Jason smiled down at her, a practiced sort of thing that she was sure he used to great advantage on any number of girls. And maybe, just maybe, if this was another time or place she might be all over that but…who was she kidding? Jason Danvers was vanilla. He was home grown, slightly creamy vanilla, and Bobbi liked them dark and twisty which made the whole Gerald Dooley thing more than just slightly ridiculous.
What had she been thinking?
She glanced inside again. God, The Stones? Really?
“Let’s get out of here, you and me.”
“Not gonna happen,” she answered without missing a beat.
For a moment Jason looked surprised, but he quickly recovered. “Is it too soon? You know after the wedding thing?”
The guy was dense. “No. This has nothing to do with Gerald.”
“Hey if you’ve still got a thing for Gallagher just let me know—”
“Oh my god, Jason, I don’t have a thing for Gallagher,” she retorted hotly, realizing that more than a few pair of eyes were focused their way. They were still in the foyer of the community center near the ticket tables.
“Good to know.”
The words were dry, yet every single one melted into her like butter on toast. She clutched her clipboard to her chest as she and Jason looked to their right. Shane stood a few inches from them looking way too damn good in his leather jacket and faded jeans. Melted snow glistened in his hair and the overhead lights lent a dangerous edge to eyes that were incredibly focused.
Eyes that were focused on Bobbi. Eyes that belonged to someone dark and twisty.
She swallowed, or rather, she tried to. It was pretty hard to swallow when she her mouth was so dry and she had a lump the size of a hockey puck stuck in her throat.
This would be the hard and fast fucking.
His words whispered through her mind and her heart took off like a rocket as she remembered the feel of him between her thighs. The heat of him against her back as he’d thrust into her from behind.
And the way he’d held her hands above her head so that she couldn’t move, kept her eyes prisoner so that she could look nowhere but into his as he’d taken her. Slow. And then hard.
Of the way he’s used the palm of his hands, the tips of his fingers and the hot thrust of his tongue to bring her to orgasm more times than she could count.
There was nothing remotely vanilla about Shane.
Bobbi blew out a quick, hard breath and glanced away. Keep it together, she thought.
But it was hard. So damn hard.
Heat ran through her veins and she was sure her cheeks were as red as the Detroit Red Wings logo emblazoned on Seth Longwood’s shirt.
“Shane,” she said softly.
He didn’t say a word, though something passed between the two men—some invisible form of man-speak—and Jason mumbled something about heading to the bar. With a quick nod in her general direction he disappeared inside the dance.
Not only vanilla, but a wimp.
“I didn’t know you were a Flyers fan,” Shane said as he took the remaining steps that brought him within a whisper of her.
“I’m not,” she retorted quickly. “I borrowed this from Billie.?
?
His dark eyes ran over her body, lingering on her breasts before moving back up to her eyes. “I like the way it fits you.”
God help her, but she felt her nipples harden as an ache erupted between her legs. She prayed that the padded bra she wore prevented anyone else knowing, but the slight grin that tugged the corner of his mouth told her probably not. That the man could get such a reaction from her with a few words, in a public place like this meant that she was in deep trouble. “It’s on the small side,” she managed to say.
“I see that.”