“Jesus, Wil—Coach Hawthorne. I get that you think I’m some naive, stupid little girl. You’ve made that abundantly clear. I get it. You made a mistake that night by involving yourself with me, but you donotget to treat me like that. Ever. No matter how much you regret me.”
Fuck this.
I don’t want her assuming that’s what I think of her.
I stalk forward, erasing all of the remaining distance between us, and she instinctively steps back, running into the desk behind her. I stop in front of her, so close that the tips of her shoes are touching mine, and she’s nearly flush to me.
Only an inch separates us, and Jesus, fuck, my head’s swimming from the sweet scent of her surrounding me.
My hands bracket the desk behind her, fingers curling around the edge.
“I was not fucking implying that you were a slut.”
Her breath hitches before breezing out in short spurts that fan against my lips because I’ve bent forward, invaded her space, and given her nowhere to run.
“I might be a piece of shit, an asshole, whatever it is you’d like to label me with, but I don’t disrespect women that way.”
My gaze drops down to her lips, watching as she pulls the bottom between her teeth. When I look back up at her, our eyes catch, and her pupils darken.
“I meant exactly what I fucking said. Youarea distraction.” I’m not thinking clearly. There’s not a moment of rational thought as I move my hand to her thigh, right below where the hem of her frilly little dress falls, and slowly drag my knuckles along her soft, bare skin. “Not for them, but forme.”
If I had any sense, any at fucking all, I wouldn’t be this close to her. I wouldn’t be placing myself so close to temptation, touching her, wondering if she tastes as good as she smells.
But I left every bit of reason on the ice.
Generally, after playing a game, I’m amped up, adrenaline coursing through my body, making me crawl out of my skin. I’m unable to sit still, unable to focus on anything until I start to come down, and everything inside of me calms.
Yeah, tonight was a bit different because I was on the other side of the box. I wasn’t on the ice; I was coaching, but still… that buzz, the vibrating energy remains.
So I tell myself that it’s because of that. Because of the game, because we won 2-1 with seconds left on the clock, but I know it’s not just that.
It’sher.
She’s so fucking beautiful and so goddamn perfect that it makes my head spin.
“You are a distraction that I cannot afford. A distraction that would require a sacrifice I do not want to make,” I murmur. “But I am only so fucking strong.”
Maisie’s chest rises and falls in rapid succession, her fingers curling tightly around the desk beside mine, blue eyes holding mine so intently that it feels physical.
The electric connection between us, it’s never felt more tangible. Never has it felt more forbidden.
Straightening, I stare down at her, drinking in the flushed cheeks, the parted lips that I want to capture and kiss the fuck out of. That I want to bruise from the force of that kiss.
With one last lingering brush of my knuckles on her smooth skin, I step back and exhale.
It’s ragged and forced. The distance is to clear my head, to refocus on what I came back here to do.
“Have a good night, Miss Delacroix.”
She stares up at me for a moment in confusion, her eyes the darkest shade of blue I’ve ever seen them, opening her mouth as if she wants to say something but then shutting it like she’s thought better of it.
But then she’s gone, rushing out of my office, slamming the door behind her, leaving me completely alone.
And hard as fuck for a woman I can’t have.
Again.
CHAPTER
