“I’m not…experienced,” I say, putting a palm on his chest. “Oh my God, that’s hard.” I press my fingertips into his firm pecs. “Is it always this hard, or are you flexing?”
Victor grins. “I’m not flexing.”
“Well, wow. Well done.” I clear my throat. “Anyway, I don’t date or kiss or…anything. If my date with Ryan was what made you interested in me like this—”
“No. I guess that brought things into focus for me, but you made me interested in you like this, Lindy. Nothing else.”
“Me?”
He shakes his head, a smile playing on his lips. “Yeah, you. You’re sweet, humble, funny, pretty and when I’m with you, I’m really fucking happy. I can just be myself.”
“Wow…I don’t know what to say.”
Victor’s expression turns serious. “Say you’re not going out with Lyin’ Ryan again.”
I laugh at the nickname he apparently assigned Ryan. “What makes you think he’s a liar?”
“I don’t like him, okay? I’ll treat you better than he would. I’ll treat you better than any other guy would.”
My insides are officially mush.
“Well, Ryan did say the chili dogs at his uncle’s restaurant are the best in Chicago, and they weren’t, so…that’s kind of a lie,” I concede.
“Worst kind of lie you can tell in this city.” Victor gives me a disapproving look. “Just tell me you aren’t going out with him again.”
“I just met up with him and told him it’s not going to work out and that I wish him the best.”
Victor tightens his hold on me and lowers his mouth to mine for another kiss. This one is softer, sweeter. It has the same affect on my pulse, though, sending it into overdrive. When he pulls away, I immediately miss his warmth and the brush of his stubble over my lips.
“I guess we should sit down and talk,” he says with a sigh. “Though there are lots of other things I’d rather do.”
Oh God. He wants to bang. Screw. Fuck. Get it on ‘til the break of dawn. Whatever you want to call it, I’ve never done it.
“I’m a virgin,” I blurt.
He smiles as he sits down on the leather sofa. “I figured.” He pats the seat next to him. “And I didn’t mean sex when I said I wanted to do other things. We’re not there yet.”
“Oh.” I relax slightly. “I’m not good at other things, either, though. Just so you know.”
“It doesn’t matter.” He pats the couch again. “Come sit with me.”
I do, still floored by what’s happened since I got here five minutes ago. I had a poster of Victor hanging on my bedroom wall until I finally accepted that I’m too old for that and took it down four years ago, when he was traded to the Blaze.
Okay, it was three years ago.
And now, the guy from the poster is sitting next to me, or I’m sitting next to him. He’s wearing athletic shorts and a Blaze t-shirt, his muscular, hairy legs practically begging me to touch them. That smile from the poster where Victor was posing on the ice, stick in hand? It’s aimed at me right now. Only me.
“There’s a lot you don’t know about me,” he says, his expression sober. “And I’m not planning to spill my guts to you for the next hour, but before we go any further, there’s something you need to know.”
“Okay.”
He sighs heavily. “I don’t have any family to speak of. My dad split before I was old enough to remember him. My mom’s still around, but…”
I reach over and take his hand in mine. There’s something so raw and vulnerable about his voice right now that I just want to comfort him.
“She’s not someone I’ll ever want you to meet, I’ll just say that,” he continues. “She left me to fend for myself when I was a kid. I walked everywhere and bummed a lot of my meals off teammates’ parents. When I got leukemia, I had to take the bus to chemo by myself, trashcan in hand in case I had to puke. I can remember the exhaustion on the walk home from the bus—I’d have to stop and sit down so many times just to make it home.”
My heart breaks for the little boy he was. I’ve read that he survived pediatric cancer, and I admired him for that, but I didn’t get it until right now. He survived it alone. A little boy.
“It wasn’t because she was working to take care of me.” He shakes his head, his tone bitter. “She had the occasional job, but mostly she didn’t work. She just whored herself out to men for drugs and booze.”
“God, Victor. I’m so sorry.”
He looks away. “I’m not telling you because I want pity. I’ve never told anyone any of this. Honestly, I thought I’d moved past all of it. But recently I’ve realized…I haven’t. I’ve never had a relationship with a woman who was nice. I’ve always gone after women who felt beyond my reach. Famous ones, usually. I guess I wanted to prove to myself somehow that I was worthy.”