Page 100 of Keep Me Close

“Is it… um…” I squirm as arousal pools in my core. “Normal for brawls to just break out like that?”

“It can be.” He glances at me. “In case you didn’t notice, the fans enjoy it.”

His fingers stroke over me again, and I exhale shakily as my head falls back against the seat and my eyes feather closed.

“Maybe hockey and reality TV have more in common than I first suspected.”

That earns a low laugh from him, the sound warm and rough in the quiet of the car. “You think so?”

“Possibly,” I murmur, trying unsuccessfully to gather my scattered thoughts. “Both involve questionable decision-making in front of an audience.”

His hand tightens slightly where it rests against me, the subtle pressure stealing the rest of my breath.

Humor simmers in his voice. “You calling that a bad decision?”

My lips part, but it takes me a second to find words through the haze he’s creating. “I haven’t decided yet.”

“Is that so?”

My fingers curl against the seat, my pulse kicking harder, as his hand shifts just enough to make it impossible to focus on anything other than his touch. “I⁠—”

There’s a beat of silence, broken only by the growl of the engine.

“Maybe I need to do something to sway your decision.”

A quiet sound slips out of me, and my head presses harder against the cushion as I lose the fight to stay composed.

“You’re not even trying to be subtle, McNichols,” I manage, though it comes out breathy and weak.

“In case you haven’t noticed, subtle isn’t really my style,” he replies, completely unapologetic.

And the worst part?

It’s working.

His hand slides higher, and this time there’s no pretending he doesn’t know exactly what he’s doing. My thighs part the barest bit, and the city disappears around us. All I feel is the press of his hand and the heat racing through me.

“I’m serious,” I say, even though my voice has become breathy, undercutting the effect. “You still haven’t answered my question.”

“Pretty sure you’re not actually focused on that right now.”

“I am.” Sort of.

“You sure about that?” When his thumb grazes me through the denim, my hips jerk in response. “Seems like you’ve got something else on your mind, Hollywood.”

A helpless laugh bubbles out of me. “You’re the worst.”

“No, baby.” His voice sounds like velvet over steel. “I’m just very good at redirecting your attention when needed.”

He pulls into the garage a few minutes later, and the second the engine cuts off, the silence inside the car turns charged.

For a moment, neither of us move. His hand is still on me, slowly stroking and teasing my pussy through my jeans. It’s almost shocking how quickly he can unravel me. How easily he’s able to flip that switch, leaving me gasping and strung tight.

Every subtle shift, every brush of his fingers sends another ripple of sensation through me. It continues to build until I’m teetering on the edge of something I can’t quite reach. My body reacts before my mind has a chance to fully catch up, chasing the feeling, leaning into it despite myself.

It’s overwhelming in the best, and worst, way possible because he never pushes me over. He keeps me dangling on the edge, suspended, my breath uneven, my thoughts slipping through my fingers as heat coils low in my core. I’m so close it’s almost unbearable. Close enough that I’m embarrassingly aware of just how little it would take for me to beg for more.

He turns in his seat, his gaze dragging over my face as desire flares in his eyes.