Page 58 of Wildest Dreams

“Doesn’t matter, I guess. Just thought that he was kinda… not that you should, obviously, ’cause I know that fucker’s reputation but… just could’ve sworn that he was your type. Like, to a fuckin’ T.” He shakes his head at himself and mumbles, “Must be more drunk than I thought.”

After another bone-crushing hug he murmurs, “We’ll see you in twenty minutes, tops,” and then the guys are disappearing into the trees that border the head of the lake, the deep green canopy cloaking their departure.

I flick my eyes over to Tanner, who’s standing about five feet away from me, leaning his large shoulders against his car. His thick arms are folded and flexing over his chest.

I swallow weakly and, maybe possessed by the sheer heat radiating from Tanner’s giant biceps, I walk cautiously over to him, not stopping until I’m a couple of inches away from his forearms.

I suppose that sometimes it’s okay to just go with it, especially if it’s an instance like now – where even Connell thinks that I’d be better off riding with Tanner tonight.

But that doesn’t mean that I can’t toy with him a little bit first.

Tanner drops his eyes to regard the small inch of air between us, chest expanding deeper on his next inhale and successfully closing that gap.

My eyelashes flutter as his arm brushes over the curves of my breasts.

“I’m actually surprised that you didn’t want me to ride shotgun,” I tell him quietly – because ifI’maffected byhim, then it’s only right for him to be even more affected by me.

A smirk briefly tugs at his mouth, half-mast eyes lazily trailing over my breasts.

“I do want you to ride,” he rasps quietly, before grunting himself out of his haze and shoving a hand through his hair. “I mean” – he swallows hard – “I do want you to ride, uh, in my passenger seat. But it’s not a good idea.”

He pushes off the driver’s side door, making me stumble back a step as his bulk knocks against me, but he quickly wraps a forearm around my lower back as he steers me to the back door, clicking it open as I turn to face him.

“And why’s it not a good idea?” I ask him, the sweet laughter of Winter – his teammate’s adorable girlfriend – tinkling inside the car at something that Austin and Caden are murmuring about.

Tanner rakes his hand through his hair, pushing it back off his forehead. I concentrate very hard on not glancing at the large swells of his biceps.

“’Cause you look like trouble, and I need to keep my eyes on the road,” he rumbles gruffly, gaze refusing to meet mine as his hand hovers beside my waist. The palm that’s slapped on the roof of his car clenches into a fist as he leans barely a millimetre closer.

The heat pumping over me from his chest warms my neck and obliterates my filter.

“Why did Tristan walk with Connell’s friends tonight?” I ask, staring directly into his eyes.

The look he flashes me is smug. “Because he knew that it would be a career-ending move if he didn’t.”

At my jaw-dropped expression his handsome face actually grins.

“You gonna behave yourself tonight?” he asks, chuckling when I lean up to press the tip of my nose against his.

“You. Wish,” I whisper, excitement flaring in my eyes. Because I realise suddenly that, bodyguards aside, I can do whatever the hell I want, with whoever the hell I want, however the hell I want. I made a wild summer bucket list, damn it, and I will give myself a night to remember, so help me God.

Tanner smirks and slips two digits under the buckle of my belt, tugging me towards him until I’m plastered against his heaving chest.

“Actually,” he grunts, stubble scraping roughly against the side of my flushed cheek, “Idon’t.”

He gives the buckle another gruff tug and then slides into the driver’s seat without a word.

Chapter 15

Aisling

Present day

In the absence of Fallon, my best friend in the entire world, Winter and I have spent the past two hours bonding in the bar – sending Fallon cute selfies and excitedly squealing over every country song on the jukebox. Her hockey player boyfriend and high school sweetheart, Caden, is currently sat at the edge of his team’s booth, watching her every move.

She slips a coin into the machine and then gives me the happiest smile that I’ve ever seen as the first chords of another Morgan Wallen song twang from the jukebox.

An uncontrollable giggle bubbles out of me as we run back to the dance floor, her poufy gingham dress bouncing flirtily around her thighs.

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