His lips brush against my temple, and the touch is brief but deliberate. Claiming, as if his name on my back wasn’t enough. Again with the full speed I haven’t been very good at pumping the brakes on tonight.
“Come on, sweetheart.” His voice is smoother now. “You’re done at the bar.”
Then, with his hand firm on my hip, he steers me back toward the table, and back to his lap, like it’s where I belong.
Rhodes settles me against him, his grip steady, fingers pressing into my thigh like he wants to make sure I stay put. His breath is hot against my ear.
“Did I tell you I’m feeling jealous tonight?” he murmurs, voice low and smug, his lips brushing against the shell of my ear.
“You told him I was taken,” I ignore his question and reply quietly, turning my head. Our mouths are a hair’s breadth apart. His breath catches just slightly—so slight that I almost miss it. But I don’t.
“I did,” he agrees. “My name on your jersey is making me crazy right now. It has me thinking all kinds of things that would make you run in the opposite direction.” He takes a deep breath in.
I swallow.“What kind of things?”
“Definitely nottheslowthoughts you asked me to have, Monroe.” His words are loosened by the number of beers he’s had tonight, but I have a feeling they’re more than honest. He grimaces at me and continues. “They are very fast, Monroe. Top speed. Bullet train thoughts.”
I let out a slow breath and force my brain to remember all the reasons I should keep him at arm’s length.
None of them seem to be landing right now.
“Okay, big guy,” I say, shifting on his lap, ignoring the way his fingers tighten on my waist like he doesn’t want to let me go. “We should probably get you home.”
I avoid the conversation, because I don’t think I’m ready for it yet.
Because I have a feeling that once I belong to Rhodes McKnight for real, there will be no going back.
Chapter Eighteen
Rhodes
My head is fuzzy, but I’m not drunk. A little tipsy, just enough to loosen my restraint, enough that I want to touch Monroe more than I probably should. Her arm is still looped around my waist, holding me up like she thinks she’s the only thing keeping me upright.
I don’t feel like correcting her if it means she keeps touching me.
I already said too much tonight. I’d really wanted to be good—I had every intention of letting her set the pace—but Monroe in my jersey threw me. I think I knew it would when I had Kelsey drop it off.
I find Beck, Finn, and JD and give them a look. They grin, understanding passing between us.
“The boys and I will find our own way home tonight.” Beck’s voice is loud over the music and his expression is all smug amusement. Finn whoops, Tyler and Callum slap hands.
I roll my eyes and steer Monroe toward the exit, because if I don’t get her alone soon, I’m going to do something fucking stupid, like drag her into a bathroom and make her say my name loud enough for half the bar to hear.
And whileI’mnot morally opposed to that idea—in fact, I’d very much like everyone in a hundred-mile radius to hear her screaming my name—I don’t think that’s what she wants.
“Where are the guys?” Monroe’s hazel eyes look up at me through thick, dark lashes. Her lip gloss has long since worn off, but her lips shine anyway when she darts her tongue out to wet her mouth. I hold back a groan.
I’ve done nothing but fantasize about her since I kissed her at the rink. My dick starts to harden in my jeans, and I shift to adjust so it stops pressing directly against the zipper. I’ve spent more time than I want to admit half-hard, just watching Monroe do whatever the hell she’s doing at any given moment I’m lucky enough to just be near her.
“They’re not coming,” I say, sobering up a little more once we step out into the parking lot. I click my keys to remember where I parked.
Monroe hums in acknowledgment. “I’ll drive,” she says. “I didn’t drink.”
I think about arguing that I’m fine enough now to drive, but I decide to let her take care of me for as long as she wants to. I am reveling in her attention. I hand her the keys and open the driver’s-side door for her.
“You don’t mind me driving your car?” She side-eyes me with a smirk. “Most guys don’t want a girl to touch their baby.”
I snort.“I mean, don’t crash it, but I’m not worried.”