Page 45 of The Wingman

“Rider.”

“Mmm…”

“Thanks for all this.”

I stand and my head wobbles a little. Shit. I blink and grasp the tables edge to balance myself.

Jules is instantly on her feet. “Are you okay?” she asks.

I pull myself together. “I’m good.”

Her eyes narrow, examine mine. “Rider—”

I shake it off and make light of the situation. “Nurses.”

“Hockey players,” she counters and we both laugh, but the worry is still there in her eyes. I can’t have her worrying about me. I turn from her, and take the casserole from the oven. The scent fills the air.

“We can’t have you getting another concussion,” she says. “Hockey is your everything.”

There is a strange lilt in her voice. And I can’t quite tell if she’s asking a question, or making a statement.

“It’s my everything,” I say.

“And you think you’re nothing without it.”

There’s that wavering lilt again. “That’s right.”

“Rider, I—”

Shit, I don’t want to do this tonight. I’ve told her enough about my childhood as it is. “Have a seat, Jules. Dinner is ready,” I say, effectively changing the direction of the conversation. But her words are a reminder that what’s between us is just sex. Yeah sure, I’m cooking for her, but that’s so I can get my mouth on her later, right?

Yeah, right.

I fill two plates and set them on the table, and then pour white wine into two glasses. Her smile is appreciative as she glances back at me.

“I’m not used to this,” she says as she takes a sip of wine. She moans her approval and my dick twitches at the sexy sound. “I’m usually the one taking care of others.”

“Yeah well, how about tonight is all about me stripping you bare and taking care of you,” I say, putting the focus back on sex and trying to forget how much this woman is crawling under my skin without even trying.

Her sweet smile fucks me over. “I like that idea,” she says seductively.

“Okay, eat so we can get this show on the road.” I give her a playful wink and she grins as she forks a scallop into her mouth. The resulting moan wraps around my cock and squeezes. Motherfucker.

“Rider, oh my God, this is so good.”

My chest swells. I love putting a smile on this girl’s face. “Glad you like it.”

She takes a few more bites and sips on her wine as I shovel my food into my mouth. She sits back and laughs.

“What’s so funny?” I ask.

She gestures to my near empty plate. “You must be starving.”

“I am,” I say, my gaze dropping to her mouth. Her lips part in invitation and I let go of my fork. It clatters onto my plate.

She grins, clearly knowing the dirty direction of my thoughts and gives her plate a little nudge.

“I think I’m done.”

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