Nope, I couldn’t do that either. Because then I’d start wondering. And wondering would lead to longing. And longing would lead to temptation. If I made it into temptation, I’d sink into the need burning in my belly since they both touched me the other night, and I’d be stupid enough to give in to it.
But as I stood in the lobby of the rink after Tiny Tot practice, as most of the other families walked out for the night, I noticed Eli up to no good. He slipped something to Coach Rick, paired with a whispered message.
It wasn’t subtle.
Neither of them was exactly trying to hide the extra-large coffee in a brand new corny mug that Eli always sweetened Rick up with. This one said,“Practice like you’ve got Rick’s blood pressure on the line.”
Paired with a crumpled-up twenty-dollar bill, Rick was grinning like a man who’d just been handed front row seats to the Stanley Cup Finals.
I narrowed my eyes as Eli sauntered across the lobby to me. “What did you just do?”
Eli balked, innocent as sin. “Who, me? Nothing. Just making sure the kids have some post-practice entertainment.”
“Entertainment?” I asked, crossing my arms.
“Arcade, Pizza. Friendly competition,” he said, giving me that golden-boy smile that made my knees wobble and my self-respect scatter like pucks on bad ice.
Rick clapped his hands, shouting for the kids still around. “Toby! Emmie! Round up the team—we’ve got a shootout showdown and bubble hockey championship to see to. Best-of-three!”
The kids exploded in cheers, not even bothering to give me a glance as they ran off to gather the rest of their friends.
Eli winked at me, and my pulse raced. “Looks like you’re suddenly free for the next twenty minutes.”
And that’s when I felt him—Travis.
At my back.
Close enough, I could smell that sawdust and leather mix that was intoxicating paired with whatever sinful aftershave he used that always made me forget how to work my tongue.
His hands ghosted over the swell of my hips, “Come with me.”
It wasn’t a question.
Eli’s sexy grin distracted me long enough, and before I knew it, my hand was in Trav’s big rough one, and he was pulling me back down the stairs toward the ice.
He didn’t stop at the ice, or even the bleachers, instead, he kept walking until we hit the last locker room in the strip, and he pushed the door open. It was empty, and the squeak of the door echoed off the tiled walls as the overhead lights dimmed to their usual off-hours level.
The door thudded shut behind us, and suddenly the air felt ten degrees hotter.
Travis didn’t waste time, pulling me around the tall lockers to the last row, backing me up against the cold metal surface. Withone hand on my hip, the other on the back of my neck, he pinned me with his massive body and didn’t stop until his lips met mine.
Damn.
I was hoping I’d made it all up in my head, somehow imagining that he was as good a kisser as I remembered. It was. His kiss was hot and hungry, unrelenting as I clung to him, weaving my fingers through the short hair at the base of his neck, digging my nails in.
He bit my bottom lip, and I gasped, which was all it took for him to deepen the kiss even more, pinning his hips against mine. Embarrassingly, I moaned and rocked into him, but I couldn’t stop.
“You kissed my best friend just like this.” He growled against my lips.
“I know.” I panted.
“You liked it,” he said as his fingers skimmed above my jeans, finding the soft flesh of my side and sliding under my sweater.
I didn’t deny it as I nodded.
“Good,” He whispered, dipping his lips to my throat and sucking on the skin until I moaned for him. “But I’m going to make damn sure you like kissing me even more.”
His tongue licked a slow line across my neck, and I whimpered—actually whimpered—as he pressed his thigh between mine, grinding just enough to make my body light up like a fire alarm.
