Kickin' It (Red Card) - Rachel Van Dyken Page 0,57

his wine-infused tongue felt like velvet against mine. Our mouths danced along each other, and then I clung to his chest with my free hand, just as someone cleared their throat.

Had there even been footsteps?

Jagger stood there, stupid grin on his face.

“What are you?” Matt glared. “A fucking ninja?”

He grinned wide. “Willow will be here in less than thirty seconds. What to do, what to do . . . I mean on one hand . . .”

I grumbled as he held out one hand.

“I could just yell like Matt did when I was caught with my pants down, literally. I could tell her that her best friend was hooking up with her brother . . . hmmm.” He held out his other hand. “And in this hand . . .” He lifted his hand to his lips, mimed zipping them, whistled, tossed the imaginary key into the air, then swallowed it.

“You done?” Matt asked in a bored tone.

Jagger crossed his arms. “I want to date your sister.”

“Absolutely not.” Matt’s teeth clenched, every muscle in his body strained beneath his shirt. I was surprised he was able to hold his wineglass without breaking it over Jagger’s head. “She’s off-limits.”

“Well, shit.” Jagger smiled wide. “I guess I’ll just let her know that her best friend, your houseguest, and, well, I wasn’t going to say it but I think I will now, her friend’s mentor, were just in here ripping each other’s clothes off, screaming profanities, and getting busy on the table.” He jerked his head to the wood. “I think your bodies missed a spot, you were trying to get every inch, right?”

Matt shared a look with me. “We’ll tell her.”

My anxiety spiked.

“Just not today.” He sighed. “One date, you can go out on one date, and if you suddenly elope or she ends up pregnant, I’m going to throw you off my balcony and claim it was a war crime. Your grandma should be helpful with that.”

Jagger burst out laughing just as loud footsteps made their way down the corridor. “Hey, baby, you ready to—Matt!” Willow stopped short.

“Nice red wine, isn’t it?” Jagger crossed his arms. “So . . . robust.”

I almost choked on my next sip then set the wine down on the table. “You know what? I’m exhausted.”

“How sudden.” Jagger winked.

I sent him a Stop it look while Matt grinned like he was suddenly thrilled at the prospect of Jagger and his sister alone. “Actually, Willow, Jagger was just telling us about his love for shoes. You should tell him about your trip to Paris, I’m sure he’d love every detail. In fact, you guys stay as long as you want.”

“Oh, we will.” Jagger pulled Willow close.

Matt sighed and elbowed Jagger as we both walked by.

Willow made a beeline for the wine.

Jagger grabbed my wrist. “Careful.”

“Weren’t you just encouraging this?” I hissed.

“Doesn’t mean you shouldn’t still tread carefully.” He winked. “Have fun tonight.”

“Already did.”

“Night’s not over,” he said, making my heart thump like a party in my chest.

I clung to Matt’s side as we made our way back down the hall.

And then reality set in.

Because when he opened the door, his hand fell from mine.

His posture stiffened.

Right.

Athlete.

Coach.

Professional.

I forced a smile on my face as we said our good-byes to people around the room. I was exhausted by the time I grabbed my coat. The car was brought around. Matt opened my door, and I got in and waited for something, anything to remind me of the magic from the wine cellar.

But he didn’t even reach for my hand.

I felt the sting of tears.

Had it just been physical?

It was so much more to me.

More than I’d ever admit out loud.

Because those words held power, and I’d learned my lesson—never give another person all of yours.

There was something thrilling and terrifying about pulling up to a dark house with a man who just had his mouth all over your body.

Did you just walk into the kitchen and ask if he was up for a midnight snack then drop your clothes?

Or was it more normal than that? Did you walk in, watch TV in your pajamas, and then end up on top of one another?

Or did we just go to bed.

Him with a book.

Me with my ear buds and a magazine?

By the time the car rolled to a stop, the garage door slowly going down, I was almost sick to my stomach. I had dated in college.

But not men like this.

Not powerful men who had their own houses, businesses. Men who could