“Just hammering out our practice schedule,” I lie, taking my seat on the couch again. I reach for my Scrabble letters.
“That’s still going on?” Diana doesn’t sound as interested now that it’s about hockey.
“Yup. I’m learning a lot from him.”
We resume our game, but my head’s not in it. Even after fifteen minutes pass, I’m still internally marveling over what happened.
Honestly, the sheer audacity of this man. He tells me to use him for sex, and then when I dare to think it over, he’s like, Cool, forget it?
Who does that?
“Beety is not a word!” Mya screeches in outrage when Diana tries adding a Y to board.
“Sure it is.”
“Use it in a fucking sentence.”
“I don’t like this salad because of all the beets. It’s too beety.”
“G, back me up here,” pleads Mya.
I glance up from my tray. “I’m vetoing beety.”
“Traitor,” Diana complains.
I’m about to put down my next word when my phone buzzes again. A text this time.
RYDER:
I’m downstairs.
My heart stops. Just quits beating altogether in my chest.
A shivery sensation whispers through me. I don’t know if it’s adrenaline or anticipation, but I feel weak and dizzy as I abruptly shoot to my feet.
My friends look up, startled.
“I need to go downstairs,” I blurt out.
They both stare at me.
“I, ah, ordered food.”
I haphazardly wave my phone around as if to show them a notification from a food delivery app, except I purposely keep the screen away from their eyes. I also don’t have a plan for how I’m going to explain why I don’t have food upon my return. But nobody ever said I was quick under pressure. Off the ice, anyway.
“We had dinner, like, two hours ago,” Mya says in confusion, but I’m already slipping into a pair of sneakers and heading for the door.
In the small lobby, I greet the security woman at the front desk, whose wary gaze is fixed on the vertical pane of glass next to the door. Beyond the window is Ryder.
“It’s okay,” I assure her. “I know him.”
Although I don’t blame her for being suspicious of the six-footfive man in the black hoodie lurking outside the dorm.
Outside, the night air is cooler than I expect. It’s almost October, though. Soon the weather will turn completely, and going outside in yoga pants and an oversized tee won’t even be an option. Then I’ll be longing for this barely-there chill that’s puckering my nipples.
Or maybe that’s Ryder’s doing.
“Why are you here?” I grumble, pulling him away from the door.
We move to the edge of the path, where he shoves his hands in the front pocket of his sweatshirt and gazes down at me through heavy eyelids.
“I came to kiss you.”
My mouth falls open. I stare at him for a moment.
“You…drove all the way here to kiss me.”
“Yes.”
“I… You…” I’m at a genuine loss for words.
Ryder shrugs. “You won’t fuck someone you haven’t kissed. Isn’t that what you said?”
“I…” I honestly can’t think straight enough to speak.
“So.” Those mesmerizing blue eyes focus on my face “Are you going to let me kiss you, Gigi?”
My pulse speeds up when it registers that he called me Gigi. Not Gisele. But my actual name. Because right now, in this moment, he’s not mocking me. He’s not playing games. He’s being sincere.
He moves closer, slipping his hands out of his pockets. His big frame encroaches on my personal space, the spicy scent of him grabbing hold of my senses. I suck in a breath and then regret it because he always smells so good and it’s distracting.
“Yes or no,” he says softly.
I lick my bottom lip and meet his eyes.
Then I say, “Yes.”
Before I can second-guess myself, I reach up to slide my fingers through his hair and tug his head down.
Our mouths meet in the lightest of caresses. Just a taste. A tease. But our lips feel so right against each other that I can’t stop myself from driving the kiss deeper. Ryder spits out a growled curse before his tongue slides through my parted lips and sends an electric current through my body.
I press myself up against him, arms looped around his neck to pull him down as low as he can go with his height. Desperate to explore his mouth. His lips are equally hungry, but not overpowering. The way his tongue touches mine is almost unbearable. I want more of it. And more of his hands, but he’s not letting them wander. One rests lightly on my hip, the other cups the side of my face, his thumb absently stroking my jaw as he kisses me as if he has all the time in the world.
“Mmmm.” His husky groan tickles my lips, and then the hand on my waist suddenly moves. He slides it around to squeeze my ass and bring me flush up against him so I can feel his erection.
When I whimper in response, he pulls back to reveal his slight grin. Mocking as usual.
“Did I pass the test?”
My breathing comes out in labored pants. My mind is spinning.
“I…” I drop my hands from his shoulders and take a step back. “I don’t think I’m good at casual sex.” I press my hands against my sides to stop them from grabbing him. I’m already craving his kiss again. “That’s what you’re looking for, right?”
“Yes.”
Reluctance renders me with indecision. I don’t know why I can’t pull this trigger and simply tell him I want him.
When my hesitation drags on, Ryder runs his fingers through his hair to smooth it out. I messed up those dark strands pretty bad when I had my hands all over him.
“All right.” He finally shrugs and flicks up his eyebrows. “If you change your mind, you know where to find me.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
RYDER
The universe approves
“LUKE, STOP!”
I wake up Friday morning in a cold sweat. It’s soaked through the T-shirt I fell asleep in last night, pasting it to my chest. The terrified voice still reverberates through the cobwebs of my barely alert brain. I banish it because the last thing I need is to start my day engulfed in darkness.
But the nightmare proves to be an omen. When I roll over in bed to grab my phone, there’s a missed call from a Phoenix area code and a voicemail notification.
Fuck.
I sit up and punch in my passcode.
“Luke, this is Peter Greene, Maricopa County Attorney’s office. I tried contacting you a few weeks ago. My office also reached out via email, although I’m not certain we have the correct address; the one I have on file is quite old. I understand this might be a sensitive subject for you, but we do need to discuss the hearing and—”
“Your message has been deleted.”
I toss the phone on the mattress and stumble into the hall toward the bathroom to shower. I plan to be at the performance center at 8:00 a.m. today rather than 7:00. Now that classes are officially underway, I need to cut back on the extra training and not push myself so hard.
Everyone on the hockey team has only afternoon classes this semester because of our morning skate and training schedule. Beckett catches a ride to campus with me, but Shane says he’ll take his own car. We leave him in the kitchen at the blender, preparing a protein shake.