Page 31 of Dream Chaser (The New York Knights Players Club #4)
And then there’s her mouth.
Lips parted in concentration as she cracks open a crab leg with a practiced snap. The shell gives, and she dips a leg into a pool of melted butter then draws out the meat with slow precision, licking one finger absentmindedly before she takes a bite.
I swear to God, my zipper just twitched.
She doesn’t even realize what she’s doing. Or maybe she does. Either way, every move is like a direct hit to the part of me I’ve been trying to keep in check since the second I stepped onto that rooftop.
She leans forward, elbows on the table, tongue peeking out to catch a drip of butter at the corner of her mouth. Then she smiles—messy, unapologetic, victorious—like crab leg domination is a contact sport and she just scored.
All I can think about is that mouth.
Those lips.
Wrapped around?—
Jesus. I sit back and take a sip of cold water that does absolutely nothing to cool the inferno behind my fly.
She glances up, catches me staring, and cocks her head like she knows.
“Problem, Skinner?” she asks, licking her thumb.
Hell yes, I have a big problem. And it’s sitting across from me like a damn seafood siren, ruining all my good intentions and making me wonder what excuse I can come up with to get her alone—fast.
Because if she’s even half as talented with my body as she is with a crab cracker?
I’m a goner.
A willing goner.
“Not a one.”
“Skinner,” Riley calls my attention away from Iz. “Damn good grilling.”
“She’s not wrong; your meat was phenomenal,” Lexi says, trying not to laugh.
I open my mouth to respond, and then close it.
Sydney laughs. “Did Griffon Skinner just filter himself?”
Iz snickers. “Oh no, you don’t—out with it.”
I lean back and lock eyes with her. “Fine, my go-to comeback would be, that’s what she said .”
Izzy laughs and looks at Lexi. “Wonder what a crab compliment would get you.”
“An apology, and maybe some permethrin lotion,” I answer.
Everyone busts up. Yeah, including Iz.
That fucking laugh of hers is everything.
We’re passing around what’s left of the potatoes when Oz leans back in his chair, takes a long drink of water like he’s about to make a toast, and then drops the bomb with the kind of grin that says,“ This is going to ruin friendships ,” and he’s totally okay with that.
“So,” he says, real casual, “anyone feel like doing a guys’ trip again this off-season?”
All the chatter dips just enough for him to keep going.
“Last year’s was … what’s the word?” He taps his chin. “Oh right, legendary.”
I shoot him a warning glare. “Oz …”
But it’s too late. He’s got the floor. And a flair for dramatics.
“Let’s see, where’d we go again? Oh right, Turks and Caicos. Hart misplaced his passport before we even boarded. Grimes got stung by a jellyfish and insisted Boone pee on him—refused help from anyone else. Said he ‘trusted the hydration of an elite athlete.’”
Boone groans, dropping his head on the table. “You swore that story was sacred.”
“Oh no, no, this is just the opening act.” Oz grins.
Lo peeks up at Kolby, eyes shining. “Wait—Boone peed on you?”
“ Near him,” Boone mutters. “It was strategic splashing. I was trying to help.”
“And yet,” Riley adds, “you all still hang out.”
Hart leans back, arms crossed, clearly resigned. “He’s leaving out the part where Skinner got?—”
“—locked on a hotel balcony naked ,” Oz finishes proudly, like he’s revealing a plot twist on Real Housewives: Pro Athlete Edition. “For two full hours.”
The entire table loses it.
“Oh my God,” Iz wheezes.
“I wasn’t naked ,” I grit out. “I had a towel.”
“Which blew away. That was God’s doing,” Oz says solemnly, hand on his heart. “Just Skinner, the sky, and one very traumatized cleaning lady.”
Lexi coughs, nearly choking on her drink. “Please tell me there’s video.”
“Just grainy surveillance,” Oz replies. “But it lives in my soul.”
“And your cloud backup,” I mutter.
“I call that folder humbling reminders ,” he says cheerfully.
Boone groans again. “Can we vote never to bring our significant others to dinner again?”
Grimes waves his fork like a white flag. “So what you just did was ensure we will never go on another guys’ trip.”
“Oh yes, you can. We had a girls’ trip coming up and have to reschedule due to Riley’s belly, but you bet your ass we’re on.” Lo laughs.
“Our next trip, I nominate somewhere withfewer cameras,” Hart says, side-eyeing Oz.
“And more clothing,” Boone adds.
“Can we all agree no jellyfish?” Grimes says, shooting Boone a side-eye.
“Only if I can book the Airbnb this time,” I grumble. “Preferably with balconies that lock from the inside. ”
Oz lifts his glass. “To off-season shenanigans, brotherhood, and trauma bonding.”
We all clink. Because, despite everything—urine, nudity, and betrayal—we’ll probably do it all again.
God help us.
Lo takes a slow sip of her drink, eyes narrowing on the Hunt. “You all act like that was wild,” she says, voice low and dripping with judgment. “But let me tell you aboutNashville . ”
I raise a brow. “Oh?”
She nods. “Me, Iz, Sydney, Harper, London, and Riley.”
Syd immediately chokes on her water. “Oh God, she’s doing it.”
“Oh yes, I am.” Lo sets down her glass and leans into her elbows. “We got into town Friday night. First stop? Line dancing. Second stop? Mechanical bull at some sketchy rooftop bar run by a guy named Dusty who kept yelling ‘hold her tighter than your granddaddy’s rifle.’”
Boone actually covers his face.
“I ripped my jeans,” Lo continues. “ Twice. Once on the bull, once trying to climb back into the Uber because Harper dared me to do it backward.”
“London got mistaken for an up-and-coming country pop star and signed bar napkins,” Harper adds helpfully.
“Riley,” Lo says, pointing dramatically across the table, “ accidentally bought a bachelorette sash at a gift shop and wore it all night. Free drinks everywhere. No one even asked who the groom was.”
“It said‘ Last Rodeo ’on it,” Riley mutters. “I still have it.”
“And Syd,” Lo continues, now smiling sweetly, “somehow convinced a band to let her play tambourine during their encore.”
“I was the encore,” Syd corrects.
“Then came Saturday,” Lo adds, lifting one brow, “which started with Iz losing a boot. Not her phone, a boot , on Broadway and ended with us eating hot chicken on the floor of a stranger’s Airbnb because we were too drunk to figure out how to unlock the door to our own.”
My eyes are wide. “Why do I feel like I should be afraid of all of you?”
“Because you should be,” Lo says, raising her glass.
Oz laughs. “You know what? I’d watch that show.”
“Working title,” Lexi offers, “ Honky Tonk Hot Mess. ”
“You forgot the part where Harper got a tattoo,” Syd mutters, biting back a smile.
“Oh my God,” I ask. “What kind of tattoo?”
Izzy shrugs. “It says‘ Blessed. ’On her hip.”
“Blessed?” Boone echoes.
“Yeah.” Riley snorts. “In Comic Sans.”
The guys collectively groan.
Grimes points at them. “You’re all banned from Nashville. Forever.”
“We already booked it again for Lexi’s twenty-first,” Lo deadpans.
“Oh no, we’re doing Berlin,” Lexi hoots then looks at Hart. “You can come, too.”
“I’m not sure if I should feel honored or?—”
“Baby detail,” she interrupts him.
Baby detail …
Dinner’s done, table’s cleared. It was actually an excellent night. I mean, not as good as last night, or the night before that, but pretty damn cool.
“All right, I gotta dip,” Oz says, stretching as he stands. “Flight out of Syracuse in two hours.”
“All right, let’s roll,” I say, already fishing my keys out of my jacket.
He claps my shoulder. “Appreciate it, man.”
I turn to the group. “Later, kids. Nice pad, Iz and Mags.”
Lo blows a dramatic kiss. “Drive safe, lovebirds.”
Iz walks us to the door but doesn’t say much. Her eyes are quieter now. Wary.
“You good?” I whisper as I zip up my coat.
She nods. “Thanks for the grill and?—”
“That just means more parties.” Oz chuckles. “Once the damn weather changes.”
“Oh, that’s right, you’re heading from the south.” Iz smiles.
“Come with, Iz. There’s actually sun in other parts of the world.”
Never wanted to punch Oz in the face before now.
She rolls her eyes. “Appreciate it, but this girl must have all four seasons.”
“We’re gonna head out, too,” Boone says.