Page 28 of The Rival (Looking to Score 2)
Alex reluctantly agrees to let me help clean up, so I rinse the dishes and load them into the dishwasher. Our elbows brush as he slices the cake, which is dark chocolate and smells delicious.
“Shit. I forgot frosting. I feel like an idiot,” he says, shaking his head.
“Oh my gosh, don’t. Alex, I love this so much. It’s another thing I don’t usually get on my birthday, so thank you.”
“I’ll say this up front—I’m a cook, not a baker,” he grumbles when he presents the finished product. It’s an adorably lopsided slice of cake, with a single birthday candle sitting at a laughable angle. “Make a wish.”
I smirk and lean in toward the candle. “Oh, you aren’t going to sing for me?”
“You really want me to?”
I pretend to mull it over. “Nah, I think I’ve heard enough of your singing.”
Alex’s low rumble of laughter coils deep in my belly. I lean in further and blow out the candle.
“What did you wish for?”
“I can’t tell you or it won’t come true.” I wink.
The couch feels smaller now with the two of us curled into opposite sides. Turns out, I definitely have room for cake, sighing as each moist mouthful brings me more pleasure than sex with my ex ever did. In my peripheral vision, Alex is watching me, an unreadable expression on his face.
When the movie starts, I lift my wineglass. “Cheers.”
He smiles at me. “Happy birthday.”
We watch the opening scenes together in comfortable silence. Until Alex scoffs.
“This is so unrealistic.” He crosses his arms over his chest and shakes his head. The two leads in the movie have just agreed to pretend to be married in order to fool the hero’s grandfather into releasing his inheritance.
“That’s kind of the point.” I laugh, poking his thigh with my toe.
My cheeks are already warm with wine, so it’s super easy to decide to leave my foot pressed against the hard muscle of his leg. He wraps one of those big strong hands around my sock, just over my ankle, and I nearly lose all feeling in my lower body.
Does Alex have any idea what he’s doing to me?
The rest of the film passes by in a blur of laughter and far too much wine. When the credits finally roll, his hand is still resting on me. The wine has made me bolder, so I turn my body, stretching both legs over his lap with an exaggerated yawn. His hands find my feet again, this time massaging them with deliberate strokes. A shiver ripples up my legs and into my core.
“Mmm.” I tilt my head back with a moan. “My feet are sore from the hike.”
“I thought they might be,” Alex murmurs, his voice dark.
When he finds a particularly tender spot and digs in, I muffle a groan against the back of my hand. And that unreadable expression I keep trying to decipher that washes over his face? Maybe it’s the wine, but it’s looking more and more like desire. Desire for me.
I prop my head on my elbow and watch him unabashedly. The massage is long over by the time one of us speaks again.
“What now?” he asks, wetting his lips with a quick swipe of his tongue.
“We should go to bed,” I say softly.
It’s only been a few days since our first night at the cabin, and I’m already regretting the line I drew between us. Maybe rebound sex is what both of us need? Well, what I need.
I stand, and the room spins only a tiny bit. Alex steadies me with strong hands on my waist, and I lean into his solid body.
“Let’s get you up those stairs.”
I’m not nearly as drunk as he thinks I am, but I still let Alex guide me up the stairs. I like the feel of his big hands pressed against me, the way his fingers squeeze around my hips when I stumble.
What would his hands feel like on my bare skin?
At the door to my room, I take his hand and slide my thumbs over his knuckles. “Thank you for the best birthday.”
His crooked smile is flirtatious. “The best?”
I close my eyes and nod solemnly, wrapping my arms around him. Sighing, I press my cheek against his pec, and he returns the hug. He smells like rain and chocolate cake, an intoxicating duo.
If I lean back, I wonder if he’ll . . .
But Alex releases me from the hug with a short “good night,” and before I can even blink, he’s turned and heading toward his door. Disappointment folds inside me like a wilting flower, and I turn and shuffle into my own room, flopping onto my bed with a huff.
What was I expecting? Me, the office’s honorary nerd, hooking up with hockey’s number one bad boy? Yeah, not likely.
I don’t know the first thing about one-night stands. I was with Dale since I was twenty, just barely out of adolescence. I never learned the ins and outs of a casual hookup.
