I want to bring her even closer to me, drag her onto my lap in the middle of dinner. Fortunately for her, our food arrives.
I make sure Raelynn gets plenty to eat.
She shoots me a timid smile when I ask her if she wants seconds and then shakes her head.
“I’m really full, actually.”
“You can take it home then.”
It hits me all of a sudden how much I wish I could take care of her. How easy it would be for me to swoop into her life and solve so many of her problems. I tried to do it the other night. I asked her to let me help, and it didn’t end well. I doubt she would have even let me buy her dinner except for the fact that we’re technically sharing.
“Sure you don’t want the leftovers?” she asks me.
It annoys me that she’s not more concerned with herself. She shouldn’t be so willing to give her food away.
“No. I’ll have them package it up for you along with more of that bread.”
Her cheeks flush.
“I just loved the dipping sauce,” she says, as if she needs to explain why she went back for so many slices.
I excuse myself to use the bathroom and intercept our waiter on the way so I can ask him to package up two new meals for her to take home since there wasn’t much leftovers. It kills me that this is the extent of my power. Short of breaking laws or outright slipping cash into her purse, there’s not much I can do to offer Raelynn a helping hand without her cooperation. I had my assistant look into nursing homes in the area. There are a few, but it wasn’t hard to pin down where Raelynn’s grandmother stays. My assistant gave me the number two days ago, and I called and asked to be connected to billing. I acted like I was just an inquiring relative, wondering about facility costs. They said there are bills overdue on Raelynn’s grandmother’s account.
I haven’t decided what I’ll do about that now that I know.
I can’t imagine how angry Raelynn would be if she knew I was snooping around, especially after the other night.
I return from the bathroom to find Anthony in my seat, chatting with Raelynn. She’s smiling from ear to ear, happy and at ease with him in a way she’s never fully been around me. I wish I could fix that, but it’s not something I can turn off—the tension between us. The heat. It’s there and we’ve tried to ignore it, but tonight I couldn’t help myself. I wanted her near me, touching me. She kept her hands to herself save for the few moments she had one on my chair. I wanted her to take it a step further, to skate her hand up my thigh and squeeze, lay claim in a way I’d have to act on. She didn’t though. She’s kept herself in check, and I’m envious she still can. I’m long past the point of pretending.
I walk over to reclaim my seat, and Raelynn’s gaze finds mine. Her smile stays in place, but her eyes turn thoughtful, assessing, wary with every step I take toward her. She’s on high alert as I round the back of her chair. It’s not as if I can take my seat; Anthony’s still there. He’s talking to her, telling her the story of when a fan threw a bra at him mid-game as I stand behind her with my hands on the back of her chair. She leans back and her shoulder blades brush my knuckles. I stay frozen for just long enough to let her settle, and then I curve my hand up around the base of her neck so my thumb runs along her upper spine and my palm rests against her pulse. It’s nothing. Barely enough to warrant a second glance from anyone at the table. The only reason it draws any curiosity at all is the fact that none of my teammates have seen me with a woman since Shelby. I’m sure they’re wondering what I’m doing with Raelynn, how far I’ll take this considering the shitstorm I’ve been dealing with for the last few months.
I don’t care about any of that.
I’m focused on Raelynn’s reaction, waiting for her to ease away from me and withdraw.
She earns her nickname, Little Bird. She feels so fragile in my hand, tiny.
She stays perfectly still as I touch her, her attention still on Anthony as he laughs. She laughs along with him, though I think she’s just following his lead. I doubt she’s following along with his story very well, not with me touching her.
“Want your seat back?” Anthony asks, pulling my attention away from her hair. I was watching the lights dance across the blonde strands.
“Raelynn can share with me.”
I can’t help myself. She’s given me an inch, and I want a mile.
I’m expecting her to laugh it off and tell me to find my own seat, but she just shrugs and stands. “It’s fine. You can just have it.”
I chuckle and steal the seat. She makes a move to sidle past me, but I loop my arm around her waist before she can and keep her there, right beside me. I won’t force her to sit down, but I want to test her, goad her into stepping out of her comfort zone. If she wants to.
She turns stiff as a board for a second, warring with herself. She looks back at me, and we’re nearly eye to eye even with me sitting down. I raise a brow in a subtle challenge and she eases up, leaning her weight back into me as I shift her down onto my thigh. She’s not fully on my lap, tilted toward Anthony with her feet on the ground. It looks casual, but it’s definitely not.
Inside, my body is raging like I’m a preteen with a girl on my lap for the first time. My heart hammers in my chest.
“Have you seen the design for our jerseys for the Games?” Anthony asks.
“No.”
“They’re retro-inspired. Pretty cool. Let me get my phone, I’ll show you.”
He stands to go retrieve his phone and Raelynn wiggles on my thigh, trying to get more comfortable, and I swear to god all the blood leaves my head.
This probably wasn’t a good idea.
“Will you stop moving around?”
“I feel like I’m going to fall off your lap,” she protests.
I tug her back even farther so her butt nestles in the groove between my thighs.
There’s no way she doesn’t feel the fact that I’m turned on right now. From this.
Jesus. I’d wipe a hand down my face if it wasn’t so obvious.
“Don’t you think this is a little inappropriate?” she says, angling her face toward me.
“No one is paying attention to us.”
“Everyone is paying attention to us.”
“Don’t worry about them.”
“Well it’s either worry about them or worry about…”
She adjusts her position on my legs again, and I’m fucking dying here.
“Are you purposely trying to kill me?” I ask, tightening my arm around her waist, trying to get her to hold still.
“That is not my fault.”
“It feels like you’re giving me a lap dance.”
She laughs. “Maybe you haven’t had a lap dance in a while, because this is definitely not one. I’m barely moving.”
I narrow my eyes, and she laughs harder.
“You’re the one who put me here. I was going to walk over and talk to Leanna.”
“Just stop moving.”
“Or what?”
“Little Bird, you don’t want to go down this road.”
She turns and leans into me, pressing her hands to my chest as her weight leans farther onto my hard length. “Don’t I? I’m here, aren’t I? On your lap…drinking your wine…sharing your food…”