Jaxson
Watching Grace mop the floor with grown man after grown man who challenged her at quarters was better than being front row at game seven in the Stanley Cup playoffs.
It was probably also more profitable, considering the amount of jerseys the Ospreys had sold tonight thanks to her.
Ben lost his best two out of three in less than sixty seconds, and then his friend was shoving him out of the way saying, “Let me try.”
He lost just as quickly.
Soon, we had the attention of the entire second floor — including the bartenders, who watched from behind the bar with folded arms and smirks on their faces. Other than warning us not to scratch the bar top, they seemed content with the entertainment, too.
Grace slammed quarter after quarter into that shot glass, goading her opponents when they failed to challenge her. She even started asking the bartender for shots, claiming that she’d have to get her own ass drunk since no one could beat her.
It was fucking hilarious.
And somehow, stupidly hot.
It wasn’t even the way the strap of her dress kept sliding down over her shoulder, or how her tits bounced a little in that thin material every time she threw the quarter down. It wasn’t the winks she’d throw at the guys before handing their asses to them, or the way her lips caressed the shot glass every time she decided to get a little more drunk.
It was her laugh, wild and carefree. It was the little shimmy she did every time she bounced that quarter right into the glass. It was how no matter what was happening around us, no matter how loud and rowdy the crowd got… her eyes always found me.
Eventually, the crowd tired of losing, the energy draining because Grace fucking Tanev was unbeatable at this game. So, I called it, signaling for our check before I posed for a photograph with each group that had challenged her — regardless of the fact that they didn’t ever win.
Grace almost pouted when I did, but I just smirked at her, shaking my head and scribbling out some autographs before saying goodnight to the guys.
They were happy as could be, laughing about the game and comparing photographs as they spread out through the bar.
And I turned back to find Grace looking up at me with drunk, lazy eyes.
“Hiiii,” she sang.
I chuckled, signing our check to my room number before I reached for her hand. “Come on, little Nova.”
She giggled as I hauled her off the chair, keeping her hand firmly in mine as I weaved us through the crowd and toward the elevator. She was swaying a bit, and a group of the guys who’d been challenging waved as she passed by. She waved in return, and then someone broke out a slow clap, and Grace yanked free of my grip long enough to jump on top of a plush chair and do a dramatic curtsy.
“Thank you, thank you, oh, you’re all too kind,” she said, blowing kisses around the room. The crowd ate right into it while I wiped a hand over my mouth, shaking my head.
But when she went to bow once more, she lost her footing, and I shot my hands out just in time to catch her before she tumbled to the floor.
“Wee!” she said when I swung her back upright. I held my hands on her arms to steady her, but as soon as I removed them, she swayed into my chest.
“Alright,” I said on a laugh. “Looks like someone needs a ride upstairs.”
Before she could agree, I scooped her into my arms, and she kicked her feet like a little kid the entire way to the elevator.
The crowd roared their approval as we passed, Grace waving at them over my shoulder until we slipped inside the elevator. The moment the doors closed, a heavy silence fell over us.
And I was suddenly all too aware of every place my skin touched hers.
Grace seemed completely unbothered, however. She laced her hands together behind my neck, staring up at me with lazy, happy eyes.
“Hi,” she said again.
I laughed. “Hi.”
Her eyes washed over me, pausing at various places — my jaw, my throat, the tattoos on my forearm. Then, she groaned, burying her head in my chest.
“If you’re going to throw up, give me a warning,” I said just as we reached our floor. I stepped out and headed for her room, still holding her tight.
“The only reason I’d throw up right now is from how disgustingly hot you are.”
I barked out a laugh at that. “Um… thank you?”
“No. No, thank you. It’s a problem, Brittzy. A real problem.” She hiccupped. “I protected you down there. I’m your princess in shining armor.”
“That you are,” I agreed, a smile curling on my lips. When we made it to her room, I carefully set her back on the ground in front of the door.
But she didn’t let go.
Instead, she pulled me flush against her, fingers wrapping into fists hard enough to untuck my shirt where she gripped it. She closed her eyes as her head fell back against the door, smiling for a long moment before she peeked them open again and looked up at me.
Fuck.
Those eyes were like a neon sign the size of Texas screaming all the dirty thoughts in that pretty little head of hers. They danced with mischief, with an invitation — one I couldn’t accept, especially tonight.
“You called me Nova,” she said, her words slurring a bit.
“I did.”
“Why?”
I swallowed, using my knuckles to sweep her hair out of her face. A voice deep in the abyss of my mind screamed that I needed to stop touching her, but I couldn’t.
“Because you burn brighter than anyone else in the room.”
Her lips tilted up, eyes wide like she couldn’t believe I’d said that about her. She watched me like that for a pause before a little laugh rumbled in her throat, and she shook her head on a sleepy smile. “Stop flirting with me, Brittzy.”
I laughed, taking that as an excuse to put much-needed space between us. I backed away only a few inches before she clamped my arm in both her hands, pulling me into her again.
“These fucking tattoos,” she said, trailing one long line of black ink with her nail.
My whole body shivered without me being able to do a damn thing to stop it, and I didn’t miss the way she smirked at the sight.
It seemed my reaction to her only made her bolder, because she fisted her hand in my Henley and dragged me in closer — until I had no choice but to frame her against the door.
Her hands snaked up under my shirt without an ounce of hesitation, scattering every thought in my brain other than the ones consumed by how it felt for this girl to touch me.
She pressed her palms flat against my abdomen, which stuttered at the contact, a breath hissing out of me.
“Mm…” she moaned, biting her lip before her smile spread wide again. Her eyes flicked up to mine, hands rubbing under my shirt like it was a nervous habit she had instead of a sure-fired way to turn me all the way on. “You’re wearing contacts.”
“I am,” I managed, my voice rough.
“I didn’t realize you did, not until I saw you in your glasses earlier.” She paused, considering. “I like you in your glasses. Makes you look like a hot, nerdy bookworm.”
“Well, I don’t want to turn you on, but I do have a book with me. It’s spread open,” I teased, saying those words like I was whispering filth against her skin in my bed instead of talking about a fucking book. “Face down and waiting for me on my bedside table as we speak.”
She faked a moan, biting her lip. “Stop it, it’s too much.”
We both laughed a little at the joke, which I desperately needed to take my mind off how her hands were still exploring the span of my abdomen. But then, her eyes were surveying mine again, the question she wanted to ask written in them long before her words followed.
“Do you ever think about that night in Austin?”
The question itself was enough to shorten my breath, but the fact that she slid her hands a little lower when she asked it, tucking her fingertips under the buckle of my belt…
Fuck.
I stayed silent, the muscles in my jaw working overtime as I used every ounce of willpower I had to stay rooted in place.
Teammate’s little sister.
Eight years younger than you.
Don’t. Be. An idiot.
I needed to say no. I needed to douse whatever flame she still had burning for me — all while fighting the roaring fire I still had burning for her.
But I couldn’t.
I also couldn’t confirm, because if I did, I knew she’d be pulling me into her, and she was in no mindset to consent to anything right now.
So, I just stood there, hoping she could feel everything I wasn’t saying by the way I looked down at her, how my eyes searched hers, how I didn’t shy away from her touch.
Of course, I think of that fucking night.
But we both know why I shouldn’t.
After my prolonged silence, she deflated a bit, the playfulness leaving her eyes as she stared down at where her hands were on me. “I know, I know,” she said on a sigh, releasing her grip. Her eyes found mine again. “You don’t want me.”
Damn it all to hell.
I swallowed, but didn’t drop her gaze. I held it, praying once again that maybe she could see without me saying it that that was far from the truth.
Then again, maybe it was best that she thought that. Maybe that would keep us both out of trouble.
Grace looked sad for only a second before she blew out a long breath, stretching her arms overhead on a yawn. She smiled up at me next, tilting her head a bit.
“You know what?” she asked. “It’s nice to have a friend, actually.” She swallowed then, her eyes flicking to mine before they found the ground between her feet. “I don’t have many of those.”
Then, she pressed up onto her toes and kissed my cheek before unlocking her door and slipping inside.
And I stood in the empty corridor feeling like I’d doused her bright light in my own fucked up shadows.
