Meet Your Match (Kings of the Ice, #1)(95)

My eyebrows shot up. I had more of a drive along the beach in mind, or maybe a long winding road in the country. But that didn’t stop me from opening my stupid mouth and replying, “If that’s what you need.”

Her eyes narrowed a bit, like she didn’t quite believe I was serious. “What about practice?”

“Off-season,” I explained.

Her eyes sparkled like diamonds.

“Anywhere?” she asked, echoing my earlier sentiment.

“Anywhere.”

Her smile climbed even more, and she crossed the room in two strides, holding out her hand for mine.

“We ride at dusk,” she said, referencing her shirt. I ignored the sirens in my mind when I took her hand and she shook it like we’d just done a multi-million-dollar business deal. Then, she backed away in a moonwalk, making finger guns and a pew pew sound that made me snort out a laugh through my nose.

I was pretty sure I’d just taken a wrong turn and steered myself right toward Disasterville.

But I couldn’t find it in me to change course.




What happens when the Ospreys’ star defensemen ends up on a road trip with his teammate’s hot little sister? Find out in Watch Your Mouth.



Can’t get enough of Vince and Maven? Here’s a bonus scene to make you swoon!



While you wait for Watch Your Mouth, you’ll love Kandi Steiner’s Red Zone Rivals series. College football with ALL the spice! Keep reading for a sneak peek inside book one: Fair Catch!





FAIR CATCH SNEAK PEEK


Hands.

Big, strong, demanding hands.

Big, strong, demanding hands everywhere.

In my hair as he pulled my mouth to his, as he inhaled that next kiss like a man who’d been underwater for years and I was the surface. Gripping my throat as he kissed me harder, like he didn’t know if he wanted to choke me or worship me. Running the length of my body, down my ribs and over my hips until he cupped my ass and lifted me effortlessly.

I was a symphony of breaths and moans as he carried me blindly through the dorm, kicking my bedroom door open with his foot. My next breath was cut short as I was pinned against the wall, and his possessive kiss crawled over my jaw, down my neck, until he nipped at my collarbone and I arched into him, silently begging for more.

Warning bells hissed like the shake of a rattlesnake tail, some far-off voice trying desperately to break through the ecstasy and remind me that this was Zeke unraveling me with every touch.

This was Zeke, my brother’s best friend.

Zeke, my teammate, my roommate.

Zeke — whom I hate, whom I wish had never been born, whom I blame for ruining my brother’s life.

And yet the harder he gripped me, the more he kissed me? The less I could hold onto anything other than the desire to have him inside me.

He dropped my feet to the ground, his hands leaving me only long enough to reach behind his neck and rip his damp shirt off.

“I wanted to kill him,” he seethed, his next breath rippling over his taut chest, his ribs, the mountains and valleys of muscles lining his abdomen. He kissed me again, hand wrapping around my throat and tilting my jaw up until I whimpered into his mouth. “I wanted to fucking murder him, Riley.”

“Why?” I breathed.

He shook his head, his forehead against mine as he licked his lips. “Because I am scarred by the fire you started in me. Because you have reduced me to fucking ashes.”

His hands slid under my shirt, warm and all-encompassing as his fingertips splayed the width of my rib cage, taking the fabric up, up, up, until he peeled it off me completely.

“Because I ache for you,” he breathed against my lips next. “And I’ll end anyone who touches what’s mine.”

His lips brushed mine in the briefest, most punishing kiss before his hands were on my waist, and he spun me, my own hands flying out to catch myself against the wall. He bit the back of my neck as I arched into him, heat pooling between my thighs, my nipples so peaked and ready they ached.

“I’m not yours,” I managed on a breath as he kissed his way across my shoulders.

He laughed — not in a humorous way, but in a dark, terrifying manner that made me shiver as he stripped my sports bra off me next. He leaned into me from behind, and I sucked in a breath at the feeling of his hard-on against my ass before he pulled back just enough to slip his thumbs under the band of my shorts.

“That so?” he murmured in my ear, tongue skating over the lobe before everything trailed down. His hands, pulling my shorts with them. His tongue, licking a line of fire down my spine, his heated voice as he growled against my hip bone. “So… you want me to stop?”

My shorts hit the ground by my ankles, and his fingers walked a lazy line over the hem of my boy shorts, tracing the curve of my ass.

I couldn’t speak.

I tried, racking my brain for some smart-ass remark or some way to combat his cocky declaration that I belonged to him.

But when those fingers glided between my legs from behind, when they slid along the wet, thin fabric separating us, all I could do was gasp.

“You want me to stop touching you?” he goaded, running that treacherous finger along my seam as I shook and held onto the wall for dear life. “You want me to stop… tasting you?”

His tongue ran hot and flat along the back of my thigh, the tip of it just barely lashing where I wanted him most before the sensation was gone.