Page 18 of My First and Only Crush

“I don’t understand you.”

“Good.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means I don’t want you to understand me. Some things should stay private, and I’m trying to be whatever you need while not exposing you to…” He pushes off the bed and puts his empty plate on his tray.

A third knock at the door makes me laugh.

“Let me guess,” I say at the same time as the person on the other side says,“Room service!”

He stalks to the door and yanks it open less politely than the last two times. “I didn’t order?—”

“This is a gift from another guest, sir. There is a note.”

He grunts again, and I wonder if that low, guttural sound makes the room service delivery person squirm in the same way it does me.

When he strides back into view, he’s holding a bottle of chilled champagne, condensation rolling down the outside, and two flutes. He gives me a dark look. “A gift from your father.”

My mouth goes dry.

His glower intensifies as he adds, “Apparently, this is for me to share with the friend whose panties he saw on the floor before I shoved him out of here.”

Oh shit. “You aren’t going to tell him, are you?”

“That his daughter got naked in my hotel room? No. I’m going to keep that secret to myself.”

I open my mouth to thank him, and then I hear exactly what he said.Got naked.Keep that secret.

And I rewind more.I am not a man you can trust. And then the first one, the line that I got lippy about.I shouldn’t look at you.

“I can keep secrets, too,” I say quietly. I roll to the side and put my plate on the night table. “Why don’t you open that bottle and we can toast your win?”

He goes still, his gaze locked on my legs. Higher, really, and a tingle races over my skin as I feel his attention burn at the apex of my thighs.

I tug his jersey down, but at this angle, it doesn’t cover my panties, and I can’t pretend to be sad about that.

“Where’d you get the jersey?” His voice is thick again. I like it like that.

“Pour me a glass of champagne and I’ll tell you.” If he won’t let me toast to him, then I’m not going to share my secrets.

He crosses to the bed and stares down at me, looking seven feet fall and very, very stern. “Are we negotiating now?”

“No?” I smile around my nerves. “Come on, Trick. Just open the wine and I’ll tell you why I’m wearing your jersey.”

He leans over and sets the champagne next to my discarded pizza. The glasses go next to it. Then he braces one hand on the bed and leans the rest of the way down, bringing his mouth close to my ear. “I know why you’re wearing my jersey, little mouse. And you aren’t the only one who’s filing things away in a spank bank.”

CHAPTER9

TRICK

Sinclaire has no clue what really goes through my head when I look at her. I need to warn her more clearly. I need to show her exactly who I am.

She thinks she’s a grown up now?

Then it’s time for us to share grown-up secrets.

Her breath pants in warm, shallow little bursts next to my cheek as I reveal parts of myself I assumed would forever stay locked tight. “I don’t know what kind of game you’re playing, pet. But I am a man who picks your panties up off the floor and breathes in the perfect, innocent scent of your off-limits cunt before I start hunting you down. Are you sure you want to spend the night in my room? Celebrate with me?”

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