Brenna looks fascinated. “When you took it off, what?”
“I can’t even discuss it. It’ll trigger my PTSD.”
Melodic laughter spills out of her throat. I can’t deny I like hearing it. No, I like knowing that I’m the one who made her laugh. This beautiful, bitchy girl with the prickliest attitude I’ve ever encountered, who doesn’t miss an opportunity to neg me.
“The first game we played AB—after bracelet,” I clarify. “That’s how I measure time now.”
Amusement dances on her face. “Of course.”
“Well, we lost. No, we lost hard. It was unfathomable how badly we played.” The memory still brings the heat of humiliation to my cheeks. “We might as well have bent over and let the other team spank us with their sticks. It was the ass-kicking of the century.” I pause for effect. “We got shut out. Eight-nothing.”
Brenna’s mouth falls open. “Eight-nothing? I don’t think I’ve ever seen a hockey game where a team scored eight goals. Wow. Don’t ever take that bracelet off, otherwise you’ll—” She stops. “Actually…” She smiles sweetly. “Can I borrow it?”
I smirk. “You wish. It’s gonna be on my wrist when we’re winning the finals. Speaking of which…” I pull out my phone. I’ve been monitoring the Briar-Yale game all night, but I haven’t checked the score in nearly thirty minutes. “Well, look at that, Hottie. Guess who’s in overtime.”
Her good humor fades. “What’s the score?” she demands.
“Two all.” I blink innocently. “If I recall correctly, Briar was up a goal until the last two minutes in the third. Looks like your boys choked under pressure and let Yale tie it up.”
“I’m not worried. Briar’s got this.” She shrugs carelessly. “With that said, I’m heading home now. Have a good night, Connelly.”
A peculiar pang of disappointment tugs at my gut. I want her to stay. That’s so fucked up.
I shift my gaze to the stage, where Danny’s still engaged in conversation. “I’ll walk you out,” I offer.
“Completely unnecessary. I don’t need an escort.” She pats my arm. “Good night, Jakey.”
Despite her dismissal, I follow her.
“I told you, I don’t need an escort.”
“Yeah, you did tell me that.”
She stops at the bar and hands the waiter a twenty-dollar bill. “That should cover his beer, too.” She glances over her shoulder. “Say thank you to your sugar mama, Jakey.”
“Thank you.” I flash an overly lascivious grin. “Daddy loves it when you take care of him.”
Brenna sighs. “I hate you.”
I trail after her toward the narrow stairwell. “Nah, you don’t hate me,” I argue.
The club is on the lower level of the building, so we have to climb one flight to get upstairs. Brenna goes ahead of me, which places her ass about two inches from my face. I nearly choke on my own tongue. Christ. I can practically see up her dress.
When we reach the landing, I stop her by resting my hand on her shoulder. “You like me,” I inform her.
She slowly appraises me. “On the contrary. I think you like me.”
I shrug. “You’re all right.”
A smile lifts the corners of her mouth. “Nuh-uh, you think I’m more than all right. You’ve got a case of the Jensens.”
“Come on now. That’s just crazy talk.”
“So you’re saying if I asked you to go home with me right now, you’d say no?” She licks her lips, those sexy red lips, and moves closer.
I lick my lips, too. “I’d say no.”
Still smiling, she comes even closer. Backing me to the wall, inch by inch, until her warm, slender body is pressed up against mine and the top of her head is tickling my chin.
“I think you’d say yes,” she whispers. She glides her hands up my chest and plants them over my collarbone.
I quirk an eyebrow. “Do you really believe I’m going to fall for this trick? I saw you pull this on Chilton last night, remember? And I’m not as dumb as he is.”
“You’re a man. All men are dumb.” Brenna peers up at me, and damned if she isn’t the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. She’s bold and fierce, and those qualities combined with her beauty make her a force to be reckoned with.
And yet…I don’t miss the way her pulse throbs in the center of her throat. Or how she’s breathing a bit faster. She’s not unshakeable, this girl. I have the power to shake her up.
“You talk a big game, babe. But if I called your bluff, I think you’d be running out the door.”
“Who’s bluffing?”
“You are. I think all you do is bluff.” I rest my hand on her hip. My grip is loose, careless almost, but it’s a very deliberate touch and it gets the desired response.
Heat flares in her eyes.
“If I take my hand and slide it under your dress, what would I find?” I rasp.
The question is meant to shake her, but it fucks me right up, too. I’m rock-hard now. I love games like this, the dirty ones where you tease and toy and dare each other until something gives. Until someone breaks.