The Goal (Off-Campus #4)(4)

“So you’re a friend of Di Laurentis?”

The words are casually tossed out, but considering she and Dean don’t like each other much, there’s probably only one right way to respond and that’s by denying everything.

Still, I won’t do that to a friend, not even to get laid. And whatever issue Sabrina has with Dean doesn’t influence me, just like Dean’s opinion of Sabrina isn’t going to shape what I’m looking for with her. Besides, I’m a big believer in the saying that you begin how you intend to go on.

“He’s my roommate.”

She makes no effort to hide her distaste and starts brushing me off. “Thanks for the drink, but I think I see my friends waving at me.” She nods toward a group of girls.

I survey the crowd, none of whom are even looking in our direction, and turn back to her with a sad shake of my head. “You gotta do better than that. If you want me to go, tell me to go. You look like a girl who knows what she wants and isn’t afraid to say it.”

“Is that what Dean told you? I bet he called me a bitch, didn’t he?”

This time I opt to keep my mouth shut. Instead, I take a drink.

“He’s right,” she continues. “I am and I’m not sorry for it.”

Her chin juts out adorably. I’d pinch it, but I think I’d lose a few fingers and I’m going to need them later tonight. I have plans to have them all over her body.

She takes another sip of the beer I bought her, and I watch the delicate muscles in her throat work. Fuck, she’s beautiful. Dean could’ve said that she sucks the life out of babies and I’d still be over here. She’s got that kind of draw.

And it’s not just me. Half the male population in the bar is throwing glares of envy in my direction. I cant my body slightly to hide her from view.

“Okay,” I say lightly.

“Okay?” She gets the cutest look of confusion on her face.

“Yup. Is that supposed to scare me off?”

Her perfectly shaped eyebrows crash together. “I don’t know what else he said, but I’m not easy. I’m not against a hookup, but I’m picky about who I let into my bed.”

“He didn’t say anything about that. Only that you liked to bust his balls. But we both know that Dean’s ego can withstand a blow now and again. The question is whether you’re hung up on him. Kind of seems like you are, because he’s the only thing you can talk about.” I shrug. “If that’s the case, I’ll skate right now.”

While Dean said he didn’t have feelings for Sabrina, I want to make sure there aren’t any lingering emotions on her end. Her tone when she mentioned him was mad, though, not bitter, which I take as a good sign. Anger could stem from any number of things. Bitterness is usually hurt feelings.

When—not if—we get into bed together, it should be because she wants to be with me, not as a way to get back at Dean.

Her gaze flicks over my shoulder to where my teammate is still sitting, then back to me. She and I drink in silence for a bit. Her chocolate-brown eyes are tough to read, but I get the sense she’s weighing my words carefully. It might be that she expects me to talk, fill the silence, but I’m waiting her out. Plus, it gives me time to inspect her close up. And from this distance, she’s even more beautiful than I realized.

She doesn’t just have a world-class ass and endless legs. Her rack is the kind that can turn a man religious. As in, thank you, Jesus, for creating this glorious creature and please, Lord, make her not a lesbian. Not blatantly staring at the pretty swells rising above her top is one of the harder things I’ve had to do.

Finally, she sets her bottle on the bar. “Just because you’re pretty doesn’t mean I’m interested.”

I grin. “A guy’s gotta start somewhere.”

A reluctant smile tugs at the corners of her mouth. She wipes her hand against her skirt and sticks it out.

“I’m Sabrina James. I’ve heard all the jokes about being a witch, and no, I am not hung up on Dean Di Laurentis.”

I take her hand in mine and use the contact to pull her an inch closer to me. It’s baby steps with this one.

“John Tucker. Glad to hear it, but you should know that Dean is like a brother to me. We’ve had each other’s backs on the ice for four years, lived together for three of them, and I plan to stand up at his wedding and hope he does the same at mine. That said, he’s my friend, not my daddy.”

“Wait, you’re getting married?” she says in confusion.

It’s kind of amusing that out of everything I said, that’s the bit she’s harping on. I smooth a hand down the outside of her arm and loosely circle her wrist with my fingers. “In the future, darlin’. In the future.”

“Oh.” She picks up her beer and then puts it down when she sees it’s empty. “Wait. You want to get married?”

“Eventually.” I chuckle at her astonishment. “Not today, but yeah, one day I want to be married and have a kid or three. You?”

The bartender comes by, and I nudge another twenty in his direction.

But Sabrina shakes her head. “I’m driving. One beer is my limit.”

I order us waters instead, and he’s back in a flash with two tall glasses.

The lights flicker again, sending a jolt of urgency to my gut. I’m going to have to close this deal soon or lose out entirely.

“Thanks,” she says as she sips the water. “And, no. I don’t see myself having kids or a husband in the near future. Besides, I thought you hockey players liked to play the field.”

“At some point, even the great ones retire.” I smirk over the top of my glass.

She laughs. “All right. I’ll give you that. So what’s your major, John?”

“Tucker. Everyone calls me Tucker or Tuck. And it’s business admin.”

“So you can manage all your hockey money?”

I still haven’t let go of her wrist, and with each exchange, I’m eliminating all the distance between us.

“Nope.” I nod toward my knee. “I’m too slow for the pros. I got banged up in high school. I’m good enough for a scholarship here, but I know my limits.”

“Oh, I’m sorry.” There’s true regret in her voice.

Dean’s a fool. This girl is as sweet as they come. I can’t wait to get my mouth on her.

And my hands.

And my teeth.

And my hard-as-steel cock.

“Don’t be. I’m not.”

I slide my arm along the bar until Sabrina’s essentially standing in the circle of my arms. Her feet are tucked between mine, and if I shift my hips slightly forward, I’ll be able to make the contact my body is dying for. But if there’s one thing I’ve learned in all the years I’ve played hockey, it’s that patience is rewarded. You don’t take an immediate shot when your stick gets the puck. You wait for the right opening.

“I never really wanted it,” I add. “And I think it’s one of those things you have to really want to pursue.”

And then she gives it to me. The opening. “So what do you want these days?”

“You,” I answer baldly.

Two things happen. The lights go out completely and she nearly drops her glass. The jukebox dies out and suddenly the bar seems way too quiet. Around us are a few shrieks of laughter, a few shouts of dismay.

“Keep your pants on, children,” one of the bartenders yells. “We’re going to see what’s going on. Generator should kick in any second.”

As if on cue, a humming noise fills the air and then a dim glow of light illuminates the crowded room.

“You still thirsty?” I ask, stroking the inside of her wrist with long, gentle strokes. Up toward the inner elbow and back down to the wrist. Repeat. Again and again and again.

Her gaze drops to our joined hands and widen as if she just now realizes we’ve been touching for the last ten minutes or so. I lean in close and brush my nose against the outer edge of her earlobe, filling my lungs with her spicy scent.

I could stand here all day. There’s something great about drawing out the anticipation until it’s nearly painful. It makes the release all the more explosive. I have a feeling that sex with Sabrina James will blow my mind.

I can’t fucking wait.

After taking a deep breath, one that pushes her perfect tits into my chest, she eases back—not too far, but enough to create a sliver of distance.

“I’m not into relationships,” she says bluntly. “If we do this—”

“Do what?” I can’t help but tease.

“This. Don’t play dumb, Tucker. You’re better than that.”

A laugh pops out. “Fair enough. All right…” I wave a hand. “Go on…”

“If we do this,” she repeats, “it’s sex only. No awkward morning after. No phone numbers.”

I give her one last caress before releasing her, letting her read into my silence what she needs to. I highly doubt that one time is going to be enough for either of us, but if that’s what she needs to believe tonight, I’m okay with that.

“Let’s go then.”

Her lips curve. “Now?”

“Now.” I moisten my bottom lip with my tongue. “Unless you want to sit here a while longer and keep dancing around the fact that we want to rip each other’s clothes off.”