Page 49 of Challenge Me

“So, fourth game,” Remi said. “Gonna win this one?”

He was leaning against the wall outside of the locker room, his headphones around his neck as if they were a safety blanket. A red and white baseball jersey with my name and number on it hugged his chest. I hadn’t gotten it for him, so I had no idea where it had come from. The short sleeves left his tattoos on display.

Red Sox colors looked incredible on him, and paired with his ripped black jeans, he was a sight to behold. A touch of lawlessness dripped from him while the rest lurked somewhere beneath where I couldn’t see it. He carried a raw, defiant sort of chaos, but also deliberately controlled.

Technically, he probably shouldn’t have been back here, but it was impossible to tell Remi not to do something. I could only imagine how much of a wild card he’d been as a teenager.

I was dying to learn more, but I didn’t want to freak him out. Even after our talk a couple days ago, I wasn’t sure exactly what had made him run away. I still didn’t know what he wanted from this situation. I didn’t know what I wanted from it either. It was like his mere presence dared me to go exploring, and I wasn’t even the type who enjoyed an adventure.

When I stepped closer, I glanced around, but then I remembered that it didn’t matter. It was probably better that we were seen together, showing affection and whatnot.

“We’re going to win,” I said as I touched his bicep with the tips of my fingers.

He rotated his lip ring from the inside with his tongue. A smirk settled on his face, and it made focusing harder than it should’ve been.

“You lost to some random team I’ve never heard of.”

“We’re warmed up now.”

“You said they were from a college,” he pointed out. “That’s pathetic.”

I put a finger to his lips. “I don’t want to talk about baseball anymore.”

“It’s the only thing of substance I know about you.”

“Then ask me something.”

He pushed my hand away from his lips. “What’s Mallory like?”

“Not my daughter either.”

“Protective?”

“Always.”

“I assume the ex-wife is also off limits.”

With a sigh, I leaned my forearm on the wall beside him, which brought me closer. “My parents live in Dubai.”

“I don’t care about your parents.”

“Ah, okay.”

Maybe he wasn’t as interested in me as I was in him. Or I didn’t strike him as interesting in the way that made someone want to delve deeper into their mind, their past, the motivations behind every move they made, especially the strange ones.

I’d started to think he wanted the same from me, but now I wondered if he did only want something surface-level. He said we’d see what happened. I guess that was all we could do.

Shifting forward, I hovered my lips in front of his for a moment before I closed the distance. I found it odd how easy this felt, which just made me want to do it more. For all I knew, it would be like this with anyone. Although, there was a difference between lust and desire. I hadn’t quite sorted out which one this was.

His mouth against mine was soft, as pliant as he’d been last time. He was such a conundrum—hot and cold, fluctuating seemingly at random. I breathed him in as I deepened the kiss, and he parted his lips for me. I ran my thumb across his stubble and felt it against my face, scratching away at any bit of resistance I’d been holding on to.

Pressing my body more firmly against his, I slipped my tongue into his mouth. He stroked it with his, giving me a taste of cinnamon. It might’ve been his signature, and part of me hated that I’d never be able to taste it again without thinking of him.

“Why don’t you care about my parents?” I asked.

He laughed against my mouth. “Offended?”

Cupping the back of my neck, he bit down on my lip, then traced the spot with his tongue. I slipped my hand under his shirt and explored the curve of his waist, the subtle definition of his stomach.