Behind the Net (Vancouver Storm, #1)

by Stephanie Archer

Something risky and bold thrills through me, and I start playing the song. Some of the lyrics are, um, really specific. That’s my favorite part about songwriting, how specific some of the lyrics are, about eating cherry chocolate ice cream and walking past your old high school or something, and you can totally picture yourself inside the song. I’ll sit between your legs while you make me shake against you. Make my body feel new things, we both want to. Facing me, Jamie stiffens, and his eyes go hazy. I stop playing. “Songbird,” he warns, lifting a brow. There’s a delicious slant to his cruel mouth, and my face feels hot. You could cut the tension in this room with a knife. “We should end it there,” I mutter. “Not a fucking chance.” His voice is thick. My gaze drops to Jamie’s lap. He’s fully hard, erection straining against the fabric of his sweats. Heat pulses low in my stomach, but I continue playing the song. “You wrote that one for me?” he asks when it ends. He won’t take his eyes off my face. I nod. Our gazes hold, and tension cracks between us. Jamie’s gaze darkens, and his jaw tightens as I lick my bottom lip. Pressure gathers between my legs, and my skin feels warm. I want him so badly. His eyes pin me with determination. “That was the best Christmas gift I’ve ever gotten.” “Me, too,” I breathe.