Page 51 of Score on You

“Very much,” I blurt. My eyes widen at that bold statement. A fiery heat floods my cheeks as I wait for his reaction.

A pleased rumble rolls off his chest and he prowls to where I remain frozen in place. “Damn, sweetness. Do you have any idea what this does to me?”

I don’t breathe while his bent knuckle traces a warm patch that’s bloomed on my face. “Constantly blushing exposes me as innocent and shy. I’m embarrassed by how easily it happens.”

“It’s sexy,” he murmurs. “Especially when I’m the cause of it. You drive me to the brink of madness no matter what you’re doing.” His finger strokes a pattern into my flesh. “But when you’re flushed? I’m shoved over the edge into blind obsession. Consider me lost in you.”

My inhale hitches from his admission. Ridge is barely touching me, but it feels as if he’s delving beneath the surface to cradle my very essence. There’s a blatant need in his gaze that even I can recognize. That desire awakens something in me. I whimper as a spasm clenches in my lower belly. He must sense the change in me because his hand drops with a suddenness that’s startling.

“We need to get out there”—he motions to our empty chairs on the other side of the window—"before I take a liberty you’re not ready to give.”

I want to argue that he can have me, but the retort stalls on my parted lips. In truth, I’m not sure what that means. “Okay.”

With a palm notched at my lower back, Ridge escorts me to the front row of our sectioned-off box. I watch from above as people fill the stadium seating below. Green and gold covers the space. Soon the entire arena is full and neon lights pass over the crowd in an erratic sweep. Music blasts from hidden speakers. My breath catches as smoke spews from canisters attached to the plexiglass. It’s quite a spectacle. The pile of pictures beside me is growing rapidly.

“Welcome, hockey fans! I hope you’re in the mood for a great game. Tonight, your Minnesota Trojans take on the Chicago Grizzlies. We’ll see who comes out on top.”

The announcement comes from an unknown source. Not that it matters. We’re all focused on the ice as players enter and begin skating around. A few names are called out, which are recognized as the starters. I’m transfixed while many drop to their knees. The motions that come next are unexpected. Their performance threatens to scandalize me.

I scoot to the edge of my chair. “What’re they—?”

“This part isn’t important,” Ridge grumbles.

“Really? Everyone seems very interested.” In fact, the women in attendance appear glued to the act of several players stretching.

“It’s mostly for views. The routine is staged these days.” His tone is sour.

“Does that bother you?” Maybe it takes away from the authenticity of the sport.

“Other men trying to steal your attention by lewdly thrusting their hips? Abso-fucking-lutely.”

I chance a peek at one in the center. His movements are especially vigorous. It almost seems like he’s imitating an intimate act. And once that occurs to me, I can’t unsee it. “Oh, my.”

“Do you like what he’s doing?” Ridge’s harsh exhale wafts across my neck.

I squirm in my padded chair as flames travel through me at an alarming rate. My brain misfires while I replace the player on the ice with the man beside me, and I’m splayed underneath him. The visual is vivid and graphic and I want more. I can almost smell carnal lust circulating in the air.

“Sweetness?”

“Um…” I stutter. It’s difficult to look him in the eye after imagining that.

“Tell me what you’re thinking.”

“I can’t.” The reply is a breathy rasp.

He straightens slightly. “Am I making you uncomfortable?”

“No,” I blurt and blindly grab for him. “Our nearness is what calms me.”

His eyes flash in a passing streak of light. “Are you picturing something that involves him?”

My hair becomes a whip as I give a sharp denial. “It’s you I see.”

His fingers slide between mine and I trap a moan. “That’s all I needed to hear.”

I sag in relief that he doesn’t press for more detail. “Okay.”

“You’re getting ready for me.”

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