Miller was shirtless with a towel carelessly draped over his shoulder. He had a pair of low-slung shorts on with compression leggings underneath, and I could see the beginning of that delicious V leading down to his package. Even with the bruisesfrom last night’s game marring his skin, my mouth watered as I watched a droplet of sweat run between his pecs and down the ripples of his abs. I wanted to lick where it disappeared into his navel, then trace my tongue down to where it intersected that V and his cock.
Rune laughed, and Miller grinned at him, his smile carefree and so freaking hot. I stopped walking, leaned against the wall, and slipped one hand into the pocket of my pinstripe suit pants to stop myself from fanning my flushed face. My professionalism—heck, even my ability to hide my immediate reaction to him—was nonexistent when it came to that man.
I watched as Miller feigned a shot, his abs clenching and releasing as he twisted. He was perfection personified. Well, except for his mouth. He was so damn cocky, and I already knew exactly why he’d gotten into so much trouble with the Blizzards.
But damn, he was beautiful.
I swallowed hard as I watched him move, all graceful and lionlike. Rune chuckled again and reached out, stretching as if to catch an imaginary puck, then jumped backward as if he was being slammed into. Miller curled his hands into fists and pretended to yank something forward with one fist, while with the other he landed multiple pretend blows.
They were laughing about last night’s altercation, while I’d been an absolute wreck when it’d happened. My nerves had been completely frazzled, and my heart was in my throat as I watched the ref drag Miller off the idiot from Vancouver.
I hadn’t been able to breathe until I’d seen Miller’s face and hands. Number eight didn’t get a shot in, so his face was okay. But it looked like Miller had hurt his hand. What felt like hours had passed while I waited for him to stretch his fingers and give the medic the thumbs-up. Relief had swamped me. Even Hannah had relaxed when I stopped squeezing her so tight.
Rune held up his hand for a high-five, and Miller reached up and clapped their hands together. I sucked in a breath, that glimpse of Miller’s obliques and lats melting my panties. I’d just found another place I wanted to lick. My knees went weak, and I pressed my back against the wall, needing it to hold me up.
My completely inappropriate and one-sided obsession with Miller had started the night of the pre-season barbecue. His accent—oh my God, his accent—had hooked me. That slow drawl was like melted chocolate or warmed honey. He was cheeky and cocky and hadn’t looked even the least bit repentant when I’d chastised him as if I were his teacher. His grin had grown wider like I was challenging him. I’d flushed hot and instantly pictured him whispering something dirty in my ear as I was pressed between him and his husband.
It had gotten even worse last night. When I felt eyes on me in the locker room, I’d turned and seen Spencer watching his husband like a steak he wanted to devour. Miller had gripped my hips, pulled me closer, then maneuvered me around another player. I’d felt every inch of lean muscle pressed against me for a tiny moment, and damn, that possessive jealousy looked good on Spencer. His nostrils had flared, his eyes narrowed, and his jaw bulged like he was grinding his teeth together. Heat had flooded my core, and I’d bitten my lip, barely suppressing my moan before I scampered away, grateful for being interrupted.
I’d sworn I wouldn’t judge them for their sexual exploits, and I wasn’t. The rumor of their threesome had kickstarted something a whole lot dirtier in me than judgment. I wanted to join in. I wanted that possessiveness aimed toward me, the attraction so all-consuming that they couldn’t keep their hands off me or each other.
The only thing hotter than one of them was both. The way Spencer’s stare had lit a fire in my belly was such a turn-on. That visceral kind of reaction was more powerful than any cheappick-up line, even one uttered by a man with a perfect Texan drawl. Spencer’s stare was permission to hand over the reins and let them take me to orgasm heaven without a word even being spoken between us. That look, filled with sex and illicit promises, was enough.
The night of the barbecue, Carina had dished out the blunt advice that babies didn’t stop you having a sex life. Her words had run on a loop for weeks. But instead of encouraging me, they served as a reminder of just how long it had been since another person had given me an orgasm—well before Si had dropped his bombshell news on me.
I shook off thoughts of him. I couldn’t think about him—not when Miller was walking toward me.
Miller was gorgeous. I knew I shouldn’t ogle him, but I couldn’t help it.
He looked up, and our gazes locked. My skin heated, a flush running through me until I was sure I was as red as a tomato. His grin turned into a sexy smirk, then he clapped a hand on Rune’s shoulder and made his way over to me. My belly swooped and my breaths quickened.
“Hey, darlin’,” he drawled as he stopped in front of me and rested a hand next to my head. He leaned over me and flashed another sexy smirk. He was only a few inches taller than my own five foot nine, but he made me feel petite, something I didn’t think I’d ever experienced.
I sucked in a breath, and my eyelids fluttered closed. I forced my traitorous body not to arch up into him and rub along his long, lean muscles like a cat. Instead, I blinked my eyes open again and focused on his too-beautiful face, the angle of his square jaw, the upward curve of those full lips, and his blue eyes the color of a summer’s day.
His gaze flittered over my face, and he licked his lips as if he liked what he saw. I looked away. There was no way I was histype. I’d seen images of Mila Klein. She was beyond sexy and always made up to perfection.
I, on the other hand, looked haggard. I hadn’t slept and I barely wore makeup these days. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d been to the hairdresser. I didn’t get any down time. Mom helped whenever she could, but I hated asking her to look after Hannah to give me some time for those selfish things. I was already selfish enough to have begged the universe to give Hannah to me. I couldn’t try to pass her onto someone else while I went and had fun.
I owed it to her to be present, not leaving her with Mom for a spa day or a pole class. I’d made a commitment to my little girl when LaShelle asked if she could stay with me. I’d said yes, so my life revolved around her. Well, Hannah, my work, and sitting in traffic.
I wondered how different it would be if I said yes to Simon.
My ten-minute commute to the office had turned into a ninety-minute crawl through snarling traffic to drop Hannah off and get back to the training rink.
I was barely keeping my head above water, and I looked it. But I wouldn’t change a thing. Every moment of stress and sleep deprivation was worth it. Hannah was happy. Her giggle lit up my world, and she was thriving. Every time I looked at her, she’d grown again. I could hold full conversations with her now. I couldn’t help but smile, thinking of her. Even though I looked and felt exhausted, seeing Hannah light up with happiness made every difficult moment fade away.
I cleared my throat and whispered, “Hi.”
“Y’all gonna let me take you out on a date yet?”
“Miller—”
“Brayden. Only my teammates and Coach call me Miller—”
“Which is exactly why I’m calling you Miller.” I pressed my hand against his rock-hard abs and bit back a groan. Just likelast night, his skin was damp, still flushed hot. This time it was from his workout rather than the game, but the way his muscles tensed under my palm was the same. It sent my mind’s eye into a spin as I imagined what it would be like for him to move between my legs.
I shoved the thought aside and pushed against him, trying to move him. I wasn’t going to have a fling with him no matter how much I wanted it. But he didn’t move an inch.
