Page 100 of Enticing the Enforcer
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Much to Twyler’s frustration,Florida takes the win, and the whole arena practically rattles with noise. I hug her and Reese goodbye after the game, confirming the plans again for New Year’s Eve. By the time we pile into a convoy of SUVs toward the team’s after-party, the mood is electric.
The club is packed–music thumping, drinks flowing, everyone high off adrenaline. I’d worried, once, about slippinginto Jefferson’s world, about beingthe girlfriendin a sea of women and men who’ve known me since childhood for my fame and career, but they’ve welcomed me, pulling me in like I’m one of their own.
“Ingrid!” Grant Pierce grins when he sees me. He gestures to one of the guys, Conrad Wilkins, who presses a drink into my hand. His wife pulls me in to show me a picture of their new baby. There’s no hesitation, no guardedness. Just open, rowdy acceptance.
And Jefferson, watching it all, looks like he might explode with pride.
Later, we’re on the dance floor, bodies pressed close, sweat-dampened hair clinging to my temples. It’s just like that night after the Frozen Four victory, the two of us lost in the music, victory glittering in the air around us.
I lean up, my mouth brushing his ear, and whisper, “Brilliant Sunrise.”
He stiffens slightly, pulling back enough to frown at me. “What?”
“The song.” My voice is almost swallowed by the bass. “Was itBrilliant Sunrise?”
For a moment, he just stares down at me, eyes dark and unreadable. Then his mouth quirks, equal parts fond and exasperated. “Angel, are you still on about this?”
“Yes.” I lean closer, refusing to back down. “I deserve to know which one it was.”
He exhales a laugh, low and rough, then shakes his head. “I could tell you, but I don’t want anything tainted between us.”
“It won’t,” I promise, but I kind of get what he means.
“That girl, way back then,” he pushes my hair over my shoulder. I’m letting the color fade out, slowly going back to my natural blond. “I won’t say she didn’t mean anything to me. That’s disrespectful to the moment. But what I remember–otherthan popping off in about forty seconds flat,” he grimaces, “is that every time I hear your voice, a switch flips. I get hard and horny. Not because of that disastrous first time, but because it was always you, Ingrid. And when I hear the song, any song by you, and hear your incredible voice, all I think about is how much I love you.”
I stare at him, my heart so full it almost hurts. And I know he means every word. I also know he’s completely full of shit and loves nothing more than keeping me in suspense.
“So you’re not going to tell me,” I challenge.
His grin widens, lighting up the whole damn room. “Not a chance.”
I laugh, helpless against it, and let him pull me closer. The music swells around us, bodies pressed tight, the rest of the world blurring and fading until it feels like it’s just us.
