Page 68 of Hat Trick

“Can I come in?”

He hesitates, fingers wrapping around the door jamb before he nods once and steps back. I nudge my way into his room, and he closes the door behind me.

“Did you need something?”

“Are you in pain?” I point to the crutches. “You haven’t used those in a while.”

“I have to use them at night when I take my prosthetic off, which is what I was about to do.”

“Oh.” I clear my throat and hold out the tray of food to him. He looks down at it, but doesn’t take it. “I brought you nachos.”

“No thanks,” he mumbles.

“What the hell was that, Riley?”

“What was what?”

“Downstairs. You said you weren’t hungry when I know you haven’t eaten anything since the team lunch earlier today. And then you just left.”

“It’s nothing,” he mumbles again.

“I’m a good listener,” I offer.

“You wouldn’t understand.”

“Then tell me so I can try.”

“Why do you care?” Riley sets down his crutches and closes the distance between us. I take a step back, caught off guard by his close proximity. My shoulders press into the door behind me, and I inhale sharply when he puts his palm flat on the door, next to my head. “Why did you bother coming up here?”

“Because I care about you.” I lift my chin, defiant. “I would check on any of the guys if they left abruptly, but it’syou. I’ve spent enough time with you over the last two and a half months to know something is bothering you. And I want to help.”

Riley stares at me, his chest heaving. I wait for him to yell at me. I wait for him to kick me out or tell me I’m overstepping, but he doesn’t.

He brings his left hand close to my face, just like he did that night on Maverick and Emmy’s terrace, and this time, he rests his palm against my cheek. His touch is shaky, gentle, and I inhale a sharp breath.

“That guy you were talking to downstairs was a waste of your fucking time,” he rasps. “I hate him.”

Understanding dawns, and my spine straightens. I wet my lips, and his eyes follow the path of my tongue. “You were jealous,” I whisper.

“Of course I was fucking jealous. He had your attention. And I’m fucking desperate for it.”

“I’m not down there with him. I’m up here with you. What are you going to do about it?”

“What do you want me to do about it?” Riley challenges, and my mouth parts.

His question hangs in the air, the ball in my court, and it’s like time stands still. I can think of a dozen things I want him to do about it, all of which I’ve never considered before.

This is a dangerous line I’m toeing. I’ve never stepped this close to the boundary with a player before. I’ve never evenconsideredit, but it’s like I’m being physically pulled to him. I’m working against a force outside of my control, and when he moves his hand from my cheek to the back of my head, I realize I wanthim.

Maybe I’ve wanted him for a while now.

“I want you to kiss me,” I say, growing more confident in my decision with every word. Riley’s eyes widen, and I shove the tray of nachos onto the small table to my right. “And then I’d like you to make me come.”

I don’t have time to justify my ask.

One minute, we’re staring each other down.

The next, his mouth is on mine. His tongue is swiping across my bottom lip and I’m letting out a moan as my arms wrap around his neck.

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