A flash of color from across the room catches my eye and pulls me away from our conversation. I crane my neck, trying to find the source of it, and when I do, my heart skips a fucking beat.
Goddamn this woman and her inability to get out of my fucking head.
Hannah walks into the ballroom with Grant by her side. Her hair is down tonight and hangs halfway down her back. Her light blue dress matches her eyes, the thin straps showing off her shoulders and too much bare skin. There’s a slip up the side, but the most devastating part is the way the material dips low to her chest. How it hugs the curves of her breasts, showing off the cleavage that makes my brain go foggy.
People turn her way. At least three guys start walking toward her. My fingers curl around the edge of the bar to restrain myself from walking over there, giving her my jacket, and not letting anyone else look at her.
She breaks away from her brother who’s greeting Maverick and Hudson, scanning the room. Her gaze bounces from person to person, and when her attention lands on me, she lights up brighter than the twenty-foot Christmas tree in the lobby.
Her smile stretches into something big, something beautiful, and the twinkle in her eye when she lifts her hand in a wave tells me she knows exactly how good she looks tonight.
“Fuck,” I whisper, scrambling when she starts to make her way over to me. “Do I have anything on my face? Is my tie straight?”
“What?” Parker blinks. Stares at me and frowns. “You look great, B. Are you nervous for your speech or something?”
“Or something. I’m going to do a lap,” I say, stepping away from him and finding a cocktail table off to the side.
The champagne is flowing. A string quartet starts up a holiday tune, and I’m fighting for my fucking life. Hannah weaves her way across the room, a drink in her hand by the time she makes it over to me.
“Well.” She looks me up and down, an appreciative hum working its way up her throat. “A bowtieandcufflinks? You sure do clean up well, Brody.”
“Hey.” I reach for her like I’m going to hug her but stop when I’m halfway there. I throw out my hand instead, offering her a handshake. “Good to see you, Hannah.”
“Wow. Going with the formalities tonight?” Hannah laughs and takes my hand with hers, squeezing my palm. She’s soft and warm, and a bracelet slides down her wrist with the movement. “Good to see you too, Mr. Saunders.”
“I didn’t know you’d be here tonight. These things are pretty boring.”
“Boring? I see free food and alcohol. And I know there’s a chance to bid on some of the players later.” She sets her drink down, an elbow propped on the table. “Is the coach up for auction too?"
“Hannah.” I pull on my collar, lowering my voice in warning. “You can’t say that to me. Not here.”
“Oh.” Her face falls. She shuffles back, lifting her dress so she doesn’t trip on the hem with her silver shoes that make her impossibly tall. “You’re right. That was totally inappropriate. I’m sorry. I’m going to find some of the girls and a grab bite to eat. It’s good to see you, Brody.”
Hannah turns, gliding past a group of kids who stop me for an autograph. I do my best to plaster on a smile and sign all the rookie trading cards they brought, excusing myself after I get to the end of their stack. A reporter tries to snag me for an interview, and I politely ask to circle back in half an hour to answer any questions they have.
“Hey.” I finally reach Hannah and spot a door off to the side of the room. I put my hand on her elbow, gently guiding her into a hallway that’s quiet and deserted. “I’m sorry for how that came out.”
“No, I get it. I shouldn’t be saying things like that to you when we’re around people who could hear.” Hannah leans against the wall behind her, arms crossed over her chest. “I don’t want to make you uncomfortable, and I’m sorry.”
“You know you could never make me uncomfortable.” I step toward her, resting a palm flat on the wall near her head. Her inhale is subtle, but I hear the hitch in her breathing. “You didn’t then. You don’t now. When you say stuff like that to me, all flirty and cute and fun, you make me want to be reckless. You make me start wanting things I know I can’t have.”
“What kind of things?” she asks, tipping her chin up. Our eyes meet and hold. “What other secrets do you have, Brody?”
“I want you.” I bend, whispering in her ear. “I want you so fucking bad, it’s getting so hard to stay away.”
“I thought you didn’t play games.” Hannah’s mouth twists into a frown. Disappointment in her eyes. Hopes dashed. “Why are you saying that after you already rejected me?”
“Rejected you?” I move even closer, until the tips of my shoes touch hers. Until I can smell the wine she was just sipping on her breath. Until I can see the collection of freckles on her right shoulder. “I spent every day since that June night going out of my goddamn mind with missing you. With wondering what you were up to or how much you hated me for not coming back to apologize. I couldn’t, Hannah, because I knew the second I did, you’d suck me in. I’d be a lost cause. And being on the ice with you? Seeing you at dinner and bars and when you’re in a fancy dress that should be criminal it looks so stunning on you? I get weaker every day. So close to giving in. So sick of trying to fight it.” My mouth drops to her neck. I press a kiss to her throat, indulging in irresponsibility. Just for a second. “I fall asleep dreaming about you, and I wake up mad as hell that I let you get away.”
“You don’t mean that.” She loops an arm around my neck. Grabs a fistful of my shirt with her other hand. “It was one night. Just sex. That’s what we said.”
I sneak out from her hold. I keep my eyes on her while I take off my jacket and drape it over my forearm. Rolling up my right sleeve, I point to the tattoo I got last year on a night when I was drunk and stupid and missing the hell out of her. When I thought I’d never see her again.
It’s been easy to pretend it’s something for Olivia. A design I had made to celebrate her accomplishments, but I know who it’s really for. Blonde hair. Long legs. A laugh I can’t stop hearing.
“What do you think this is?” I ask.
Hannah holds my arm. “A tattoo?”
