I ignore the fluttering behind my rib cage that comes from the fact that he remembered. Maybe I read things wrong yesterday. It wouldn’t be the first time. I’ve always been sensitive, prone to overthinking, prone to overreacting. But the longer he holds my gaze, the more I feel seen. Every careful intention I had of keeping my distance tonight melts away under his gaze.
I take a step closer and he doesn't move. Paint smears beneath my fingers as I trail them across his chest and up to the back of his neck. The faint scrape of his short hairs prickle against my palm and I lean in further, holding onto my courage like a fragile flame.
I prop up on my toes, and with the lightest pressure of my hand, guide him closer to me. His breath tangles with mine, and it’s a feeling better than any high. It’s the only thing I’ve been craving since the first time he kissed me. The music that was once too loud to hear myself think, now fades to nothing as his fingers find my hip, brushing lightly at the bare strip of skin just above my jeans. His thumb takes a slow sweep overmy hip bone, causing my nipples to pebble, and I feel his touch down my spine and between my legs. I close my eyes, wet my bottom lip, and I hear his quiet pull of air between his teeth.
We’re close enough now that all I have to do is tilt my chin just a fraction of an inch.
“Wait,” he whispers.
Immediately, I’m on the whole of my foot again, stepping back and covering my lips. This is the worst fucking case of déjà vu. I watch in mortification when he squeezes his eyes shut, and drags his fingers over his head, but I don’t wait a second longer before turning on my heel and reaching for the door knob.
“Chloe, wait.” His hand finds the crook of my elbow with ease, spinning me so my back hits the door. It’s not hard, but it’s just enough to make me aware of every inch of him.
“I don’t want to do this just because you’ve had too much to drink, and you think you want this.”
“I’ve had one drink,” I say.
His eyes narrow on me and I’m not going to give him the satisfaction of knowing it was a loaded drink.
“You don’t want to do this becauseyoudon’t want to,” I say, steady, even though my pulse has gone rouge. “It has nothing to do with how much I have or haven't had to drink. So, do me a favor, and stop playing mind games with me.”
“Mind games?”
“Yeah,” I continue, ignoring the crease between his brow. “One minute you're hot and touching me, looking at me like…”
I pause because he’s doing it again. Pinning me with that gaze that roots me to the spot.
“And the next minute, you’re cold, letting me make an ass out of myself and inviting me here because of Nathan.”
I watch him carefully, and the smirk that never fades actually falters.
“So…” I tilt my chin slightly, attempting to appear bolder than I actually feel. “My bad, for getting our signals mixed, it won’t happen again, but stop playing with me.”
He blinks, biting down on his lip, but I swear there’s a tiny hint of a smile he’s trying to hide. And when his eyes find mine again, I see a flicker of something like pride in them. He places a hand on the door above my head, and those eyes darken as he leans in, hovering just before my face.
“If the signals were mixed, it's because I’ve been having a hard time remembering the rules.”
Just as quickly as he put it there, he drops his arm, giving me the space I need to breathe after his words leave me near breathless.
“And I’m not letting you make an ass of yourself. But kissing you to make Nathan jealous almost killed me.” His gaze drops to my lips for a split second. “And the next time I kiss your lips, I don’t want you blaming anything other than your own fucking desire.”
29
maverick
The Pinevalley Galeshave been pushing it all night. One of their guys has already been ejected before the second period and that still wasn’t enough to cool them off.
I should be focused on the game and avoiding all the extra contact along the boards, but even the sneaky slashes after the whistle blows isn’t enough to stop me from thinking about Chloe tonight.
When she left my room last night, I didn’t follow, and I never returned to the party. I showered off the paint, replaying the way her breath caught when I touched her neck and the way she looked at me after. I climbed into my bed and the image only burned brighter. The way she looked at me was all the confirmation I needed that she’s been feeling the same way I have. I could have kissed her. Every part of my body was begging me to. When her hand snaked up my chest, cupped the back of my head, and pulled me close, I almost folded. But I meant what I said. I’ve been thinking about her lips on mine for far too long, and when I kiss her again, I want to know with every fiber of my being that not only is it what she wants, but that I’m the only one she wants.
Coach gives me a pat on the shoulder, and I swing my legsover the bench, focusing on the game ahead. Just forty minutes. Forty more minutes of clean hockey then I can go see her.
Twelve drives Noah into the boards so hard the plexiglass bends. My grip tightens around my stick, and it’s as if I can see the fight coming before the first hit. Silas is already flying down the ice but one of the Gales cuts him off, dropping a shoulder into him hard enough to send him sideways. It’s a dirty ass move that should have gotten both of their players ejected, but one second, Silas is on the ground, and the next, he’s on top of one of their players, helmet and gloves thrown to the side, as a fight six guys deep explodes around them.
I move down the ice, stopping once I hit the blue line. The refs are already there, whistles blowing, voices barking, but it’s chaos. A linesman has both of his arms wrapped around the wrong guy, hauling him backward while two more try to break through at the edge of the pile. My heart hammers to the beat of the crowd banging the walls behind me, and I see them trying, but it’s not enough.
My legs twitch, every cell in my body is screaming at me to get in there, and rip these guys limb from limb. That bone-deep instinct in me to protect my family hums so loud it drowns out everything else. Noah is holding his own, of course, he hasn’t let anyone get a hand on his pretty face since elementary school, but that doesn’t stop me from wanting to tear someone up on his behalf.
