The Christmas You Crash (Going Rogue #2)

Chapter 30

thirty

LEXI

I’ve changed my dress three times.

Why am I so nervous? Maybe it’s because it’s my first time seeing Ryder since we left the cabin. Though we’ve only spent one night apart, after being snowed in with him for a week, that night felt long and lonely. It was startling to realize how much I’ve grown used to his presence beside me in bed. How quickly his body heat helped me fall asleep. Alone for the first time in days, I’d tossed and turned last night until my mind finally shut down around two in the morning.

I’ve been a tangle of knots since waking. I can’t wait to see him. To kiss his handsome face and lose myself in one of his all-encompassing hugs. When I really stop to think about how much I’m looking forward to being with him, it’s kind of terrifying. The way I crave Ryder Hanson tells me I’ll be in big trouble if he decides he doesn’t want this. I try to rein myself in and temper my hopes and expectations for the night, but it’s like my body has been taken over by my former teenage self. The girl who was endlessly hopeful. The girl who hadn’t been used and tossed aside yet.

“You’re so screwed if he turns out to be a secret asshole,” I tell my reflection. But she’s all bright-eyed and oblivious.

As I swipe on another coat of mascara, my body recalls how it felt to be in Ryder’s arms. Tingles wash over me. My belly does an anticipatory flip. As nervous as I am to spend the evening surrounded by men who play for my dad, I’m also excited. I’ve been so focused on my MBA, I haven’t made much of an effort to meet people since I moved back home after finishing my undergrad in Chicago. And while I don’t expect to find my new bestie at this dinner—not that anyone could replace Rachel—there’s a part of me that swells with the hope that I’ll be able to carve out a little place for myself in Ryder’s life and with his friends.

I want them to like me. I want to fit in. Not because I’m Coach Cross’s daughter and they feel obligated to make nice. And not even because I’m Ryder’s...not girlfriend. Not yet. Ryder’s date? The person Ryder is dating? I want them to like me .

It’s because of that desire that I’ve changed so many times. I don’t want to dress too formally, but I don’t want to be too casual, either. I want to look sexy for Ryder, but I don’t want to show so much skin that I end up feeling uncomfortable. And this is the first time Ryder’s going to see me in something nicer than leggings and oversized sweaters. I want him to think I’m beautiful.

Running my hands down the sides of my dusky-rose-colored dress, I finally settle. The material is slinky and hugs my curves. It’s long-sleeved, so I won’t be cold, but it dips down into a deep scoop neckline, showing off just the right amount of cleavage. The bodice is fitted, then it flares out below the waist, the length hitting mid-thigh. Embroidered flowers climb up one side of the dress from the hem of the skirt up to my rib cage, where they end just beneath my breast. A few of the embroidered leaves tickle the underside of one boob.

My hair is mostly down and curled, except for sections at my temples that I’ve braided and pinned at the back. A few artfully placed pieces of hair escape the confines of the braids and frame my face. I’ve kept my makeup light. Dewy foundation, a sweep of rosy blush, some winged liner, dark eyelashes, and glossy lip stain complete the romantic look.

My phone buzzes with an incoming text. I grin when I see who it’s from.

Ryder

Be there in ten. Is it too much to say that I’ve missed you? I know I just saw you yesterday morning.

Warmth fills my chest. Some women may like broody, aloof men, but me? I crave Ryder’s sweetness and honesty. I love that I know where I stand with him. That he doesn’t play games and doesn’t want to. It’s heady to have a gorgeous man tell you he misses you after less than thirty-six hours apart.

Me

Not too much at all. I’ve missed you too.

Once I’m pleased with my makeup and my outfit, I quickly throw some clothes and supplies into an overnight bag and set it by the apartment door. Ryder and I haven’t discussed spending the night together after the party, but I’d rather be over prepared than under. I’m pacing the living room floor when another text comes, telling me he’s here. I buzz him in, and my heart speeds up a minute later when there’s a knock on my door.

“Hi,” I say breathlessly when I throw the door open and find Ryder standing there in a perfectly fitted hunter-green suit. His icy eyes melt as they take me in from head to toe. Heat flares in his gaze, and his perfect lips quirk into a pleased grin. My heart does a happy flip when he holds out a bouquet.

“Hey, gorgeous. These are for you.”

Sparks fly when our fingers brush as I take the flowers from his hand. The zing of electricity from the contact spreads down to my toes. With a quick sniff of the beautiful buds, I step aside and wave him in. “Thank you. Come in. I’ll put these in some water and grab my coat.”

The apartment I share with Sarah is a decent size. It has plenty of room for the two of us, especially since neither of us does much, if any, entertaining here. But the minute Ryder Hanson steps inside—all six-foot-whatever of him—the apartment feels decidedly smaller. He takes up so much space as he walks slowly through my home, his head swinging from one side of his broad shoulders to the other while he takes it all in. Not that there’s much to see.

This place is temporary for both Sarah and me, and it shows. The living room houses a mismatched sofa and loveseat that were given to us secondhand, and our mid-sized television is the only decoration on the wall facing the couches. There’s an Ikea coffee and side table and a couple of ugly lamps Sarah bought at a resale shop. A battered circular dining table fills the space just off the small kitchen, and a narrow hallway sits to the right of it, which leads to our bedrooms and a shared bathroom. The walls are all that bland off-white that comes standard in apartments, and the carpets are a dull beige.

“This is...” Ryder glances back at me. “This is nice.”

I laugh as I brush past him and into the kitchen, where I pull a vase from the cabinet. “My roommate and I don’t spend much time here,” I tell him. “So neither of us has ever really felt the need to do much decorating. It’s not much to look at, I know.”

Ryder’s heat is at my back as I fill the vase. It’s so familiar. The firm expanse of muscle pressing against my backside. The warm spread of his fingers across my hips before they skim over my belly. We’ve known each other for such a short time, and already, this feels familiar. Comforting. A sigh spills from my lips.

“My room is a little more me ,” I tell him as I place the flower stems in the water.

“I’m not sure what I expected,” Ryder admits. His fingers play along my lower belly. “I guess you have such a big personality, I was expecting your apartment to match.”

Spinning so we’re face to face, I lift my fingers to his face and skim the strong line of his jaw, enjoying the scrape of his stubble against my skin. “My roommate and I don’t have much in common. We go to the same school, but that’s about it. We don’t really spend time together, so I guess it’s just easier to keep everything the way it was when we moved in.”

Ryder nods. His gaze drops from my eyes to my lips. “I get that. Aaron did some decorating of our apartment, but I didn’t even bother doing anything to my room until I’d been with the Rogues for a month. It felt like settling in would jinx things, somehow.” His expression shifts from a thoughtful frown to a mischievous smirk. “Speaking of my roommate, he’ll be gone all night. Spend the night with me? I’ll take you out for breakfast tomorrow and bring you home whenever you want.”

Going up on my toes and wrapping my arms around the back of Ryder’s neck, I drag his face down so I can kiss the hell out of him. He tastes like mint, and when I sigh against him, his hands go to my hips. A low groan vibrates through his throat as he pulls my hips into his. He’s rock hard against my lower belly, and I’m tempted to say screw it to the party and drag him into my room. But Ryder Hanson has more self-control than I do, apparently, because a minute later, he separates us with another groan. This time, it’s full of regret rather than sex.

“God, Lex. I want nothing more than to bury myself in your tight little pussy right here and now, but I told Maddox and Isla we’d be there.” He rests his forehead against mine. Those beautiful, icy-blue eyes of his spear straight through me. “Go pack an overnight bag, baby. We can pick this up later.”

“I already did,” I admit. My lips twitch when his eyes widen. “It’s waiting by the door.”

Ryder twists around to look, and his face splits into the most stunning smile when he sees the bag. “That’s my girl. You ready to go, then?”

Am I ready? Ready to spend the night with the guy I’m ridiculously infatuated with? Heck, yes. Ready to be surrounded by hockey players who call my dad Coach ? Not as much.

As always, Ryder doesn’t miss a thing. He tilts my chin up with the side of his index finger and presses a kiss to my forehead. “Don’t worry, OTG. It’s going to be fun, I promise. And if you really end up hating it, we can leave.”

My lip gloss is the only reason I resist rolling my bottom lip between my teeth. I stare at Ryder for a moment, noting the sincerity in his blue eyes and the soft smile that plays at his lips. He’s not lying. He’ll leave if I ask him to. And I know he’d never make me feel bad about it, either. Realizing that eases some of my worry.

“Let’s go, hot stuff.”

“Hot stuff?” One dark eyebrow lifts.

I make sure he sees my eyes rake down his body before meeting his amused gaze. And then I lick my lips. Sexily. Not weirdly. At least, I hope. “Hot stuff. Because damn, Ryder. You look really good in that suit.”

His pleased laughter follows me out the door.