My heart stutters, skips a beat, then takes off at a sprint. “What did you just say?” I murmur.
She turns to face me, takes a deep breath, and shrugs. “I love you,” she mumbles.
“Say it again,” I demand, sure I hallucinated those words coming out of her mouth.
Lennon shakes her head at me, a smile playing at her lips as she rolls her eyes. “Are you going deaf? I said I love you, you big idiot.”
I grab her, dragging her into my lap, wrapping my arms around her waist, and burying my face in her neck. “I love you, too, baby,” I tell her, brushing my lips over the hammering pulse point in her throat. I take her face in my hands, staring into her beautiful hazel eyes, and grin. “So fucking much,” I breathe then kiss the ever-loving shit out of my little spitfire.
“Ugh, okay. I get it. You two are in love,” Bates complains. “Keep that shit behind closed doors. It’s fucking gross.”
Without breaking the kiss, I stand, carrying Lennon back to her room where I show her just how much I love her with my lips and teeth and tongue.
We’re lying in her bed, recovering from the orgasm exchange, when she says, “So, that didn’t go as badly as I thought it would.”
I chuckle. “Which part? Telling Bates we’re together, or telling me you love me?”
“Both,” she says, grinning. “But mostly the Bates thing. I didn’t mean to say the L-word. That just slipped out.”
I roll until I’m pressed against her side, propping myself on an elbow. “You can’t take it back now. It’s out there. You love me.”
“You think I’d put my career in jeopardy for anything less?”
That makes me frown. Searching her gaze, I ask, “How long have you known?”
She shrugs. “A while.”
My brows shoot up. “A while? Seriously?”
“Yeah, I guess I was trying not to . . . but you’re a persistent bastard, and well, yeah.” She shrugs again, looking slightly uncomfortable. “I suck at talking about feelings and shit, so can we not anymore?”
Bending, I gently rub the tip of my nose against hers. “Sure. Just say it one more time,” I coax, brushing my lips over hers.
“No,” she grumbles. “I’ve already said it, like, three times today. That’s more than I’ve said that in my whole life.”
“Come on, spitfire, just . . .” I kiss her softly. “One.” Kiss. “More.” Kiss. “Time.” Kiss.
“I love you,” she whispers, wrapping her arms around my neck, holding me in place and sliding her tongue against mine in a long, deep caress that has my blood raging in my ears and my heart pounding against my ribs.
Lennon Handler loves me. Fuck, yes.
After I dropped the L-bomb on Archer, and we told Bates about us, the apartment became a danger zone—for Bates, at least. He can’t walk in the room without his hands over his eyes just in case me and Arch are making out.
I haven’t kissed this much since I was in high school.
“Is it normal?” I ask the girls as we lounge around on the sofa at Kins and Atticus’s place. Hannah, her friend, Amy, and I are the only ones drinking real wine, while Emory, Kins, and Storm sip on mocktails.
Kins nibbles on a cracker and nods. “I think so. That’s how it is with me and Atticus.”
“Us too,” Em throws in.
“Jake and I still make out like horny teenagers,” Storm adds. “I love kissing my man. His lips are just . . . ugh, they’re perfect.”
We all laugh at the dreamy expression on Storm’s face.
Hannah chimes in with, “Oh yeah, kissing is the shit. Although, I’m rather partial to kissing more than just Sam’s lips—if you know what I’m saying?” She waggles her brows.
A choking sound has us all spinning around, finding Kins’ seventeen-year-old stepson, Arlo, standing in the kitchen, slamming his fist against his chest as he coughs and sputters.
“Arlo!” Kins squeaks. “I didn’t know you were home,” she says, rushing to the kitchen and pouring him a glass of water. “Are you okay?”
The poor guy takes the water and sips it gingerly. “Thanks. I’m fine, Kins,” he says. “Chelse wasn’t feeling well, so I dropped her home early. I didn’t realize I’d be interrupting a Hornbags Anonymous meeting.”
Kins’ cheeks blaze, and her pleading gaze darts to us.
“Sam’s a lucky man,” Arlo says, winking at Hannah.
Hannah grins wickedly. “And I remind him of that regularly.”
“You joining us or what?” I ask Arlo as he grabs a can of Coke from the fridge.
“Why not? It’s not like I’ve got anything better to do,” he says, coming to sit on the floor against the wall, facing us. “So, what were you guys talking about before I got here—other than Hannah’s love of blowjobs, that is.”
Mocktail sprays from Kinsley’s nose, and I burst out laughing. I love this kid.
“That basically sums up the tone of the conversation,” Amy says, taking a dainty sip of her wine.
“Oh, and Lennon has a boyfriend!” Em adds excitedly.
Arlo quirks a brow at me. “I thought you were waiting for me?” he says, dramatically clutching at his heart. “I don’t know how I’ll ever recover.”
“I’m sure you’ll manage,” I say. “Just call one of the many girls you have on speed dial. I’m sure one of them will be more than willing to ease your pain.”
He smirks. “I don’t need to call—texting is sufficient.”
Hannah scoffs. “And he accuses us of being hornbags.”
“Don’t hate. I know what you were like before you and Sam hooked up. He told me and Dad all about your patented Starfish Method,” Arlo says, waggling his brows.
This piques my interest. “Starfish Method?” I ask. “Pray tell.”
There is no shame in Hannah’s game. She shrugs, takes a long sip of her wine, and says, “Whenever a relationship was nearing its end date, I’d implement the Starfish Method. It completely circumvented any confrontations. It’s genius, really.” She has another drink then clears her throat and straightens. “Generally speaking, I’m an active participant in the sex department. So, when the time came to break things off, I’d just starfish it.”
I glance at the other girls. Surely I’m not the only one who has no idea what she’s talking about. Kins and Amy seem to be the only ones in on it, though, if their knowing smirks are anything to go by.
“I’m not following,” Storm says, frowning.
Hannah gets up, places her wine on the coffee table, then lies in the middle of the floor where she proceeds to spread her arms and legs out and says, “Ta-dah!”
“So, you still had sex, but you just lay there like a dead fish the whole time?” I ask, confused.
She nods, grinning. “Yeah, but a starfish—not a dead fish. That sounds gross.”
Okay, I’ll give her that, but I still don’t get it. “Why didn’t you just dump their asses?”
“Ugh, no thanks. I hate confrontation. I’m a lover not a fighter. This way, they broke up with me, and technically, I didn’t even have to do anything.”