Page 44 of Playing for the Hat Trick
Not yet.
Maybe not ever.
Chapter Fourteen
Jason
The Dream Sequence Drill (A.K.A. How to Wake Up Panting and Filthy With No One to Blame but Yourself)
The door clicks shut behind me, and I barely make it two steps before I stop cold.
She’s not supposed to look like that.
Scottie stands in the center of the room, arms crossed, hips cocked like she owns the place—and maybe me, too. Her legs are bare. Tiny black shorts that ride high on her thighs. A dark sports bra hugging her chest, and nothing else but confidence.
Her hair’s down. Long. Tousled. Like she just rolled out of bed after doing something filthy—and wants to do it again.
“You’re late.” Her voice is commanding, but there’s a hint of flirtation between us. I’m not sure how I know, but it’s like she’s trying to seduce me. “Drop the brace. Lose the crutches. Hope on the table.”
My mouth opens, but nothing comes out. I’m supposed to be in charge, to tell her how I want it, how I need it.
She tilts her chin, eyes narrowing. “I said get on the table. I’m massaging all those hard muscles today.” Her tongue drags over her bottom lip. “I’m in charge of you. Isn’t that what you wanted, Tate?”
I stare. Not even pretending to be subtle about it.
There’s heat in her voice, sure—but it’s the way she stands that makes my heart pound. Like she’s in charge. Like I walked into her arena.
And maybe I did.
I drop the crutches and lose the brace. I cross the space fast, ignoring the pull in my knee. All I can think about is the skin she’s showing and how I’ve wanted to touch it since the first day she called me an arrogant ass.
I reach her in two long strides. My hands go straight to her hips. Warm skin meets my palms. Smooth. Bare. My fingers curl around her, not tight—just enough to feel her there.
She draws in a breath.
That tiny intake is all I need.
I dip my head and crash into her mouth—my lips on hers, hard and greedy and full of every thought I shouldn’t be having.
She gasps, but she doesn’t pull away. She kisses me back with the same heat, her body rising to meet mine. My tongue sweeps past her lips, and I taste her—sweet and a little daring. Her hands clutch my shirt, yanking me closer until we’re chest to chest, and it’s clear neither of us wants to stop.
I slide one hand up her spine, drawing her in, chasing more. Her moan vibrates against my mouth, and I swear it shoots straight through me, fast and electric.
I’ve kissed before.
But not like this.
Not like I’ve been waiting. Not like I’ll burn out if I don’t have more if I don’t have her. When I pull back, her lips are parted, kiss-bitten and glossy. Her lashes are low, her breathing wrecked.
“You kissed me,” she whispers like it just hit her.
“I warned you,” I say, my voice rough, gravel sliding off every syllable. “I don’t take orders well.”
Her gaze dips to my mouth, then down to where my hands still grip her hips like I’ll let go if I don’t hold tight enough. “This isn’t what I had planned.”
I lean in, our noses brushing, lips barely apart. “But this is what I’ve wanted to do to you all along.”
I don’t wait for a yes. I wait for her not to say no—and she doesn’t.
