Fake Dating My Ex's Favourite Hockey Player novel Chapter 214

Chapter 214

TESSA

His mouth is on mine. Not careful. Not gentle. Just hungry.

I gasp, and he takes advantage, deepening it, tasting me like he’s been starving. The plate slips from my lap to the coffee table with a clatter, and suddenly we’re kissing like we might actually die if we stop. His hands are everywhere – firm at my waist, sliding up my spine, anchoring me.

I clutch his shirt, dragging him closer, and he makes this low sound in his throat that just about undoes me.

“You taste” he breaks off, lips brushing mine as he catches his breath, “-better than the food.”

I laugh against his mouth, breathless, before he swallows it with another kiss, deeper this time, his tongue sliding against mine, slow and devastating. It’s dizzying, like being caught in a storm we both secretly wanted.

“I thought you liked the food,” I murmur when I finally tear back half an inch, lips tingling, swollen.

“I did,” he counters, kissing me again, the word ruined by how desperate he sounds.

We’re smiling into it now, half laughing, half devouring, like neither of us knows if we’re joking anymore or if we’ve crossed a line we can never uncross. And God help me, I don’t care.

His lips crash back onto mine, urgent, like he’s been holding himself back for years and finally gave up pretending. I melt into it, kissing him back with the same kind of reckless hunger. His hand slides into my hair, tugging just enough to make me gasp, and he seizes the moment to deepen it again, his tongue coaxing mine, hot and dizzying.

I whimper against him actually whimper — and his answering groan vibrates through me. “Tess…” he says it rough, like it tears out of him without permission.

I grip his shirt harder, pulling him flush against me, because there’s no way this is close enough. “You’re… you’re supposed to be the quiet one,” I manage to tease against his mouth, but it comes out breathless, broken up by the way he’s kissing me.

His laugh is short and shaky, more exhale than sound. “Shut up,” he mutters, then kisses me again, harder, like he means to erase the words from my lips.

I can’t help smiling against him. “Bossy.”

“Not bossy,” he murmurs, his lips brushing over mine as if he can’t bear to part with them for even a second. “Desperate.”

God. That one word almost knocks the air out of me.

We kiss again, slower this time, languid and deliberate, like he wants to taste every corner of me. His thumb brushes over my cheekbone, tender in a way that makes my chest ache even while my whole body is thrumming with heat.

I nip at his lower lip and he lets out this low sound, almost a growl, before capturing my mouth again. He kisses like he doesn’t know the difference between wanting and needing.

Between kisses, I whisper, “You … like the food?”

His forehead drops against mine, his breath ragged, lips still grazing mine as he answers, “I like anything you make.” Then he drags me back into another searing kiss, like even talking costs too much time away from my mouth.

“It’s disgusting,” he admits, grimacing. “But Cam’s right – it’s… healthy.”

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