The Christmas You Crash (Going Rogue #2)

Chapter 24

twenty-four

RYDER

“You better run,” I growl at Lexi. She shrieks as she sprints away from me, but when she slips on flour, her shrieking turns to giggles. I lunge for her, confident in my ability to stay on my feet. Flour-covered hardwood floors can’t be any more slippery than ice, right?

Wrong. Flour-covered floors are definitely slipperier. I go down like a sack of rocks. Somehow, I roll myself to avoid hitting my injured hand, but it means my butt takes the brunt of my weight. “Dammit. My ass.”

Lexi’s giggles morph into raucous laughter. If bruising my ass is all it takes to get her out of her dad-induced funk, I’ll fall a million times over. We’re right back to where we were before he called, and I love seeing her like this. She’s so fun and silly and free. Lexi Cross is genuinely herself, and it’s refreshing after the months of playing pro hockey and being surrounded by women chasing the clout and money that comes with dating a pro athlete. I can’t stand that shit, which is probably why I haven’t seriously dated anyone since college.

But Lexi isn’t like them. She isn’t impressed that I’m a hockey player. Hell, to her, that’s a strike against me. Little does she know that makes her even more perfect. I’m hooked on this woman. Totally smitten.

“Want me to kiss your boo-boo and make it better?” Lexi teases as she struggles to her feet. She makes a ridiculous face and talks to me like I’m an infant.

I grab for her leg, but she dodges me. “Do I want you to kiss my ass? Hell, yeah, I do. You can kiss other things while you’re down there too.” Waggling my eyebrows at her, I get to my feet and we face off. Lexi glances at my crotch, and when I chuckle, her cheeks heat.

“You’re awfully confident for a guy with a flour-covered dick.” Her eyes dance, and I shimmy my ass to dislodge as much of the flour as I can. It tickles my thighs as it falls. What a weird feeling. I’m not a fan.

“You are so dead, Oscar.” My muscles bunch as I prepare to pounce. “So dead.”

This time, I don’t miss her. Lexi squeals when my arms wrap around her waist, and I lift her in the air, spinning us in a circle. “Oh my god, Ryder, be careful!”

But I won’t slip again. I’m too determined to pay her back. When she sees me headed for the flour, she flails and wiggles in my arms. She shouts empty threats at me, which I just laugh off. So, when I press her back against the counter and grab a handful of flour in my good hand, she changes tactics. Her dancing eyes melt into bedroom eyes, and she pushes her breasts out. Her nipples are hard in her bra, and I bite back a groan when she rubs them against my bare chest.

“Ryder, you don’t want to do this. Why are we having a flour fight, when we could be fucking? Why don’t we finish making these cookies and then we can hop in the shower?” She bites her lower lip like a sex kitten and drops her eyes to where my now-hard dick strains against my sweats. “I’ll take special care cleaning your cock.” Her pink tongue snakes out and wets her lips.

Oh, she’s good. She’s very good.

Unfortunately for Lexi Cross, I have no doubt she’ll get naked with me, even if I fill her bra with flour. So, I do.

“Oh, my god!” she screams when the powder fills the lacy red cups. I don’t even bother trying to hide my laughter when she gapes up at me with wide eyes. She looks like I just kicked her puppy or something. Grinning, I pull her chest flush with mine and rub against her. Gotta make sure the flour is good and in there.

Lowering my lips to the shell of her ear, I whisper, “Don’t start something unless you want to finish it, baby girl.” Lexi shivers, and my lips curve into a grin. “Now, let’s make these cookies, and we can shower while they cool.”

"My boobs itch," Lexi whines for the twentieth time. She pulls her bra away from her chest and shimmies to dislodge some of the flour. Unfortunately for her, the lace is doing a great job of making sure a decent amount stays embedded in the cups.

"Yeah, well, my balls are covered, and these pants are warm enough that I'm sweating a bit. You do the math."

That has her chuckling as she pulls the final pan of cookies out of the oven. The whole cabin smells sweet and inviting. It smells like Christmas. After we called a truce, mixed the dough, and baked several dozen sugar cookies in various shapes, we worked together to sweep and mop the floors. We had to change the water four times before it stopped looking like glue. Never again. I will never have a flour fight again.

Okay, I would. With Lexi. If it meant making her laugh like that again. But I'd still bitch and moan about the cleanup once we were done.

"These are so good," I say as I take another cookie off the cooling rack and shove it into my mouth. I've had at least three or four. But Lexi doesn't scold me. She just smiles to herself when I hum my appreciation for her baking skills. Because, let's be real, what I've done can hardly be considered helping. There's probably flour stuck to the ceiling, thanks to me.

"If you eat them all, we won't have any left to decorate." Not that it stops her from grabbing her own to nibble.

Surveying the cookies that cover every square inch of counter and island space, I arch an eyebrow. "Pretty sure we'll be okay." Lexi moves the last cookie from the pan to the cooling rack and does another uncomfortable shimmy. It's adorable, but there's no reason for her to stay in those clothes, now that we're done baking. She takes my hand when I extend it, palm up. "Come on, OTG. Let's get cleaned up."

Like Hansel and Gretel, we leave a trail behind us. Flour floats off our bodies, marking our path down the hall and into the main bedroom. The shower in the attached bath is massive, with three shower heads and built-in stone benches, so it only makes sense to clean off in there. We don’t speak as I close the door behind us and turn on the water, so it has a chance to heat up before we step in. Then I turn back to Lexi, and we simply stare at each other for a moment as our breathing turns heavy and expectant. My dick grows heavy and expectant, too, which Lexi notices.

The little temptress licks her lips before breaking the spell, crossing the space between us in two steps. She brushes flour off my cheeks with her thumbs before going up on her toes and pressing her lips against mine. It's quick, but heady. Before I can pull her into my arms, she breaks the kiss. Still staring into my eyes, she slips her slim fingers into the waistband of my gray sweats, and then she's dragging them down my hips, over my rock-hard dick and my ass, before letting them puddle at my feet. Those fingers skim along my naked flesh, leaving goose bumps in their wake and making me impossibly harder.

"God, you're beautiful," she murmurs, more to herself than to me.

My voice is rough. "Beautiful?"

"Yeah." She runs her fingers up my abs, tracing the definition of my muscles. "I know it's not the most manly way to describe a guy, but it's the most accurate. Your body is art."

I'm completely speechless. Plenty of women have admired my body. I put a lot of work into it, after all. I’m aware it looks good. But I've never, in all my years as an athlete, had a gorgeous woman admire me as though I was a priceless painting or a perfectly carved statue.

I like it.

With heat rising inside of me, I slowly drag Lexi's sweater up her stomach, over her breasts, and off her body. Then I move on to her leggings, peeling them off with the same purposeful slowness. I'm rewarded with hooded eyes and a pretty flush spreading over Lexi's chest. Her lashes flutter when I run a finger up and down her bra strap. I want to tease her. To build up the anticipation until she can't take it any longer. Her breath hitches when I tug the strap off her shoulder and repeat the process with the other. By the time I unhook her bra and let it fall to the floor, Lexi's breathing is ragged.

"Stunning," I say. "You're the most stunning woman I've ever seen."

A breath puffs out of her. "Oh, please. I'm sure you've had models and actresses throw themselves at you."

My fingers skim down her sides. She shivers, and it makes me even harder. She's so responsive. She wants me as much as I want her. "I don't care about models or actresses," I tell her honestly.

"You have so many after you that you're desensitized to it now, huh?" She's teasing, but I'd be blind not to see the insecurities shining out of her eyes. Which is ridiculous. Hasn't she looked in the mirror lately? Doesn't she see herself?

Stepping closer, I thread my injured hand through her hair at the base of her skull and pull her toward me. Leaning down so my nose almost touches hers, I wait until she meets my gaze to speak. "No, baby. I don't care about models or actresses, because they're fake. They look at me and see someone who could help their image. Someone whose presence could grow their social media followers and land them more attention."

Not all of those women are bad. Most of them are upfront about what they hope to get out of a potential relationship with me or the other guys on my team. But I've spent the last four years alone, and there's nothing worse than being in a relationship and still being alone. I want something real. Something deep. Something that makes my heart race and my palms sweat.

Something like the way I feel when I'm with Lexi.

"The thing is, Alexis, I haven't been interested in a woman in over a year. I haven't even entertained the idea of dating. Then you come along with your towel and wineglass projectiles and accusations of being a hired killer." I apply the slightest bit of pressure and tug her head back. It brings my lips to within millimeters of each hers. "And you're so damned beautiful and ridiculous and a little crazy, and I'm kinda worried no woman will ever live up to you again."

Her breath fans over my lips. Her voice wavers as she simply says, "Oh."

Grinning, I allow my attention to fall to those lips. "Yeah. Oh. See, the problem is that, now that I know no one else will ever measure up, I'm afraid I'm not so sure about this snow-pass thing."

Lexi's eyelids flutter. "Ryder, I?—"

"I know," I say, silencing her. "You think this can't go anywhere. I get it. Doesn't mean I have to agree." I rub my nose along hers. "Doesn't mean I won't try to change your mind."

She opens her mouth to protest, but I steal her breath with a desperate kiss. I don't want to hear the reasons this can't work. I don't want her excuses. I know what I'm up against, but I've beaten worse odds. And, after losing both of my parents way too young, I've learned that we're never guaranteed tomorrow. So, if something's important to me—if I really want something—I shoot my shot. Because you may only get one.

When I break our kiss, it's to drag her panties down her legs before taking her hand and leading her into the hot spray of the shower. "All I'm asking for is a chance, Lexi. Let me prove I'm not like your ex. Let me show you how much I want you."

And with that, I sit her down on one of the stone benches and drop to my knees.