The Relationship Pact(45)
“I always end up in terrible relationships with guys like you,” she says slowly. “I don't know if it's the athlete part of it that's the problem or if it's the way that I interact with them, but me getting involved with guys that play sports—or work in the sports field, for that matter—is a no-go. Flat-out. But you, Mr. Hudson, are a special kind of trouble.”
I'm not sure if we're still playing here. Is someone watching, and we're supposed to be making a show of being an item so they leave her alone? I don’t know, but I'm going to roll with this to see.
If she wants me to act like I’ll fuck her, I will.
And if she wants me to actually fuck her, I'll do that too.
She’s sexy as fuck, and I’m horny as hell. And have been since the first time she looked up and into my eyes.
“I've been called troubled before,” I admit, playing along. “By lots and lots of people.”
“I can see why,” she says, playing with the hair at the nape of my neck.
The contact makes me crazy. The weight of her hand on the sensitive skin of the back of my neck heats my blood and makes me shiver at the same time.
My pulse kicks into overdrive. My body almost trembles as I stare into her hooded eyes.
“You pose a different sort of problem for me,” she says.
I'm trying to stay calm and let her work out whatever this is. But with every brush of her fingertip and every sway of her hip, I find it harder and harder to be patient.
“What kind of problem?” I ask.
“Well, I had sworn off guys,” she says, “but really, I swore off relationships with guys.”
“So, a relationship with girls is okay?”
She silences me with a look.
“Sorry. Continue,” I tell her, enjoying the feeling of having her in my arms.
“I can't really have a relationship with you, now can I?” she asks. “Because you’re going home in a few days. Our relationship pact expires tonight. I'm not going to run into you or find myself in precarious situations with you all winter, now am I?”
“Nope.”
“So …” She brushes against me again. This time, there is absolutely no possibility that it was anything but intentional. “What could it hurt if we... indulged in this little charade we have going on and ended it on a high note?”
She stills. Her bottom lip goes between her teeth as she gazes up at me like a little vixen that I thought she wasn't.
I can feel every beat of my heart pound against my rib cage. I'm aware of every shallow breath she takes as she awaits my reaction.
I'm also acutely aware of how bad I want to be inside her little body right fucking now.
I shift my weight from one foot to the other to get rid of some of the energy building inside me.
“You're playing a dangerous game,” I tell her.
“And why is that?”
I run my nose down the side of her cheek. She holds her breath as I smile against her skin. It’s pure torture for me, but she deserves a little payback since her touches have been driving me insane for a while now.
“Because if you don't stop,” I say, lowering my voice, “I will find a place, and I will fuck you. Hard.”
She tries to stay composed, but her eyes give her away. Her pupils dilate as my words sink into her brain.
Finally, her head tilts to the side, and she grins.
“What are you waiting for?” she asks, the words coming out in a rasp.
Game on.
Fourteen
Larissa
Oh, my God.
Hollis locks our hands together and, without hesitation, makes his way to the front of the restaurant. We weave in and out of bodies, around circles of people talking about the stock market, and dodge men in bow ties carrying plates of hors d’oeuvres.
None of the people we pass know what we’re doing or why we’re leaving the event like we’re on a mission.
Something about the secret—that only Hollis and I know what we’re up to—makes my blood pound even harder through my veins.
“Excuse us,” I say as a waiter nearly blindsides us. There was no way he anticipated two people darting by him, and I feel sorry he had to rebalance the baked brie on his tray.
But my sympathy only lasts for a moment. Before I know it, we exit the restaurant perched at the top of the swanky Jamison Hotel that Jack’s company rented out for the night.
I come to a halt behind Hollis, almost stumbling on my heels like a little girl wearing them for the first time.
A double-elevator bay sits to our right. Two large doors are closed to our left. Straight ahead is a balcony that overlooks the Savannah River.
Hollis looks around before tugging me behind him until we stop again—this time beneath a brightly colored painting of fruit.
A slight breath escapes my lips as he guides me in front of him. I land against his hard chest, and he locks his hands against the small of my back.
“Still feeling this?” he asks as he studies me intently.
“Yes.”
No other words are needed.
The corner of his mouth upturns as he drags a finger down the side of my face. A flurry of goose bumps breaks out across my skin.
I reach up and rest my arms against his shoulders, letting my fingers play in the silky strands of his hair. He leans his head against the crook of my elbow.