I crossed the small living room and thumped down on the couch across from him, tucking my legs under me. “Thanks. That’s sweet of you.”
“It’s not sweet,” he said. “I’d be a real dick if I just ignored your crying.”
“Well, I did shut you out of my room,” I said easily, feeling warm at hearing his words. For a big bruiser, Ty sure was thoughtful. “But…thank you.”
His gaze slid over my bare legs again. “Yeah.” He sounded distracted.
That was a wonderfully heady feeling. I stretched one leg out innocently toward him and wiggled my toes, just to see how he’d react.
Ty got really still. “Zara. Maybe you should put some pants on or something.”
I shifted my leg and wiggled my toes against his thigh. Big, strong thigh. Ty was big and strong everywhere, practically bulging with muscles. “Why? What’s wrong?”
“Nothing’s wrong.” He rubbed his mouth and glanced at my bare legs again. “I’m just…human, you know? And if you’re not careful, you’re going to give me a boner. I’m just warning you.”
“Well…” I grazed my toe along his thigh, considering. “Remember our kiss at the restaurant?”
“Oh yeah.”
My skin flushed with warmth at the way he said that. Glad to know I wasn’t the only one obsessing over that night, and wondering if I’d made the right choice. “The way I see it…we don’t have to worry about wrecking our juju anymore. We’re out of the competition. So…there’s nothing stopping us from kissing again. Or…more. We could always do more.” Dammit, virgin mouth, quit talking. “I’m not saying that I just want to kiss. I mean, if you want to just kiss, that’s fine with me, of course. But—”
“Zara,” Ty said, and he hauled my smaller body into his lap with a swift motion. “Are you coming on to me?”
Embarrassment flooded my body. “Not if you don’t want me to—”
His fingers touched my chin. “You know how I said I might get a boner? Already kinda have one. Have one every time you’re around. You sitting here in your panties? Fucking killing me.”
I scooted closer, my legs pulled over his lap, and I ran a hand along the thick muscles at his neck and shoulder. “You’re not just saying that to make me feel better?”
“Make you feel better?” He looked at me like I was crazy. “There are a lot of reasons I’d have a boner, but Pity-Boner is not on the list.”
“Just…making sure.”
His hand ran down my arm. “For a girl that’s so confident on the ice, you sure are skittish in a guy’s arms.”
Oh god, was I that obvious? How mortifying. “Everyone’s got to have a first time at some point.”
Ty froze, his hand cupping my elbow. His gaze locked on mine. “What did you just say?”
I swallowed, my throat suddenly dry. “Um, nothing.”
He practically recoiled. “Your first time? Zara…you’re not really underage are you? Because if I’ve been creeping on a fourteen-year-old, I’m never going to forgive myself—”
“No!” I smacked him on the shoulder, hard. “I’m twenty f**king five! Do you want to see my driver’s license?”
“I almost do,” he said, eyeing me. “What kind of twenty-five-year-old hasn’t had sex in this day and age?”
I started to crawl off his lap. “You know what? Never mind—”
“Oh no you don’t,” he told me, grabbing me as I started to get up and dragging me back into his lap again. This time, he sat me fully on his lap, my bottom pressing against him, and I could feel the thick erection in his pants. It made me breathless. One thick arm trapped me around the waist. “Now, explain. Why are you still a virgin, Zara?”
“How many guys do you think I got to hang out with while spending fourteen hours a day on the ice rink? I was homeschooled.”
“Yeah, but didn’t you crash out at fourteen or something? What after that? You still didn’t date?”
“I…kind of had some self-esteem issues after that.” There had been years of self-loathing in there. “Pair that in with the fact that the only jobs I remotely qualify for involve ice skating, and there weren’t exactly a lot of opportunities to hook up.”
“Didn’t you ever just go out and let your hair down? Hang out with friends at a club? Meet guys there?”
I said nothing. Naomi was my best and closest friend, and the reason why we got along so well was because we were both socially backward. If I was on the ice fourteen hours a day, Naomi had her nose shoved in a book for an equal amount of time. “Not really good with meeting guys,” I said in a terse voice.
“Christ,” Ty said, and he lightly tapped his forehead against my back repeatedly, mimicking banging his head against a wall. “A virgin. I so did not need this.”
I tried to squirm out of his arms. “You dick. Aren’t guys supposed to be excited when a chick’s a virgin?”
“Why? I thought we were going to have some sexy, no-strings-attached sex. Now I have to freak out about hurting you because you’re a f**king flea, and I’m a big guy.”
I rolled my eyes. “You know what? This is really killing my mood right now. Forget I said anything.” I tried to get up again.
He pulled me back down once more, and I thumped back onto his lap, earning a small groan from him. “You sure as shit can’t go now.”
“Why not?”
“Because you’re killing me.” His hand stroked along the outside of my bare thigh. “Do you have any idea how f**king sexy you are right now? In a t-shirt and these little panties? And to know that you’re a virgin? It’s a total turn on, and utterly terrifying at the same time.”
“How do you think I feel?” I asked quietly. My body was stiff on his lap, but all of my attention was on the hand gliding up and down the outside of my thigh: warm, hard, and utterly captivating. He was callused, the pads of his fingers rough, but I liked that. They were hands that were good at what they did. They matched Ty—a little coarse and uncouth, but tender.
Sexy, no-strings-attached sex? I wanted sex, but I wasn’t sure how good I’d be at the ‘no-strings-attached’ part. He was going to be my first. That mentally had me all goofy already.
His big hand cupped my knee, and then his mouth pressed against my shoulder, through my shirt. “Zara,” he murmured.
“You’re not going to ask to see my ID again, are you?” I asked, my voice shaky with nerves and desire.
“Nah. I was just giving you a hard time. I watched your Olympics reel on YouTube.” He brushed his lips over my shoulder. “When you were fourteen, you looked like you were eight.”
I rolled my eyes. “So what were you going to say, then?”
His hand moved from my knee and slid up to the hem of my t-shirt. “I was going to ask you if you’d take this off.”
The breath sucked out of my lungs.
CHAPTER TWELVE
She wanted this so badly, and I wanted to get it for her. — Ty Randall, to his manager
He was leaving sex up to me.
If I said no, we’d probably cuddle on the couch for a few hours, mope about our loss, and then go our separate ways in the morning. No harm, no foul. I’d remain a virgin, and Ty would forget all about me.
Or I could take a chance and pull my shirt over my head and have a really amazing memory of Ty in bed together with me. We could make love all night long and leave the competition on a mental high note, even if we didn’t win.
I knew which one I wanted.
My hands went to my shirt and I hesitated for a moment, and then I sucked in a deep breath. Now or never. I tore my top over my head and tossed it to the ground, and then waited, feeling nak*d and vulnerable as I straddled Ty Randall’s thighs in nothing but a pair of polka dot bikini panties. My shoulders tensed, my back was to him, and I waited for him to do something. Say something. Anything.
One big hand touched my back, and I nearly jumped out of my skin with nervousness. Ty chuckled, the sound low and soothing, and I relaxed at the sound. His fingertips lightly skimmed the rigid line of my back, tracing it. “You’re very small,” he told me.
I rolled my eyes. How often was he going to bring that up? “I’m not that small.”
“You’re what, five foot?”
“Five foot three,” I told him pertly.
“And a hundred and two pounds. That’s small. You’re not even a flyweight by MMA standards.”
“No?” I was having a hard time concentrating on his words while his fingers brushed along my skin. “What are you?”
“Light heavyweight class,” he told me.
I didn’t know what that was. Sounded big. Big enough, anyhow. There was no question that Ty was bigger than me—and strong. But he didn’t scare me. Every time he touched me—like now—he was incredibly tender and gentle. “Are you trying to frighten me off of hav**g s*x with you by comparing our weights?”
He chuckled again. “Not at all. I’m just constantly amazed at how someone as tiny as you can be so strong.”
That was flattering. I smiled, glancing over my shoulder at him. I kept feeling the urge to cover my br**sts with my hands, but he wasn’t looking at them and I was facing ahead, so it wasn’t weirding me out so much yet. “I’m an athlete, just like you.”
“I know you are. And you’re a determined one, too.” He leaned in and lightly pressed his mouth to my bare shoulder, sending shivers up and down my body. “I’m sorry I couldn’t help you win this thing. I know you wanted it badly.”
“It’s okay,” I told him, and surprisingly it was. I’d gotten it all out of my system at that point.
He pressed a kiss to my shoulder. My skin prickled in awareness, especially when his hands skimmed up and down my bare arms. Was he going to touch my bare front? My small br**sts were aching to be touched, my n**ples hard and pointing, and I was finding it hard not to squirm on his lap with anticipation.
I needed Ty so much. All the weeks of practice? One long round of foreplay. Now the moment was here, and I wanted him to throw me down on the couch and screw my brains out. But he was going slow, seemingly more interested in soothing me than attacking me. And I liked it…but I wanted more.
I’d simply have to show him.
I considered getting up and turning around, but I wasn’t sure if I was that bold yet. So I leaned back and reached out to touch him. My fingers encountered his jaw, rough with oncoming stubble. I tilted my head and tried to kiss him, but it ended up being the side of my mouth grazing his.
That was enough. Ty groaned and kissed me back, the hand locked at my waist tightening.
“Can I touch you, Zara?” he whispered in my ear.
I nodded, more than eager. Please, please touch me. My br**sts were practically quivering their need.
But he didn’t head straight for them. Instead, his hand went to my hair, where it was pinned tight against my head and caught into a rigid bun. I hadn’t taken it down when I’d collapsed into tears. “I want to see this around your shoulders,” he told me. His fingers tugged at the band holding it tight, and then he frowned. “I’m, uh, just not sure how to get it down.”