“Yeah?” His voice is just as quiet.
He must be single.
Surely.
There’s no other woman, and he certainly hasn’t been here long enough to date.
If he evendoesdate.
Who knows.
Somehow, that feels more foreign than seeing him dominating the ice.
This human brick, walking into a classy bar to meet a girl from an app with butterflies in her eyes.
He’s too intense for something so mundane.
And there are so many mysteries, so many questions burning the tip of my tongue like a match.
But he hasn’t let me go since I stumbled.
There’s this fierce hunger on his face that sends lava to my fingers and toes.
No one looks at me like this.
Not in a long time.
Maybe never.
There’s a promise in his eyes that says total ruin.
He shifts his weight, fingers flexing. I get this awful feeling he’ll pull away then and make some flimsy excuse to stop touching me.
“Y’know, I might’ve twisted my ankle after all. Feels a little sore,” I tell him.
“Your foot went pretty deep,” he agrees.
“Yeah. I don’t think you should let go just yet.”
His lips curl up. I swear he’s suppressing a growl.
The hand in my hair drifts down to my neck, over soft skin, and his thumb traces my pulse.
We’re a human rubber band stretched to its limit, and it’s too much to bear.
Screw it!
I kiss him.
Hard.
For this crazy heart-splitting second, he doesn’t kiss me back.
His lips tighten, his rough mouth stone under mine, his grip on the back of my neck tightening.
Did I just fuck up?
Maybe he never wanted this.
