“I’m sorry, I couldn’t quite understand you.”
“I’m in. For the whole friends with benefits thing.”
“Acquaintances,” he corrects.
“What?”
“Acquaintances,” he repeats. “You said it yourself; we aren’t friends.”
“Fine,acquaintanceswith benefits if the proposition still stands.”
He doesn’t give me a verbal answer; rather, he stalks toward me, his hands gripping my face and pulling my lips to his. But the kiss doesn’t match his body language; it’s soft, almost like he’s testing the waters.
And then he lifts me up, carries me over to his desk, clears it completely, and sits me down. His hands, with a firm grip on my hips, pull me closer to him. My legs wrap around his waist, removing any space left between us. His hands graze the exposed skin above my jeans before running furtherup my bare back.
His tongue runs against my bottom lip, causing me to moan, which gives him full access to my mouth. I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I missed his mouth on mine. The last time I saw him, there was no lip-on-lip contact because we pretty much jumped right into the whole sex thing, and he’s very respectful of my feelings toward kissing during sex.
But he knows how to use his mouth… in more ways than one.
A gasp escapes my mouth as he digs his teeth into my bottom lip, giving it a tug as he pulls away.
There’s a heat in his eyes that I don’t remember seeing the last time we hooked up, and fuck me, it’s sexy. Everything about the man standing in front of me is sexy. His tattoos, his eyes, his smile, even that fucking earing.
“Fuck,” he groans, pushing off the desk, and that’s when I see the back of his jersey.
“Bowman?” My nose wrinkles. “I thought your last name was Harris.”
His eyebrow pops up as he turns back around to look at me.
“You look me up,Stewart?” The way he says my name shoots flutters straight to my stomach. I never told him my last name and the fact that he knows it means Jaxon told him, or he looked me up… or both. Maybe Jaxon told him, and then he looked me up.
“I heard someone yell it downstairs.” I cross my arms. “When they were complaining about being low on booze.That’sthe only reason I know your last name.”
That’s a lie.
I looked him up.
It wasn’t hard. Zeke’s a starting hockey player. I just had to go to the team roster and find his picture. It took me about five seconds.
No, I’m not proud of looking him up.
In some weird way, part of me thought looking him up would get him out of my system, but it only made it worse.
And becoming fuck buddies is a lot better than him haunting me with sex dreams. Or taking over my solo seshes with my hand or vibrator.
“I don’t know if I believe you.” He grins.
“So, what’s with the jersey?” I change the subject.
“It’s a tradition.” His smile fades. “One that prevents me from sleeping with you tonight.”
I laugh… until I realize he’s serious.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t come all this way, embarrass myself by accepting your proposition, just for me to leave without getting what I came here for.”
“It’s hard to explain, but—”
“You can’t fuck me because you’re wearing a teammate's jersey?”