Page 61 of Face Me Off

Wait.

If this was just a friends-with-benefits type deal, why am I so anxious for it to end? Sure, I’ll miss my daily dick doses, but there’s something more between us. I can feel it.

“I want to discuss our arrangement.”

Shit. He does want to end it. And from how my stomach knotted, I know I’m not ready to hear those words. I keep my face neutral and steel myself for the oncoming assault on my heart. The last thing I want him to see is how devastating ending this would be for me.

“You do?” I ask in the steadiest voice possible.

His fingers squeeze mine. “When that guy swooped in behind you,” he shakes his head, “I didn’t like it.”

My mouth dries. Oh. He doesn’t want to end things. He wants to take it to the next level. “Neither did I.”

“I know we can’t go public with this yet, but it’s only because of the team.” A pained expression crosses his face. “You not being at the photo shoot today … I hated that.”

“I hated not being able to be there with you.”

“Truthfully, this stopped being a friends-with-benefits thing for me long ago.”

“What are you saying, Ryan?” I need him to spell it out because I want him to be crystal clear. No assumptions. We’ve had enough toe-tapping around heavier subjects to last a lifetime.

“I want us to be a real couple. Be my girlfriend.”

A smile breaks across my face. “I guess what they say is true.”

“What’s that?”

“In a friends-with-benefits situation, someone always catches feelings.”

“This someone did.” His hand slips from mine and slides across my hips. He scoots me closer. Sandalwood and citrus consume me as his breath tickles my face. “And what about you?”

“My truth?”

He nods, his gaze slipping to my mouth. I’m instantly wet from his gaze alone.

“My feelings never stopped. Even when I hated you. Deep down, you were always there, hidden in my heart.”

His eyes darken to the color of his pants at my confession. He leans in and captures my mouth with his. It’s a slow, tantalizing kiss that absorbs every thought. All I can think about is being with him. I don’t want to be in anyone else’s arms but his. Is that so bad? As he traces his rough, calloused hand up my arm and doesn’t stop until he wraps those deft fingers around my throat, I don’t think it is. Nor do I care.

His lips consume mine as his fingertips press into my flesh. I melt into him, entirely at his mercy. This man welds power over me like none other. He doesn’t realize how great he actually is. Sure, he’s a cocky hockey player with the skills on the ice and in bed to back up his confidence, but he’s worth so much more than his big, thick cock. I’m just not sure he realizes it.

He’s dedicated to his team, his friends, and his family. He calls himself selfish, but I don’t see it. He sacrifices his own goals to take care of his dad. Assholes don’t do that. They just don’t.

“Stand in front of me,” he orders.

I oblige, his hand sliding down my chest as I push to my feet.

“You looked hot on that dance floor out there,” he says between kisses.

“Yeah?”

“Mm-hmm. So fucking hot.” He palms a breast through my light sweater and tweaks a nipple. “It took everything I had not to join you.”

“I thought of you the entire time.”

“Yeah? What did you think about?”

“Your body pressed against mine, our hips grinding against each other.”

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