“Miller,” I warned, but it hurt to speak to him in that tone. It was stupid. I wanted him to flirt with me. I was beyond attracted to him, but it didn’t mean I could or would do anything. I couldn’t encourage him. Not if I wanted to still be gainfully employed.
He finally relented and dropped his arm, then stepped back. I bit back the disappointment and schooled my expression. I may want to be caged in by him again, but I couldn’t.
I plastered on a professional smile and asked, “Can you please come and see me in my office later today? I need to work through the upcoming charity schedule with you.”
“I’ll come anytime you need me to,” he teased.
Heat pooled at my core and I clenched my thighs together, instantly in need of friction against my pussy. “Mm-hmm,” I squeaked, desperately trying to hide how much he affected me.
I stepped out of the circle of his arms and pointed at him when I was far enough away that he couldn’t reach me. My fingers itched to touch his rock-hard muscles again, but instead I ordered, “My office as soon as training is done—and behave.” It was as much a reminder for me as it was him.
Miller’s grin was unrepentant, the dimple in his cheek that I wanted to lick showing. “I’m always a good boy.”
He was anything but, and I was so down for that. Scraping together a modicum of professionalism, I scurried back to my office, needing the space from him. I opened the door, and ithit me. I’d just asked to see him in here. Alone. I was trying to escape from my troubling thoughts, and instead I’d walked right into trouble with a capital T.
***
I heard him before I saw him. He was larger than life, and he brought a vibrancy with him that lit up the room. The office staff were tripping over themselves to say hi. I bit my lip to hide my smile when he knocked on the door.
“Hey, darlin’,” he crooned.
“Miller,” I greeted in as clipped a tone as I could manage. “Come in.” He grasped the doorknob, and I added, “Leave the door open, please.”
He sashayed over to my desk, coming to stand next to me, then leaned his butt—that perfect, muscular bubble butt—against it. “Y’all wanted me?”
I huffed out a laugh at his brazenness. He really was incorrigible. “I needed to discuss you doing a few charity events. I’ve been speaking with Hector, your agent,” I clarified, and Miller nodded, his smirk slipping.
“We’re both in agreement that you could do some work to build social capital with the fans here. We don’t want a repeat of last night, but you standing up for Rune went a long way to winning over Seals’ fans.” I raised my brow, waiting for him to acknowledge my comment.
He sighed, then rubbed his forehead. “I’m behaving.” He shook his head and turned away from me. He exhaled, and I saw the moment he let go of his frustration, his shoulders dropping and his posture losing its rigidity. “I’m doing my best.”
I nodded and pressed my lips together in a sympathetic frown. “I know, and you’re doing an incredible job,” I praised. It wastrue. He’d had his head down, practicing and playing for weeks. There was no bad press. In fact, there were photos of him popping up at various whole foods outlets, grocery stores, and even at Warrior Pups, the charity Chris Minns’s wife, Kamirah, volunteered at.
“But there are still rumors,” he said miserably.
“There are.” I nodded and crossed my arms over my chest so I didn’t reach out and squeeze his thigh. I really wanted to, but that would be even more inappropriate than his flirting. “People want the truth about why you were traded from the Blizzards. It’s not in your interests for that to get out, and we want you to have a long and successful career here with the Seals. We want our fans to love you—”
“Likey’alllove me?” he teased, leaning in close as if he was going to kiss me.
I couldn’t help my laugh or the way my insides heated at his proximity. I loved when he was playful and inappropriate. Brash and loud Brayden was someone I enjoyed talking to. When he was hurting and frustrated, it tugged at something inside me that I couldn’t afford to look into in any depth. Attraction and lust were one thing. Caring about him as anything other than my player was quite another.
“They love you a little more,” I quipped, my smile growing when he narrowed his eyes at me. I shoved him away from me, my fingers brushing the smooth skin of his bicep, and I swallowed. I needed to stop touching him, but damn, I really didn’t want to. Brayden sucked in a breath when I let my touch linger, my fingers brushing the thick muscles along his arm.
I pulled back and cleared my throat, reining in my desire. “In all seriousness, though, it’s in your interests to build up a fanbase here in San Diego, especially a young one. One of the fastest ways you can do that is to be seen doing good things on top of having great stats.”
He opened his mouth, and I held up my hand, stopping him. “We don’t want it to look contrived, so we’re keeping it low-key in terms of promotion. We’re letting the word get out via social media rather than sending news crews there. But we do want parents to feel comfortable with their kids wearing your jersey. It doesn’t help that you chose sixty-nine as your jersey number. You shot yourself in the foot with that one.”
Miller groaned and dropped his head back. It highlighted the strong column of his neck and his Adam’s apple. My mouth watered. I wanted to run my tongue over it.
“And if I don’t want to be a role model? If I just want to play? What then?”
“I understand. But the reality is that you’re already a role model whether you like it or not. You’re the first NHL player to marry another man. That’s big.” I sat back in my chair and gave him a moment to come to terms with what I was saying. “Either use your powers for good or evil, but I can guarantee your career longevity, future awards, and earnings potential will thank you for being on the right side of the fans.”
“Y’all’ve got to be kidding.”
I raised my brow and smirked. “It shouldn’t be a problem, Miller. After all, you’re good boy,” I challenged. Just saying those words lit me on fire. I wanted him to be so bad, so, so bad that he’d be good.
Could I be any more of a cliché?
