Page 50 of Daring the Defender

“GG, look at me,” he says, eyes waiting to meet mine when I look up at him. “I know this thing between us feels like a lot, and I should keep my hands and mouth off of you?—”

“Please don’t?—”

He grins, or really, smirks. “I said I should, but there’s no fucking way I can stop. I like you, Shelby. You’re sweet. Beautiful. Fun.” His hand cups the back of my neck. “But you’re also innocent, and I don’t want to overstep.”

“You’re not,” I assure him. “I like this thing we have. Even if we have to keep it to ourselves.” And it’s not just Axel I worry about, although I know he’ll lose his mind. It’s David. My parents. It’s the promise I made, that although I’ve taken a step back, I know I still have to answer for. “You’ve taught me more about myself and how to live a full life in a few days than I’ve learned in a lifetime back home.”

His eyebrow raises. “You want me to keep teaching you?”

I nod, feeling a ripple of heat rise up my spine. “If you want to.”

He leans forward, our mouths nearly touching, and he says, “I want to do so many things with you.” His lips brush over mine, but he doesn’t deepen it. Instead, he gently lifts me off his lap and rises up. “But right now, I’m going to teach you what every twenty-year-old hottie in Wittmore wishes she was doing right now.”

“What’s that?” I ask, genuinely curious.

His fingers curl into mine. “How to party with the hockey team.”

We leave the porch separately,Reid through the exterior door and a few minutes later, changed into clean, non-beer-soaked clothes, me into the living room. From there, we start a discrete game of never being in the same place or same conversation as the other, rotating around the bottom floor of the Manor in an invisible dance.

Never in my life have I been so aware of another person.

It’s ridiculous. Humiliating even, how closely I track his every movement, every laugh. I catch the way the muscle in hisjaw flexes, every crinkle near his eyes, and the way he holds a bottle of beer loose between his fingers.

I can’t stop thinking about his mouth against mine, the hard way his hands roamed over my body. I try to distract myself with the game Twyler is playing, the sensation of how he felt under me, thick and impressively hard.

“Ahh, my man, Jefferson. So you think you’re up to the challenge,” Twyler says, her long, dark ponytail bobbing behind her head.

“You may want to rein your girl in, Cap.” He cracks his knuckles and scoots his chair up with an exaggerated move. “She’s about to get sloppy drunk.”

“Twy can handle herself,” Reese says, squeezing her shoulder. “And I like her sober or drunk. Doesn’t matter to me.”

I watch as they prepare to begin and turn to Nadia, “So this game is just about getting your quarter into the cup?”

“Yep.”

“And if the other person gets it in your cup you have to drink?”

“Yep?”

“I don’t get it,” I say, watching Twyler sink her first quarter in Jefferson’s red cup. He swears, but takes a massive gulp. Reese plants a sweet kiss on her neck in response.

“There’s not much to get,” she says. “It’s a dumb drinking game. Twyler is just very good at it for some reason, so she loves to torture these idiots who can’t handle a girl beating them at anything so they always come back for more.”

“Ah, okay.”

“Come on.” She grabs my hand and pulls me away from the game. “I think there are some water bottles in the laundry room. Unfortunately, I have to work the opening shift at the gym tomorrow.”

She rummages around the other side of the washer and grabs two bottles, then hands me one. The overall crowd at the party has thinned out, but it’s nice to be away from the noise for a minute.

“You know,” Nadia says, eyeing the washing machine. “This is where your brother came onto me for the first time.”

I cough, the water catching in my throat. “Here? Really?”

“Yeah, I mean, it wasn’t the first time we’d been together,” she continues. “That’s what we fondly refer to as the epic fuck up, but yeah.” She taps the top of the machine. “Right here.”

I squirm at the topic and the fact bare butts have been on the washer thatIuse. She grins. “Fine, we won’t talk about Axel. What about you?”

My eyes widen and I squeak. “What about me?”

---