Approval.
Not praise, but recognition.
His hands settle on my hips. Grounding. Like he’s making sure I’m real.
A corner of his mouth lifts. “You always this quiet when you’re put on the spot?”
I swallow. “Only when I’m scared,” I admit. Then softer, truer, “Or when my heart’s on the line.”
“Damn, I kind of prefer when you make those little noises,” he chuckles.
I look at him. “Do you.”
He finally smiles. “Yeah. Very sexy.”
Heat slides through me, and my stomach does a fast flip.
“Careful,” I say, letting the word carry a warning and a dare.
The look he gives me after that isn’t teasing.
It’s promising.
He leans in, slow at first, like he’s giving me the chance to change my mind.
I don’t.
The kiss is deliberate.
Not like on the ice.
No roar. No adrenaline performance.
This one is quieter.
He pulls back just enough to breathe against my mouth.
“No more games,” he says.
“I’m done,” I whisper.
Something flashes in his eyes.
He doesn’t say anything else.
He just takes my hand and leads me down the corridor to a small office near the equipment tunnel.
The door shuts behind us.
The quiet becomes a blanket.
“Come here,” he says softly.
It isn’t a command.
It’s an invitation.
I take one step toward him, and that’s all it takes.
