I feel my cheeks burning bright and I try to keep my focus on the road, hoping to change direction of our conversation.
“You’re a hockey player, huh?”
He chuckles. “Yeah. It’s fun. Where I come from, if you have the size and strength, you’re either into hockey or football.”
Out of the corner of my eye I see him slide his palm over his thigh. His massive thigh that seems to ripple under the touch. My own palms get sweatier and tremble, as I tighten my hold on the steering wheel.
“Where are you from?”
“Pittsburgh. And you?”
“I was born in New York, but now live in Connecticut.”
He’s quiet for a moment so I chance a look in his direction and find his eyes pinned on me.
“What?” I ask, wondering why he’s staring at me with skepticism.
My eyes return to the road, but I see the movement as he lifts his shoulders in a shrug.
“I don’t know. You’re not like the other people I’ve met from Connecticut. You don’t have that air about you.”
Turning into the long drive up to the house, I can’t help but smile.
“I’ve heard that before. Considering my name means princess, I get called that a lot. That’s a pretty big stereotype, though, don’t you think?”
He leans closer, even though our bodies are pretty close to begin with, and his warm breath is right at my neck. His woodsy, soapy scent permeates the air of the car and I breathe him in.
“Oh, you mean like the one you had about me when you learned I play hockey?”
I put the car in park and my mouth gapes open.
“What? I never…”
His brows shoot up and there’s an edge of a smile at the corner of his mouth.
“Most people think I’m either a dumb jock or a player. That’s okay, though, because I can generally dispel the myths once they get to know me.”
I watch as he slides out of the car and then all I can see are the tree trunks of his legs from my vantage point.
He has a point. Although I didn’t make any assumptions about him being a jock, I did assume he was something he isn’t based on just his name. How stupid was that? It makes me feel like a complete and utter judgmental ass, especially since he could have made the wrong assertions about me.
As I step out and around the back of the car, Preston’s hand is suddenly at my face, whisking away a flyaway strand of my hair.
“I hope you’re interested in getting to know me.” His green-blue eyes sparkle as he smiles down at me. My breath hitches as I part my lips, hoping for a kiss that doesn’t come.
Instead he leaves me hanging and pulls the bags out of the trunk and into the house as I stare after him, turned on and perplexed.
Preston
I should’ve kissed her.
Goddammit, I’m kicking myself for hesitating and then the moment was gone. Lola was bounding down out of the house calling our names.
When Brinly looked up at me with those big blue eyes and long lashes, and her chest heaved as her lips parted just slightly, I wanted to taste her. Push her against the back of the car and kiss her perfectly pouty lips until she trembled in my arms with need.
If I’d been playing hockey, that would’ve been a missed shot on goal. A game ending mistake.
Instead, I marched in toward the front of the house and allowed her to lead the way into the room where we’d drop off her things. I was thankful I had the bags held in front of me because I had a hard-on the size of this mansion.
