Her brow arched. “You just assume I’m letting you stay?”
“I’m hopeful,” he said with a grin as he reached into his bag and pulled out a jersey.
With an arched eyebrow, she took it from him and held it out. It was a Magic jersey, his Magic jersey to be exact.
"I know you can't wear it to the game and all that, but I don't know... I just wanted you to have it."
She gazed at him with a face he couldn’t quite read. Her lips parted like she wanted to argue, but she didn’t.
She turned and walked into her kitchen as he followed behind her. Uncorking a bottle of wine, she looked to him to see if he wanted any, but he was already getting down two glasses.
His nerves eased. He hadn’t been certain if she would even let him in. This was going better than he had thought.
"You looked good out there tonight.”
He took a sip of the wine, trying to feel as classy as Hilary always looked. "The team had a good night."
"Don't you even just admit how good you are?" Hillary asked with a small smile.
"I'm good. I know it."
"You know what I mean. You are a rising hockey star, and you still act like a normal guy who can play hockey."
"I am a normal guy who can play hockey."
"Your social media would say different."
He wasn't really sure where all this was coming from. Hillary didn't seem like the type to buy into all the hype.
"I'm sure the internet will forget all about me soon. They move on quickly. And I mean . . . it's kind of your fault," he said with a playful cocked brow.
"My fault?" she said in her serious voice, pulling back to look at him.
"Yeah, your fault," he said, pulling her back in. "You put all this front and center," he said as he rolled his hips into her, pressing her into the counter.
She laughed and pushed him away. "There's the cocky hockey player hidden in each and every one of you."
"There has to be to make it in the league," he said as he crowded her against the counter and kissed her.
The next thing he knew, her hands were fisted in a claiming kiss. He let her take control; he would do anything for her.
She broke the kiss and lay her head on his chest. He took a deep breath as his shoulders loosened and he held her, letting the stress of the day fall away. He wished it could always be like this. His hands explored the luscious curves of her body. Everything about this woman drove him insane. His hand explored lower still until he gripped her soft, round ass.
Hillary laughed and shoved at his chest, but he only caught her hand and pressed it back against him, holding her still. The grin faded from his face, replaced by something steadier, more serious.
“Murphy—” she started.
He kissed her again. Not the playful, cocky kiss of a young guy who’d just scored a goal, but slower. Reverent. Like she was something rare.
Her breath caught.
Without breaking the kiss, he lifted her easily, setting her on the counter. His palms spread warm against her thighs as he stepped between them, deepening the kiss until she melted into him.
Hillary took the lead first, her hands sure, her body guiding him like she wanted to remind him who was in charge. But then he shifted her gently beneath him, kissing her slower, deeper, until she relaxed into it.
Murphy wasn’t in a hurry. He worshiped her, his mouth trailing paths across her skin, his hands mapping curves he already knew by heart. Every sigh she gave him felt like a gift.
He fell to his knees and pulled at the waistband of her leggings.
