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That damn thumb brushes across his lower lip and as his blue eyes darken. I know he’s thinking of last night, about our kiss that turned into so much more, that had me panting and writhing underneath him as he brought me to the most intense orgasm of my life.
Usually that’s a job I have to do myself.
Not with Foster. Not with the dirty words he forced me to say. Not with his skilled fingers that knew exactly how to tease and manipulate my body.
Now isn’t the time to think about any of that, not when he’s looking at me so intently.
“I came home with way too many books.”
“Is there such a thing?” he chuckles, and I sit up straight, completely losing my cool girl pose.
“What?”
“Such a thing as too many books? I didn’t think that was possible.”
I suck in a breath and I’m frozen in place while my heart stutters in my chest, and my brain is trying to make sense of this new information.
He doesn’t care? He’s not criticizing how I spend my free time or money?
“Avery? Are you alright, love?”
“Yeah.” I give myself a mental slap and force a smile to my face. “I never quite pictured you as the reading type.”
“I can read,” he scoffs before destroying me with a shy smile. “When I was new to the NHL and Canada, I didn’t know anyone, didn’t have any friends. I’d snag a new epic fantasy and read for hours.”
“Fantasy, huh?” I’d pay lots of money to meet a younger Foster, one that wasn’t so sure of himself all the time, and devoted his free time to reading instead of chasing women. “I’m not sure if you’re going to like the kind of book I got you.”
His eyebrow raises and that irresistible smirk is back. “No?”
“It’s a steamy romance book.” The words come tumbling out of my mouth quickly and all strung together like it’s one long word of pure and utter nonsense.
He laughs as he adjusts the phone, and for a second, he gives me a glimpse of the tight, faded blue t-shirt he’s wearing, and how it clings to his chest and biceps. It doesn’t take much to have me distracted and my mouth watering like I can go through the phone and peel the fabric away from his body.
“Steamy romance? Is that what you read?”
I don’t answer for a few breaths.
Instead, I study his face, looking for any signs of distaste—a curled lip, narrowed eyes—and find none.
“It’s my favorite,” I say hesitantly, catching the nail of my thumb between my teeth and biting down.
“Nice. I’ve never read one, but I’ll give it a try.”
“You will?”
“Absolutely. Speaking of steamy, I think you were telling me about this thing on your neck.” He lowers his voice and moves the phone closer to his face. “Show me.”
“Right now?” I’m also moving the phone closer to my face like we’re doing something secret. Forbidden. Wrong.
“Your brother went out to talk to Lucy and could be back any minute. Show. Me.” His timbre drops, those last two words practically a growl, and I shiver at the same time heat creeps up my neck and warms my face. His thumb is back on his face, this time swiping down the cut on his chin. “I’ve been waiting all night for this. For you.”
It’s so damn easy to pretend he’s mine, to let myself think I have an actual chance of this turning into a real thing. I should hang up and go to bed, but I don’t.
I can’t.
With a shaky hand I sweep my hair over my shoulder, and move the jersey out of the way to give him an unobstructed view of the hickey he left.
His eyes close briefly and he groans, shifting on the bed. “Dammit, Avery, I’m not supposed to feel like this.”
