Page 3 of Offside Angle

I knock twice. The sound echoes in the quiet hallway.

The door opens and my brain short-circuits.

Lena stands there in the red dress and it’s criminal. Long enough to be elegant, tight enough to ruin me. The fabric hugs every curve like it was made for her, and the slit up her left thigh is high enough to show off the ink that covers her skin—flowers, stars, sharp little knives, all the pieces I’ve traced with my fingers more than once. She’s covered in them, and the red makes every line pop. Her hair’s down, her makeup is that perfect smoky thing she does when she wants to look dangerous, and she’s smiling at me with the smug certainty of someone who knows exactly what she’s doing.

I lean one shoulder against the doorframe and let out a low, helpless sound. “Mmmm… I’m almost sorry I said date.”

Lena’s grin sharpens immediately. I’m already addicted to that look. She steps closer, one hand sliding up my chest, fingers playing with the collar of my shirt.

“Almost sorry?” she echoes, voice sweet and dangerous at the same time. “That’s cute. You drove three hours just to see me in this dress and now you’re pouting because you have to take me out instead of dragging me straight to bed?”

She tilts her head, looking up at me through her lashes, the picture of innocence while her hand keeps drifting lower. “Poor baby. All that driving, all that effort, and now you have to be a gentleman. Must be torture.”

I catch her wrist before her hand can wander any farther, laughing under my breath. My thumb brushes over her pulse point, feeling how steady it is compared to the way mine is racing. “You’re evil. You know that, right? Evil and wearing that dress like you want me to forget every plan I made.”

She leans in until her mouth is right by my ear, voice dropping into that flirty register that always gets me.

“Good. Maybe if you’re very nice during dinner I’ll let you find out exactly how easy this dress comes off later. Or maybe I’ll make you wait the whole three hours back just to watch you suffer. Choices, pretty boy.”

I push off the doorframe, slide one hand to the small of her back, and pull her into me. Our mouths meet and the teasing disappears under something hotter. She tastes like cherry lip gloss and trouble, and I kiss her deeper than I probably should in her hallway, backing her up against the doorframe until her back hits it with a soft thud. One of my hands slides down to grip her hip through the fabric, the slit in the dress letting my fingers brush bare skin and ink. She makes this little sound against my mouth that goes straight to my spine.

For a second I forget about reservations, about the three-hour drive, about anything that isn’t her mouth and the way she’s pressing into me like she’s been waiting for this all day too.

Lena laughs breathlessly into the kiss, then pulls back just enough to speak, her lips brushing mine with every word. “Down, boy. We have reservations. And I’m not letting you ruin my makeup… yet.”

She knows exactly how close I am to saying fuck the reservations. I groan, forehead dropping to hers for a second, trying to get my breathing under control. “Evil,” I mutter again, but I’m smiling. “You’re actually evil.”

Before she can say anything else I bend down, slide one arm under her knees and the other around her back, and scoop her up. Lena lets out a surprised giggle, the sound bright and genuine as she swats at my shoulder.

“Mats! Put me down, you caveman!”

“Nope.” I grin, turning us toward the stairs with her securely in my arms. “You wore the red dress. You knew what you were doing. Now you get carried like the menace you are.”

She’s laughing the whole way down the stairs, one arm looped around my neck, the other playfully smacking my chest every few steps. Her dress shifts with the movement, the slit riding higher, and I have to focus very hard on not missing a step. By the time we reach the car she’s still giggling, cheeks flushed, eyes bright with that sharp, affectionate look she only gives me.

I set her down gently next to the passenger door, but not before stealing one more quick kiss.

“You’re impossible,” she says, but she’s smiling as she says it, fingers brushing my jaw before she slides into the car.

I close the door for her, walk around to the driver’s side, and feel the exhaustion from the day settle deeper into my bones.

The drive to the restaurant passes too quickly, which somehow makes the three hours getting here feel worth it. Lena’s got her legs crossed, the hem of the red dress creeping higher and making it damn near impossible to concentrate, and she’s scrolling through her phone while humming along to whatever song is playing low on the radio. Every now and then she reaches over and rests her hand on my thigh.

I pull up to the restaurant right on time, one of those nicer places downtown with dim lighting and a valet out front. I kill the engine, get out, and walk around to her side before she can even reach for the handle. When I open her door and offer my hand, she takes it with a little smirk, letting me help her out of the car.

Under the restaurant lights, she turns to me and starts in immediately. “Is this how you wooed all the girls before me?” Lena teases, pretending to pout as she smooths a hand down the front of my shirt. “Opening doors, carrying me to the car like some kind of gentleman? You’re laying it on thick tonight, pretty boy.”

“What can I say? I’m a man of consistent habits.”

She narrows her eyes at me, even though I can see the smile trying to break through. “Mhm. Consistent habits. I’m sure they all loved that.”

I lean down until my mouth is near her ear, getting into her space on porpuse. “Jealous, Vance?”

Lena swats my chest, but she’s laughing now, the sound bright and real. She tips her head back to look up at me, eyes sparkling under the restaurant lights. “You’re ridiculous. And you’re not getting out of this that easy. I know your reputation, Rivera. Ladies’ man extraordinaire. I’m just wondering how many poor girls you’ve left swooning with that same charming smile and that same ‘I drove hours just to see you’ energy.”

I grin, sliding my hand from her waist to the small of her back as I guide her toward the entrance. “Only the special ones get the six-hour treatment. Most girls just get dinner and a nice smile. You get the full package—exhausted hockey player included.”

She rolls her eyes, but she leans into me a little as we walk, her body warm against my side. I can feel the teasing in her voice, the way she’s pushing just to see how I’ll push back. It’s easy. Familiar. The kind of back-and-forth that’s been building between us for months.