Page 74 of Securing the Pucking Rebound

Istumble as I climb out of the rideshare outside our apartment building.

“Whoa,” Calvin says, his giant hand wrapping around my upper arm to steady me. “I know I managed to carry you to bed the other week, but all the way up to your apartment might be a bit much.”

I turn and look into his eyes. They’re full of determination. If I were to ask him to carry me, he’d put everything into making it happen. I won’t, though. I’m not that drunk.

“I’m fine,” I argue, rolling my shoulders back and holding my head high as I stride toward the doors. I want to say that I do so in a straight line, but the deep chuckle that erupts from behind me makes me question how successful I am.

“Yes. Yes, you are,” he rasps from behind me.

I spin around and glare at him, but it’s hard to keep it up when he looks so freaking cute carrying my coat and purse for me.

We’ve had the best night together. Of course, it helps that the Vipers won. Three goals to zero, just like the server at Bills said.

Bitterness races through my veins as I think of her. She was trying to hit on Calvin right in front of me. We might not have been on a date, but who does that? Since when was girl code that freaking dead? And to call him “sir,” well…It was all I could do to bite my tongue. But I knew that saying something, reacting in any way, would give Calvin the wrong idea.

I wasn’t jealous because I’m not interested in him. And I certainly don’t want to be the one calling him that.

A shudder runs through me, and I tell myself that it’s a knee-jerk reaction to calling him that and not the way his eyes run the length of my body as he closes the space between us.

It seems that I’m becoming very, very good at lying to myself at the moment.

“Calvin,” I warn.

“Yeah, I know. Stop telling you how hot you are. I got the memo,” he states as he gets so close, I don’t have a choice but to back up if I don’t want us to collide. “It just comes out because you’re so fucking hot.”

We’ve both probably had one drink too many, but we’re not drunk. Just happily tipsy. And I’m learning that that makes Calvin’s tongue even looser than normal.

My mouth runs dry, and I struggle to swallow as my back hits the closed elevator doors. But nothing seems to stop him. He just keeps coming until the heat of his body burns down my front.

Oh God.

He doesn’t touch me, but there’s barely an inch between us.

If I were to breathe in a little deeper, let my lungs expand a little more, my breasts would brush against him, and I have a suspicion of just how good that might feel.

His eyes are dark as he stares down at me, almost reverently.

He’s been doing it all night, watching me in a way that is entirely too comforting.

It makes me wonder what he can see.

Suddenly, the world falls from behind me. I shriek as I begin tumbling backward, but it’s only for a second. because Calvin proves that his defensive instincts are still alive by wrapping his arms around my back and hauling me into his body.

He walks me backward into the elevator and doesn’t stop until my ass hits the rail.

“T-thank you,” I breathe, craning my neck to hold his eyes.

“I’ll always save you, darlin’.” His voice is as deep and as smooth as dark chocolate.

Desire curls inside me, heat radiating from my core, my chest rising and falling at an embarrassing rate.

I startle when his free hand lands on my waist, the heat of it scorching.

His head lowers, his eyes dropping to my lips.

We’ve been in this position before, and I’ve managed to put an end to it. But with the alcohol flowing through my system, I’m not sure I’m going to have the strength to do it tonight. And if I’m being honest with myself, I don’t want to stop him. I want to know what it would be like to kiss a man like Calvin Keller. He’s always so in control, so composed. He knows what he wants, and he takes it, and I get the feeling that kissing him will be exactly the same.

The space between our faces disappears with every second that passes.