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“Okay . . . I’ll buy that.”
He brushed his knuckles across my cheek and leaned a little closer. I put my hand on the back of his neck, its solid feel making my knees slightly unsteady.
“So the no-dating thing . . . that applies to me, too?” he asked in a low tone.
“It . . . does,” I said, not sounding remotely convincing.
“Damn. I think about you, Charlotte,” he said softly. “All the time. I think about that night. Your body, and the way you sounded and felt and tasted.”
My inner thighs tingled and I warmed all over. “I do, too,” I admitted.
“Yeah? Just remember I’m here for you. In every way.”
Holy hell. Every nerve ending in my body was aware of his closeness. He dipped his face down and brushed his lips across my neck. I shuddered and let out a breath, and he kissed my neck all the way this time, his mouth finding all the spots that made me shiver.
“How exactly do you define dating?” he said in my ear.
I hummed my amusement and wrapped my arms around his neck, pressing my curves against his large, rock-hard frame. Just like the night of our first encounter, I couldn’t think about anything but him. Judgment wasn’t even a thing right now. All I wanted was more of him.
“We could take that cake into the bedroom,” I said.
“Hell yeah, we could,” he answered against my neck.
He leaned back and looked at me, a fire burning in his eyes. We wanted each other just as much as we had that first night, and we were both stone cold sober right now.
The sound of the front door opening made my mouth drop open in horror.
“I’m home, guys!” James called. “Cover up your junk!”
Bennett groaned with disgust.
“Fuck,” he muttered.
“Hey,” James said, grinning at us as he walked into the kitchen. “You guys want to hang out? My blind date had to cut the evening short because her cat had a panic attack.”
“Wow,” I said. “That’s . . . unfortunate.”
“Yeah. She pretty much ran from the restaurant when she got the text. Hadn’t even finished her food yet.”
“Huh,” Bennett said, meeting my eyes. “Imagine that.”
“Yeah. So I was thinking we could play Monopoly. Or Call of Duty.” He leaned to the side and looked behind me. “Cake? Hellz yeah, let’s break that mother out.”
I sighed deeply and cursed James. Yet again.
Bennett
Spit flew against my face as Kevin Walker grunted and slammed into me. Fucking overeager rookie. It was practice, not the Olympics.
He wanted to establish himself as an asset to the team; I’d felt that way too when I first made the team. But I wasn’t having this.
I shoved my way out from under him and slammed my stick against his as we fought for the puck. He rammed me again, kneeing me close to the balls.
“Watch yourself,” I warned.
He grinned, seemingly amused.
“You want some fuckin’ street hockey?” I challenged, giving him a hard shove.
