“Whatever you want, as long as you keep coming,” I murmured in her ear, keeping her tucked tightly under my arm as we walked out. There was space between our bodies, so it was more friendly than anything, but I wondered if that’s how everyone else saw it too. As we walked through the back entrance of the arena to the parking lot, I pulled her closer. “You look real good in my jersey,” I whispered in her ear and was rewarded with a deep flush of pink to those gorgeous cheekbones.

I didn’t say she’d look even better out of it, but picturing peeling her out of my number made my dick achingly hard. One thing was for certain, though—I wanted Nova Stone, and I was pretty sure she wanted me too.

Chapter Fourteen

NOVA

I’d never been one to obsess over pro athletes. Honestly, before like a month ago, I would’ve been hard-pressed to name one professional sportsperson who wasn’t Wayne Brady. Or was it Tom Brady? Whatever.

But now, watching those guys slide around on the ice like wrecking balls with knife feet? I finally understood. They weren’t just fit and hot. They were commanding. They were the most primitive kind of attractive, the type based on raw masculinity and not much else.

Well, not Rigby. My attraction to Rigby had a little to do with his physique and a whole lot to do with the fact he was a beautiful damn human, from what I could see.

However, the family room where we met them afterward had been intense. Not to mention, all the wives and girlfriends were dauntingly beautiful. Like, supermodel beautiful. There was actually a Victoria’s Secret model there; I’d recognized her from social media. Their collective gaze had weighed and measured me, and I’d been found wanting. I could feel it in my bones.

So after we got home, put Huey to bed and ate some kind of meal kit food that you reheated in the oven, I was more than ready to be in my own bed. Not to sleep, though.

No. Both Rigby and River had stripped out of their suit jackets and rolled up the sleeves of their dress shirts as soon as they stepped in the door, and holy forearm porn, Batman. I couldn’t stop looking at the way River’s fingers flexed around his bottle of beer, or the subtle veins in Rigby’s thick forearms.

Damn.