But I’m not unpleasant.
I’m no beauty queen, but I’ve had the attention of attractive guys. Bennett is gorgeous, the little cheater, and according to Mara I look just like Mama did at my age with her pale creamy skin, heart-shaped face, and long blonde hair. Unfortunately, my eyes are my father’s, wide and thickly lashed, a blue-green color.
“You…” His brow knits as he searches for how to finish his sentence.
Someone dances into me with a hard bump, and I lunge forward again, my cheek pressing against his chest. His hands clasp my upper arms, steadying me as he sets me a few inches away from him.
“Sorry,” I say.
His eyes drift over my face, lingering on my lips, and I swallow. He drops my arms as if they’re hot, and I rub them briskly, acutely aware of his touch.
Strands of “You’re Beautiful” by James Blunt come over the speakers, and color rushes from my neck up to my face as I realize we’re the only ones on the dance floor not dancing.
“This place is crowded. I should go—”
“Would you like to dance?” he asks, interrupting me.
I frown. “You want to dance with me?”
“I do.” Inscrutable eyes rake over me as his expression shutters. His focus is still squarely on me as if I’m a magical creature—or a demon.
Maybe there’s something hanging out of my nose or my Pirate Red lipstick is smeared across my entire cheek and I’m completely unaware.
“Okay.” My hands reach up and curl around his shoulders, my fingers brushing at the hair there. His hands go to my hips, settling on top of my coat around my waist. We move around each other, almost warily, our bodies aligned in a slow rhythm, not entirely pressed together, yet the small space between us feels…electrified. I wonder how my skin would feel pressed against his if we closed that gap.
We’re in a bubble, the two of us, and everyone around us seems irrelevant—or at least that’s my perception. I’m not sure what his is, only that his gaze never leaves my face and the intensity makes me jittery.
“What’s your name?” he says with a scowl.
I huff out a laugh. Where’s the charming playboy everyone said he was?
“Sugar. My mama said it was a name for a girl who would be the life of the party.” I lift my shoulders in a shrug, looking away. “It didn’t work.”
“Ah, I hear a slight Southern accent. How did you end up in Sparrow Lake?”
My accent isn’t thick, not after years of living here, but it does stick out like a sore thumb among all these Midwesterners. “Moved here when my mom passed.”
“Any other family?”
I stare up at him. “You updating my Wikipedia page?”
He breaks our gaze, a flash of vulnerability in his before it’s quickly gone. “You favor someone I knew.”
Oh.
“Well, they’re not related to me. I don’t have any siblings or cousins on my mom’s side, and I look just like her. The family I do have is my dad’s and they’re in Alabama.” I pause. “I don’t speak to them.”
“Why?”
I shake my head. “That’s really none of your business.”
“Why?”
He gives me an insistent look, and out of sheer annoyance, I say, “They’re rich folk who think I’m white trash.”
He thinks about this, studying my face. “Sorry. That sucks. I’m Zack, by the way.”
I know. I nod.
“My friends call me Z.”
“I’m not a friend.”
“Yet.” His eyes go to my mouth and heat flares over my skin at the interest I see there. A blush creeps across my face.
“I’ve never seen you at one of these,” he says.
“Just trying new things.”
“Like stalking hockey players?”
My mouth opens and I almost stumble until he catches me.
“You were at the Tipsy Moose last week,” he says, a satisfied look on his face as he takes in my face. “You sat in the back. I played darts…you watched. I talked to a girl…you stared. You sat by yourself. Isn’t that right?”
My stomach flutters, recalling how packed that place was. The man has magical powers of observation. “Maybe we were just two people who happened to be at the same place at the same time. Maybe my eyes just happened to be on you when you looked at me.”
He continues as if I never said a word. “You’re also in my American poetry class. You wear a knit hat and those big glasses. Maybe that’s why I didn’t…” He stops, his voice trailing off. “You sit in the back.”
“And you sit in the front.”
“You would know.”
Shit! I blink rapidly “I don’t know what you mean.”
“Liar. I notice things—it’s one of my skills—and you were lurking behind that column when I came in…waiting for me.” His tone is silky, yet there’s a hint of accusation there. “My guess is you’re a jersey chaser, a new one since I’ve never noticed you here.”
Anger stirs at his arrogance, and my lips tighten. “I’d hardly call it lurking. and you were staring at me.”
“Maybe I was.” He halts our dancing when the music stops, but his hands are still on my hips and mine are still around his neck. It’s strange to still be holding on to him when it’s clear we’re sparring, but…but I don’t want to let him go. My hands cling to his shoulders, brushing across the soft leather of his jacket, and his fingers are digging into my waist. His touch isn’t unwanted. It’s tantalizing with a hint of dominance, as if he’s not going to let me out of his sight.
I swallow.
My chest rises.
I want to smack that smirk off his face, but I also want to—
What is happening?
“I’m not a jersey chaser. I’m pre-law.”
He sighs, twisting his lips. “Right. What do you want from me?”
“Nothing.” Lie, lie, lie.
He gives me a hard look. “Please. You wanna hook up with an athlete and brag to all your friends, right?”
He’s so off base.
Yet…
My gaze goes to his full lips, taking in the sensual curves, wondering how they would feel pressed against mine. “Do I have a shot?” I don’t know what makes me say it.
He gives me a wolfish, knowing smile. “I would love to fuck you, but we might never see each other again. I don’t make promises.”
I picture us naked in a heated embrace, his powerful body sliding inside me, and my lower body clenches at the thought—even as I cringe. I’m supposed to still be in love with Bennett, and yet here I am, my body pulsating for another guy.
“I don’t need your promises,” I snap. And even though I’m completely out of my depth with this level of hot guy, my hand is confident and gives his hair a tug. “And if we fucked, I wouldn’t want to see you again.”
The air crackles around us, and his chest expands as his eyes lower. Everyone around us disappears, and it’s just us and this…energy. I read his face, taking in the dilated gaze, the way he bites that succulent bottom lip. He doesn’t know what to think of me, but he’s decided it really doesn’t matter.
He wants me.
His head dips to whisper in my ear. “Forget this party. Let’s get out of here.” The scruff of his jawline brushes against the sensitive skin of my neck, and waves of desire curl around me.
He focuses back on my face, waiting for a response, but I can’t think. “Now?” I ask, not so brave anymore.
His hands slide under my coat until they’re on my ass, guiding me closer until the space between us is gone and our bodies are pressed together. “Yeah. It doesn’t have to be complicated. I’ll make it perfect for you.”
I can only imagine what’s perfect in the Hockey Player Hookup Handbook. Three orgasms, like a hat trick? And then there’s him, those moody eyes, that big stick he no doubt has…
Without even being cognizant of my reaction, my hands massage his neck, tangling with the thick hair there. A long exhalation comes from his mouth and my heart pounds as I imagine going somewhere with him. Alone. I picture us without all these people. I know he’s right there with me because the air grows heavier and thicker, like a fog. I gaze up, trying to read more of him, to maybe see who he really is, but he’s a stone wall, a piece of hard granite with hot, smoldering eyes.
Someone in the crowd calls out his name and I flinch.
Clarity settles in slowly as I think over my reasons for being at this party.
I—I can’t do this with him.
“What’s wrong?” he says.
What’s wrong?
Part of me does want to hook up, but the other side is mortified at the idea of random sex. Serious relationships are all I’ve ever had, more specifically just one.
“You’re scared,” he says softly.
“Sex isn’t why I came here tonight…” I stop, not sure how to explain.
His broad shoulders shift, shrugging, and his face gets that shuttered look on it again. “I get it. You don’t want to be the girl.”
My mouth opens. “So it is true? You pick out a girl at parties?”
His eyes rake over me. “Next time, don’t try so hard to get my attention, sweetheart.”
Next time? Don’t try so hard?