Learning Curves Read Free

against yours.”
    What the… Okay, she was pretty damn certain this exchange was sexual. But it didn’t make sense. She wasn’t even his type, and in all the times they crossed paths, he’d barely spoken to her.
    “What is that supposed to mean?” she asked, needing clarification.
    “If my team scores before overtime, I win, and you’re mine for the weekend.”
    His for the weekend?
    Her mind raced with hot, sexy images, like him holding her against the wall while he did depraved, corrupt things to her body. She swallowed. How tempting.
    “And if I win?” she asked, sounding far more winded than she would have liked.
    “Then I’m yours for the weekend. You can use me any way you want.”
    “I do have a toilet that needs to be cleaned.”
    He leaned into her and flashed her a feral, merciless smile as his gaze settled on her mouth. “Sure, but I’d rather fuck,” he said, his voice a devious hush orchestrated to fluster her.
    Mission accomplished. His dirty words, ones that should have offended, spurred a need deep between her legs, and it was all she could do not to hand herself over to him, to let him own every inch of her for the weekend.
    He wanted to fuck her? Seriously? She had to be hallucinating. This couldn’t be happening. Could it?
    He looked her dead in the eyes. “Deal?”
    She bit her lip before she hissed yes, please .
    The clock was ticking down, and the only way she could lose was if the Rays suddenly scored, and no way in hell was that going to happen this late in the game.
    Damn shame.
    She nodded. “Fine. You’re on.”
    They turned to watch the game, and she held her breath as the Rays made a play. Gaze riveted, she watched the action below, but it was hard to concentrate. With the puck in play, her lashes briefly fluttered shut, an attempt to wipe away the erotic visions still dancing in her mind’s eye. I’d rather fuck. When her eyes opened, the Rays’ defense sent the puck down the ice. Cheers erupted in the stadium as it crossed center ice. The Rays’ right wing snagged it and took a shot. It dented the top of the net, and bounced out. The goalie dived, but failed to stop the shot by the winger. He shoots. He scores. Pulling off a last minute win for the Rays—and for Linc.
    “Oh my God,” she said, her words tumbling out on a whisper. “I can’t believe it.”
    “How does seven sound?”
    She turned to find him with an unapologetic and deadly grin on his face. She wasn’t sure whether she wanted to smack, or kiss, it off.
    “What?” she asked.
    “Does seven work for you?”
    “Seven?” she asked, her brain working hard to catch up.
    “Do you like sushi?”
    “Yeah.”
    “Good. Pack a bag. I’ll pick you up at seven, and we’ll start with sushi.”
    Start? Wait. A bag?
    “I’ll get your address from Kelli.”
    “You’ll get what from me?” Kelli asked as she came back with two hot dogs—one half-eaten. When neither spoke, her gaze bobbed between the two. “Wait, what did I miss?”
    Heart racing, Lauren shook her head then slapped away a few tendrils of hair that slipped from her bun.
    “Nothing,” she said quickly. “We just…I…”
    Linc gestured toward the ice. “We had a friendly bet on the outcome of the game.”
    “Really?” Kelli dabbed mustard from her bottom lip and handed Linc his footlong . “It’s not like you to gamble.” She eyed Lauren. “So, I take it you lost.”
    Oozing confidence, Linc leaned in, and her gaze flashed to his. “I wouldn’t exactly say that.” His voice was powerful and rough, a clue to the kind of sex he liked.
    God, it’s crazy how he makes me feel so…needy.
    A small, blissful noise escaped Lauren’s throat as she worked to speak, but since she couldn’t seem to form a coherent sentence, she shut her mouth.
    “I don’t understand. Who won?” When they remained silent, Kelli bit into her hot dog, her brow furrowed. She chewed, swallowed, then asked, “What the hell is going on between you