“I think you had too much wine to drink.”
“I didn’t havethatmuch. Besides, do you really have room to judge,Mr. Hockey Star? I’m sure you’ve had your fair share of nights partying.”
Jack shakes his head, scratching his jaw. “Nope. I don’t drink. I go mostly to keep an eye on everyone, but I’m sober the entire time.”
“Cause of your dad?” The words slip out before I can even try to keep them in, and I gasp, covering my mouth with my hand. “I’m sorry,” I whisper, noting how he tenses at the mention of his dad, and I’m ready to hide under the covers now for the rest of my life. I blame the wine.
“It’s okay, Al. Yeah, I don’t drink cause of my dad,” Jack says, and I feel worse than awful. “I’ll give you a sec to get changed. Do you need anything else?”
“No. Thank you, though,” I say, dragging my hand over my face, hearing the soft click of my door closing behind him.
I get my shirt and bra off with no problem, pulling an oversized T-shirt over my head, but my leggings bunch around my knees, causing me to lose my balance and land on the floor in a heap. I sigh, staring at the ceiling for a moment, admitting defeat.
Jack’s not going to be upset about the dating app, right? At the most, he gets a girlfriend, and at the least, he suffers through a date. Maybe he’ll even come out of it with a really good story.
There’s a soft knock on my door before it opens. “Why are you on the floor?” he asks, holding my water bottle in his hands.
“I got stuck taking off my pants,” I admit, and he offers me a hand, pulling me into a standing position so I can move toward the bed again, sitting on the edge.
“You should drink some water,” he says, handing it to me, but I’m glad I haven’t taken a drink yet because he lowers himself to his knees, and I’m honestly not sure if I’m breathing or not when he takes my ankle, taking his time to pull the fabric down my calf.
His fingertips brush over the sensitive skin on the back of my knee, and my whole body feels like it’s been plugged into an outlet, electricity sending sparks through me. His hands are huge, and I’m suddenly very aware of the ache beginning to grow in me. Is there a chance I might not be as broken as I think I am if my body is reacting like this to Jack? I didn’t think it was possible after all the ways it was used against me, but if this is what it feels like to come back to life, it feels like a step in the right direction.
I shift on the bed, trying to ignore the pressure building, but it only causes his eyes to travel up to meet mine. “Al?”
“Yeah?” I ask, my voice breathless while my mind pictures Jack on his knees in front of me for an entirely different reason. I really shouldn’t, and maybe that’s the reason it feels so damn good.
His hands are warm as they make the final move to pull them off, his eyes never leaving mine until he grabs the shorts I had pulled out and set on the bed before falling on the ground. “You okay?” he asks, looking at me through his dark lashes. I wonder what it would feel like to have Jack touch me everywhere if an innocent touch from a beautiful man on his knees is enough to have me panting over him like a dog in heat.
I don’t trust myself to speak, so I nod, and Jack pulls his lower lip into his mouth as he helps me into the shorts, my breath catching as his touch dances higher up my thighs.
It’s nice to have someone else take care of me.
I rest my hands on his broad shoulders, standing up as his hands pull the shorts up underneath the fabric of my long shirt. His touch is respectful, skating back down over the curve of my hips, and damn it, I don’t want him to be respectful right now.
Jack is slow to rise into a standing position, and who knew that having someone dress you could be such an intimate experience? I certainly didn’t, but I would give anything to read his mind to know what Jack’s thinking as his baby blue gaze dances over my face, and his throat bobs when he swallows.
I turn away, grabbing my water bottle off my nightstand to take a drink, but my pulse isn’t slowing.
He clears his throat, and I hope I’m imagining the tension in the room. “I should check on Dylan and Ellie, and you should get some sleep,” Jack says, his voice a low rumble like thunder during a summer storm.
It feels wrong for some reason, pulling the sheets back and letting him walk away, despite knowing it’s the right move. Two weeks ago, I didn’t want to call Jack my friend or be in the same room with him, but tonight, I don’t want him to leave. It’s the alcohol talking, and there’s a chance I’ll regret it tomorrow, but the worst he can say is no.
“Wait,” I say, sitting down. Jack looks back at me and I don’t want him to go. “Will you stay?”
“Sure,” he says after a moment, walking around to the other side of my bed to lie next to me as I try not to focus on how at ease I feel having him here. “You want to tell me what y’all really did tonight?”
I roll to face him, a nervous laugh escaping me. “What makes you think we didn’t have a wine and movie night?”
“Your face just now.” Jack chuckles, his lips curling up into a smile.
“It was movies and wine for girls’ night,” I repeat, batting my lashes at him.
“If that’s the story you’re sticking to.”
I face away from him, pulling the blankets up. “Yes, because that’s what we did.”
“C’mere,” he says, giving me a brief warning before he pulls me against him. The weight of his arm draped over my side is a comfort I should protest. Except, much like the desired effect of a weighted blanket, I find it hard to keep my eyes open.
