February 18th
I SWEAR TO GOD, Mia di Angelo is wearing those jeans to fucking torture me.
Penelope Ryder’s best friend is a lot of things, but right now, ‘vixen’ is the only descriptor that comes to mind.
She’s dancing with Julio, and his hands are low enough on her hips to brush her ass. Her long, dark hair is loose around her bare shoulders. Between the bright green halter top and the black jeans that fit so perfectly, she may as well have painted them on, I can’t stop staring. The way she’s dancing is mesmerizing—the only issue is that she’s doing it with my teammate, not me.
I stare at her toned stomach, listening to her laughter as she grinds against him. My grip tightens around my glass.
Two nights ago, I dipped my tongue into her belly button to make her laugh before I slid to my knees.
Two weeks ago, she dragged me into a classroom on the fifth floor of the library and kissed me until I couldn’t breathe.
Two months ago, she smiled at me for the first time. Looked at Penny and my brother, Cooper, then back at me and smiled, and I swear the universe tilted on its axis for half a second. Couldn’t breathe, couldn’t move, couldn’t do a fucking thing but look at that smile and melt. I can see that face in my mind in perfect detail: the slightest little gap between her two front teeth. The black lipstick. The winged eyeliner and earthy brown eyes.
She had given me scowl after scowl, like I was personally responsible for whatever shit was annoying her at that moment, and then suddenly, gifted me a smile.
An angel’s smile.
I hear, distantly, Cooper’s teammates joking around. His friend Evan Bell asking if they think he could handle Mia.
No.
I know exactly who can handle her, and it’s not him. Not Julio, either.
I take a sip of my drink, then clap Evan on the shoulder. “Buddy, respectfully, she’d eat you alive and spit out your jockstrap.”
Mickey, another teammate of Cooper’s, whistles. “I could fuck with that.”
I don’t hide my glower all that well. Mickey could win his way into Mia’s bed, sure, but he’d have a hell of a time staying there.
I’ve been with her four times now.
Each time, she tells me it’s the last.
But if she’s fucking anyone tonight, it’s me. I know I should let her turn her attention to Julio or Mickey or anyone else she’s interested in. She’s made it clear that our connection can’t go farther than the physical. I don’t know if I’m capable of it, so I ought to be leaving her the hell alone.
Easier said than done.
When Cooper goes to find Penny—something about playing a game of beer pong—I peel away from the wall and cut through the dance floor. “Mind if I take a dance?”
Julio raises an eyebrow, but he doesn’t seem too miffed. I haven’t told anyone on the team about my back-and-forth with Mia. No one knows, in fact, except me and her.
“It’s up to the lady,” he says.
Mia stutter-steps through the next beat of music and glares at me. She’s wearing some kind of makeup that makes her face shimmer. The glitter even trails down her throat and the swell of her breasts.
Her voice holds a precise amount of venom. A façade. I hope. “Seriously?”
“One dance.”
The song fades, and as the notes to the next one start up, I hold out my hand.
“Fine.” She makes a show of kissing Julio on the cheek. “You know where to find me.”
I pull her close. So we can dance, sure, but to feel her, to experience her warmth. “You couldn’t have picked one of the two dozen hockey players in this house to tease me with?”
She spins around, grinding that delicious ass against me. I miss half a step before splaying my hand over her belly, keeping her body close to mine.
“Teasing?” she says, turning so her lips are against my ear.
My grip on her tightens. “Julio’s one of my guys.”
“Evan, then.”
“No.” I spin her, and the unexpected, actual dance move makes her smile. I file that away. She has many expressions, but her smiles are the best. A rarity. “Me.”
“Who says I’m still interested?”
I let my breath wash over her ear. Even though it’s hot in here, she shivers. “It’s pretty fucking obvious, di Angelo.”
She twists, looking me in the eye; with her high heels, we’re practically the same height. I want to take off those heels, then peel down her jeans real fucking slow. Her eyes are molten, ringed by that trademark eyeliner. “Penny’s going to spend the night here.”
“Like Cooper would let her out of his sight.”
“You can come to the room.”
I grin at her. Maybe there’s part of her—even if it’s buried—that likes my smile.
I shouldn’t hope so, but God, I do.
