I Bet You(19)

“What am I? A horse?”

He makes some hmmm noises, the kind I make when I’m working on a serious math problem.

I roll my eyes. “Well, do I pass inspection?”

He’s back in front of me and gives me a nod.

“Verdict?” I ask, exasperated.

“How tall are you?”

I stand straighter. “Five ten.”

“I dig tall chicks,” he says and then clears his throat. “Tall works well with Connor, too.”

“Mmmm.”

His gaze lingers…everywhere. “Your ass is spectacular, but I can’t see it for your sweatshirt—except when you bend over,” he adds with a grin. “Personally, I like a girl who doesn’t flaunt everything, but Connor…you might need to get his attention. He seems a little unaware of his surroundings.”

He really is! I recall how I would attempt to talk to him last year, and he never noticed.

“So you’re saying my ass is my best asset?”

“No.” He meets my gaze. “Your gray eyes are pretty. I like the little flecks of white and gold around your pupils. They’re nice.”

Nice. I grimace. “Why, Ryker, you’re a poet.”

He shrugs. “Your best asset is your hair. You should wear it down more…” He pauses, his eyes roving over the wavy curls that drape over my shoulder. “Every man who sees it down imagines his hands wrapped around those strands as he’s taking you from behind.”

I can’t breathe. What started out as a fun exchange is now layered with tension and heat. The air grows warm inside the bookstore, even though I’m clearly standing near one of the air conditioning vents.

A long silence follows as we both stare at each other.

I’m ticked that he’s described a submissive scenario, but the hot-blooded woman in me only hears his sex-on-a-stick, husky voice, the one that makes my body vibrate and chime. My head goes to the book I’m reading. I picture us on a ship with billowing masts. He’s wearing a white linen shirt—wet, of course, although I don’t know why, perhaps from sea spray—and his golden hair is mussed. He’s caught me and has me bent over the captain’s wheel, my emerald green silk dress bunched up in the back and held secure with his fists as he slides his thick cock inside me, his breath ragged, his hands tangled in my hair…

Damn him.

I suck in a deep breath. Forget the pirate! It’s never going to happen!

“I’m always saying crazy shit when I’m around you.” His face is pink as he scrubs at the scruff on his cheeks. “I apologize for being so—”

He freezes, pausing mid-sentence, his eyes over my shoulder.

“For being so what?”

But his attention is diverted, and he grabs my shoulders to turn me so I see what he does. “Forget that. Look.”

“What are you doing? Look at what?” His touch is fire, and it makes me nervous and excited at the same time. I wonder what it would feel like to have those big football hands slide down my arms and— Focus, Penelope. I take a gander around the store, my eyes roving. “I don’t see anything.”

“Look to the left.”

I scan the place. “New nose plugs for the diving team? A new rack of lipstick, which I should probably check out—” I stop on one person, and a small excited squeal of surprise pops out. “Oh my God, The Unicorn is here.” Wearing his signature ball cap and a Wildcats shirt with his glasses tucked into the neckline is Connor, looking so studious and intelligent as he takes in the new line of mechanical pencils, probably to do his math problems with. I look back at Ryker, who’s dropped his hands from my shoulders and is watching my face as I take in my crush. “So, what do I do? How are you going to help me?”

There’s a quizzical look on his face. “Why do you like him anyway?”

“He’s smart and nice.”

An eyebrow arches. “That’s all you require? Don’t you think you deserve more?”

I squint up at him. “Like you?”

He shrugs. “Your words, not mine.”

“Stuff it, quarterback.”

“But you like him? He’s the one for you?” He narrows his eyes at me. “Why can’t you just talk to him? You talk to me.”

See, that’s the question…

“You’re not shy,” Ryker says.

I shake my head. “I’m a bookworm but not shy.”

“So?”

I stare at my shoes. It’s easier to be honest when I’m not looking at his chiseled face. “I know you and I will never be a thing, I guess, so it’s easy to talk to you.”

“Ah.”

I nod, feeling the need to clarify. “I don’t date football players.” I play with the gold locket necklace around my neck, the one my mom gave me on my tenth birthday. There’s a picture of her holding me on the day I was born. Just her. Not my dad. “I avoid guys who aren’t likely to stick around. Connor is solid.”

Ryker eyes the necklace then looks back into my eyes. “You could have a hundred Connors if you wanted.”

Damn. That’s sweet.

A small sigh escapes me. “I’m not like the girls you know, Ryker. I’m not a hook-up. I’m a vir—” I stop.