Page 112 of Breaking Point
“Hey!”
He quickly snatches the jersey out of my hand, and before I have time to get it back, he’s placing it over his head and grinning. “Done, no tabloid.” He straightens. “Now put my shirt on, Bella, or I’ll do it for you.”
“Since when were you so bossy?” I grumble, but all the while, a thrill shoots through me, secretly loving the way he’s commanding me.
It’s…refreshing, to not be the one in control.
And sweet baby Jesus am I glad he commanded me. His T-shirt smells like him. It’s oversized, practically swimming on my short frame, and it’s like being cocooned in his warmth.
But he doesn’t need to know how much I love it.
Crossing my arms over my chest, I nod at the jersey that barely fits his large, muscular frame. “A bit tight,love,” I say with a shit-eating grin.
Teasing the hockey player who’s blocking my only exit isn’t smart, but I can’t help myself. And maybe, just maybe, I don’t want to leave this little bubble we’ve found ourselves in.
Grayson stares me down. Something shifts in his gaze, something that makes me want to smash my thighs together.
“What?” I snap, my tolerance for how long I can fend off his attractiveness wavering.
He shrugs, his blossoming smile so beautiful I wish I could take a photo of him. “Nothing. You just look good in my clothes.”
“Well don’t get used to it,” I say over my shoulder as I hip check him, trying to get him to move away from the door.
He doesn’t budge. Instead, he traps me against the door, placing a hand on either side of my head.
“What are you doing, Grayson?” I ask, trying to keep my emotions in check, yet the rasp no doubt gives me away.
“Turn around.”
My body stiffens as I do everything in my powernotto turn around.
He drops his head, his lips brushing against my ear. “Please,” he says softly.
God damn him.
Sighing, I put up a mask of indifference as I turn, into the awaiting cage of Grayson’s arms. His eyes are soft and inquisitive as they flick back and forth between mine. He’s looking for something, what that is I’m unsure of, and I don’t think I want to know.
“If it wasn’t clear before that we’re dating, it certainly is now after tonight. It’s all anyone is talking about. But…”
“But?”
He swallows thickly, his eyes dropping down to my lips and staying there. “No one has seen us kiss,” he whispers.
My heart simply stops. “That’s a problem.”
“It is.”
Licking my lips, Grayson tracks the movement, his head leaning forward slightly.
“How could anyone believe we’re dating if we don’t kiss? They see me touch you, they know I’m an affectionate guy, and yet we still haven’t kissed.”
The tension between us is like a living, breathing thing, burning with such need it’s screaming at us to do something to relieve it.
I lift my chin, the words rolling off my tongue. “Then we certainly need to fix that.”
“I think we should practice first,” he says gruffly, his voice so deep my toes curl.
“I agree,” I breath. “We don’t want to stumble around awkwardly?—”
