“Okay.”
“Well, it’s not going to be as good as a suit of armor or even a weighted blanket at the dentist.”
She stands up and then just as quickly sinks onto my lap. Then she settles herself gingerly on my thighs. I freeze, completely at a loss for what to do. In fact, I’m so confused right now that I forget to worry about the crowd around us or even the sounds of the hockey game.
She turns and says, “Is this okay? Are you okay?”
I lean forward a little so she can hear my answer. “Yes.”
A beautiful woman is sitting on my lap. As Jordan would say, What’s not to like?
Slowly, she leans back, settling against my chest. We are now touching from her ankles up through her legs to her hips, which rest against my upper thighs, and her back is pressed to my chest. Her head is tilted to the side so that I can still see past her if I wanted to watch the game. I don’t. Right now, I couldn’t concentrate on it if I tried.
My heart is racing. The feel of her and that smell—it’s even stronger now. Is it her shampoo? Her soap? Or is that her that I’m smelling?
“You comfortable?” she asks, turning her head again, her silky hair brushing against my face. I close my eyes, relishing it. Relish. The good kind of relish. Not ‘relish’ the code word.
Now would be a bad time to use that code word. I could sit with her like this all night.
My hands are gripping the armrests, but slowly I release my death grip. Jenna lays her arms along mine, resting her hands on my hands. Hers are so much smaller, but her fingers fit in the crevices between mine. I can feel my heartbeat in every inch of my body that is pressed against hers.
Her neck is three centimeters from my mouth. It looks soft…succulent. I want to taste it. Would she taste as good as she smells? What would her skin feel like under my hands?
She might not like me doing that. My hands have callouses on them from the blacksmithing and my artwork. They would feel rough and hard on her smooth, supple skin.
Suddenly, I’m imagining tasting her and touching her, and my body is reacting. I’m getting hard right where she’s sitting on me, and I don’t want her to know.
So I say into her ear, “Relish.”
I really didn’t want to say that word, but I don’t want her to feel my erection, either. She’ll think I’m a pervert or something. But her reaction is slow and she’s asking me to repeat myself. At the same time, the crowd jumps to its feet, cheering at the two players on the ice who are fighting.
I twist and slide my arm under her knees, pulling her up with me in one swift motion.
“What the—?” says the man next to me, but I’m not listening. I need to get out of here and she’s coming with me.
“Wil!” she exclaims, but the rest of her words are lost in the crowd. I shoulder my way down the row and out to the aisle. Then it’s up the stairs to the deserted concessions area, where I stop, finally able to breathe.
Jenna is staring at me with wide eyes but making no move to get out of my hold, so I don’t let her down. “I thought that sitting on your lap was helping.” She frowned.
“It was helping.” In some ways. But making it more difficult in others.
“Well, you almost made it to the first intermission. That’s good.” She pauses, her face growing a shade of pink. “It’s, uh, it’s a good thing you’re strong, so you could just pick me up and go like that.” She licks her lips and looks up into my face. My eyes fly to the nearest door and I start walking toward it.
“I wouldn’t have to be very strong in order to carry you. You can’t weigh more than a hundred pounds.”
“Women don’t like to discuss their weight.”
“Yes, I remember hearing that, but I don’t understand it.”
“Women are complicated, Wil. Like you shouldn’t talk about how we look in our jeans, either.”
My eyes shift to her legs, noticing how her jeans hug her feminine thighs. She looks really good in them. Should I not say that? She did warn me.
Her closeness, the feel of her body pressed against my chest, the smell of her and the tight sweater hugging the curves of her breasts…none of those are helping my current state of arousal. Not in the least.
Now that we are outside the glass doors, it’s safe to let her go. I release her legs and she lands on her feet with a thump.
“Oh!” she exclaims and grabs onto my arm to steady herself. Not expecting her hold, I tense and jerk my arm away. I pull her with me and she almost falls before I catch her.
“You startled me,” I tell her.
She huffs out a breath. “Well, you startled me first! You don’t just scoop someone up in the middle of a crowd and then plop them unceremoniously in the parking lot without a word.”
“I spoke words. More than one.”
She throws her hands up. “I can’t even. I can’t!”
“You can’t what?”
Her fists tighten at her sides and she’s talking through her teeth now. “You’re pissing me off.”
I blink and pull away from her. “Oh.”
She folds her arms across her chest, and all I can think about is how the material across her breasts tightens and I can see every curve. I’m obsessed with imagining what they look like underneath her shirt. It looks like she has very pretty breasts. As pretty as the rest of her. “Well…should I not be pissed off?”
I think about that question for a minute, but am startled when she hits me on the arm.
“Stop staring at my boobs!”
I rip my gaze away from that perfect chest.
Then she says it. That phrase I hate more than anything else. “Look me in the eyes, Wil.”
My stomach drops and I feel nauseous. I hate it when people tell me that. I hate it more than when they call me retard or Rain Man or whatever else I’ve been called. Because the people who say this to me are not my enemies. They are people I care about—my friends, even my family. I swallow and stuff my hands in my pockets, but I’m still staring at the ground.
“Look at me!” she repeats.
I take a deep breath, and then, because I don’t trust my voice, I shake my head, balling my fists inside my pockets.
Chapter 7
Jenna
I wasn’t quite sure what was happening. It had started out as a fairly enjoyable trip to a hockey game, but things had deteriorated quickly. Now William and I were hashing it out in the parking lot of the Honda Center, getting quizzical looks from security personnel.