Oh shit.
OH SHIT.
The tiny gasp that escapes me is enough. He turns, his head angling over his shoulder. For a heartbeat, I swear the tension rolling off him isn’t just surprise. It’s something predatory.
It hits me then: whatever happened at practice didn’t stay on the ice.
“Is it laundry day already, Kates?” His voice is rougher than usual, the rumble almost covered by the shower.
It’s enough of a jolt to kick my ass into gear. I hightail it out of there, day-old dirty clothes all but forgotten. As quickly as I can with one crutch, I disappear into the guest room down the hall, locking the door and pressing my forehead against it.
“It’s okay,” I tell myself. “Don’t freak out. It’s not like you haven’t seen it all before.”
Yeah, except he’s definitely grown up. And now there’s a thigh tattoo? Connecting to that calf sleeve he got in college.
A soft knock makes me jump. I hear his sigh, can picture him rubbing the back of his neck, that face pinched in exhaustion.
“Kates, you okay?” he asks.
I stay silent, too mortified to answer.
“Can you open the door so we can talk? Promise I’m decent.”
The chuckle that follows sounds tired rather than teasing. The kind that feels like someone trying to hold themselves together.
Maybe that’s why my mouth runs away with my thoughts without consulting my brain.
“Maybe I don’t want you decent,” I whisper.
I should crank my music. Tell him to leave me alone. Literally anything but open the door. Instead, I turn the knob.
He’s standing there in gym shorts, nothing else. Water droplets trace the curve of his throat and down the cut of his chest, but it’s the look in his eyes that steals my breath. Want, yes, but it’s more than that.
“You’re going to be the death of me, Oakley Kate. Pure trouble,” he murmurs, voice low and frayed.
“The good kind or the bad?” Damn, my mouth is going to get me in trouble.
“Always only the good, Kates.”
“Show me.”
Before I can think through what those two words might cause, Silas lifts me off my feet. My back hits the mattress, and I scramble toward the headboard, but he’s already there, stalking me like prey. He grabs my calf and drags me closer.
“Tell me what you want, baby.”
“You.”
“Gonna need more than that.” His fingers skim my knee, up…up…to my inner thigh. He stops just shy of where I want him most then slides back down, his knuckles grazing my core.
I groan, arching into the touch, but he catches my chin, forcing eye contact.
“Damn it, Silas. I want you. What’s so hard to grasp?”
He shakes his head, something raw flashing in his eyes. “You know that’s not what I’m asking. This won’t be a one-time trip down memory lane for me. Are we doing this? Us?”
Every emotion he’s ever felt for me burns in his gaze. Desire. Love. But it’s the hope that undoes me. He wants this.
Do I? Yes. Can we make it work? Who the hell knows.
