Page 73 of Instigator

However, I can’t think about any of that right now. Not with his lips on mine, his tongue sweeping into my mouth to tangle with my own, heat ramping up between us.

Stepping forward, I push him against the shower wall, and he suddenly spins us so my back crashes into the tiles. I let out a small oomph at the impact, but it doesn’t hurt.

The cold does, though.

Icy water streams down on us, pelting us with a frigid blast. In approximately twelve seconds, I’m completely drenched. I squeal, and Aidan pulls me away from the spray, out of range of the showerhead, but I’m already soaked from head to toe.

So is he.

His waterlogged clothes cling to his muscular torso and abs, and even though we’re both shivering, I can’t take my eyes off him. His hungry gaze drifts over me, drinking me in.

A beat passes.

And then we crash into each other again. My hands dive into his hair, threading through the thick, wet red strands. His body heat radiates through me, warming me up.

I can’t get enough. I press closer, closer, closer, until we’re plastered together and I can feel his chest rise and fall with each breath.

“MacGregor, are you—Oh.” The voice cuts off abruptly.

We spring apart, breathing hard, and Aidan tucks me behind him, protecting me.

“Sinclair.” His voice comes out rough, and he clears his throat. “Can I help you?”

His teammate shakes his head. “This is a players-only area. You know the rules.”

I open my mouth to make my excuses, but Aidan’s hand squeezes my hip. “We’ll be right out.”

Sinclair sighs. “The dressing room is still full.”

“I guess people are going to know, then,” he says. “I don’t want to hide.”

“I’ll get you two something to dry off.” The hockey player disappears down the hallway, then comes back with a few folded towels.

“You’re okay?” His eyes bore into me. We’ve never talked. Why would we? Even though he’s attached to the helmet project, I don’t talk to the players. That’s Bex’s domain.

Still, it’s touching that he cares. That he’s making a point to address me.

“I’m good. Thank you for checking in.” My voice comes out steady. A small miracle.

Aidan wraps a towel around me, then takes another and gathers my hair into his fist. He squeezes to remove some of the moisture, then glides the towel over my hair, taking care as he dries me off. His touch is tender, gentle, and I lean into him, craving the contact. The connection.

Sinclair lingers in the threshold, shuffling his feet. “I guess I’ll, uh, just… go?” His footsteps echo as they slap over the slippery tile during his hasty retreat.

I huff out a breath of laughter. “I guess they’re all going to know now.”

Aidan tucks a damp strand of hair behind my ear. “I don’t want to hide,” he repeats.

“Then we won’t.”

I touch my lips to his in a sweet kiss before a shiver racks through my body and my mouth slides off his.

“Let’s warm you up,” he says, rubbing my upper arms.

My teeth chatter as I huddle into my towel. “How are you not cold?”

“I practically live on the ice.”

His wry chuckle makes me smile. “There is that.”