’t send a shiver through me, making me all hot and needy. By the look on his face, he’s noticed.
    “How young? Kindergarten?”
    “Ha, give me some credit. Third grade, but it wasn’t your run-of-the-mill kiss.”
    I giggle. “Don’t tell me you French-kissed in third grade? No wonder you kiss so good. You’ve had nearly two decades of practice.”
    “I kiss good, huh?” Spencer smirks. He sits his glass down on the table and leans his chest into my knees.
    “Yeah. Don’t get a big head, but you’re a pretty fucking good kisser.” I run my tongue over my bottom lip and watch his smirk turn into a heart-stopping smile that has me squirming.
    “Why wasn’t it a run-of-the-mill kiss?”
    “Because there were three of us.”
    “Of course there were.”
    “I took turns between two girls, but there was no French kissing.”
    I shake my head, and a giggle bursts from my mouth. “Come on. Show me how you kissed.”
    Spencer pulls my legs into his lap, and slides my body along the couch. He swings his leg over me and I wriggle beneath him, his chest hard against my boobs.
    He pecks me, ever so briefly on the lips, his mouth glued shut. “Do it again,” I whisper. I laugh against his mouth this time, and he pulls away and chuckles.
    “A regular Casanova,” I say and smile. I run my hand through his blond hair, tempted to tug on it.
    “Yeah. Has ‘em swooning every time. What about your first kiss?”
    Certainly not that exciting.
    “Ha. I think boys were scared of me. Mac would drop me off most days, and any boy that came near me he’d burn holes through. Maybe that’s why it took until seventh grade. When I started taking the bus.”
    “How was it?”
    “Horrid. I went behind the science block with … Toby, I think his name was. The kiss was all tongue and slobber. My dog could’ve kissed better.”
    “I won’t ask you to replicate it then.”
    “Good idea. Hey, Spencer …?”
    “Yeah.”
    “Why don’t you kiss me … like you did that first night?”
    He grins with the challenge, and leans in close. “Did you like it?”
    “I texted you, didn’t I?”
    The smile that spreads across his face, is smug as anything. Arse. Spencer lifts my legs, and swings them off the couch. He gets up and takes both my hands, pulling me to my feet.
    “Where are we going?”
    “Come on, beautiful. We need to be standing for the full effect.”
    Spencer leads me to the nearest wall and pushes me up against it, pinning me in place with his warm body. He presses his lips softly against mine and then tugs at my bottom lip before his hot tongue melts into my mouth, traces