Total pages in book: 92
Estimated words: 90257 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 451(@200wpm)___ 361(@250wpm)___ 301(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 90257 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 451(@200wpm)___ 361(@250wpm)___ 301(@300wpm)
“Okay.” My answer comes out sounding ridiculously breathy.
What the hell is wrong with me?
Just like when we left the arena and walked into the bar, he draws me close and maneuvers us through the press of bodies until we arrive at a long table in the back. My guess is that two or even three of them have been shoved together to make room for about twenty people. A good number of Ryder’s teammates are already settled on chairs. Girls are either perched on their laps or are buzzing around like drunken bees trying to find a guy.
Since every seat is occupied, Ryder pulls up alongside a sophomore player and jerks his thumb over his shoulder. “Up.”
The younger guy’s eyes widen before he scrambles out of the chair without a word of protest. When I glance at Ryder, he smirks before dropping down. It's almost a relief when his hand falls away from my body. Being touched by him does funny things to my insides. Like there’s a high-wire trapeze act taking place within the confines of my belly.
I don’t like it.
I’m a person who likes to be in control, and Ryder’s touch makes me feel the exact opposite.
When I continue to stand awkwardly beside him, he taps his thigh with the flat of his hand.
My brows slam together as I shake my head.
Is he crazy?
I’m not going to sit on his lap like some kind of puck bunny. That would give off the wrong impression. Especially to my brother, who’s sitting at the opposite end of the table. He looks to be in deep conversation with another teammate. A few girls circle, stroking their hands over his arms and shoulders.
Gross.
Not exactly the kind of image a sister wants singed into her brain for all eternity.
When I don’t budge, Ryder leans closer. “Do you see any alternatives?”
I chew my lip and glance around. He’s right. Although, he cleared a seat for himself, so…
“Can’t you move one of these guys?”
His gaze never falters from mine. “Nope.” He taps his thigh for a second time. “This is your seat for the night. Take it or leave it.”
My mouth turns cottony at the thought of being perched on his lap while he holds court. To buy a little time, I lift the bottle to my lips and take another pull. The alcohol does nothing to settle the nerves tingling at the bottom of my gut. I fidget for another moment or two before sucking in a deep breath and forcing myself to step closer. Satisfaction flickers in his eyes as his hands wrap around the curve of my hips, helping me settle tentatively on his lap. Just as a puff of air escapes from me, he drags my body closer until I can feel the steeliness of his chest pressed against my stiff spine.
“Isn’t this more comfortable than a hard chair?” he whispers against my ear.
“No.”
A soft chuckle slips free from him, and the sound of it scampers across my skin, making the tiny hairs on my arms prickle with newfound awareness. One hand curls around my thigh as the other slips beneath my sweater and settles at my waist. The feel of his calloused palms against my sensitive skin sends arousal spiraling through me, and I can’t help but shift.
“Keep wiggling around like that and you’ll find something hard poking your ass,” he growls.
I gulp and immediately still my movements. The longer I remain frozen in place, the more tempting it is to squirm as need pools in my core like warmed honey. My teeth sink into my lower lip in an effort to keep the moan gathering in my chest trapped inside where it can’t see the light of day.
His thumb strums my flesh above the waistband of my jeans where no one is the wiser. The way he touches me turns my insides to mush. What I don’t know is if it’s because I’ve never had anyone arouse me like this, or it’s specific to Ryder.
My greatest fear is that it has everything to do with him.
I clear my throat and attempt to distract myself from the dangerous thoughts circling around in my brain like hungry sharks. “When are you going to tell me what we’re doing?”
Before he can respond, the music stops as an older man hefts himself up onto the small stage I didn’t realize was on the far side of the bar.
He brings the microphone to his mouth. “The Wildcats brought home a win tonight, and you know what that means!”
Actually, I have no idea what it means.
But I seem to be the only one.
I glance around as everyone in the bar yells back in response, “Karaoke!”
“You got it!”
Oh no.
My head whips toward Ryder so fast that I nearly give myself whiplash. A slow smile spreads across his face as our gazes collide.