Page 85 of Blindside Sinner

Dixon moves to sit beside me. “Hey, man, I’m sorry. If I would’ve known setting her up with Dr. Strangelove would’ve sent you over the edge, I wouldn’t have done it.”

I do a double-take. “Y…youdid that?”

“Yeah, man. I just thought it would—shit, I dunno. I’m sorry.”

Part of me wants to kick his ass, but there are reporters and press outside and that’s the kind of thing they’d love to cover.Then Viv would hear about it, and I have a feeling she’d use it to whack Sloan with.

Coach re-emerges with the rest of the staff and a clipboard in hand. He summons the team over, but when I stand to join, he plants a hand in the middle of my chest. “You might as well hit the showers and go on home, Daniels. Eight guys have to spontaneously keel over and die on the ice in the next twenty minutes before you’re seeing ice time.”

He’s been pissed off at me before. But he’s never sent me to the showers before the end of the game. Even when I was injured, I took up inches of real estate on the bench.

But tonight, I’m not going to argue.

He debriefs the team and they all file out. Dix takes one last look back at me before he, too, disappears.

Then I’m alone. Sweaty and bloody and pissed, with no one but myself to blame.

And even after the coldest shower in the history of water, so Arctic I’m practically hypothermic when I finish, my dick is still hard.

I stay in the locker room and watch the rest of the game on the TV.

When I finally walk out of the locker room with Dixon, who’s offered to drive me home, Sloan is standing with her back leaned against the wall.

She looks good. No—she looks better than good. I want to devour her.

For about ten seconds. Until I remember that she only looks good because she was on a date with Doctor Dipshit, and I don’t do sloppy seconds.

She looks up at me and pushes off the wall as I walk past. I don’t speak at first. I’m too pissed, too horny, too depressed, too confused. Too everything.

I hear her footsteps fall in behind me, and I swear to God that even amongst the sweat-and-concrete stench of the tunnel, I can smell her perfume. Lilies, I think. And jasmine.

My common sense is saying not to look back. That’s asking for trouble.

It’s enough to picture how she looked when she collided with me earlier this evening back at the house. When I had to squeeze my lips sealed so I didn’t drool over the sight of her in that skirt and heels, over the mental image of those legs wrapped around my waist, urging me in deeper.

We go out to the car in that strange little inverted triangle. Dixon and me at the front, Sloan behind. Dix peels off and disappears toward his parking spot without a word. Probably for the best.

I wait until we’re almost at the SUV before I make my move.

I whirl around, grab Sloan by the waist, and pin her against the side of the car. “How was your date?” I snarl.

Her skin colors. I don’t know if it’s heat or embarrassment. I don’t care either. What I do know without a doubt in my mind is that it’s the hottest thing I’ve ever seen. My dick twitches and Iknow she can feel it against her belly because her gaze flicks up to catch mine.

When she pulls her lower lip between her teeth, and her breath escapes in a short, silent moan, I’m about to explode. There’s something innocent and wild and sexy and sweet about her.

I need it.

I need all of it.

I need all of it so fucking bad.

“It was…” She sighs. “Probably the worst date of my life, unless you like cringeworthy penis jokes to go with your dinner.” I’m watching her face, but her shoulder shrug makes her breasts rise and fall back. I’m tempted to slide my finger into the low collar of her sweater and drag my finger over the soft curve. “How was the game?”

“I was… distracted. By you. By your date.” I can’t stop myself now: I drag my finger between her breasts, down her belly to the waistband of the skirt. “By this little outfit.” And then I lower my head so I can take a big breath of the perfume she’s spritzed behind her ear. “Fuck, you smell good.”

That one slipped out, but I don’t take it back because she shivers and lays her hands on my chest, then tilts her head so I have a better vantage point to the pulse point in her neck.

“My game suffered,” I finish in a whisper against her skin.

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