Page 83 of Facing Off
SONYA
Hughes dropshis shirt to the ground in one fluid motion, and I can’t look away. It’s not that I haven’t seen him half-naked before. I have, but that robe-opening moment was different. We were scrambling and too close for his body to be properly visible.
Now he’s openly standing in front of me with this sexy music playing, and his hips swaying, and it’s too much. I tip my head up. Not the best idea, because that puts me more at chin level with his crotch. A distracting, sizable, heavy-looking area covered by the straining light denim of his jeans.
God, he’s so tall and big and broad, and that’s making my heartbeat go frantic. There’s also those annoying little details like the pronounced veins in his forearms and that dimple creasing his cheek. How can a simple divot be loaded with such disarming charm?
I need to yawn now or roll my eyes. Anything that hides how hard I’m biting the inside of my cheek just to keep looking unaffected. Ishoulddo those things, but I’minhaling softly as soon as I notice Hughes discreetly wiping his palms down on his pants.
As confident as his quirked mouth and half-lidded eyes suggest he is, maybe Hughes isn’t as cocky as I think he is. Maybe he’s struggling to understand what to do with whatever he’s feeling on the inside just like I am.
“This okay?” he murmurs, his voice low and threadbare, confirming my suspicions.
I squeeze my fingers together in my lap.Isit okay? Not exactly. I feel way too close to panting. But do I want him to stop? I guess not because I nod that I’m okay.
Thatslightencouragement makes my hockey captain light up. “You’re going to laugh, I swear. Don’t hold back, okay?”
He starts moving. I don’t understand it at first, but when his leg comes up a few inches off the ground, shocked amusement streaks through me. What kind of silliness is this? It’s not like anything I’ve experienced in my life before.
Hughes is giving me a performance. One where he’s trying to be a ballerina. He tries to go on his toes and grins. “Keep watching, Sonya. I want to show you how much you inspire me.”
My face, neck, and shoulders flush. A strip show I might’ve survived—probably not—but Hughes being sweet while also half-naked? I’m so damn screwed. My chest rises and falls watching him.
Hughes’ mouth curves to one side, his expression so cocky and smug as he twirls. Other men might balk at making themselves look ridiculous like this, but not him. The space between my legs pulses. It shouldn’t be so sexy how boundless this man is when it comes to not being embarrassed and putting in the work, but it is.
Heat gathers in my belly as I try not to think aboutwhat having sex with someone like him would be like. It would be so out of control.
“I’m nailing it, aren’t I?” Hughes brags, crossing his fingers behind his head in a way that makes his biceps ripple as he kicks one leg to the side. “I’m such a good ballerina. Almost as good as you, baby.”
My mouth drops open. Did he just claim…? He did! I can’t believe he just said that! A healthy dose of competitiveness floods my veins. “Yeah, right! That foot is aclunkybroom dusting the air?—”
“How about this?” he asks, going faster. “Better, right? It’s notthathard.”
It’s nowhere close to being any kind of proper form, and all I want to do is to cover my face with my hands and snicker. Instead, I give him the most exaggerated frown I can manage. “Kindly, fuck off!“
His blue eyes twinkle. “You want to fuck me?”
This loud I-can’t-believe-you noise bursts out of me.
That only makes him grin wider. “I love it when you lose control.”
His arms lift above his head. My lips part. Then close.No, don’t. I can’t actually laugh! I don’t want to lose this random bet he’s concocted, but more so, a new worry pinches my body. That if I laugh now, I’ll unlock something inside me that might never close again. The lightness I’m feeling now could stay and grow bigger…especially any time Hughes is around…
Desperately, I take out my phone. Either it will embarrass him enough to stop (not likely) or lend me some artificial distance. Instead of me and Hughes. It’s me, the screen, and Hughes.
As soon as he notices me recording, his chest puffs out. His hand caresses a line down his carved abs and his hips undulate. “Darling, look, I’m majestic!”
I bite my lip hard. It’s not enough. Not when he’s starting to leap across the room. God, if I let myself, I could fall to the ground and lose it completely. Inside my chest are so many bubbles floating that I can’t pop them fast enough.
Hughes twirls—loses balance—twirls again—loses balance—and no, can’t be, isattempting the splits???
There’s no hope.
A smothered giggle escapes.
He straightens and rushes over to crowd me. A gleeful predator zeroing in on his prey. His victory. “Was that a laugh?”
My phone accidentally drops onto my lap. “No, it wasn’t! This is actually really, really boring,” I lie so completely that thunder will come down and smite me.
