Colby helped Hawk clean after dinner, both of them refusing to accept my help. I sat by feeling useless and refilled my glass of wine. Once they were finished, Colby excused herself and returned to her apartment.
Hawk gestured towards the living room and used a remote to turn on the gas fireplace. With all the windows, I expected his apartment to be cold, but it was very comfortable. Not at all drafty like my apartment. The added ambiance from the fire made it downright cozy.
We sat awkwardly on the couch while Hawk turned on the Bears game, just in time to see their goalie give up a goal.
“Your nephew’s father plays hockey?”
“Yes. For the Blizzards. Tom Campbell.”
“Shit, he’s really fucking good. I wish we could get someone like him on the Bears.”
“I’m sure he’d love that; managing co-parenting on opposite coasts is tough. But the Bears need a goalie first,” I said.
“Huh, I’ve been wondering: what would you do if you were in the position where you had to make a decision that was good for the team, but not necessarily for your family?”
“If it came down to it, could I be part of a trade with Sam knowing that it would cause total upheaval to my sister’s life? Is that what you’re asking?”
“Pretty much. Sam’s contract has a no-trade clause, so unless he asks for it, we own him.”
I thought about it carefully. Kylie’s relationship with Luc was also a major factor. They may not be public, but that was only a matter of time. Could I be part of the decision to fire Luc? Shit happened. Sports teams would shake up the coaching staff if they thought there were issues. Sometimes they did it when they were fumbling, trying to figure out why a team full of superstars couldn’t win.
“I think I’m lucky. My sisters understand what they signed up for with their athletes. I’m not sure where Kylie and Luc are headed, though. The jury is still out on their relationship.”
Hawk patted his lap, and I kicked off my shoes and propped my feet on him. A throaty moan escaped me as his knuckles pressed into the sole of my foot.
“Are you sore?” he asked.
“I am. It’s a side effect of marathon training.”
“Have you run Boston before?” His hands started to wander up my calves, and I was having trouble concentrating on the conversation.
“N—no.” I inhaled sharply as his fingertips found theticklish place on the back of my knee. “Not officially, but I ran the course while preparing for the race I did to qualify.”
He slid closer to me. Jesus. This man knew how to destroy every bit of control I had.
“I’m always interested in what makes you tick.” He closed the rest of the distance between us, and I found myself with my back against the arm of the couch, legs spread, and his entire body wedged between them. “But I don’t think either of us wants to talk about the impact ofrunningon your body.”
I shook my head. My eyes darted to his full lips. I couldn’t come up with my usual snappy responses as my brain function was absorbed by the pulsing of my clit as my body strained for friction.
Was this finally happening?
“Thereissomething I need to know before we go any further. Are you usually one and done? Do you leave men before they leave you?”
I nodded.
“That’s what I thought. And while there are some women I would be fine with in an arrangement like that, it won’t work with you.” He swiveled his hips, giving me enough to feel his erection. I placed my hand on his chest, and he held it in place.
“Hawk—”
“Jonathan. Hawk is what people call me when I want to keep my distance. Okay?”
Why did his request to call him by his given name cause my stomach to flip inside out?
“Yeah.”
“You were saying?” He remained utterly still,even though I could feel the thrum of his heart beating against my palm.
I pulled my hand from under his and brushed away the soft curl that flopped onto his forehead. He leaned into my touch but still didn’t make a move. I wove my fingers into his hair, brought my other hand to his waist, and pressed my hips against his, eliciting a hiss.
