in the process and Ryder held his breath, hating the tremble that had started in his fingers. “You left me there,” she said, voice lower now, cracking with emotion. “You left me alone with…with her. Just walked away…from us.”
Ryder’s stomach dropped, and the tremble worsened, making it hard for him to hold her hands together. She was talking about that day at the graveyard. He had left her alone…with Rhiannon’s casket. He released her, moving his right hand to her face when two more tears welled and spilled from her lashes. He caught them with the pad of his thumb, the move forcing her gaze to him.
“What are you…”
He didn’t know what he was doing. All Ryder knew was that he wanted her tears to dry up. He wanted, for once, not to be alone in his grief on this day. Without thinking, without anything other than instinct and real desire, Ryder lowered closer, breath fanning across her lips. He moved her chin toward his and felt the breath from her open mouth still as she held it.
“I…I’m sorry,” he said, frowning when she shook, tightening his grip on her face before he moved closer, gaze to hers, his own breath held as Ryder kissed Reese.
He wanted to go on hating her. He wanted that sharp rage that fueled him for a decade to stay lit and burning within him. Ryder knew that would be easier. It would give him the excuse for keeping Reese at a distance. But that kiss took away his worry. The slip of her tongue against his was a honeycomb taste, all memory, all sensation—it was sunlight and grass, the tickle of her hair against his neck as they curled together on his parents’ sofa. It was twilight and the sound of her soft, sweet hums anytime he pressed his lips to skin or flesh, on wet, soft spots of her that no one else had ever touched. All those memories flooded through him as he held Reese close, taking that mouth like it still belonged to him, holding her to him as though the slightest pant would pull them apart and eradicate the sensation having her close and there and perfect.
For one sweet second, Reese was his again, and Ryder had never been happier.
She moaned, fingers at the back of his head, leg slipping against his, and his body changed, his dick hardening, excited at the memory of what being inside her had felt like, how they’d find places to touch and be and feel. Rhiannon had caught them once and swore she’d gone blind from the sight. She hadn’t, and it had been worth it, just to feel Reese so open and wet and willing to give Ryder anything he wanted.
Rhiannon.
The memory of her smoldered all the heat working between them, and Ryder tensed, hovering close to her mouth, but still pulling away.
“I…”
He hadn’t been wrong. She was a distraction. This day and those memories were, too, but they were nothing compared to the emotion and confusion and worry being around Reese would cause if his teammates or coaches ever discovered them.
“Reese,” he tried again, his skin going cold when she pushed away from him, rubbing the heel of her palms against her eyes. Head shaking, she dropped her hands, backtracking away from him quicker than he could follow. Her expression was obvious; it matched the worry and confusion in his own head.
What had he done? Kissing her?
Her?
It was all there in her face—frowning like she didn’t want him, like she hated that she did. Just like him.
Gia wanted them to try. She wanted them to be professionals, but this was personal. Everything about them was personal.
She moved back, eyes squinted, tightening before she turned, jogging fast to put space between them. “Wait…” he tried but she waved him off, moving down the hall before he could stop her. Ryder watched her, knots forming in his gut the quicker she ran. He wondered if the tears had dried. He wondered if touching her had ever felt that good before. He couldn’t quite remember it. Most of all, he wondered where his logic had gone and what kind of storm kissing her had just unleashed.
8.
REESE
HANSON DID NOT WANT Reese on his team. That was an obvious conclusion born when Reese jogged out of the stadium, ready to practice with Wilkens and a now more amendable Mills, and had to endure Hanson filming her with a biting commentary as she moved through her drills.