Shattered Truths (Lies, Hearts and Truths, #3)

by H. Hunting

“Your reaction time is incredible,” I say, like an idiot. “Seriously? You’re lucky I didn’t dent your Jeep, asshole.” The last thing I should do is smile, but I can’t help it. “Damn. You’re gorgeous, with a sharp tongue, and you play hockey? This is divine intervention. You’re basically the woman of my dreams.”

“I’m not Cinderella. I can put my own skate on, you know.” But I can’t say I dislike this style of flirting. It’s different from what I’m used to. “Cinderella was willfully oblivious, and a pushover, which you are not. And I know you can put your own skate on, but I wanted a minute with you before I introduce you to everyone.”

He does some kind of jump thing. “I might have forgotten to mention that I’m not a hockey player. I’m a figure skater.” I bite my lip. A tattooed, bearded figure skater. Why does that up his hotness level?

“We’re destined to know each other. I like you. I think you’re fucking gorgeous. I want your digits so I can tell you that in awkward text messages.”

“I had this all planned out in my head, you know.” “Oh? How did it go in your head?” “We’d have a great time on the ice together. And every time you’d smile”—he bites his lip—“it would give me an emotional boner.”

I bark out a laugh and shove his chest, but he captures my hand in his. “What the hell is an emotional boner?” “It’s a real thing. It’s how I feel every time I make you smile or laugh. Like my emotions are all excited and can’t be contained.”

“Back in high school, I had this teacher who talked about the four humors and how people were connected. Like, you look at someone, and they look at you, and bam—the world aligns. Mostly I thought it was hilarious, hokey shit that only made sense in books, but now… I think I know what she meant.”

“Can I kiss you good night?” Looks like I’m not the only one stuck on the idea of making out. “Are you going to tell me a long-winded story that doesn’t have an ending first?” God, I’m so salty. He chuckles. “You’re turning into my favorite person real fast.”

“We hang out for the rest of this week, and if you still want my hand down your pants on Friday, I’ll make sure we have privacy and don’t have to use the back seat of my Jeep.” “But we can still make out between now and then?” I kind of love that he’s negotiating for ambiance. “Absolutely.” “Okay. Deal. Fingerbang Friday is on like Donkey Kong.”

“Your heart has too many cracks already, Snowflake. Don’t go shattering it by carrying burdens you don’t deserve.”

“I get that you’re guarded, and that life hasn’t always been kind to you, so I’m going to give you a free pass on this whole trying-to-push-me-away shit. Unfortunately for you, it’s not going to work. I’m a tenacious fucker with a capital T, and I don’t back down either. If you hate the box that’s been made for you, stop stepping back into it.”

“Statistically speaking, you’re already way above average. You didn’t need to bling out your dick to make it more enticing.”

“No. That’s not—I want to be tied down. Not literally.” I think about that a moment. “Or like, maybe literally—depending on the mood and the setting and maybe a safe word.

“We could even get in some alone time when we’re not passing out on each other.” He grins. “It’s like we share a brain.” “Or our genitals are communicating telepathically.”

“Whatever you need,” I murmur. “However you need it,” she whispers. “I’ll give it to you,” we say together.