Page 32 of On the Breakaway

I’m not holding her wrists tight; she could slide right out of my grasp and head back inside easily, but she makes no move to.

“Go away, Grayson.”

“Make me.”

My rational thought must’ve never made it into the alley, because I can feel her breath against my cheek, and instead of walking away, I hold the small space between us.

She gives me a slight push again, this time something defiant flashing in her eyes, like we’re in a game of chicken and she refuses to lose.

I pull her hands off me and spread our arms wide before pinning them against the wall on either side of her head. We’re only inches apart now, and I notice her chest rising slightly faster. This is a colossal mistake, but I don’t back down from a challenge, and somehow, that’s exactly what this has become.

I expect her to pull away and end this game we shouldn’t even be playing. Hell, the only reason I let myself play in the first place was that I was confident she wouldn’t.

What I didn’t expect was the way her gaze would trail over my body or the way my dick would twitch at the curiosity carved into her face. And I sure as hell didn’t expect the next words out of her mouth.

“I think your girlfriend might have a problem with that.”

Then, she yanks her hands down like the contact burned, ducking under my arm and putting space between us in two quick steps before I can react. She picks up her drink from the railing and looks at me like she normally does.

Had I just imagined everything? What even was that? And what the hell does she mean, girlfriend?

There’s no way I’m that drunk.

I don’t answer right away because my mind is trying to catch up from the mental whiplash she just put me through. This is the longest I haven’t had a girlfriend in years. What is she talking about?

Then it hits me. Sloane.

My lips tilt, but I mask it quickly, not ready to explain myself. Because she didn’t ask about it like a casual question, and she didn’t say it like she didn’t care.

“Who?” I slide my hands into my jean pockets, giving them something to do.

“C’mon, Grayson, you’re a lot of things, but I didn’t think stupid was one of them.”

“Oh, you mean Sloane.”

“Yeah, I mean the college kid you’ve been following around like a puppy all night.”

I choke back a laugh. Not only have I not been following Sloane around, but the idea is disgusting. I’ve known her since she was fifteen. She might as well be my sister.

“I didn’t realize you were paying that close attention to me.”

“You know,” Avery sighs, “All you hockey players are the same. Stringing along girls for the fun of it.”

“And I’m stringing along Sloane?”

Her shoulders shift. “Who else?”

I hum softly, dragging it out to be annoying. “She’ll survive.”

That earns me a glare, her eyes harsh against my skin. “Wow. Gentleman.”

“I never said I was one.”

I can’t help myself when it comes to Avery. There’s something about getting under her skin that is just so damn entertaining. I know I should correct her. I know I should point out that I respect women and would never string someone along, but…

Her eyes narrow again.

“You just ditch her at parties?” She asks.