Page 47 of The Assist
“I know.”
His thumb hooks into the pocket of my joggers, barely. “You were watching me.”
“I always watch the game.”
“You don’t look like that when anyone else gets hit.”
I roll my eyes, but I’m smiling. “You’re imagining things.”
“Am I?”
“You’re distracting me. Sit still.”
But I don’t move away. I stay between his legs, close enough that I can feel the heat rolling off him.
“You looked good out there,” I say, more to fill the silence than anything else.
“I always look good.”
Cocky, as ever. But when I glance up, there’s something softer in his eyes. Less bravado and more want. “I didn’t think you’d come in,” I say.
“Why?”
“Because we keep doing this; getting close, then pulling back.”
“I’m not pulling back now.”
I swallow hard. He leans in, slowly, testing the space between us. “Tell me to stop.”
I don’t. But just before our mouths meet, I turn my face slightly, so his lips brush my cheek instead of my mouth.
He pulls back a fraction, and his eyes search mine. “Why?”
Because it’s too much. Because it’s him. Because I’m scared. “I can’t,” I whisper. “Not yet.”
He nods slowly, and for once, he doesn’t push. He just slides off the table, still too close, still too tempting.
“Next time,” he says quietly, grabbing his shirt. “You won’t stop me.”
And then he’s gone, and I’m left with a heart pounding like I’ve just run sprints across the ice. I press a hand to my chest, cheeks flushed, breath uneven.
Next time.
God help me.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
DYLAN
The door clicks shut behind me, and I move to head towards the locker room to collect my stuff.
My heart is punching at my ribs like I just took another hit. The scent of antiseptic and Mia’s shampoo is still clinging to my skin like the way her fingers did a few minutes ago, careful, and clinical, but charged. So fucking charged.
She was this close. I could’ve kissed her. Should’ve kissed her.
I rake a hand through my hair, as I trying to get my head on straight. It’s useless.
She’s in my head like a song I can’t shut off. Everything about her, from her hands on me, to the fire in her eyes, and the way she bites the inside of her cheek when she’s pretending not to care. It’s doing my head in.
