Page 27

TWENTY-SEVEN

LENNON

Well, that back fired… by a lot.

Strip version of never have I ever? Who even am I right now?

Not going to be the one that backs down, that’s who. I can tell by the expression on his face that he never actually expected me to go with it. He thought he could take the easy way out of playing by offering me something I wouldn’t take.

Joke’s on you, Satan.

Although after today… I’m starting to believe that nickname might not fit him at all, the way that his Golden Girl might no longer fit who I am. Maybe the old me, but the new version doesn’t have anything golden about me.

I can still feel his palm pressed against my chest, feel my pulse skittering and my heart thrashing beneath his touch.

It wasn’t just a panic attack. It was the proximity, his touch… so many emotions swirling around in my head in that one single moment.

It was sweet, the way he talked me through it, his voice soft and low. He didn’t have to do that, but somehow, he knew exactly what to say, exactly what to do.

I’m sweating in places that I had no clue I could even sweat in, and this might be the most insane thing I’ve ever done, but fuck it.

“Ladies first,” he murmurs as he pushes back the dark, damp hair that sticks to his forehead. The tattoos on his arms seem darker, more pronounced from the sheen of sweat covering them, and I swear there’s a flutter between my thighs.

The air around us feels thick with tension. Coupled with the unbearable heat, it feels hard to breathe.

“Never have I ever… driven a motorcycle,” I say as I twist the pink heart-shaped ring on my finger around, holding Saint’s stare.

His lip tugs up in a smirk before he drags his teeth over his lips and sits up, reaching behind his neck to pull his shirt off. The sweat-drenched fabric falls to the floor next to him, and then his eyes are back on mine, staring me down with an intensity so strong that it feels like I might cave.

It takes everything inside of me not to let my jaw drop.

Holy. Shit.

My wildest, horniest imagination could have never conjured up an accurate representation of what this man actually looks like shirtless.

He looks like he must have been carved from stone by the greatest sculptor to have ever lived, each of the muscles in his chest sharp and defined, leading down to rows upon rows of chiseled abs.

I watch a bead of sweat travel down the hollow space between his pecs, tracing along each muscle in a languid pace that makes me throb… everywhere.

I’ve gotten a glimpse of those abs before on the ice, but it’s nothing compared to seeing the whole picture.

God… he’s beautiful. Truly, there’s no other word for it.

No other way to describe it. No wonder his ego’s this big.

His body was built for hockey. Strong, unyielding, powerful. Conditioned to take hits.

It’s the first time that I’ve seen the amount of ink covering him. It doesn’t just stop at the full sleeve on his arm, the top of his hand. It travels in pieces along his chest, along the muscles on his obliques.

“My eyes are up here, Golden Girl,” he rasps darkly, the low, seductive sound settling around me.

My gaze whips to his, cataloging the slow, wolfish curve of his lip, and I clear my throat. “Uh… it’s your turn.”

“Indeed it is.”

Grasping the front of my shirt, I attempt to fan myself with the already damp fabric, and it doesn’t do much at all, but it’s better than nothing.

I’m never going to take air-conditioning for granted ever again.

If we ever make it out of this elevator.

“Never have I ever…” Saint trails off. “Been in a relationship.”

Shit. Shit. Shit.

Of course he’s never been in a relationship. Commitment probably gives him hives.

Instead of taking my shirt off, I kick off my tennis shoes. “There.”

“Do shoes count as a piece of clothing?” he asks.

I shrug. “Not sure, but unless you’ve got a strip never have I ever ‘official’ rule book handy… I guess we’re going with it.”

He laughs, eyes glinting with amusement. “Fair. Alright, your turn.”

I take a second to think carefully about the next one, and then suddenly, it hits me.

“Never have I ever… failed a class.”

He doesn’t take anything off, his brow quirking. “3.5 GPA, Golden Girl.”

“Wow. You can read?”

“Remember when I told you I was more than just incredibly good looks and a big dick? Wasn’t lying. Big brain too.” His dark brows waggle, and I toss my head back, a throaty laugh escaping of its own accord. “Never have I ever… figure skated.”

My mouth hangs open. “That’s cheating.”

His shoulder lifts. “I haven’t. I play hockey. Now… do you have that rule book?”

He’s… just trying to get me to take off my clothes. He knew exactly what he was doing by choosing that, of all things.

I can feel my fingers trembling as I reach for the hem of my T-shirt and slowly lift it over my head, my earlier confidence nowhere to be seen when I need it the most.

Once it’s off, I set it next to me and swing my gaze back to Saint.

He doesn’t even bother to hide the way he looks at me. Unabashedly, his eyes drag torturously slowly down my body to my white lace bra, which is soaked with sweat, and I watch as he licks his lips, swallowing roughly.

God, how is it that I can practically feel his eyes on me even when he’s on the other side of the elevator? As if his gaze is a physical caress, trailing over every inch of my exposed skin.

The thick muscle of his jaw flexes before he meets my eyes again.

I had no idea eye contact could be so… hot.

So purposeful .

Despite the stifling heat and tension surrounding us, a shiver races up my spine, sending a flurry of goose bumps erupting along my skin.

“Never have I ever kissed someone in an elevator.” His low, raspy words suck the rest of the air out of the room, specifically from my lungs.

“Never have I ever wanted to kiss the girl who’s driving me fucking insane with how badly I want my lips on hers in a broken elevator where she looks so goddamn beautiful I feel like I can’t even breathe. ”

He adds the next part as if he needs to make it even more clear to me that I’m the girl he kissed… or intends to.

My head feels light with the way he’s looking at me. Like I’m the only thing that’s going to breathe air back into his lungs. His eyes are hooded and dark, holding mine with rapt intensity.

“That’s just because there’s no air-conditioning.” My words are breathless.

His lips twitch. “No. It’s you .” His palm curves around my ankle, the pad of his thumb sweeping at the small sliver of skin that peeks out from the bottom of my jeans. The barest brush, and yet it feels monumental.

Gently, he tugs me a little closer. “Come here, Golden Girl.”

I’m frozen in place. This is a line that we’ve never touched. One that I’m scared to cross for so many reasons, but God, I want to. Even if I shouldn’t, even if it’s the absolute last thing I should want to do, it doesn’t change the fact that I do .

Especially after today. Seeing a new side of him. One I didn’t even know existed.

“Lennon.” God, my name rolling off his lips feels like a sin, and I want to drown in it. “ Come. Here .”

I push down the reasons I should say no, that I should stay on my side of this tiny elevator, and I slowly crawl over to his side, lowering myself to the floor beside him.

Neither of us says anything for seconds that seem to stretch on forever, staring, breathing.

Until he reaches out, palm curving around my neck as he hauls me to him, smashing his lips against mine.