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The sound grates over my nerve-endings, and my pussy clenches. Moisture trickles out from between my legs, and I squeeze my thighs together to clamp down on that growing emptiness between them.
"I do want to leave," I burst out.
He freezes at once, his azure eyes flashing. He takes a step back, then another. He nods in the direction of the bedroom. "Run along before I change my mind."
Something like disappointment squeezes my chest. Damn, I didn’t want him to kiss me, did I? I don’t even like him. I’m attracted to him, but I have nothing in common with him. I have a career to focus on, and he needs to get his team to the finals of the League and win it. We have our jobs cut out for us, and a liaison of any kind would only make things more difficult. Not to mention, after my bastard of an ex, I’ve sworn off men in general, and hockey players in particular.
"Not before you tell me why you said we're engaged? And it’s not only about managing the gossip, is it?"
The lust in his eyes recedes enough for a shrewd look to come into them. A cunning expression settles on his features. That’s when I realize I’ve misjudged this man. I underestimated him. I mistook him for being laid-back. Now, I realize it was all a front. Is this how he lulls his enemies into a sense of complacency, only to finish them off? Just like he’s killing me with the desire that laces his expression.
"You’re right, there’s more to it,” he drawls.
"So tell me"—I look between his eyes—"why did you tell them that?"
"You want revenge on your ex—"
"And you concluded that how?" I snap.
"I saw the look on your face. He hurt you, and you want to hurt him back."
"And you figured that out in a few minutes?"
He peers into my eyes. "I'd wager you’re still in love with him."
Fire lights up my face. I squeeze my eyes shut. I should deny it. But the fact is, I am not a person who takes relationships lightly. When I was with Dennis, it was because I was ready to commit. Because he ticked all the boxes and seemed like the man I’d like to spend the rest of my life with… on paper, at least. And look how that turned out.
"I didn’t mean to upset you," he murmurs in a soft voice.
I manage to compose myself and open my eyes. "You may be right. I was in love with him. At least, I thought I was. And I’m not the kind who gets over feelings quickly, you know? So yeah, maybe a part of me isstillin love with him, much to my chagrin."
Something flickers in his eyes. Surprise? No, he's the one who said it. Disappointment? Nah, why should he be disappointed?
"I know. What does it say about me that I might still be in love with him after he cheated on me? But I’m realizing I’m not the kind who can turn my feelings on and off, you know?" I hunch my shoulders. "He hurt me; he broke my heart, so I don’t want to get back together with him. I need time to mourn the loss of my dream. I had everything planned out—my career, my life, my future—and then it all went to pieces." My nose tickles, and the backs of my eyes burn. I refuse to cry over that asshole. He doesn't deserve my tears.
"He doesn’t deserve you. He should be whipped for what he did to you."
The violence in his voice sends a jolt of shock through me.
In all the time I was with Dennis, not once, did he ever use that tone of voice with me. I never sensed that kind of passion in him. I was the arm candy girlfriend. The one he loved to take to official events, to be seen in the media with, to share pics with me on social media. The ideal girlfriend, couple goals… That’s what we were.
Rick, though? In all the interactions I’ve had with him, it’s clear he doesn’t give a damn about his social standing or his image in the media. And that anger on my behalf in his tone? It…it sends a pulse of longing shooting through my veins. I take in the set of his jaw, the nerve that tics at his temple, the steely flint in his eyes. He’s not just angry, he’s enraged. On my behalf.
For some reason, that thickens the ball of emotion in my throat. I manage to swallow around it and tip up my chin. "You’re right, he doesn’t deserve me. I can do better than him. I know that. And I can’t believe I’m still thinking of him. I need to get over him and move on, I know that. I haven’t managed to do it… yet."
He scans my features and slowly nods. "He’s a goddamn fool to not have held onto you."
Warmth pools in my chest.
"He doesn’t know what he’s lost. If you were mine, I’d treat you like a queen. I'd make sure nothing ever hurts you. That you're always taken care of, that all of your needs are met. That you're"—he lowers his voice—"satisfied in every way."
My heart descends to the space between my legs. A dull throb flares to life in my core.
"When I saw you with him, it was clear you were pissed off. I couldn’t hear the argument you two had, but your body language screamed you didn’t want to be anywhere near him. He wasn’t man enough to respect your wishes."
I swallow. "And you’d respect my wishes?"
One side of his lips twist. "For now."
