Good Boy (WAGs #1)(50)

But I’m not done yet. The next four photos are of various dogs sticking their noses in my crotch. Beside me, Jess lets out a giggle. The music swells and one last shot fills the big screen. It’s me holding a puppy in one hand, close to my face. I’d been letting the dog sniff me a little, but the photo was taken in a way that suggests we’re sharing a kiss.

The sound of a hundred and fifty female sighs fills the room.

“Oh my God, Blake,” Jess whispers in my ear, and I jolt when her lips brush my cheek. “You are…you’re…”

“I’m what?” I ask thickly.

She squeezes my hand. “You’re the best.”

Her praise makes my heart soar. Damn it. I’ve got it bad.

I’m so fucking fucked.





20 A Rough Ride





Jess


Blake is acting weird. Weirder than usual, that is. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him this subdued, but I’m done pestering him about it. If he wants to tell me why he’s down, then he will. I can’t force him to talk.

“You want to dance?” I ask him.

Now that the speeches are done, the music has started up again. Not Hozier, unfortunately—I’m assuming he’s already on his private jet heading somewhere awesome—but the DJ’s song selections aren’t bad. Jamie is out on the dance floor with Ben Hewitt’s wife, Katie, and either I’m wrong or they’re doing the Uma and Travolta dance from Pulp Fiction. They’re terrible at it, though, and Wes and Hewitt stand nearby, laughing at their respective spouses.

“Naw,” Blake answers. “Not in the mood.”

I put my arms up around his neck, though, hoping I can change his mind. “How did you get involved in this charity, anyway? Seems like you put in more time than if it was just a team thing.”

This wins me a shadow of a Blake smile. “I love dogs. Used to have one, a big white boxer. After graduation, I, uh…” He clears his throat. “Lived with Molly for a while. She took care of him when I had away games, which was all the time, right? So after we broke up, I had to let her keep him. Otherwise he’d be in the kennel half the time.”

Damn it. Blake looks even more blue than he did a couple of minutes ago. “Maybe you’ll see him again now that she’s back in Ontario,” I suggest.

“Maybe,” he halfheartedly agrees. “Listen, do you mind if we take off? I’m kinda wiped. Didn’t get much sleep last night.”

I drop my hands from his shoulders. “Hot date?” I say lightly.

He shakes his head. “Neck.”

“Huh?”

“Neck’s sore,” he admits. “It was hard to find a good position to sleep in.”

I have to bite my tongue to refrain from suggesting a whole bunch of naughty positions that he might find pleasing. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. My girl parts have been tingling ever since that photographic montage of Blake and all those cute puppies. I guess I’m turned on by philanthropy? Who knew.

Or maybe it’s just Blake who turns me on. Blake and his big body and easy grins. The man whose magical power is that he’s always able to make people laugh. And orgasms—he’s good at giving orgasms, too.

“Jess?”

I snap out of my Ode to Blake train of thought. “Hmmm?”

“So you’re cool if we go?”

“Yeah, it’s fine. I have finals to study for.” We’re on trimesters, so there’s only ten days until crunch time.

Blake and I say our goodbyes, hugging, kissing and fist-bumping his teammates, their dates, and the event organizers. As we leave the ballroom and walk toward the coat-check area, he keeps a couple of feet of distance between us, which is unsettling. Normally he doesn’t waste any opportunity to touch me, even if it’s just placing his hand on my arm.

I wish I knew what was up with him. Loud, brash Blake, I can handle. Melancholy Blake? I’m stumped.

We reach the coat-check counter, only to find a little plastic sign that says Back at 10:15. Seriously? I check the clock on the wall. It’s 10:03. Who just leaves their post mid-party? People need their coats, damn it!

I suppress a sigh. “Awesome.”

Blake rubs the side of his neck and rotates his head as if trying to stretch it out.

“Your neck hurting again?” I ask in concern.

“A bit.”

I move closer and brush my hand over his nape. The soft hairs there tickle my palm. “Want me to rub it out for you?”

I wait for the inevitable wisecrack, but…it doesn’t come. Oh boy. Is Blake broken? Maybe he needs his batteries replaced?

Leaning up on my tiptoes, I press my mouth to the side of his throat and kiss his warm flesh.

“Jessie… What are you doing?”

“Kissing your boo-boos,” I murmur, then trace the tendons of his neck with my lips. “Do you want me to stop?” My tongue glides over his skin, and his clean, spicy flavor infuses my taste buds. “Would you rather we talk about why you’ve been sulking all night?”

He groans when my lips encircle his earlobe. I’m not sure where this urge to maul him has come from. It’s not like I’ve been aching for him these past two weeks. My school schedule has been so hectic that it didn’t leave much time to think sexy thoughts about Blake Riley. But now that he’s here, standing so close to me, smelling fantastic and looking good enough to eat in his tailored black suit…sexy thoughts are all I’m thinking.