“I told you, I didn’t know it was a horror movie. Otherwise I would have picked something more in line with your sensibilities.”
I wish I’d waited to throw the remote at him now.
“You’re a dick.”
“You like it.”
“In your dreams, Fields.”
Standing between our beds, Noah stares me down as he grabs the back of his shirt and pulls it off. The cocky fucker throws it at me.
“You dream about all this?”
Seeing his hand move in my peripheral vision, I ignore its path. Absolutely ignoring as it trails up and over his well-defined pecs and the abs that are on full display.
“You wish.”
Standing up, I get close to him and pull my own T-shirt off. Noah’s eyes don’t leave mine, but I can see the obvious desire there. It mirrors my own.
It’s getting harder and harder to hide my want and need for this man.
Noah smirks before I hear the crinkle of a bag and icy coldness is thrust into my chest. “Here.”
Looking down, I grab the pint of strawberry froyo that we picked up on our way to the room. And to think, only a few months ago, I found Noah Fields to be one of the most annoying guys on the planet.
Now he’s annoying for an entirely different reason. Just for looking so damn sexy as he settles onto his bed and turns his eyes to the game.
I follow suit and rest my back against the firm, wooden headboard of the hotel bed. We’re playing Vancouver tomorrow and flew in after our game with Dallas. At this point in my career, all the rooms are starting to blend together—the same wall art focusing on whatever city we’re in. Cheap and itchy bedspreads. A bathroom too small for two oversized hockey players.
Not that I’d know about that last one. But now that the thought is there, I wouldn’t mind seeing if the two of us can fit.
Noah’s shouts at the TV interrupt my thoughts. I should be watching the game—assessing our opponents and finding their weaknesses—but I just can’t bring myself to care.
Because lying here in the hotel room brings back one of my favorite memories from when I was a kid. “You know, I always thought things like this were fun when I was a kid.”
“Really?” he asks from his spot on the other bed.
I nod, taking another bite of the sweet treat I allow myself every now and then.
“I remember one time my dad took me to visit my mom where the team was playing. I couldn’t tell you why we went, but I remember surprising her and getting to stay up late and eat ice cream and watch movies.”
Noah laughs. “Isn’t that what every kid wanted? Staying up late and eating ice cream?”
“I guess so. After that, we did it maybe once a year when mom was traveling. Before I started playing hockey.”
“Your mom is still a badass,” Noah tells me. “I remember I wanted to be like her when I was little.”
“You did?”
“Well, after I won a few Super Bowls because I was the greatest kicker to ever play the game.”
I laugh. “Of course you would think that.”
“Hey, we both somehow ended up playing hockey with football stars for dads.”
“I know why I started playing hockey,” I mumble.
“You wanted to be cool like me, right?”
