Rush: The Season (Austin Arrows Book 1)(61)

“I need to check on Bianca,” I mumble when I realize Kingston’s leading me down the hallway to my bedroom.

“I’ll check on her,” he says. “You just get ready for bed.”

“Aye, aye, captain.”

When Kingston releases me, I stumble and would’ve fallen had he not wrapped his big arm around my waist and pulled me up against him. With his chest at my back, the deep rumble of his “Are you okay?” sounding in my ear, the effects of the alcohol dissipate, and I’m suddenly inundated with a jolt of lust so powerful I think I might melt right into the floor.

The room stops spinning, and the only thing I can focus on is the man pressed intimately against me. The hard plane of his chest against my back, the seductively rough scrape of his beard on my cheek as he leans close to my ear. That and the way I’m leaning into him, wishing his hand would slide a teeny bit higher so I can feel his palm on my breast.

“I’m gonna check on Bianca. I’ll be right back.” It takes a moment to process the words because the only thing I notice is the warmth of his breath against my neck.

“’Kay.”

With his help, I sit on the edge of the bed, watching his ass when he turns and walks out of the room and down the hall.

He has a killer ass.

Like, top ten best asses ever. Right up there with … I don’t know, but still. Top ten. Maybe top five. Yes, definitely top five.

And I want to bite it.

No. No, I don’t.

“Uggh.” I’m in so much trouble right now.

Three years is a long damn time to go without sex, and there is something about Kingston Rush that makes me want to do dirty things to him. Dirty, delicious things that involve him very naked.

Mmm. The goalie god naked. I wonder what he looks like.

In my defense, I’ve ignored my attraction to him for most of my adult life. It’s a hell of a lot easier during his serial dating episodes. But I know he’s been single for quite a few months, which is a new thing for him. Is there a reason for that? Did the last girl—the alcohol won’t allow me to think of her name—break his heart? Has he sworn off women for the time being? Forever, maybe? Is he now gay?

I giggle. Clearly my thoughts are getting away from me.

“Sharon? No. That’s not it,” I whisper, staring down at the floor, my brain working to come up with the name of his last girlfriend. “Shanilda? No, that’s probably not even a real word. Shania? Chelsea? Shit.” I think I’m getting closer. “Chancy? No, that’s a strange one, too. It’s a normal name. Not Cherry, but something like ... Cheryl? Yes! Cheryl!” I exclaim, proud of myself for remembering.

I look up to see Kingston standing in my doorway, leaning against the jamb as he stares back at me. His eyebrow is cocked in that sexy way that says he’s amused by me.

“Bianca’s asleep,” he says in that no-nonsense tone that makes my insides quiver.

Good to know.

God, he is so f*cking hot.

He’s got that whole inverted triangle thing going on upstairs. Wide shoulders. Broad chest. Narrow waist. He makes my mouth water. Not to mention those long, muscular legs. Mmm. I really do want to see him naked. And maybe, just maybe, I really want to take a bite out of his tight buns, too.

“Ellie?”

“Hmm?” I ask, not stopping my appreciative perusal of the sinful masculine package standing before me. I might be drunk, but I’m definitely not blind. I know beneath that shirt he sports tattoos on his arms and chest, but I’ve never had the pleasure of seeing every glorious inch of him sans clothing.

“You need to get some sleep.”

The last thing on my mind at the moment is sleep. “Not tired.”

Am I drooling?

I reach up to wipe my mouth, praying I’m not—because, you know, that’s really not sexy—but not really caring if I am because the alcohol tells me it doesn’t matter.

When I meet Kingston’s gaze, I’m momentarily transfixed, unable to look away. Neither of us says anything, but the tsunami of heat that washes over me speaks louder than any words could have.

I want this man. I want to strip him slowly, kiss every inch of his body, tease him the way he’s teased me for so many years, then make him lose every ounce of that control he seems to cling to like a lifeline.

“Ellie.”

I notice the warning tone, blinking slowly as I swallow, trying to wet my suddenly parched throat.

“What are you doing, Ellie?” he asks.

The question confuses me.

I’m sitting here. Staring at him. What the hell does he think I’m doing?

When his gaze drops to my chest, I look down, realizing I’m unbuttoning my shirt.

Ahh, that.

My fingers apparently have a mind of their own, because even though I now know what I’m doing, I can’t seem to stop.

Apparently Kingston isn’t interested in what I’m about to offer him, because as I stare down at my fingers, I see his close over mine, effectively stopping me.

“Get some sleep,” he whispers, taking my wrists in his big hands and helping me to my feet.

I continue to stare up at him, fearful that this moment will be lost if I let him walk out of my bedroom, but not able to speak a word as he leads me around to the side of the bed. After pulling back the comforter, he urges me to sit down, which I do without complaint.