One by one, we removed our goggles. Everyone’s eyes and toothy grins glowed against the colors splattered across their skin. I scanned the crowd, trying to find Lindsay.
There’s the sexy smile I’d know anywhere. Paint dripped from her ponytail, and smears of color covered every inch of her skin, save the few inches that’d been protected by the goggles.
We put away the weapons and gear, and chatted as we made our way back to the parking lot.
Lindsay talked animatedly with the rest of the girls, laughing as they recapped our battle. How could she not see that she fit right in? I hoped this meant she’d be at the rest of the games, because knowing she was in the crowd helped me play better, whether or not my dad thought so.
Everyone thanked Daniel for setting things up and we made our good-byes. When I reached for Lindsay, she slid her hand in mine, and all was right with the world.
I walked her to the passenger side of my car and opened the door for her.
“I’m going to get your seat dirty,” she said.
“I’m not worried. Of course, if you want to strip…” I added an eyebrow waggle.
She rolled her eyes, but I got a heart-stopping grin out of it, and when she brushed past me, she kissed my cheek.
As soon as we were both in my car, I said, “My place? You made dinner for me, so I think it’s only fair that I do the cooking tonight.”
“Well, I’d hate to be unfair.” She leaned back against the seat. “But you can cook, right? I’d also hate to eat food that shouldn’t be consumed.”
“I guess you’ll just have to see for yourself.”
During the drive, we kept mostly to light topics, holding hands and letting the radio fill any silences. A calm settled over me, and things seemed so easy—almost too easy, and I wasn’t sure why there was this whispering in the back of my brain that warned me not to get too comfortable.
Probably because this was only temporary. The thought made my chest constrict, even though it was way too early to be thinking like that. We had a couple of months left. One of which I’d be so busy with playoffs madness that seeing her would be next to impossible.
My roommates somehow work it out.
Of course, none of their girlfriends were about to graduate and leave them behind.
Just enjoy it. You don’t need all the answers right now.
I tried to shake it off, but the borrowed time sensation still lingered in the back of my mind as I walked Lindsay into our place.
My stomach growled the instant the kitchen came into view, so even though we were both paint covered, I decided we’d start with food. I opened the fridge door and peered inside, hoping for ingredients to something I knew how to make to magically appear. “Standard fare around here is toaster waffles or microwave burritos, but I do know how to cook eggs and bacon.”
“I love breakfast for dinner.” Lindsay came over and peeked into the fridge with me. “Looks like you have milk. How about flour and sugar? I can make pancakes.”
“Doubtful. But Whitney and Megan occasionally leave groceries behind, so we might have pancake mix somewhere around here.” I opened cupboards until I found the Bisquick. “Will this work?”
“Perfect.” She took the box from me and searched shelves until she found a bowl. I loved how she simply dove in, no tiptoeing around or being too cautious. She was definitely the grab-the-bull-by-the-horns type.
We moved around the kitchen, occasionally bumping into each other—I might’ve done it on purpose a few times. It made her laugh and gave me the excuse to grip her hips to steady her.
She looked down at her clothes. “I managed to get pancake mix on me, but I guess it just goes with all the paint.”
The paint was dried, and after double-checking it wouldn’t leave marks, we settled on the couch to eat.
“So you love breakfast for dinner,” I said. “What about favorite overall food?”
She pursed her lips and looked to the ceiling, like the answer would be there. “I’d have to go with my mom’s enchiladas. Through the years, regardless of the many moves and different family dynamics, there were those nights in the kitchen making dinner with her. None of her boyfriends could handle the hot ones, so she’d always have to make two pans. One for us, and one for him. And his children if he had any, although most of them didn’t.”
“Sounds like you moved around a lot.”
“Oh, yeah. Mom didn’t go long between boyfriends, either, so while we had the occasional apartment here and there—sometimes even paid for by said boyfriends—I was forever living in bland, generic guest bedrooms.” Her fork scraped her plate, her eyes focused on the trails it made through the syrup.
“That sucks.”
“It wasn’t so bad. I felt invisible sometimes, but I lived in a lot of nice places.”
I set my empty plate on the coffee table and scooted closer to her. “Funny enough, sometimes I wished to be invisible growing up. Dad would see me and tell me I should be practicing or lifting, and Mom would see me and tell me to straighten up, or that my clothes looked sloppy. Or she’d remind me of some event like the one I made you go to with me—having you there made it so much better, by the way.”
Lindsay placed her hand over mine. “I’m glad. I guess that everyone has crap to deal with, no matter what their home life was like. I used to wish Mom would just marry one of the guys so we could settle down and put some roots down. I think she would’ve with a few, too, but they never seemed to ask.”
“Well, I had a so-called steady home, but behind closed doors, there was a lot of fighting. Then my dad…” I cleared my throat. I didn’t mean to go this deep, but it seemed too late to backtrack now, and I found I didn’t want to. I’d never really talked to anyone about it before. I never really talked to anyone about much of anything before. “My mom had suspected him of cheating on her when he was out on the road before—they constantly fought about it. I guess he’d had an affair right before I was born, but he swore he’d never cheat again. But then she found proof of another woman when I was ten or so, and the shit hit the fan. It was like a war zone, and I felt like their pawn. It was a relief when they finally got divorced.”
“I guess I’m lucky that I never had to deal with that. Although the end of every one of her relationships felt a bit like that—not that anyone was fighting over me, but she’d take a month or so to wallow, and then she’d go after the next guy.” Lindsay flinched. “She’s better than I’m making her out to be. She’s not perfect, obviously, but after watching her go through that again and again, I swore I’d never rely on a guy for anything. I also swore to never fall in love.”
Pieces clicked into place, the way she kept pushing me away in the beginning. Her hesitation to cross worlds, as she put it. I wasn’t sure how her past with the hockey team factored into that, but I was smart enough not to bring it up.
I laced my fingers with hers. “I get not wanting to rely on other people for everything, but it’s okay for some things.” I locked eyes with her. “You can rely on me. I’m here, Lindsay. I…care about you.”
“I care about you, too, but I don’t think getting used to relying on you is a good idea. This semester will be over before we know it, and then we’ll go our different ways.”
“But trying to get through life all alone isn’t a good idea, either. I was trying it before you came along. Sure, I have the team, and those guys are like my brothers, but this thing with you…” I brought our joined hands to my chest and rubbed my thumb over her knuckles. “It’s the first time I don’t remember feeling lonely in a long time.”
Tears bordered her eyes and she pressed her lips together. “Ryder…I’m afraid we’re going to both end up hurt.”
“Don’t worry about me, I’m tougher than I look,” I said, and she choked out a laugh.
“Then you must be fucking invincible.”
Warmth flooded my chest. I loved that she saw me that way. With her, I felt fucking invincible, which was probably why I foolishly
thought somehow everything would be okay, even though I knew it wasn’t a logical conclusion.
I cupped her cheek. “I don’t have all the answers, but like I’ve told you before, I go after what I want. And in case I haven’t made it clear, Lindsay Rivera, that’s you.” Since I figured showing her exactly how I felt about her would be more powerful, I slid my hand around the back of her head, twisting my fingers through her silky hair and capturing her lips with mine.
Then I put everything I was feeling into the kiss, hoping that she would finally understand I wasn’t going to give up on us without a fight.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Lindsay
Kisses from Ryder were a little too effective at eradicating common sense.
What was that saying? Better to have loved and lost than to never have loved at all.
Right now, in Ryder’s arms, I wondered if it was true. I’d always considered love a weakness, and my past brush with it certainly left me with enough issues to make it seem like a true theory.
But during this past month with Ryder, I didn’t feel weak. I felt stronger. I cared more intensely for him than I’d cared for any other guy, which made me doubt there’d been actual love with anyone else in the first place.
He and I had something deeper, and that sent a turbulent mix of longing and fear through me. My heart tugged and squeezed and generally didn’t know how to deal with the rush of emotions.
I pulled back before we reached the point of no return—no return being naked in this instance.
Oh, God, I can only imagine how sexy naked Ryder is… Images of his shirtless torso flashed through my mind and heat flooded my veins. The unquenchable yearning to see more took over, which is probably why I reached for the bottom of his shirt and tugged it over his head before I fully thought through the move.
He’s even hotter than I remembered. His arms were covered in paint, and so was his neck and face, but everywhere his shirt covered was clear of color, nothing to obscure all those drool-inducing muscles.
I ran my hand down his taut abdomen, dangerously close to throwing caution to the wind. His muscles twitched under my fingertips, the dips and grooves flexing and dipping in the most hypnotic way. His skin was so warm, too, and tracing his muscles, and the way they reacted to my touch made me want more—more warmth, more of my hands on him, more, more, more…
When I looked up, into his eyes, and saw the passion swimming in the blue, my breath caught in my throat.
He reached for the bottom of my shirt and I circled his wrist, my heart pounding way too fast and sending corresponding thumps through my temples.
Ryder released his grip on my shirt and ran a knuckle down my arm, leaving a trail of goose bumps. “You know I have no expectations, right? Earlier in the car was amazing, and it’s enough. I’m perfectly happy to just hang out if that’s what you want.”
“It’s not that.”
“What is it, then?”
A tight band formed around my chest, shutting off my supply of oxygen.
Confession #15: I’m in love with Ryder “Ox” Maddox, hockey player and all-around good guy, and it scares the shit out of me.
A few moments ago, I’d been scared to admit it, even to myself, and then there was the distraction of his smoking hot body…
My fingers itched to touch him again and I had to force myself to face the fact that slammed into me when he told me he was happy to just hang out with me, no expectations. I loved him. Like I was madly in love with him, all my walls and attempts to stop it be damned.
I was totally and utterly pucked.
“Hey.” Ryder cupped my chin and tipped my face up to his. “I feel like I’m losing you.”
“I like you,” I blurted out, because I was too much of a wimp to drop the love-bomb quite yet. “And it’s not just because you play hockey, even though I do find that incredibly attractive.” I placed my hand over the center of his chest, and the warmth of his skin soaked into mine as his heart beat a steady, rapid pattern under my palm. “But there’s so much more to who you are. You’re one of the nicest guys I’ve ever met.”
He flinched at nicest.
“I’ve dealt with more than my fair share of jerks and full-on assholes, so nice is a good thing, I swear. I keep thinking about how you swooped in to help me with my math even after I pushed you away time and time again. Even just barely, how you made it clear that you don’t expect more.” My voice cracked and I quickly blinked at the tears that were trying to form, damn them. “I keep thinking that it must be because you don’t fully understand who I used to be.”
A giant lump formed in my throat and I dropped my gaze to the stitching on the couch cushion. “I’ve hooked up with several of your teammates, including one of your roommates, and obviously that asshole who so nicely announced it at the Quad. That’s got to bother you.”
Talking about my mom earlier only helped stir up all this crap—the desire not to be like her and feelings of inadequacy—and now I worried I shouldn’t have divulged so much. But I also didn’t want him looking back and saying if I’d known that, I never would’ve gone there.
“I don’t care,” Ryder said, and hope crept in. “I mean…”
I jerked my head up, anxiety kicking hope’s ass in two second flat.
He wound a strand of my hair around his finger. “I’d be lying if I said I haven’t experienced some jealousy over it. But I’m the one who knows the real you. I know you tap your pencil to your lip when you concentrate, and when you need help with a question, it pisses you off and you have to talk yourself into asking for help for several seconds before you actually do.
“I know that you love literature and want to be an editor someday—and that you’d make a really kick-ass one. I know that you love your mom and defend her, even though the way you were raised couldn’t have been easy.” He tucked the strand of hair he’d been twisting behind my ear and dragged his thumb over the top of my cheekbone. “I know that you’re one of the most passionate, fierce women that I’ve ever met, but that you also have a heart of gold.
“And I’m looking forward to knowing you better. Like, favorite color…?” He raised an eyebrow.
“Red.”
One corner of his mouth kicked up. “That fits. Favorite movie…?”
“She’s the Man—it’s a Twelfth Night retelling, and Channing Tatum is involved, so that’s a no-brainer.”
He nodded, as if that made perfect sense to him. “Favorite team…?”
“I don’t really have one. But I do have a favorite hockey player.” I ran my hands up his arms and then traced his jawline, his unshaven whiskers tickling my fingers and sending zing after zing down my arm.
“I know that you love Shakespeare plays and even more impressive, understand them, and that if I’m really lucky, one of my cheesy jokes will land and make you laugh.” He dragged his callused fingertips across my collarbone and heat pooled low in my stomach. Then he dipped his head, but left his lips a breath away from mine. “And I’m looking forward to finding out what makes you bite your lip, moan, and what I need to do to make you scream out my name.”
A blaze of need shot up my core and ignited, and I closed the gap between our mouths, unable to take it anymore. He pulled me on top of him, and curled the hem of my shirt in his fists. He paused, and I nodded. In one fluid motion, he tugged it up and over my head.
I was about to kiss him again, but then he ran his thumb over my bottom lip. “But I need you to know, it’s about more than sex. So I don’t give a damn about your past. I just want you. Exactly as you are.”
My heart was going to explode, I was sure of it.
“Now, come on…” Ryder stood, lifting me with him, leaving me little choice but to wrap my legs around his waist—not that I would’ve fought it anyway. He swiped the multicolored strands of hair that’d fallen out of my ponytail off my face. “Let’s go get all this paint washed off.”
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Ryder
; I carried Lindsay into the bathroom and then slowly lowered her to her feet. The thought of her naked and soapy made the hard-on I was already sporting strain against my zipper, now reaching the painful point.
Still, I resolved to take my time, and to let her decide how far we went, even if it meant spending the rest of the day with the worst case of blue balls ever. She blinked up at me, her face adorably streaked with blue, pink, yellow, and orange paint. Several strands of hair had spilled from her ponytail, each of them different colors as well.
Her teeth sank into her lower lip as her gaze raked over me and I bit back a groan. I double-checked the door was locked, then I turned back to Lindsay, eager to pick up where we’d left off.
“Do you have any idea what you do to me?” I asked her as I backed her against the wall. I undid her ponytail, pushing my fingers into the silky strands as I captured her lips with mine.
She dragged her fingernails down my back and I pressed her flatter to the wall as I rolled my tongue over hers.
I flicked the button of her jeans and slowly slid them down her hips, my pulse pounding harder and faster at the sight of the tiny lacy panties. She stepped out of her pants and I released a harsh exhale. I flung the fabric aside and ran my hands up the outside of her thighs as I straightened. “So fucking sexy.”
When I reached the tiny string holding up her underwear, I hooked my thumb through it, twisting the fabric around my finger and palming her ass as I brought her against me and took my turn at biting that full lower lip she often gnawed on.
She undid the button and zipper of my jeans, and I couldn’t hold back the groan that came out as I sprang free of the tight fabric. She cupped me over my boxer briefs and I arched into her touch.
Afraid I’d explode if I didn’t keep control—like that was even possible with a half-naked Lindsay—I encircled both of her wrists in one of my hands. I lifted her arms over her head, pinning them to the wall as I peppered kisses over her jaw, down the column of her neck, over the swell of her breasts.
Confessions of a Former Puck Bunny (Taking Shots) Page 16
