Page 66 of Never Your Girl

Rather than follow the directive, I step closer until all the distance between us has been swallowed up. Only then do I slip my fingers beneath his chin and gently turn his face toward me. His gaze flickers with surprise as I study the red mark. My stomach clenches as a wave of anger and disgust crashes over me. I’m tempted to stomp out of the locker room and find Richard Sanderson so I can give him a taste of his own medicine.

Even more than that, I want to comfort Bridger. Without thinking, I lean in and press a soft kiss against the handprint. “I’m sorry.”

For a moment, he doesn’t say anything, just looks at me with an unreadable expression before releasing a long, slow breath. “It’s not the first time, and it won’t be the last.”

The surety in his tone reignites my anger.

Before I can respond, he rises to his feet and locks his fingers around the hem of his jersey. “I should hit the showers.”

“Okay,” I say, forcing a small smile. “After that, we can get out of here.”

“Yeah, I don’t feel up to going to Slap Shotz,” he mutters, his voice quiet.

“What a coincidence, neither do I,” I reply, trying to keep my tone light.

With a nod, he pulls the material over his head. My breath catches as he strips off his chest pad, revealing lean muscle. The rest of his gear gets removed until he’s completely naked. That’s all it takes for air to clog in my throat. When he turns and walks toward the showers, I can’t stop my eyes from lingering.

His ass is seriously impressive.

Once he disappears around the corner, I shake my head to clear it. It takes effort to get my runaway thoughts back under control, not to mention the arousal that has sprung to life.

Bridger Sanderson might drive me crazy, but right now, he’s also reminding me why pretending not to care about him is getting harder with the passing of every second.

22

Bridger

Even when the water scalds my skin, I don’t bother adjusting the temperature. I let the hot spray pound against my shoulders before turning so it can do the same to my chest. With any luck, it’ll wash away the sting of Dick’s words. My jaw aches from being so tightly clenched, and my lungs burn, like I’m still holding my breath, waiting for the world around me to explode.

Then there’s Holland.

I press my forehead against the cool tile and squeeze my eyes closed. Of all the people who could have witnessed that train wreck, it had to be her.

The girl I can’t stop thinking about.

The one who ignites my temper.

The one I can’t bring myself to trust.

She saw something I would have preferred to keep hidden away in the dark, and she didn’t flinch.

Another wave of embarrassment rolls through me, sharp and unforgiving.

Holland already thinks I’m an asshole. Tonight she discovered that the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.

And yet, she stayed.

My feelings for her have always been complicated.

A tangled mess.

I used to tell myself it was nothing more than the hum of attraction, but it’s not that simple.

Not with Holland.

She’s a problem without a solution.

I’m startled out of those thoughts when a curvy body brushes against mine from behind and hands stroke their way across my pecs.

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