“Yeah, he’s really tempting, isn’t he?” I say, wiping a drop of hot chocolate off the penguin’s shoddily stitched face. “If you need to take your car into a mechanic, I can give you a ride back to campus afterward.”
“Nah, she’s fine. I might waste an hour or two of my time, but I can usually get her going.”
“You ever think about selling it and getting something more reliable? I have a few friends graduating in December who are selling their cars cheap.”
He shakes his head quickly. “I’m not selling it. My dad left it for me.”
“I thought you barely knew your dad.”
“That’s right.” He meets my eye for only a second, but I recognize the same look I saw up on the library roof when he first told me about his father. It’s longing. That’s what I couldn’t identify in him back then. Amazing to think that was only a few weeks ago and how deeply my opinion of him has evolved. The funny and sexy remains, but back then I found him hopelessly shallow. Now he surprises me at every turn with the depth of feeling that his eyes alone can express. What more could I find out about him if I stuck around a little longer?
I sit behind him on the bed and slide my hands under his T-shirt. His back is a wall of smooth muscle under my hands. I do it to soothe him, but I relax instantly at the feel of his body.
He stretches his neck slowly from side to side, then angles his body so he can see me. “What are you doing Saturday afternoon?”
“I don’t know, what did you have in mind? Afternoon delight?”
“No, my football game.”
“Oh.”
He shakes his head. “You might be the only person in this entire town that doesn’t immediately associate fall weekends with football.”
“Whatever you need to tell yourself to maintain your ego.”
He bares his teeth at me like an animal. “You shit-talker.” My reflexes are fast, but his are faster, and before Ican jump off the bed, he lunges and pins me to the tangle of sheets and blankets. I squeal, but my arms are as good as useless.
“I’m stronger than you think,” I warn him.
“Really?”
“Yeah. Kneecaps of steel. And I’m not afraid to use them.” I grin and position my knee to take aim at his balls, but in one smooth move he closes his thighs around my legs, locking me into a vise grip. I try to jerk my arms free again, frustrated and massively turned on by his strength.
He leans over me, loosening his hold a little. “By the way,” he murmurs against my ear, “after last night, I know you’re ticklish.” He’s breathing harder than I realized, and the sound of it pulls me straight back into hot memories of our night—his panting breaths, the throaty sound of his voice when he said my name.
“I’m not ticklish,” I lie.
His eyebrows go up. The ring of his fingers moves slowly from my wrist down to my elbow. It’s innocent but not. My nipples harden as he glides over my biceps, my body tensing when he approaches my shoulder because, yes, I’m very ticklish.
“Okay, I give in,” I say through my laughter when he finally reaches my underarm. “No more. What do you want?”
He withdraws his hands and sits back so he’s on my hips. I watch his perfect, chiseled chest rise and fall with each breath. I can’t help reaching out to touch the swells of muscle. “What do I want? I want to know where you’ll be Saturday.”
“Where do you want me to be?”
“In the stands.” The playfulness has evaporated from the room. I’m still trapped under him, but the way his eyes watch me, imploring, I’m the one with the power here, and for the first time, I don’t think I like it. It reminds me of everything that was wrong with me and Sam.
“I thought you weren’t playing,” I say carefully.
“I’m not starting. That’s different.”
I nod. “Just remember I don’t know anything about football. I can’t offer much in the way of compliments.”
“That’s why I want you there.”
“Hmm?”
He lets out a deep breath. “I want you there for me. Not for the game or to talk about the plays I make.”
