"Okay, how about you put on your wedding ring and I'll give you half my meal," I say as I cut another piece of chicken.
I’m looking down at my food but the room grows so deadly silent that I have to look up. All the snarky attitude that quirked her kissable mouth and danced in those pretty eyes is gone. “I figured we would agree to pretend that never happened.”
“You were wrong,” I reply.
“I don’t need a ring.”
“You do, for the camera. Someone will notice that just like you noticed the note on your aunt’s calendar,” I explain. “I should have done it sooner but we can say it was getting sized or something if someone notices you aren’t wearing it in prior footage.”
“It’s too nice.”
I chuckle. “It’s half the size of most of the rocks the other wives have. I’m already preparing to take heat for that on the league fan boards. And The Warren.”
Her eyes double in size. "You know about The Warren?"
I smirk. “Every pro hockey player knows about the puck bunny Reddit thread. FYI, half the chicks on there are lying about their conquests.”
“Only half?”
I nod and swallow some kale. "Oh yeah, some of that shit is totally accurate. But not all. I did not fuck a cocktail waitress last year when we played Vegas."
“Okay.”
“The was Crew. And it was two years ago, before Liv.”
She laughs, but her hand is inching closer to my plate so I wield my fork like a weapon and raise it above her hand. She snaps back and gives me the cutest pouty face. “Ring for food.”
She sighs. “I’ll order Chipotle.”
I’m way more disappointed by that than I should be. So I give up and pluck a second fork from the drawer. She grabs it from me, victorious, and even leans over to kiss my cheek, which I like way more than I should. We finish the meal together and then begin to clean up. “Thank you. I feel better.”
“Good. And remember, Callie isn’t diagnosed with anything.”
“Yet.”
“She isn’t diagnosed with anything yet and may never be,” I rephrase and she gives me the sweetest, gentlest smile that somehow wakes up my dick. I turn to the dishes to distract myself, running the plate under the water before opening the dishwasher.
She leans over and takes the packaging the meal was in and walks towards my garbage but she lifts the small container that had the dressing in it to her lips and, in awe and horror, I watch her lick every last drop of the dressing from the container. “Tenley, Jesus.”
“You’re just jealous you didn’t think of it.”
She drops the now clean container and other garbage into the trash can. “I have thought about it, but I would never.”
She smiles. “And that’s your problem, Nash-Hole. You would never do anything that’s actually fun. Not on purpose.”
I close the dishwasher. She walks to the fridge and pulls open the double doors, peering inside. “I don’t suppose you’ve got dessert in here somewhere?”
I smile. “I know what I want for dessert.”
Chapter 18
Tenley
I check out. My brain flips the off switch. I stop thinking about my aunt, my family, the docu-series. There are no thoughts, just the feel of his lips against mine, the slide of his tongue against mine, the push and pull of our bodies as we struggle to undress each other. It’s some kind of unofficial competition, who can get the other naked first. All right here in the kitchen. And then the living room.
Nash grabs the waistband of my jeans after he gets the button open and the fly down. He shoves them down my legs, dropping lower with them until my jeans are at my ankles and he's kneeling in front of me. I run my fingers into his hair as his hands slide up the outside of my thighs and snake their way to the inside. I fight the urge to shiver. I don't want to give him the satisfaction of knowing he's getting to me. Not yet. But every brush of his fingers sets my skin on fire.
He skims the edges of my underwear, which aren’t fancy tonight. I wasn’t planning on this and all my fancy, sexy underwear are in the laundry pile I haven’t yet touched since I moved in. They’re basic black cotton, cut like briefs. If he cares, he doesn’t show it. I don’t even get a granny panties tease, which I would expect from Nash. It’s low hanging fruit in the diss world and I deserve it. This undies are atrocious.
