Love in the Headlines: A Star-Crossed Friends-To-Lovers Romance (Love in the Headlines Series Book 1)

by Candace Knoebel

  “So … about the sleeping arrangements,” she said after the movie started. Her knees were pulled to her chest.

  “I can take the couch.” A pulse pinged through me. Had I really said that? Was I really not going to make a move on her?

  “Are you sure?”

  “Of course.”

  She relaxed. Snuggled closer, wet tendrils of her hair soaking the sleeve of my shirt.

  “How are you feeling?” I asked.

  She smelled like my soap, and it awoke something primal and raw in me.

  “Like I’m definitely going to make friends with regret come morning,” she admitted with a giggle.

  “Don’t worry. I have a great hangover remedy.”

  Her face turned up to mine, eyes penetrating me, like they so often did. Jesus, her lips should be classified as a sin. The supple pout I could nibble on while fucking her senseless.

  “I wanted … I wanted to thank you, Grayson. For tonight. I know I said some things …”

  “Things just got a little crazy.” I nudged her shoulder. “It happens. It’s all good.”

  She rocked to the side and then rested her head back on my shoulder. Right where it belonged. “Seriously though, I was being ridiculous about it.”

  “About which part? Believing the headline? Or letting that poor schmuck think for a second that he stood a chance with you?”

  Her head popped up, lips poised open with shock, but then they closed, and her shoulders dropped. “You were right. I did sort of listen to Poppy. Though, in her defense, it did look pretty bad on your part.”

  “I can understand that.”

  After a moment, she let out a sigh. “I just … I should’ve listened to my gut.”

  “What did it say?”

  “That I could trust you.”

  My gaze dropped to her mouth, thoughts slipping away, dissolving. The movie nothing but noise in the background. Awareness deepened in her pupils, a sensual swirling of silver and turquoise dancing in her irises. Lips slick and puckered with desire. She was painfully beautiful. A goddess in the flesh.

  “And I think …” she said, scooting closer. Eyes pinned to my lips. “I think it’s time I start trusting myself.”

  I wrapped an arm around her, inviting her in. Lulled under her spell. “Trust is good.”

  “Mmhmm,” she said, tracing a finger over my lips. “And I think … I think kissing is too.”

  I was ready for her when she closed what little distance had been between us. Her lips pressed against mine, tentative and pliable. Exploring what I offered freely. Her hand wove through my hair, and I opened myself to her. Pulled her closer when she straddled my lap, her arms encasing my head. My hands anchoring her hips. My tongue sweeping over her lips, tasting, teasing, waiting.

  Always waiting.

  And then they parted for me, granting me access to her honey-sweet tongue. I felt her then thoroughly. Her desire. Her warmth. Her magic. She was falling, like me, surrendering to the force that kept us circling within each other’s orbits. Every doubt, every worry, they were all singed away by the heat of this kiss. This was it. She was it. I’d never been surer of anything.

  But then she broke away, eyes wide and doe-like. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I don’t know—”

  “Who are you?”

  Those wide eyes of hers somehow managed to widen even further. “What do you mean?”

  I pulled her back to me. Brushed my thumb over the sweet curve of her chin. “I mean, just when I think I have you figured out, you do something that makes me rethink everything. You’re an enigma, Prim. A fucking delight.” I lifted her chin. I wanted her eyes on me. I wanted to see her, always, just like this.

  “Grayson, before anything more happens … I should … well, I’m …” The look in her eyes pinned me down as her tongue twisted. “Well, I’m a virgin.”

  I stilled, a slow smile spreading across my lips. She trusted me. Truly.

  “I’m not implying anything will or would happen … I just … thought you should know.” She tore her attention away from me, focusing on the pillow across her lap as a bed of roses climbed up the gentle curve of her neck.

  There was that need again, roaring from the depths of me. To protect her. To keep her safe.

  “Thank you,” I said, kissing the tip of her nose. The curve of her cheeks. The swell of her mouth. “For trusting me,” I added when I was satisfied with kissing her. “I meant it when I said I liked you, Prim. A lot. I don’t want to mess this up. I want to keep doing what we’re doing. See where it goes. Maybe even …”

  Even what? Ask her to be my girlfriend?

  “I do too.” She picked up my hand. Kissed the tips of my fingers with a passion that somewhat shocked me.

  Holy fuck. Maybe I was wrong, thinking I could go at her pace.

  “You make me feel things I’ve never felt before,” she said, leaning forward and pressing her lips against the side of my mouth the way I had done to her. A whisper of a movement.

  I was stunned still, handing over the control.

  “Which is why I want to really get to know you. To be let in.”

  “What do you mean?” I was wholly distracted by her mouth. By the silhouette of her breasts straining against the shirt. The way her silken thighs skimmed mine. Her words slipping through the cracks of my resolve.

  “Your past you never talk about. Your thoughts. You, Grayson. I want to know you.”

  She was like a siren, luring me in. Pulling my jagged past up to the rocky surface.

  “I don’t really like talking about the past,” I said, stilling. “But for you.” My hand slid over her cheek. Stayed there a moment, anchored in the trust I felt. “My mom … she …” The words halted in my throat. It didn’t matter how much time had passed … saying them out loud was impossible. They were barbed wire scraped across my tongue. Bloody and swelling.

  But then her hand covered mine.

  I glanced up. Found a net inside her gaze, ready and waiting to catch me.

  So, I jumped.

  “I miss her,” I admitted, letting the wound finally breathe. “So much, it hurts. So much that, some days, I wonder if I ever left that moment when she passed. I wonder if the shell I’ve become will ever be full again. Will ever be more than this hollow hole inside my chest.” My head hung a little, the truth unfurling. “I know … I know she’d want more for me. She’d want me to be a little kinder to my heart. To trust it.”

  I couldn’t understand it, not at first, but something was taking shape as I confessed all I’d held in. A root planted, sprouting inside me, its leaves of hope casting light within all the shadows I’d hidden inside.

  I found Prim’s gaze again, and then it clicked. I said, “I know she’d want me to finally let someone all the way in.”

  Her eyes dazzled with possibilities. With all the good things there weren’t enough of in this world. “Want to know what I do when I miss my family?”

  I watched her, open and waiting.

  “I dance.”

  It was such an odd thing to hear, but it dulled the pain when humor traced the outline of my eyebrows. There she was, taking it all in. Letting it breathe between us. Not adding too much weight. Not pressing for more. She was the perfect equation.

  “Seriously.” She stood, her hands out, wiggling her fingers at me.

  I took them. Let her pull me to the middle of the floor. With fingers laced through mine, she started moving with no real direction. No set moves. Only crazy leaps and turns and hip shakes. The smile that overtook her face was breathtaking. Pure magic.

  “Come on,” she said, grabbing my unyielding hips and moving them back and forth.

  My body relented. Let go. Laughter climbed up the back of my throat.

  “See?” she said, the buttery sounds of happiness spilling past her lips. The notes soothing the deepest wounds. “She’s here with you, right now, because those who love you only want your happiness. And your happiness is the strongest way to hold on
to them. Find the joy. It’s where they live.”

  She was right. I felt my mom. The mornings she’d danced her way to the table, carrying platters of breakfast. The nights she’d let me stay up and read to her. Her laughter that had always made every illness better.

  When the moment subsided, I pulled her onto my lap. Brushed my thumb over her cheek. “This doesn’t feel real.”

  “But it is.”

  “I know. And that scares the hell out of me.”

  She placed her lips against my forehead. “It doesn’t have to.” She tucked herself against me. Glanced back to the TV as a large yawn ripped from her mouth. “If I pass out, I apologize. I’m usually never up this late.”

  “It’s okay. I can move you.” I let her put her head on my lap. Ran my fingers through her hair as she drifted off.

  I didn’t move her until the movie was over. I liked holding her. Watching her as the small sounds of sleep pushed past her mouth. The softness of her eyes closed. The warmth radiating around her.

  She was a collection of vinyl spread out on the floor, her record player in front of her. Bare feet twirling on the hardwood floor. The perfect hue of rosy pink. The best first kiss and the only smile I ever wanted to inspire.

  Carrying her to my bed, I tucked her in and then kissed her forehead, knowing I was already in over my head. I didn’t know what I’d done to deserve her. To have the light that had been stolen when my mom passed brought back into my life. A light that burned so bright, it warmed even the iciest parts of my soul. And I’d do whatever I could to protect it.

  To protect her.

  Rule Number Six:

  Trust your gut.

  Magical Burrito

  Prim

  “DID YOU KNOW YOU SNORE?”

  It wasn’t the kind of sentence any girl wanted to hear first thing when waking up in a man’s bed. A stupidly hot man. The same man whose lips and eyes and words had taken center stage to my dreams last night.

  There Grayson was, a ridiculously sexy dream come true, sitting at the edge of the bed with two mugs of coffee in his hands and an amused tinge to his face. Let’s not skip over the fact that he was shirtless, the jagged slope of his mouthwatering abdomen on full display. My body purred at the thought of grazing my fingers over every crevice.

  Jesus, does he have to look so good first thing in the morning? Even his bedhead deserved an award. The wispy, dark strands that fell perfectly against his forehead.

  Palming the sleep from my eyes, I said, “I do?”

  His hooked grin curved higher. “Yeah. But not obnoxiously. It’s more like a quiet whimper. Kind of like a sad, meowing cat.”

  A quiet whimper? Sad, meowing cat? I’d worry about my current state of appearance, but I thought that ship had sailed at the mention of snoring. There was no coming back from that.

  A laugh caught in my throat, and his lips twisted upward at the sound.

  “A sad, meowing cat. That’s a first. I hope I didn’t keep you up.”

  “Not at all.” He brought the mug to his lips and took a slow sip. “I sleep like the dead. My mom always laughed at how easily I could nod off.”

  I sat up. Shards of pain spliced along the base of my head so sharp, I thought for a moment that I might gag.

  “Whoa, easy there.” He set the mugs down. Propped the pillows behind my neck and then helped lower me, concern softening the hard edges of his face. “Here.” He reached for two pills that were on the nightstand. “I left them here last night. I guess I should have woken you, but you looked so peaceful.”

  After he handed me a glass of water, I took the pills and swallowed them, praying they’d kick in fast. I’d been an idiot for drinking that much. For letting my emotions get the better of my judgment. The moment I wasn’t debilitated, I swore I’d strangle Poppy for convincing me to go out and make an ass of myself.

  “Lucky for you,” Grayson said, standing, “I make one hell of a hangover breakfast. It’ll help take the edge off.”

  I shifted against the pillows. “Food,” I said, making a face.

  He chuckled. “It always sounds bad, but trust me … one bite, and you’ll feel life breathing through your veins.” He started for the kitchen. “You just lie there and look pretty. I’ll be right back.”

  I relaxed against the bed. Ran my hands across the sheets. They smelled like him. Like … warmth, if that were even a thing. It was intimate, an intimacy not many knew, and when I realized that, it sent a thrilling shock straight to my lady parts.

  I still couldn’t believe it. I was in a guy’s bed. A human of the opposite sex. A man who I’d kissed. Who I liked. My hand cupped around my mouth, and I breathed out. Pinched my face at the awful morning breath I prayed he hadn’t smelled. I needed to fix that. Stat.

  But first …

  I grabbed the glass of water and downed it. Ran my fingers through my hair, trying to make some sense of the mess. Pinched my cheeks to add a little color to them. The throbbing in the back of my skull had dulled to a manageable thrumming. Nothing a little coffee couldn’t fix.

  Reaching for the mug he’d brought me, I took a tentative sip. The heat felt good when it hit my empty stomach, sending energy through my veins.

  I moved enough to see him working his way through the kitchen, pulling ingredients from the fridge. Within minutes, a pan was on the stove, and he was chopping something like cooking was his career.

  I set the mug down. Leafed through the few books on his nightstand. A biography on an ancient ruler. Another on old artifacts. One random fantasy in the mix. Yellow sticky notes poked out from various pages. He really was a reader.

  Hot.

  “I can’t cook to save my life,” I said as I glanced at the picture of him and who I assumed was his mother.

  He had her eyes, soft and round. She was behind him, arms draped around his neck, face pressed beside his.

  I heard his chuckle drift through the space.

  “After my mom passed, when I moved in with my aunt and uncle, my aunt insisted I learn how to take care of myself, so I started out with making breakfast.”

  I rolled to my side, propping my head up on my hand. “Why didn’t you stay with your dad?”

  He froze mid-chop, but then the slow clanging of the knife against the board resumed. “We never really got along.” His words were haunted. Dark. Pain wound around every forced syllable.

  I glanced back at the picture, at the boy in the middle with a smile as big as the moon. A boy whose innocence had yet to be ripped from him. I understood it then—the clouds I sometimes saw in his gaze. The distance. The melancholy.

  “It isn’t true,” I heard him say over the noise of my thoughts.

  I glanced up at him, his eyes open and swirling with pain.

  “The fire. I didn’t start it.”

  Every nerve in my body tuned into him, awareness pinging in my blood. He was letting me in. Opening the door. I would be patient with him. Let him choose the speed.

  Slowly, I peeled myself from the comfort of his sheets. Grabbed the mug and then took the seat across from him on a stool at the bar.

  “My entire life has been mapped out in the tabloids, and maybe they got some of it right. Maybe they found some truth within all the lies. But not about the fire.

  “It was his new wife who had spread the rumor about me starting it. Who left out the most important part—that she’d been the one to start it.”

  “Oh my God!”

  “Yeah. I found out a couple of years later, after they divorced. A lot came out about that marriage in the end. She’d been having an affair with the pool guy. So cliché, it hurts. But, yeah, they were meeting there at night. One of them left an unattended, lit joint on top of a barrel that somehow got knocked over, and, well, I’m sure you know the rest.” A bitter chuckle rumbled against his tongue. “She sold the fake story to a tabloid after my dad learned of her affair and cut her from his will. Thought attacking me was the best way to get back at him.”

  Ange
r lashed at my insides for him. If I could just get that woman alone in a room. Ten minutes … that’s all I’d need—

  “As far as the tabloids are concerned, it took the investigators a couple of weeks to clear my name,” he continued. “My alibi, well, we had just broken up and she wasn’t returning their calls. And by then, the truth didn’t matter when stacked against a juicy lie. A truth anyone could have unraveled had they just done a little digging.” He sighed. “And when it all went up in flames, literally … my career … my reputation … that’s when my dad spoke against me. He couldn’t have a single blemish on his carefully woven image. Not even me. I’m just glad my mom wasn’t around to see it all play out like it did.”

  “Grayson …” My body moved on its own. Drawn in.

  His arms wrapped tightly around my waist as he held on to me, his lips pressing against the sensitive skin of my neck. There was something different in this hug. The weight of his confession had somehow lifted the wall he’d kept around himself. He felt lighter, looser, closer to me than he had since I met him.

  We stayed like that until the acrid scent of something burning pulled his attention away from me.

  “Shit,” he said, laughing. He adjusted the heat and then moved the meat around. “I think I caught it in time.”

  There was a heaviness in the air, tension and electricity zapping at our skin. The kiss from the night before was there between us like a ghost on our shoulders. Did I mention it? Should I wait for him to? Not to mention, waking up in his bed. The last time I’d slept at a boy’s house was in the fifth grade, and it was my cousin’s.

  This … this was foreign territory.

  Grabbing a tortilla, he started loading it up with everything he’d cooked. Eggs, steak, and tomatoes. He rolled it with expert precision and then placed it on a plate.

  “Madam.” He slid the plate across the counter.

  “Thank you.”

  It was huge. Bigger than my face. When I held it up for comparison, he chuckled.