Page 27 of Second Shot

“No, problem. I’m the dummy who forgot the ice after I said I’d bring some. I’ll be right back.” I head to the door, frustrated I probably lost my seat next to Jacobs. By the time I get back someone will have claimed it.

When I open the door to leave, Jacobs comes up behind me. He calls out, “I’ll be back in a minute, Niko, I need to make a phone call. It’s too noisy in here.”

Niko nods, distracted by something Marlowe is saying about the halftime show.

As I close the door behind us, he smiles at me. A little thrill goes through me because his smile seems almost conspiratorial. I can’t help smiling back, although I’m not surewhywe’re smiling. I expect him to stand in the hallway to make his phone call, but instead he follows me to the elevators.

When we get there, I give him a confused look. “I thought you had to make a phone call?”

He shrugs. “I lied.”

“Oh.” I laugh. “Why?”

He runs his tongue over his bottom lip. “I wanted to come with you to get ice, but didn’t want the guys knowing.”

My heart starts racing because there’s something about the way he’s looking at me. If I didn’t know better, I’d say he was flirting with me. But that can’t be, right? “You… you wanted to come with me to get ice?”

He doesn’t answer, he just gives me one of those mysterious little smiles and steps into the elevator when it arrives. We take the elevator down to the twenty-second floor in relative silence. The entire time, he watches me in the mirrored walls of the car, his expression impossible to read.

When the doors open on my floor, I lead him down the hallway to 22C, fumbling slightly with the keycard. I don’t understand what’s happening. I don’t get why he decided to come with me to get the ice. All I know is his presence is making me fucking nervous.

He walks into my apartment, and I flick on a light. He takes in the big space, but he doesn’t seem impressed. Why would he be? It looks like a museum, not a home. Glancing over at the pristine kitchen, he asks, “You don’t cook, do you?”

I laugh self-consciously. “How did you know?”

“Your kitchen is too damn clean.” He smiles.

I sigh, going into the small kitchen. “I actuallycancook a few things, but I’m really lazy. It’s so much easier to just pick something up.”

“I’m the same way. After practice, by the time I get home, I just need to eat. I don’t want to cook because then I’ll have to do dishes.”

“Exactly.” I open the freezer to grab the bag of ice. “Sounds like we need maids and a personal chef at our beck and call.”

He laughs, but then stops me from taking the ice out of the freezer. “Hold up,” he says gruffly, closing the freezer door.

I meet his gaze, confused. But then he steps closer and he puts his hands on my hips. I suck in a sharp breath, my body going hot and tight at his touch. He’s so close I can see the flecks of darker blue in his eyes, close enough to smell the faint scent of beer on his breath.

His hand comes up, thumb brushing over the bandage above my eyebrow with surprising gentleness. The touch is electric, sending heat shooting through my entire body. “I’m sorry about your head,” he says softly.

“It’s… it’s okay,” I stammer. “It was an accident.”

His eyes flicker. “Yeah, it was.”

My heart is racing so fast, I feel a little lightheaded. I can’t help looking at his mouth. His lips are full and tempting, and I’m dying to kiss him. But I don’t want to do anything that ruins the moment. I don’t want to misread what’s happening.

“This is probably a mistake,” he murmurs, but he’s leaning in as he says it. “I know I said we should forget what happened in Vegas, but I can’t stop thinking about it.”

“Yeah?” I say, my voice wobbling. “Me… me neither.” I’m giddy hearing that he too has been thinking about what we did together in Vegas. I’ve been obsessed with thoughts of that night together. I assumed it meant nothing to him because of how he was the next morning. It seems I was wrong.

His breath is warm against my lips. “I want to kiss you.”

“Go for it,” I say in a strangled voice. My dick is already so hard, it’s painful. I haven’t made any attempt to touch him back. I can’t believe this is happening. I’m afraid it’s a dream and if I move, I’ll wake up. I don’t want to wake up. I want to dive deep into this moment and take anything he’s willing to give me.

When his lips touch mine, it’s nothing like Vegas. It’s just as good, but this kiss isn’t desperate or drunk or driven by whatever complicated emotions were churning between us that night. This is deliberate. Intentional. Like he’s been thinking about it as much as I have.

His mouth is soft and warm, tasting like beer and something uniquely him. When I part my lips, he deepens the kiss immediately, his tongue sliding against mine in a way that makes my knees go weak. My hands find his shoulders, gripping tight as he backs me against the kitchen counter.

“Fuck,” I breathe against his mouth. “Jacobs—”

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