Page 28 of He Has Santa (Boston Brawlers Hockey)
“It means I still…”want to jump your bones. Fuck. I exert my self-control, remember where we are and that she’s the mother of my child. “I’m still very attracted to you.”
She raises a brow and one side of her mouth in challenge. “Attracted to me? Is that what you call it? Because I could swear I was listed as desert on the menu the way you’ve been looking at me.”
A laugh bursts from me because it’s so Junie to call me out. She never let me get away with shit.
“I was never very good at expressing myself. And you were always so good at reading me.”Right up until that last night. The night you saw me kissing your friend. Or thought I was.I don’t share my thoughts, but I don’t have to, she sees it all, shares the same thoughts.
“I should have been better at it. After the kiss—”
“Let’s not rehash that. The outcome will always be the same. Let’s skip ahead.”
“To right now, to the present, because there’s nothing we can do to change the past,” she says, finishing my thoughts. A slow smile takes over my face.
“Where are we, Junie? Are we at a place where I can lean in and steal a kiss?” I lean in and bring my lips close to hers, feel her quick intake of breath.
“Do it,” she says, but she’s the one who does it, who closes the breath of space between us, pressing her lips against mine.
The shock of her mouth touching mine after craving it for so long spins my head. But I don’t need my head for this because all my sensual instincts are in-tact and working fine. The soft cushion of her bottom lip is irresistible as I taste it, nibble on it and suck it between my lips where my tongue remembers it fondly and welcomes her.
Someone’s loud laugh from a nearby table snaps the lust spell gripping me and I walk it back to the soft press of lips where we started and then let the cool air of reality separate us. Except there’s nothing cool about me, or the air, because all I feel is the electric hot wire between us, see it in the intense stare of her eyes into mine like she’s reading my soul.
“So now you know where I stand,” I say. “I want you.” I heave a breath. “But Nicky comes first, so I’ll understand if…” I don’t know where I’m going with this, or maybe I do and refuse to give voice.
“The attraction is still alive and well, that’s for damn sure,” she says. “But after all this time and all those women—”
“You need to forget about those women. I never had a serious relationship with one of them. None of them ever felt like you in my arms, on my lips. None of them—”
“I get it. I do. But things could get messy if we… indulge and we have to think of Nicky first, like you said.”
“You’re right.” And because I’m that asshole possessive male even when I clearly have no right to be, I ask, “Is there something between you and that asshole Ken?”
She laughs. “You’re kidding, right? Do you think I make it a habit to take up with assholes?” She doesn’t say no, but I have my answer—and a message.Don’t be that asshole.
“You’re awfully polite to the guy in spite of his overstepping boundaries.”
“Yeah, about that. Thank you for stepping in. He’s too… intense sometimes. I think you brought out the worst in him.” She quirks her mouth and her nose crinkles the way it always did and my heart speeds up.
“Is that right?”
“He has issues,” she says. “Besides nursing a giant bruised ego because his wife ditched him, he’s jealous of you because he’s a wannabe athlete.”
“Oh, one of those.” Her smile lights me up.
“Yeah. Nothing like the genuine article.”
“Like arealathlete?”
She nods.
“Say, for example, a professional hockey player?” Watching her face turn pink is one of those unexpected pleasures, turning my dick from getting interested to rock hard so quickly that I’m almost dizzy, but I lean in, my mouth close to her ear and breathe in her scent, the seductive note of lavender and spice.
“Let’s blow this joint.”
Her laugh is light and airy, the way I remember it from six years ago, from our time of innocence and sin. I don’t say we’re going to my place, but the look in her eyes as I take her hand tells me she understands. And she’s all in. My heart rate accelerates like I’ve stolen the puck for a breakaway and all I need to do is get past the goalie to score.
* * *
She’squiet as I lead her from my garage through the dimly lit kitchen and living room to my bedroom. The pulse in my throat throbs loud and fast, but it’s not the only thing throbbing. With a sweaty palm on the small of her back I guide her down the hall. We still have our coats on, the lights are still off and we still haven’t said a word since we came inside.
