Page 36 of Arresting the Hockey Player
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After a couple of beers, I can finally relax outside, the fire roaring in the backyard of Kyler's estate.
Amber is curled up on Jasper's lap, the two of them practically sucking face.
I stand, needing to get away from their romantic encounter. If I weren't in such a foul mood regarding relationships, I'd find it endearing.
But right now, it makes me want to vomit.
Correction. The thought of Jasmine and the letter makes my stomach churn, but any inkling of a relationship right now can get tossed into that bonfire and be doused with gasoline.
Romance is dead.
Charlotte stalks outside, head held high, a glass of wine in her hand. She gives me a nod and smiles. "Hey, stranger," she says, staring at me.
She's sunshine, and I'm rain.
I don't deserve her kindness.
Her gaze doesn't so much as glance away, and when she approaches and climbs onto my lap, it takes every ounce of energy not to fall under her spell.
Too late.
My hand immediately wraps around her waist, pulling her closer, tighter, wanting to feel her body above mine. She's warm, and there's something about feeling her weight above me that stirs something inside of me, and, well, yes, that too.
She sits casually on my lap. One arm falls around my shoulders, and the other holds onto her wine glass as she brings the dark red liquid to her lips for a taste.
Her head dips back, exposing the perfect creamy complexion of her neck, and I stifle a growl.
This woman does things to me without even trying.
It's hard not to imagine her lips wrapped around my cock, sucking me. She dips her head down, her cheeks are slightly rosy, and she quirks a smile when she pulls the glass back from her mouth.
"See something you like?" she whispers, teasing me.
Maybe she is trying, and I've just been oblivious tonight. Her hips shift slightly against my groin, and, oh my gosh, she's going to kill me.
My breathing is heavy and thick, and it takes everything in my power not to let my fingers wander up her skirt and discover if she's as wet as I think she is for me.
"You're being averybad girl," I say, keeping my voice low and quiet, not letting anyone else overhear us. Although most of the team and the couples are enthralled in their own conversations.
Her lips curve upwards, and my cock twitches.
Damn, she looks hot tonight, in her fiery red lipstick and those dark eyeliner-rimmed eyes. Her mouth looks delectable. And I'd love to see her lips wrapped around my cock, my fingers fisting her hair, seeing how deep she'd take me.
"I'll bet that turns you on," Charlotte says.
She lifts her hips as if she's going to get up, but I refuse to let her bail on me. The minute she moves, anyone who glances over will see my hard-on. I don't need the guys giving me shit for the rest of the season over it.
Besides, it's nice to have a distraction, and that is precisely what Charlotte is for me. A welcoming distraction that I want to surround myself in and allow the world around me to disappear, if only for a little while.
I don't even know what the hell it is that we are. She's not my girlfriend, but she's more to me than some fling that I've one and done. Just the mere fact I'm fantasizing about her is not typical for me. And the girl has gotten under my skin.
Pressing my lips together, my fingers grip her hips, unwilling to let her go. I need her, and I have a feeling she'd be happy to oblige. "Where do you think you're going?" I whisper, making sure she feels the bump where she's seated.
Charlotte raises an eyebrow.
She may have pretended not to notice it before, but I'm not letting her act like she's unaware of my desire for her any longer.
