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But she’s no longer the skinny little kid with insomnia. She’s…well… She’s something else. And as I wage an internal war about whether I like what I see, her nose wrinkles. Like she is disappointed in what she sees in me. But you know what? I’d rather use that to my advantage. I lean back and smile at her. “I’m moving in, Sticks. Welcome to Hell.”
If she continues like this, she’s going to pass out. And…Evan is going to murder me either way. So I grab her face and yank her forward, slamming my lips to hers. I’ve kissed girls before. But tell me why my breathing stops as soon as our mouths are on each other? Tell me why my heart fucking skips? And most of all, tell me why Wren Davis kisses me back?
“And would someone so self-centered sleep three feet from you every night in case you start screaming and wake the whole neighborhood?”
“No one is asking you to sleep outside my door,” I snap with hidden embarrassment. I didn’t know he was sleeping out there. The few times I’ve left my room for water after a nightmare coated me with sweat, he was always near but never asleep. I probably woke him. My cheeks burn, and he notices.
We need fucking security cameras. Or a bodyguard to follow her around, or— “I don’t want to go back to sleep,” she whispers. “Can you help me with that?”
open my eyes. She’s right there, her sometimes-green, sometimes-brown eyes so damn alluring, I have no doubt I could fall right into them if given the chance. If you haven’t already. “Are you propositioning me, baby?” She bites her lip to hide her smile and slowly nods. Oh, fuck. I’m a goner—and judging by the glimmer in her gaze, we both know it.
His blue eyes are hooded with pleasure, and I have never seen a hotter look. He’s turned on, and there’s a fire brewing in my lower stomach at the anticipation of him inside me. “This cunt is mine.”
“I want to watch you come for me before I fuck you so hard you come faster than you ever have before, baby.”
“Sleep,” Stone whispers from somewhere close by. I inhale the scent of his pillow and submit to the warmth of his blankets when he drapes them over my bare skin. “I’m here, and I’m not leaving, Sticks.”
“My girl likes praise?” I lick her slowly, from her slit to the top of her mound. “You taste so good, baby. I’m never going to need another meal again as long as you keep your cunt wet for me.” “Oh, I hate you,” she says.
“No girl of mine is going to wear another guy’s jersey,” I say quietly. I run my finger across her collarbone. “Well, the good news is—I’m not your girl.” I stop. She stares at me with wide eyes. I’m casting her in shadow like this, blocking out the pretty green and brown of her eyes. “You’re mine, Wren Davis. What more do I need to do to prove it? Fuck you in front of Evan? Get my name tattooed on your skin?” I cup her jaw, forcing her head up. “Or your name on me? Now that sounds tempting…” “Stone—”
“Baby, I’m fucking obsessed with you.” His deep voice is hot. “I can’t sleep if you’re not beside me. I can’t eat if you’re at work and I’m not sitting there in a booth, watching your hips sway with your tray. Even during my practices and games, if I don’t know where you are at all times, I fuck up and nearly fall on the ice.”
“No, baby,” Stone growls. “You have no idea what I’m capable of. Especially when it comes to you.”
We reviewed tapes of CPU earlier this week, and I know what to watch for. I know that Steele O’Brien is an asshole of a D-man, and Greyson Devereux can skate circles around half the guys on our team. And their goalie, Miles Whiteshaw, is quick.
