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“Gisele,” he mocks. “Prom king,” I mock back.
She glances at me again. “Amazing chatting with you as always, prom king.” “Gisele.” She struts back to her table, and I can’t help checking her out.
“Is that what you need from people? To be told what a good girl you are?”
I spot Ryder waiting for us at the front entrance. Holding a bouquet of daisies.
“I have one question,” I tell Ryder once we’re alone. “What is it?” “Did you actually bring me flowers?” “Yes,” he mutters. I have to bite my lip to stop from laughing. I’ve never seen anyone look more disgusted with their own behavior.
“Who says they’re apology flowers? Maybe they’re celebration flowers.” “Uh-huh. Really. What are we celebrating?” He pulls his phone out of his back pocket and unlocks it. He scans the screen for a moment, and from my vantage point, it looks like he’s consulting a calendar app. “It’s International Eat an Apple Day.” He lifts his gaze. “Seemed like something we should celebrate.”
He thrusts the bouquet at me. “Just take the fucking things.” An unwitting smile springs free. I put him out of his misery and accept the daisies. “I do love flowers,” I inform him. “Not as much as I love butterflies, but pretty close.” Ryder sighs.
“Well, what do you like?” I challenge. “Not those things.” “Funny, coming from the guy who spent his whole morning picking I’m-sorry flowers for a girl.” “I didn’t spend the whole morning. It took like one minute. I stole them out of my neighbor’s planter.”
“I didn’t say you were very good. I said you were phenomenal.” “And I said you’re very good.”
It’s weird seeing her name on my phone. Or maybe it’s weird seeing it as “Gigi.” She’s been Gisele in my head for years now. I feel like my phone should probably reflect that, so I pull up her contact info and change the name, chuckling to myself because I know how much this would annoy her if she knew.
I don’t know what it is about hockey players, but I find that all of them are insane. Sexy but insane.
He cleans up nice. He’s wearing black trousers and a gray suit jacket over a black dress shirt. No tie, top button undone. His face is clean shaven, but his dark hair still has that tousled bad-boy look to it.
As I walk toward him, I don’t miss the way his sapphire-blue eyes drag slowly along the length of my body.
Ryder leans in, his warm breath on my ear, sending a tiny shiver through my body. “We would have been behind this curtain five minutes after we got here.” “Doing what?” I regret the question the moment I voice it. “Getting you primed.” My throat closes up with arousal. I struggle to swallow. “Primed,” I echo weakly. “Primed for what?” “For me.” Oh my God.
She skates over to me, removing her helmet to wipe sweat off her forehead. It’s inexplicably hot seeing her do that. And the sight of her braid hanging over one shoulder triggers a strange primal urge to tug on it and pull her toward me so I can slide my tongue through her frowning lips.
My pulse quickens at her proximity, mouth running dry. Hearing her heavy breathing makes me think about how she’d sound while I’m fucking her.
Speaking of hot, my peripheral vision catches Ryder descending the staircase to our right. His mouth quirks, only slightly, at the sight of me. “Gisele,” he says. “Ryder,” I say.
Fuck. I think that something might be jealousy. This girl is starting to get under my skin. I don’t like it.
His rough voice fills my ear with two inexplicable words. “Use me.”
“You think I’m throwing you a pity fuck?” “You’re not?” “No.” There’s a pause. “I need what I need too.” Another pause. “And I want it from you.”
“I came to kiss you.” My mouth falls open. I stare at him for a moment. “You…drove all the way here to kiss me.” “Yes.” “I…You…” I’m at a genuine loss for words. Ryder shrugs. “You won’t fuck someone you haven’t kissed. Isn’t that what you said?” “I…” I honestly can’t think straight enough to speak. “So.” Those mesmerizing blue eyes focus on my face “Are you going to let me kiss you, Gigi?”
My mind is preoccupied with the same damn thing that’s been eating away at it for three days now. Gigi Graham. It’s been three days since we kissed. Or rather, since one kiss from her got my dick so hard I could barely drive home with the damn thing trying to tunnel its way out of my pants and poke the steering wheel.
We were both so hot for each other we were liable to burst into flames.
Even though she’s not touching my bare skin, I feel her fingers like a cattle brand.
Christ. I want her. Never saw it coming. Totally unprepared for it. And at a loss for what to do about it.
He smiles, and my breath hitches at the sight.
“Let’s tell him how much you like having my tongue in your mouth.” “Who says I do?” I’m breathless, because his lips are exploring mine, his tongue teasing me into oblivion. He breaks the kiss again. We’re both breathing hard now. “You love it,” he taunts. “You love it too,” I taunt back. “Yes, I do,” he growls before our mouths collide.
“What are you doing?” I ask weakly. Impatient for him to do something. “Looking my fill. You have no idea how incredible you are.”
And I love the noises he makes. Every single sound is music to my ears. Sometimes he curses. Hisses. Groans. At one point he calls me a good girl. And it’s a kink I never even knew I had.
I cover her hand with mine, lacing our fingers together. It’s not a standard move in my arsenal. In fact, it’s one I would normally avoid at all costs.
“You can’t stop thinking about me, huh?” “Yes.” He sounds perturbed. “It’s a problem.”
“Anyway. Here.” An amazed laugh sputters out of my mouth when he holds out a crumpled daisy. It must have been crammed in his jacket pocket this whole time. It’s not in great shape, this poor flower.
“Oh my God. You’re bringing me apology flowers again? Can’t you ever apologize without all the pageantry?” He smirks at me. “It’s not an apology flower. It’s to celebrate National Dessert Day.” “That is not a real day.” “Yup. I looked it up.”
“My dick belongs to you.” There’s no way that could ever be considered a classically romantic line, but it makes my heart skip a beat nonetheless. “Okay?” he prompts. I nod slowly. “Okay.”
“I think the real issue is—you don’t smile enough.” “It makes my face hurt.” “But you’re hot when you smile. And it makes you look more approachable.” I blanch. “Baby, I don’t want people approaching me. That sounds awful.” Her mouth falls open in awe. “Did you just call me baby?” “Did I?” I didn’t even notice. “You did.” Well…shit. I need to watch myself.
She licks a bead of sweat off her lips and says, “Use me.” A smile spreads across my face, because it’s the same thing I said to her before we had sex. And then again during it.
“Look at it. Have you ever seen anything prettier?” I glance over to find his blue eyes, vivid in their own right, fixated on my face. “What?” I say self-consciously. He clears his throat. “Nothing. You’re right. It’s nice here.”
I love it when I get him to be playful. I’m starting to crave it on a level I’m determined not to overthink.
“What’s yours? Wait, let me guess—black to match that enchanting disposition?” “Gray.” “That’s pretty much the same thing. What shade? Light gray? Dark?” “A deep slate gray. Stormy, like your eyes.” My heart does a little somersault. He’s not trying to be romantic, but I liked that line. I liked it way too much, in fact. I’m starting to worry I might be in trouble.
“Fine. What’s your favorite position?” “Anything that lets me be inside you is going to be my favorite position.” Yeah, I’m in trouble.
She snuggles closer. I run hot and she runs cold, so it’s perfect. Her body cools me down and I heat hers up. I’m not a spiritual man, but in my sex-loosened brain, I suddenly wonder if somewhere, somehow, maybe someone designed us to fit this well together.
He called me baby. It happens very rarely, but when it does, my heart turns into a pile of goo in my chest.
“I don’t feel like you judge me. About anything. Ever.” “I don’t.” “Do you feel like I judge you?” “Never,” he says simply. Then he visibly gulps, and I know precisely how he feels. This is fucking terrifying.
“Gisele,” he says. “Mmmm?” “Are we dating now?” A smile tickles my lips. I rise slightly on my elbow and gaze down at him. He’s biting his lip and it’s adorable. “Yeah. I think we are.”
“Gigi. You’re in love with this guy.”
“You look so pretty right now,” he mumbles, peering down at me.
“Fuck, Gigi. Keep going, baby.”
Then he brushes his lips over the side of my throat and whispers, “You’re a goddamn dream.” While I desperately try to convince myself that I’m not in love with him.
I stick out the flower. “Here.” She sighs. “Oh God. I’m scared to ask, but…what international day is it?” “National Cotton Candy Day. Seemed like one you’d celebrate.” She releases that melodic, feminine laugh, and I pretend it doesn’t affect me when the truth is, everything about her does.
Goddamn feelings. How did it even get to this point? I thought I would fuck her a few times and we’d both be on our way. Now, the idea of never seeing her smile at me again feels like someone ripping my heart out of my chest.
