And then she gives it to me. The opening. “So what do you want these days?”
“You,” I answer baldly.
Two things happen. The lights go out completely and she nearly drops her glass. The jukebox dies out and suddenly the bar seems way too quiet. Around us are a few shrieks of laughter, a few shouts of dismay.
“Keep your pants on, children,” one of the bartenders yells. “We’re going to see what’s going on. Generator should kick in any second.”
As if on cue, a humming noise fills the air and then a dim glow of light illuminates the crowded room.
“You still thirsty?” I ask, stroking the inside of her wrist with long, gentle strokes. Up toward the inner elbow and back down to the wrist. Repeat. Again and again and again.
Her gaze drops to our joined hands and widen as if she just now realizes we’ve been touching for the last ten minutes or so. I lean in close and brush my nose against the outer edge of her earlobe, filling my lungs with her spicy scent.
I could stand here all day. There’s something great about drawing out the anticipation until it’s nearly painful. It makes the release all the more explosive. I have a feeling that sex with Sabrina James will blow my mind.
I can’t fucking wait.
After taking a deep breath, one that pushes her perfect tits into my chest, she eases back—not too far, but enough to create a sliver of distance.
“I’m not into relationships,” she says bluntly. “If we do this—”
“Do what?” I can’t help but tease.
“This. Don’t play dumb, Tucker. You’re better than that.”
A laugh pops out. “Fair enough. All right…” I wave a hand. “Go on…”
“If we do this,” she repeats, “it’s sex only. No awkward morning after. No phone numbers.”
I give her one last caress before releasing her, letting her read into my silence what she needs to. I highly doubt that one time is going to be enough for either of us, but if that’s what she needs to believe tonight, I’m okay with that.
“Let’s go then.”
Her lips curve. “Now?”
“Now.” I moisten my bottom lip with my tongue. “Unless you want to sit here a while longer and keep dancing around the fact that we want to rip each other’s clothes off.”
She lets out a throaty laugh that goes straight to my balls. “Very good point, Tucker.”
Lord. I love the way my name rolls off those full, pouty lips. Maybe I’ll ask her to say it when I’m making her come.
The need surging through me is so strong I have to squeeze my ass cheeks together and breathe through my nose to try to curb it. I take Sabrina’s elbow and muscle my way to the door. A few people call out my name or pat me on the back to tell me good game. I ignore them all.
Outside, it’s still pouring. I pull Sabrina close and raise my black-and-silver hockey jacket over her head. Fortunately, my truck is nearby. “Over here.”
“Nice parking spot,” she comments.
“Can’t complain.” It’s a perk of being a starter on a championship-winning college hockey team.
I help her into the truck, then slide into the driver’s seat and start the engine. “Where to?”
She shivers a little, though I’m not sure if it’s from the cold or for another reason. “I live in Boston.”
“My place then.” Because there’s no fucking way I can wait the hour it’ll take to drive to the city. My dick will explode.
She puts her hand on my wrist before I can shift into reverse. “You live with Dean. That’s not going to be uncomfortable for you?”
“No, why would it?”
“I don’t know.” Her index finger slides forward to rub my knuckles.
I grit my teeth as my erection nearly breaks through the zipper. The only reason I didn’t kiss her the second we were outside the bar is because if I’d started, I probably would’ve taken her against the side of the building. But now she’s touching me, and my self-control is more elusive than a puff of steam.
“Let’s do it here,” she says decisively.
I frown. “In the truck?”
“Why not? Do you need candles and rose petals? It’s just sex,” she insists.
“Darlin’, you keep saying that and I’m going to start wondering if it’s really me you want to convince.” My breath catches when her thumb strokes a tiny circle in the center of my palm. Fuck it. I need her too bad. “But fine. You want to do me in this truck, then the truck it is.”
Without another word, I reach beneath me and push the seat back as far as it can go. Then I shrug out of my jacket and toss it into the backseat.
“You got any guidelines for your just-sex hookups?” I drawl. “Like no kissing on the lips?”
“Hell, no. Do I look like Julia Roberts?”
I scrunch up my eyebrows.
“Pretty Woman?” she prompts. “Hooker with the heart of gold? No kissing the johns?”