Page 34 of The Groupie

Rylee

“We’ve already broken enough rules, haven’t we?” I stall because guilt has me by the throat, imploring me to share, telling me it’s only fair after all he’s told me.

But I didn’t ask for it. I didn’t want to know all about him, about his secret fears and past tragedy.

“Your rules. But I have a rule. Never sleep with a girl who keeps too many secrets.”

“That horse is out of the barn.”

“Rylee, damn it.” He’s more than frustrated. He might even be angry, but I still see the hunger in his snapping stare.

“I’m a snowboarder. That’s what I do. I didn’t lie. It’s not a job.”

“It’s not a life of leisure either.” He exhales, and I see relief relax every muscle, including his jaw, and that lazy smile returns.

“There money in snowboarding?” He looks me up and down, paying special attention to my thighs as he runs a hand down my body with new appreciation.

I hold in a shudder, cursing my body’s response to this man. He makes it hard for a girl to stay in control or even want to bother.

“There is if you’re on the U.S. Olympic team.”

His eyes dart back to examine my face. “You’re shitting me? Do not shit me.”

“For real.”

“So the ankle…” He glances back down my body to my injured ankle with the ice pack, and he sits up to take a closer look. “This could be a real problem. The Olympics are six weeks away.”

He turns to me for confirmation of his lightbulb moment, and I smirk at him. “Bingo.”

“You’re lying low so no one will find out about the injury. But why?”

“Duh. I don’t want to get tossed off the team and replaced by the next boarder in line who doesn’t have a bum ankle.” Who isn’t a defiant rule breaker and doesn’t do stupid things because they can’t resist a challenge.

“You’re not telling me something. Again.”

I push him away. “What do you need? My life story?”

“You didn’t hurt your ankle jumping out of a helicopter?” He sounds unsure.

I laugh. “You know something? That was the one thing that was the God’s honest truth.”

“You fucking jumped out of a helicopter weeks before the Olympics? Fuck. Do they know?” He swipes a hand through his hair and looks more worried about my predicament than I feel.

“No, Sherlock. That’s why I’m hiding. I don’t need my coach or anyone on the team or associated with the Olympics to find out I took that risk.”

“Why did you?”

“That’s the most complicated question you’ve asked.” I take a deep breath, my heart beating fast like I need to run or push back. My fight or flight response is hair-trigger with people I don’t know though it’s been quiet with him. Until now. Shit.

“What made you take the risk, Rylee?”

“You should go back to calling me Buttercup and quit the interrogation.” I move to get out of bed.

He grabs my wrist and tugs me back into his naked body, and the singe of his warm skin causes a stutter in my wild heartbeat. Fuck.

“Buttercup, I’m not going to spill any of your secrets. And if you’re a risk taker, I want to know all about it because we just had unprotected sex—”

“Shut the fuck up. I’m not some kind of—”