I press down on another spot, still studying her. “What about this?”
“No.”
“You sure?” I feel her pulse fluttering beneath the pad of my thumb now.
Gigi nods, looking relieved. “That twinge of pain I was feeling before is already gone.”
She rotates the wrist again but doesn’t make any move to withdraw it from my probing grasp.
“I’ve never actually broken a bone,” she admits. “Guess I’m lucky. My brother broke his arm three different times growing up. Have you ever broken anything?”
“Do ribs count?”
“Of course.”
“Then a couple different ribs, a couple different times. Other than that, it’s mostly been light sprains. Ankle, wrist.” I shrug. “Never broken anything important.”
“I mean, ribs are pretty important.” She reaches out and touches my rib cage over my sweaty jersey.
Even though she’s not touching my bare skin, I feel her fingers like a cattle brand.
“You know…” She trails off thoughtfully. Gray eyes peering into me.
It makes me uncomfortable, the way she’s looking at me. It’s as if she’s seeing something I can’t. As if she knows a secret about me that even I haven’t been able to decode.
Finally, she finishes that thought. “You’re not actually a dick.”
“Sure I am.”
“Nope. It’s an act. You care. You just don’t want anyone to know you care. I thought you had a huge chip on your shoulder, but the rudeness is a front for something.” Gigi’s lips curve slightly. “Don’t worry, I won’t ask what. I know you won’t tell me.”
She continues to search my face, and I resist the urge to duck my head. I feel oddly exposed. It makes my skin itch.
“Tell me a misconception you had about me.”
Her request startles me. I hadn’t given it much thought, but now that I muse on it, I realize I did have some preconceived notions about her.
“I assumed you’d be cockier. Entitled,” I admit.
She nods, as if expecting that.
“But you’re more humble than I expected. You rarely brag about yourself, only when you’re joking. Every time someone compliments you, you look pleasantly surprised, like it’s the first time you’ve ever been complimented. And you always respond with gratitude.”
Her wrist remains between my clasped hands. I can’t help stroking my fingers over her pale fragile flesh.
“I’ve known kids of famous people before,” I tell her. “I thought you’d be like them. But you’re not at all like them.”
Gigi’s teeth sink into her bottom lip for a moment. Then she moistens both lips, locking her gaze with mine.
“Just to clarify, you’re not trying to date me.”
“No.” I chuckle. “If you want someone to be sweet to you and take you on dates, I’m not your man. I’m not good at that stuff.”
“What are you good at, then?”
That’s a loaded question and we both know it.
I turn her hand over, then deliberately drag my thumb along the center of her palm. I don’t miss the way she shivers.
“I’m good at making you wet,” I say, hearing the rasp in my voice. “And I’ll fuck you so good you’ll be thinking about it for days after. It’ll be the best fuck of your life.”
She bites her lip again. The hazy, needy spark in her eyes nearly does me in. I almost pull her into my lap and kiss her. But she’s the one hesitating. This needs to be her move to make.
And she doesn’t make it.
My body cries in silent disappointment when she slowly stands up on her skates.
“Let’s call it a night,” she suggests. “Our heads aren’t in it, and that’s a recipe for injury.”
I follow her back to the men’s lockers, where we sit side by side on the bench to unlace our skates. Gigi removes her gear until she’s in a tank top, sports bra, and boy shorts. I try not to stare.
“I’m gonna take a quick shower,” she says, drifting toward the doorway across the room.
I remain on the bench, breathing through my nose. Deep, even breaths.
Christ. I want her. Never saw it coming. Totally unprepared for it. And at a loss for what to do about it.
I hear the shower start, and soon there’s a layer of steam rolling toward the change room. I need to grab a shower too, so while I wait for Gigi to finish, I strip out of my practice clothes and shove them in my backpack. I’m putting the rest of my gear away when her muffled voice breaks through the sound of rushing water.
“Ryder?”
“Yeah?” I call toward the showers.
“I forgot a towel. Can you grab one and bring it to me?”
My cock turns stiffer than the hockey stick in my hand. With another deep inhalation, I lean the stick against my bag.
“Sure. One sec.”
I make my way to the wall of cubbies where fresh towels are stored. Grab two off a shelf. Then I walk through the steamy air hanging like a canopy over the rows of showers. The majority of steam comes from the third stall.
Heart pounding, I stop in front of the white plastic curtain. I glimpse the tantalizing outline of her body, a blurry flash of curves and golden flesh.
I clear my throat to announce my presence, then bring the towels to the edge of the stall. “Here.”
The curtain rustles.
Then it parts.
Rather than take the towels from me, Gigi stands there, fully on display for me.
She’s incredible.
My breathing grows shallow as her naked body wreaks havoc on my field of vision. Perky breasts tipped with brownish-pink nipples. They’re tight and puckered despite the heat of the shower. My tongue tingles with the impulse to lick them.
I tear my gaze off her tits to curb the temptation, but it only lands between her legs. An even more tempting place. She’s completely bare, and now my tongue licks at my lips the way it wants to be licking her pussy.
There’s an invitation in her eyes.
I leave the towels on the hook. Then I step into the stall without a word, shutting the curtain behind me. She’s fully naked. I’m still in my boxer-briefs. But maybe that’s a good thing, keeping a barrier between her and my aching dick.
Her gaze travels along my body in a long, heated perusal. Resting on my pecs. My abs. The very visible outline of my cock. Appreciation darkens her eyes, and damned if that doesn’t bring a rush of satisfaction. I want her to like my body. I want her to use it as her own personal playground.
Neither of us speak for several long beats. Water sluices over her, droplets rolling down the valley between her perfect tits, sliding over her flat stomach, her sculpted thighs.
“Ryder,” she begs, and that’s all it takes.
I join her under the spray, bending down to kiss her at the same time I slip one hand between her thighs.
She gasps and I swallow the sound with my lips. Slowly backing her into the wall, I drag my knuckles over her slit. Her hips move, trying to push up against my hand. I rub her clit in a light caress, only applying pressure when she begins whimpering into my mouth.
I break the kiss and inhale a cloud of steam. It swirls all around us, droplets clinging to her full bottom lip as she stares at me beneath impossibly long eyelashes.