He wants to play games?
Deal me in.
I slide right up next to him as he reaches for a plate. “You want an orgasm?” I whisper, keeping my eyes on the selection of foodwhile I lean in close enough that my left boob grazes against his right forearm. He stills and tenses for just a second and I don’t feel any guilt about the satisfaction that gives me. It means I’m not the only one caught up in our chemistry.
JT turns his head to me, nodding once. “That’s right.”
“You have two hands,” I answer. “So go give yourself one.” With that parting remark, I turn and walk toward the hallway that leads to the balcony. I’d love some fresh air. I could use a drink. And I need to get away—and stay away— from JT.
Do I put a little extra sway in my ass as I saunter off? It’s possible.
My heels click on the tiled floor as I make my way through the crowd and toward the open double doors that lead outside. The heavens must be smiling down on me because just outside the ballroom there’s a server with a tray of champagne flutes, so I pluck one and smile my thanks as I step out into the cool night air.
I take a sip of champagne to clear my head, but it doesn’t work. That thing I said about the heavens smiling down on me? Ha. Scratch that. I must have pissed a deity off at some point because this balcony no longer offers solace from the man I can’t get off my mind.
Not only is his presence a constant loop in my brain, but he’s also standing right in front of me now, looking better in a tux than anyone has a right to. Do I want to toss this glass, jump into his arms like a koala, and head for the nearest storage closet? Yes. So much yes. But I’ll keep that to myself.
“Need something?” I ask, aiming for boredom.
His hazel eyes pierce mine. I might think I’m keeping my cards close to my chest, but I’m just fooling myself. My desire for JT Norris is a palpable thing and there’s no hiding it. I can pretend, though. I’m good at pretending.
“Like I said, Maggie, I need?—”
“Besides that,” I interrupt. Does he not realize that Uncle Hudson or his wife could walk out here at any time? Or one of his teammates could stumble upon us huddled close together like this. JT and I shouldn’t be talking. We don’t know each other. Or at least, we aren’t supposed to.
His hand covers mine as he lifts the glass from my grip and takes a sip. The gesture is intimate, but he’s unbothered as he leans in close and tips my chin up so I have no choice but to look at his handsome face.
“I should have been clearer,” he says. “It’s not my orgasm I want, Maggie. It’s yours.”
A few seconds later, as I’m staring open-mouthed at JT’s retreating back, I feel the tell-tale vibration of an incoming text and glance down at my watch. Uncle Hudson forbade his players from bringing phones tonight, but I’m still not surprised when I see the message.
JT:Walk back into the ballroom and exit through the last door on the left. Follow it down a hallway. When that dead ends, take a right. Count four doors down on the left. I’ll be waiting for my orgasm. And fuck, it’s gonna be good. You’re already soaked, don’t bother denying it. And when I get my hands on you, you’ll fucking beg for release. And I’ll give it to you.
JT: When I’m good and fucking ready.
My feet carry me through the ballroom. I don’t look around for my uncle or check to see if any hockey players have spotted me. I’m not my usual careful self and that should worry me, but my mind has no room for caution right now.
JT’s text is like a spell that’s resistant to good sense. It has me striding down hallways and sneaking into strange places.
Worse, I like it.
I like what he does to me. Not just physically and sexually, though no one has ever made my body react the way JT does. I like laughing with him. Reading his messages. Gah. Even standing next to him is its own kind of aphrodisiac.
None of this is a good idea. No matter how good he makes me feel, there’s no way this ends well.
I count doors and find the one he directed me to and that’s when I have a moment of clarity. All I need to do is walk away.
We don’t need to give into temptation. We don’t have to satisfy the magnetic pull that draws us toward each other.
I can text him and say we’re done. It’s over. Save us both some heartache. Let JT finish his season and keep his stellar reputation intact. I can resume my life and finish the schoolyear as planned before picking a spot on the map to start over.
There’s nothing tying me here in Maryland. I love my uncle and I even like Jules, but we’re not close-- not the way families are supposed to be. JT has a future in hockey. My uncle has his obsession with it. His wife has a career that’s just taking off.
I can carve my own path far away from the storm that will rage if I keep messing around with Uncle Hudson’s star player.
Secrets never stay hidden. That’s a lesson I learned the hard way.
JT and I are playing a game we can’t win.
