“I promise I was on my best behavior.” He sounds half amused, half serious.
I believe that. If anything, I’m afraid I’m the one who wasn’t. At the bar, I kept placing my hand on his thigh and getting closer to him. I’m certain there were a few times in the night when I wondered why he hadn’t made a move.
Now that I think of it, I remember him helping me take my dress off and turning around to give me privacy and me hating that he did.
I made myself desperate last night. I was throwing all the signs, but he didn’t reciprocate.
The realization is mortifying. Now I feel sick.
“I would hope so,” I quip, hoping I’m masking my humiliation.
I cringe, hating how my brain is playing against me, letting me only remember the moments I’m saying or doing embarrassing things.
Grabbing the blanket, I pull back, adding space between us, but the moment it slips off from around his waist, I see the tent he’s sporting in his black dress pants.
My eyes go round, but he doesn’t look shy about his erection bulging from his pants. I knew he was large from the night at Salt, but seeing him in this position…fuck.
“Stop looking at it like that. It’s your fault.” He does nothing but tug at the fabric of his pants a couple of times. I think he’s trying to make himself comfortable, but it does nothing but move his dick in a different angle.
I’m flabbergasted. “My fault?”
“You were lying there, rubbing your ass all over me, wearing my shirt.”
“You act like I did it on purpose. I didn’t know you were behind me.”
A crease forms between his eyebrows, his jaw clenches. “Who did you think was behind you?”
“No one.” I thump his leg. “I thought I was alone in my bed. I thought we parted ways after the second pitcher…” My thoughts scatter, the rest of my words getting lost as I’m hit with something.
Tattoos.
“We got tattoos.” My mouth gapes open at his nod. “Oh my gosh,” I squeak, and he drops his head back and bursts into laughter. It’s deep and rumbly. I get lost in the rapt sound and find myself laughing too.
“I swear it was a mutual decision.” His laughter subsides. “But we were also pretty wasted. I’m certain we got more drinks after getting them…I think. No…we definitely did.” He pauses, pondering a thought. “If it makes you feel any better, I let you pick and swore to you I wouldn’t tell my wife we got matching tattoos.”
“We gotmatchingtattoos?” I balk, staring at him and his fresh tattoo in astonishment.
My hand immediately reaches for my arm where it’s sore, but I don’t press my palm against it. Instead, I undo the button, not caring that I’m exposing my chest to him. Either way, he’s already seen one of my breasts, and I’m wearing silicone nipple covers.
I shrug the sleeve down, exposing my left arm, and gasp at the ink etched on my skin.
“You’re not upset, are you?” He drags his fingers through his disheveled hair. “Shit, I?—”
I blink, snapping out of it. “No, I’m not upset.” I chuckle, still in disbelief. “I’m just…I got…” I scoff a laugh, bewildered. It’s really pretty. A small chain holds a disco ball, then what looks like a string hangs from the bottom of it holding an upside-down whisk. At the tip of the wires, there’s another string holding a single hockey skate. And around them, tiny stars are scattered. “A hockey skate. Ahockeyskate, Sylas. I know nothing about hockey. I’ve never even been to a game.”
He appears relieved, but then his head rears back and his eyes narrow. He looks…offended? “You’ve never been to a game?”
I shrug. “Never thought about it until I moved here. Even then I didn’t care for it.”
We’re a Division 1 school. All the sports here are a big deal but KYU is most known for hockey. Still, sports never called my attention, and I’ve never had time for them.
He stares at me, at once insulted and disappointed. “That’s going to have to change. You’re coming to a game and?—”
I smile at the excitement that exudes him. “I can’t, I work. I really can’t afford to take any days off.”
“Right.” He deflates.
I hate that he looks genuinely upset. I could take one day off. I never have, but now that I have a little extra from what he gave me, it wouldn’t hurt. No, what am I thinking? I seriously can’t be considering taking a day off for a guy I hardly know. What’s wrong with me?
