of dominance, as if he’s not going to let me out of his sight.
I swallow.
My chest rises.
I want to smack that smirk off his face, but I also want to—
What is happening?
“I’m not a jersey chaser. I’m pre-law.”
He sighs, twisting his lips. “Right. What do you want from me?”
“Nothing.” Lie, lie, lie.
He gives me a hard look. “Please. You wanna hook up with an athlete and brag to all your friends, right?”
He’s so off base.
Yet…
My gaze goes to his full lips, taking in the sensual curves, wondering how they would feel pressed against mine. “Do I have a shot?” I don’t know what makes me say it.
He gives me a wolfish, knowing smile. “I would love to fuck you, but we might never see each other again. I don’t make promises.”
I picture us naked in a heated embrace, his powerful body sliding inside me, and my lower body clenches at the thought—even as I cringe. I’m supposed to still be in love with Bennett, and yet here I am, my body pulsating for another guy.
“I don’t need your promises,” I snap. And even though I’m completely out of my depth with this level of hot guy, my hand is confident and gives his hair a tug. “And if we fucked, I wouldn’t want to see you again.”
The air crackles around us, and his chest expands as his eyes lower. Everyone around us disappears, and it’s just us and this…energy. I read his face, taking in the dilated gaze, the way he bites that succulent bottom lip. He doesn’t know what to think of me, but he’s decided it really doesn’t matter.
He wants me.
His head dips to whisper in my ear. “Forget this party. Let’s get out of here.” The scruff of his jawline brushes against the sensitive skin of my neck, and waves of desire curl around me.
He focuses back on my face, waiting for a response, but I can’t think. “Now?” I ask, not so brave anymore.
His hands slide under my coat until they’re on my ass, guiding me closer until the space between us is gone and our bodies are pressed together. “Yeah. It doesn’t have to be complicated. I’ll make it perfect for you.”
I can only imagine what’s perfect in the Hockey Player Hookup Handbook. Three orgasms, like a hat trick? And then there’s him, those moody eyes, that big stick he no doubt has…
Without even being cognizant of my reaction, my hands massage his neck, tangling with the thick hair there. A long exhalation comes from his mouth and my heart pounds as I imagine going somewhere with him. Alone. I picture us without all these people. I know he’s right there with me because the air grows heavier and thicker, like a fog. I gaze up, trying to read more of him, to maybe see who he really is, but he’s a stone wall, a piece of hard granite with hot, smoldering eyes.
Someone in the crowd calls out his name and I flinch.
Clarity settles in slowly as I think over my reasons for being at this party.
I—I can’t do this with him.
“What’s wrong?” he says.
What’s wrong?
Part of me does want to hook up, but the other side is mortified at the idea of random sex. Serious relationships are all I’ve ever had, more specifically just one.
“You’re scared,” he says softly.
“Sex isn’t why I came here tonight…” I stop, not sure how to explain.
His broad shoulders shift, shrugging, and his face gets that shuttered look on it again. “I get it. You don’t want to be the girl.”
My mouth opens. “So it is true? You pick out a girl at parties?”
His eyes rake over me. “Next time, don’t try so hard to get my attention, sweetheart.”
Next time? Don’t try so hard?
My heart sputters like a car running out of gas as mortification flares. I frown. “Don’t call me sweetheart, and for your information, I’m not some girl who’s out to bag the sexy and infuriating Zack Morgan. What I need is way more important than some furtive coupling in a frat house with a testosterone-addled hockey player.”
“Sexy and infuriating? Testosterone-addled?” He bites his lip to keep from laughing. “You really know how to flirt.”
“I didn’t mean to flirt. I just came to ask you to…” I stop, frustrated as I remove my hands from those broad shoulders and rub one over my face. “I never should have come to this party. It was pointless.”
“Why?” His brows knit together as he studies me.
A long silence stretches between