I Kissed A Ghoul by Kat Baxter
Chapter 4
Reid
“What are you supposed to be again? Just looks like a striped suit to me,” Felix says from beside me.
I look over at my teammate and new friend and roll my eyes. “Didn’t you watch TV when you were a kid. I’m Gomez Addams. Just waiting for my Morticia to arrive.” I look at Felix’s clothes. He’s wearing jeans and a black t-shirt with the words “this is my costume” on it in white letters. “Super creative there.”
He shrugs. “I haven’t dressed up since I was a kid. Couldn’t think of anything.”
A few of our other teammates join us, no big surprise since we’re standing relatively close to one of the food tables.
Sam and his wife, Isabel, are there and he’s got his hands all over her. She’s dressed like Jessica Rabbit and Sam is wearing a rabbit ear headband on his big head.
“Where’s the fur suit?” I ask him.
Isabel giggles. “We couldn’t find one to fit his giant ass.”
“I told you I could have found a Viking costume,” he grumbles.
Since he was drafted right out of college, Sam has been known as The Viking. It’s probably as much to do with his blond, blue-eyed look as it is his enormous frame. “That seems a little heavy handed considering your nickname,” I say.
Isabel holds up her hand for me to high five. “That’s what I said.” She wraps her arms around Sam. “You make a very handsome Roger Rabbit, baby.”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa. Hold my beer. I think my future wife just walked in the door,” Felix murmurs. He’s trying to hand me his glass, but I’m ignoring him.
My eyes are locked on the vision entering the hotel ballroom. My cock takes notice too.
“Fuck me,” I say.
“I saw her first, bro,” Felix says.
“Touch her and I’ll break every one of your fingers,” I mutter.
“Oh Felix, I think you’re too late. That’s clearly the Morticia to his Gomez,” Isabel says.
I’m ignoring all of them and instead my legs are eating up the space between us. If I hadn’t already known that I was ridiculously in love with Ainsley Montgomery, I’d know it now. The black dress is like a second skin, lovingly molding to every curve in her voluptuous body. I want her to turn so I can see how the black fabric accentuates her plump ass. That fucking peach I’ve been obsessed with since the summer she turned nineteen when I gave her that nickname.
Of course when her older brother and my best friend, Rhett, asked me about the moniker, I lied and said something about her smelling like peaches. Because I sure as fuck couldn’t tell him about how I’d been lusting after his younger sister as she walked around in her cut-off shorts and swimsuits.
When I reach her, I immediately pull her in for a hug. She smells like lust and something floral. Or maybe that’s just my raging hard-on, which I hope she can’t feel. I pull back and twirl her so I can get a look at that juicy ass. Someday I’m going to bite that peach.
“Fuck, Ainsley, you look good enough to eat,” I growl next to her ear. I’m done pretending I don’t want her. Yes, we’re friends and I wouldn’t want to ruin that, but at the same time, I’ve spent more time in the friend zone than I have in the end zone and it’s driving me crazy. I want this woman. More than I’ve ever wanted anyone or anything.
“This dress is so tight, it’s obscene,” she mutters.
“Says you.” I kiss her cheek, letting my lips linger. I feel her shiver beneath my touch. “Trust me, you look gorgeous.”
She makes a face and tugs on the dress, but it doesn’t budge. It just clings to her tits, accents her waist and hugs her hips and ass. Ainsley is a tall woman, so in heels she’s at a perfect height for me. I want to pull her back into my arms and hold her there all night. Even if it means I have to dance. Her long brown hair is sleek and straight down her back and she’s got some kind of sexy, smokey-eye thing going on with her make-up.
“You look pretty decent yourself,” she says, giving me a smirk. Her eyes catch on something behind my shoulder and she immediately frowns.
“What’s the matter?” I look over my shoulder, but I don’t know who in the crowd she’s disappointed to see.
“Nothing. Just a guy that I went out with once.”
Despite the fact that she doesn’t sound happy to see him, I’m still annoyed to hear about her going on a date. With anyone. Anyone, other than me. “That’s not the kind of frown a guy gets after only one date. What’s up?”
“Nothing,” she tries to brush it off and offers a smile. “He was just … persistent.”
“Define persistent.” Rage surges through me and my fists clench. “Did he fucking touch you? Which one is he and I’ll knock out his fucking teeth.”
She looks at me, those blue-green eyes of hers rounding. “Slow your roll, soldier. He didn’t touch me. He just keeps asking me out. No matter how many times I tell him no.”
Relief sweeps over me. While I still don’t like the idea of him hounding her, I would not be able to be rational about it if he’d done worse. Still I wrap my arm around her waist and pull her close to me. “Have you told him you don’t want to date him?”
“I don’t know that I’ve said those exact words, but I’ve only gone out with him the one time. All the other invites I’ve declined for one reason or another.”
“Which one is he?” I ask.
“The one dressed like a football player. Wow, that’s pathetic considering how many actual players are here tonight,” she says with a snort. “Fantastic, he’s coming this way.”
“You leave this to me.”
“Reid, there’s no reason—”
But I don’t let her finish. Instead I pull her to me and lower my mouth to hers. I keep it rated PG since we’re in a room full of people, but I still stake my claim. At first she stiffens, as if surprised, but then her hands clutch at the vest of my suit, pulling me closer to her, rather dramatically.
She nips back at my lips when I playfully nibble on her. And when I pull back, there’s a playful gleam in her eyes.
“You’re the most beautiful woman in the room, Peach. Do you realize that?”
“You’re laying it on a little thick, aren’t you?” She pulls back just enough to raise her eyes to mine. The sass in her gaze just about slays me. “There’s no reason to try and flatter me.”
“No flattery intended. Just stating a fact.” God she feels good pressed against me. I’m guessing there’s no way she’s missed the lead pipe in my pants that’s pressed to her soft belly.
“Ainsley,” a man’s voice says.
“Peter, how nice to see you,” she says, turning to face the man, while still keeping her body pressed firmly to my side.
He looks like a ridiculous ass dressed in a jersey. He’s paired it with jeans though, so at least he’s not a complete moron. Though, his intelligence isn’t a sure thing, given the way he’s looking from Ainsley to me, taking in the distance—or lack thereof—between us like he’s trying to puzzle out a riddle.
Better make things clear for him.
I stick my hand out. “Reid Holt. I’m Ainsley’s boyfriend. Nice to meet you. Peter, was it?”
Peter’s eyes narrow, then widen. He looks from me to Ainsley, then shakes my hand. “I didn’t realize she had a boyfriend.”
“We’re just making things official. But we’ve known each other for years.” I kiss her cheek. “Haven’t we, Peach?”
“Yes. Reid and my brother were best friends growing up.”
Peter nods, but, as Ainsley already warned, he’s persistent. And clearly not ready to give up on her yet. Instead, he straightens his shoulders and says, “Ainsley and I know one another through work. I’m VP of the marketing firm Montgomery Hotels uses.” Clearly he thinks this is a flex. “And what is it that you do, Reid?”
Ainsley puts her hand on my stomach, leaning into my embrace. My dick is nearly punching a hole in these stupid pin-striped pants.
“Reid is the new kicker for the Armadillos.”
Peter nearly chokes on his own spit. Yep. That’ll do it.
He clears his throat, finally having the good grace to back off. “Yeah, I guess your name does sound familiar. Nice to meet you.” He makes a show of looking through the crowd. As if he has something better to be doing. “I think I see a friend over there, if you’ll excuse me.” Then he bumps his way back through the crowd and disappears.
It’s all I can do not to growl as he walks away. “I hate assholes like that. Your ‘no’ should have been enough.”
“But he won’t ask again. So thank you.” Her eyes sparkle as she gives a low throaty laugh. “Did you see his face?” Laughing, she drops her head to my shoulder. Ainsley’s hand curls slightly, her nails raking against my abdomen. “That was almost fun.”
And this is the moment I realize we have a problem. Two, actually.
First off, her touch is making me so hard, I might just come in my pants. Secondly, her tone implies that kiss was all just a game to her.
I grab her hand and still it.
“You’ve got to stop doing that,” I growl.
A blush creeps into her pale skin. “I’m sorry.” She tries to pull away, but instead I move her so that I can rock my pelvis into her hip.
“Only because I’m already rock hard, Peach. I don’t want to embarrass myself in a room full of people.”
Her eyes drop, her mouth opens in a soft ‘o.’ Then she frowns. “Why are you hard?”
“Because you look like a wet dream and we kissed and you smell good. And pretty much just you. Happens all the time.”
She opens her mouth to speak, then closes it, confusion marring her features. Her expression is so open and honest, I can practically see her working through what I just said. Before she can reach the conclusion that—to me—is painfully obviously, we’re interrupted.
“Oh, I love y’all’s costumes,” a woman says from beside us. “Can I get a picture of you two?”
“Sure,” I say. I pull Ainsley to stand beside me, then I grab her arm and hold it out in front of me. And I go full on Gomez and start kissing up the black slinky material.
The woman taking our pictures squeals. “Oh, you’re too perfect. You should go and make one of those flip books. In the booth over there.” She points across the ballroom.
“Thanks,” I say. Then I look at Ainsley. “What’s a flip book?”
She laughs. “It’s a modern photo booth, but instead of a strip, you get a bunch of little photos that you press together in a book. Then you can flip through it and it makes a little movie. You know how we used to do when we were kids and we’d make those little cartoon books?”
“Oh yeah. I loved those things.” I grab her hand, linking our fingers and head in that direction.
“Where are we going?” she asks with a laugh.
“Make a flip book. I want one.” Because she looks hot and adorable all at once and I want to remember this night forever.
But also because I can see it in her face—she needs more time. Ainsley, for all her wit and sass, has always needed time to process, to think things through before she leaps.
“Okay, but slow down, between the heels and how tight this dress is, I can’t walk very fast.”
“I could toss you over my shoulder and carry you over there.”
“You do that and you’ll hurt yourself and then I’ll kill you.”
I don’t bother chastising her. Self-deprecating humor is part of who she is. And it was a much-needed defense when she was growing up and living with her mom who gave Ainsley a hard time about her body. Someday, maybe my peach will see herself the way I see her.
We make it to the booth, which is set up in the hall just outside the ballroom, and I’m surprised it’s empty. “I’m guessing no one else knows what this thing does or there would be a line.”
It’s larger than a traditional photo booth, but the curtain that wraps around provides both the blank background and privacy. I climb inside and sit on the small bench and pull Ainsley in there with me.
“This is too small for two people.” She elbows me in the side. “Especially when one of us is a giant.”
“Not as big as half of my teammates.” Then I pull her down so she’s sitting on my lap. “We have plenty of room, we just have to snuggle.”
Her eyes drop to my lips and she licks her own, then turns back to the camera.
“So what do we do?” I ask.
“I’ll push this button and then we just make small movements so that there’s a difference in each picture. That way it’ll make a movie.”
“Easy enough. Hit it.”
She leans forward and hits the red button. A countdown pops up onto the screen and then it shows us like a mirror.
She sticks out her tongue and I do the same. Then I grab her arm and do more Gomez treatment and start kissing up it.
“Cara mina,” I say in the worst Gomez Addams accent possible.
She rolls her eyes and giggles. “You’re ridiculous.”
I turn her to face me and cup her cheeks, then pull her face to mine. Our lips meet and this time, I don’t take things slow. I go for it, slanting my mouth over hers and sweeping my tongue inside.
There’s no hesitation in her as she immediately returns my kiss. She tastes of mint and champagne and like my goddamn forever.
There’s a buzzer noise and then a clicking sound and Ainsley pulls away.
Her eyes are wide, her breath is coming in short, raspy bursts as her gaze roams my face. After a moment, she frowns and gives her head a little shake, as if she’s struggling to get control of herself.
Yeah, me, too.
“I think it’s done,” she murmurs, then clears her throat. “We have to get the pictures, then make the book.” She quickly stands from my lap and steps outside the curtained doorway. I tilt my head back and squeeze my eyes shut, trying to cool my heated blood.
Damn, this woman does things to me no other woman has.
I’ve wanted her forever. I’ve been waiting for her forever.
Because that’s what you do when you’re a kid from a solidly blue collar background who falls in love with the heiress to a hotel fortune. You wait. You plan. You work your ass off and you fucking bide your time.
I’ve always known I wasn’t actually good enough for Ainsley, but I worked my ass off, transformed myself into a kicker worthy of a spot on an NFL team, and have scraped and saved every penny to make enough money to at least have a shot at her.
Now that I have that shot, I’m not going to blow it. Now that I’ve kissed her? Now that I’ve felt her mouth under mine and tasted her? Yeah, there’s no way I’m going to fumble it.
I follow her outside, humming that tune from Hamilton about not throwing away my shot.
She’s already gathered the small square photos into a stack.
“Maybe you can help with the binding because you have to press pretty hard.” Her words are light, but there’s an undercurrent to her tone that makes me nervous and the tune I’m humming dies in my throat.
Have I misread her and she doesn’t return my desire? I sure as fuck hope I haven’t screwed all of this up.
