Page 94 of Lucky Shot

“Yes, I do but think what you will.”

“I will.”

“And in the process, you’ll remember every second of what we did back there,” he says and then tugs me against him for one long, slow, torturously sexy kiss that has me simmering for him yet again.

I’m supposed to be sated. I’m supposed to . . . not be getting so goddamn lost in this kiss that I can’t find my way out of it.

“And you’ll want more of it,” he murmurs against my lips before opening my car door for me and closing it after I climb in. Then he just stands there and stares at me. I roll the window down. “What?”

“You need to drive away first. That way I’ll know you made it out of here okay.”

I stare at him, eyes blinking and chest expanding. No one’s ever said that to me before. No one has ever looked out like that for me before.

Put your foot on the gas and go, Whit.

“Hardy?”

“Hmm?”

“About tonight? About—”

“You’re overthinking it.” He braces his hands on my window and grins. “Don’t.”

But isn’t that the problem? I already am.

“Okay.” A smile I don’t understand. A look that lasts longer than it should. “Thank you for . . . understanding.”

“Always,” he says.

“Good night.”

“Good night.” He taps the top of my car and steps back.

And when I drive off, when I navigate the long rows of the parking lot out of the stadium, I can see Alexander Hardy in my rearview mirror staring after me.

And I can’t shake the image from my mind.

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

Hardy

I watch her taillights until the red fades away.

What the fuck was that?

Unexpected? Yes.

What I’ve wanted since that first day I saw her? Bloody hell, yes.

Inviting her up to my place? Definitely a what the fuck moment in my world. That’s one place women never get invited back to. Once they come, they never leave. Or if they do leave, they start showing up constantly.

But Christ. I pull down on my neck with one hand and try to figure out what it is about the damn woman that has me so baffled.

The sex was fucking sensational. I knew it would be.

She came to me willingly, and for Whitney, that speaks volumes.

Everything about the woman turns me the fuck on. Her quiet confidence despite that underlayer of hesitancy. Her need for levity when shit gets too real. Her athletic build and the softness of her curves in spite of it. And the way she kept her eyes on me when she came.