By admin Fake Dating My Ex’s Favourite Hockey Player Novel CH 115
LIAM
“I thought you were flying back tomorrow.”
“Got in early,” I say, my voice quieter now that we’re close. “Didn’t feel like waiting another day to see you.”
Her eyes flick up to mine. There’s colour blooming across her cheeks, but she doesn’t look away. Not yet.
Then of course
–
Cam decides to speak. “Wow. I’m also here, by the way. In case anyone cares.”
I sigh, not even turning. “We don’t.”
“You could at least fake it. A little enthusiasm wouldn’t kill either of you.”
A
Emilia huffs out a short laugh, clearly trying to rein herself back in. “Hi, Cam,” she says, glancing past me. “Sorry, I was just… surprised.”
“It’s not a bad surprise, is it?” I ask.
She presses her bottom lip between her teeth, like she’s trying to hold something back. “No. It’s not.”
That’s all I need.
I close the gap between us before I can think twice. Her apron’s dusted with flour, hair twisted up in that no–nonsense way she hates. There’s batter on her jaw and sweat at her temple, and I don’t care about any of it. I’ve missed her.
Her hands hover in the space between us for a second, then land on my chest.
“I’m literally covered in flour,” she mutters.
“Still hot.”
She groans. But she doesn’t pull away when I wrap my arms around her. Doesn’t move when I press my face into her hair. Just sinks into me with this soft, shaky exhale.
“You’ve no idea how much I’ve missed this,” I whisper.
“You saw me five days ago.”
–
“Five too many.” I breathe her in. That warm scent that clings to her skin vanilla and heat and something sweeter I can never name. It’s already stuck in my lungs, and I don’t want it gone.
She smiles against my shoulder. Her fingers fist in my hoodie.
“You smell like plane.”
“You smell like home.”
Cam groans behind us. “Jesus Christ. Get a room. Or at least throw me a cookie so I can die with sugar in my mouth.”
Emilia laughs. It’s the first real one since I walked in, and I feel it in my chest.
She pulls back just enough to meet my eyes. “Did you bring him because you had to?”
“He invited himself. Emotional support, apparently.”
“Completely valid,” Cam says, already halfway into a seat. “Also, I missed the cookies. I missed me in this bakery.”
I shoot him a glare. “You’re unbelievable.”
“I get that a lot.”
Emilia pats my chest and steps back. “Alright. Sit down. I’ll grab something.”
“I’ll help,” I say, not ready to let go of her.
“No.” She starts wriggling out of my hold, but I tighten my arms just a little. 1/3
3:40 PM PP.
Chapter 115
“Come on,” I tease. “Just one more second.”
“Liam-”
“Calm down.”
“Liam!”
e
0
pull ba
I lean in, brushing my lips over the batter smeared on her jaw. She freezes. I pull back just enough to smirk.
“Sweet.”
Her whole face lights up red. “Out. Get out. Go sit. You’re banned from the kitchen.” She practically pushes me and Cam out.
She spins around and heads back – bumping into the edge of a stool on the way, which totally ruins her cool exit. I bite my lip to stop myself from laughing.
“Don’t say a word,” she warns, pointing at me without looking back.
Cam leans closer. “You’re so far gone it’s tragic.”
don’t look away from her. “Shut up.”
EMILIA
Cam leaves with a box of cinnamon rolls, two cookies, and a promise that he’ll “pretend this never happened if he’s bribed again tomorrow.” Once the door finally shuts behind him, I sag against the counter and exhale like I’ve survived a natural disaster.
“Is it just me,” Liam says, already moving toward me again, “or does he get more unbearable every time he sees you?”
“He just really likes sugar,” I mumble, turning how much I want to crawl into his arms again.
He doesn’t let me.
20
rinse a mixing bowl, even though I’ve washed it twice already. Anything to distract from
In three strides, he’s behind me, his hands on either side of the counter, caging me in. “Missed you.”
“You’ve said that.”
“I wasn’t done saying it.”
I glance back at him over my shoulder. “You’re being clingy.”
“You love it when I’m clingy.”
I roll my eyes and start wiping down the counter. “I love it when you don’t get in my way while I’m working.”
He leans in, lips brushing just behind my ear. “Liar.”
I freeze.
God, I hate him.
And by hate I mean: want to turn around and climb him like a tree.
I turn around and press a hand to his chest to keep some kind of distance, but he just leans into it. “You’re really standing in a bakery, during business hours, trying to seduce me?”
He smiles, slow and smug. “Technically, you’re closed. Also, your hands smell like vanilla. I’m barely hanging on here.”
“You’re unbelievable.”
“You’re so beautiful, love.”
That one catches me off guard. My heart skips like I’m still seventeen and not used to this man’s mouth.
He watches me quietly, all that cheeky confidence flickering into something softer. “I thought about you every day. All week. I’d sleep and wake up missing you. And now you’re right here, and you smell like sugar and I want to kiss you until you forget what you were
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3:40 PM PP.
Chapter 115
baking.”
I stare at him.
He waits.
“You’re not allowed to say stuff like that when I’m covered in flour and look like a frizzed–up lunch lady.”
“You’re not allowed to look like this and expect me not to be feral about it.”
I finally laugh. “You’re insane.”
He dips his head until our noses brush. “Only for you.”
And then he kisses me – warm and unhurried, like he’s not going anywhere, like we’ve got all the time in the world. One hand curls around my waist, pulling me close, the other brushing flour off my cheek with the kind of care that makes my knees weak.
And just like that, I’m gone. Melted straight into him, no resistance, no hesitation. All the walls I built in five lonely days dissolve in a second.
He pulls back just enough to speak, lips still barely grazing mine.
“Let me take you out tonight,” he murmurs. “Just you and me. One of those places with wine we can’t prices.” His mouth tilts into a grin. “Maybe that little black dress I got you.”
pronounce and menus without
My brain tries to find a reason to say no – I have batter in my hair, I’m still technically at work, Cam was just sitting five feet away shovelling cinnamon rolls into his mouth a few moments ago but then his fingers brush over my wrist, toying with the bracelet he gave me.
—
He doesn’t say anything about it. Just traces the inside like he’s reminding me it’s there. Like he knows I noticed the tiny engraved initials this morning.
I’m almost certain now there’s a matching one on him. I just haven’t found it yet.
“You realise that dress is barely appropriate for anywhere public, right?”
“Exactly,” he says, voice lower. “Perfect.”
Then he kisses me again – deeper this time, slower, until my knees forget how to function and my hands have to grip the front of his hoodie just to stay upright.
When he finally pulls back, I’m flushed and breathless and maybe a little in love with the way he looks at me like I’m the only thing he
wants.
“Wear it anyway.”
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