His voice was soft yet husky, the way I would expect to him to speak in bed. It made me lightheaded. "We should finish the game,"Isaid.
He met my eyes and nodded, but didn't release my arm. "Your story is much better than mine," he said. "My collegegirlfriend—"
"The soul catcher?" I asked. "The one we're hoping to avoid nextweekend?"
Riley cut his eyes to the side as he exhaled, but he still didn't let me go. "Her name is Dorrance, and she's just a littlespirited," he said diplomatically, his thumb tracing the southern triangle of Nevada's border. "And when we were both young and stupid, she drew the tattoo on my back." He offered me a smirk, and for a second, his eyes dropped to my lips. "I'm sure you noticed it the night you stitchedmeup."
"I did," I admitted. "It's notthatbad."
"You're right. It's not." His hand was still on my arm and his eyes on my lips, and he offered a vague murmur of dissent despite his words. "Let's finish this game,"hesaid.
After another beat, Riley released me and returned to his side. Heat was pumping through my body and I found myself leaning toward him, wanting more of that studious gaze and unrelenting touch. I couldn't resist it, and that was why those pants could not hit the floor tonight. But it wasn't like I could hide behind the questions, either. Those were equally revealing, and we'd only put two points on theboard.
And then he won another two, and I surrendered myshoes.
I came back strong and claimed three points. Riley gave up one shoe, a Super Mario Brothers sock, and his belt. I had to press my fingers to my lips to suppress a moan when the leather whooshed out of his belt loops. It sounded like the dirtiest type ofpromise.
Then it happened. He scoredanotherpoint.
"I've got a good question ready,"Rileysaid.
That sealed it. I couldn't take any more emotional moments or deep, dark stories. I had to take off mysweater.
"Oh, my Jesus," he murmured as I reached for the hem. "I didn't think I'd live to seethe…damn."
I tossed my sweater to the pile of shoes, and reached for the ball. I felt his eyes on my skin like a warm caress, and there was nothing better. Nothing at all. And I didn't care whether it was a good idea to get semi-naked with a fully gorgeous man. I just didn't want to care about thatrightnow.
"Grab your paddle, Walsh," I ordered. My bra was basic black, and didn't do anything special for my cleavage, but Riley was staring at my tits like they were the juiciest peachesintown.
"Yes, ma'am," hemurmured.
I took three more points off him, and with them, his remaining shoe and sock, and button-down shirt. It shouldn't have been so disarming to see his bare chest, but everything had changed since that night at Nick and Erin's house. He wasn't an obnoxiously perfect player man-child anymore. He was a man I cared for now, and he was neither player norchild.
I lifted my paddle to serve but found my attention on his chest. Specifically, his nipples. Stabbing the paddle in his direction, I asked, "What the fuck is thatabout?"
He glanced down and then brought a self-conscious arm across his pecs. "More of my youthful stupidity," he said. "Don't worryaboutit."
"No, no, no," I said, rounding the table. There was something about a bare chest—thisbare chest—that called to me. I pulled his arm away and studied the thin scars. "Okay, seriously. How the hell did thishappen?"
Riley stared at me for a beat before his gaze dropped to my breasts. His shoulders lifted as he sucked in a breath, and he turned his eyes to the ceiling as he blewitout.
"All right, Shortstop," he murmured, his big hands landing on my waist. He set me on the table and stepped closer, until my breasts were pressed against him. He just picked me up and put me where he wanted me, and I liked it. Too much. Oh,waytoo much. "Me and Dorrance, we were partying one night—there was probably some Ecstasy involved—and she decided she wanted to get her nipples pierced. For reasons that I still don't understand, I decided I wanted to get minepierced,too."
"This isn't going to end well," I said, covering his scarred areolas with mypalms.
"Nope," he said. "The guy who did it—Dorrance said he was a famous tattoo artist and body piercer, but I'm almost certain he was just a guy at a rave—used fishhooks—"
"Oh, my god," I said, cringing at the thought. No one brought clean fish hooks toarave.
"—and left them there. Or I liked the hook look. I don't know. But when I woke up the next day, I didn't know what the hell had happened and the world was hazy, so I just yankedthemout—"
"Oh, my god," I repeated, dropping my forehead to his breastbone. "I've seen a lot of heinous things, but that'sawful."
He brought his hands to my shoulders and dragged his fingers up and down the skin beside my bra straps. "It's all good," he said. "I survived. My nipples looked like tuna tartare for a while, but Isurvived."
"I'm beginning to understand why you need me around next weekend,"Isaid.
It was long past the time when I should've pulled away from Riley's chest and shaken out of his hold, but I couldn't bring myself to do it. We stayed there, slightly undressed and silent, as the minutes ticked by and I got high off his masculinescent.
