Page 55 of Hockey Nanny

The bulge in my shorts pushed against her stomach, but she didn’t pull away; if anything, her hands clung to my shoulders, fingers digging into wet skin. The air between us stiffened, the laughter fading, replaced by a different, electric awareness.

I leaned in, breath playing on her mouth, the pool water sliding down our bodies. She parted her lips, eyes soft, and it looked for a moment like she might let me kiss her.

Then her hands pressed firmly against my chest. “I have to study.”

“That can wait,” I murmured, and went in for the kill.

She laughed, a short, playful burst, and pressed her lips to my cheek instead. Then she wiggled out from under my arms, and lifted out of the pool to wrap a towel around herself.

I sank back against the wall with my raging hard-on mocking me as I watched her retreat. She didn’t so much as throw a passing glance over her shoulder, and when that twisted the pit in my gut, I knew…

“Oh… fuck.”

19

~

Carissa

The locker room doors swung open before we could knock. Heat, movement, and the scent of sweat hit immediately. Players shouted over one another, clattered skates against the floor, rattled sticks against lockers.

Henry’s eyes went wide. “There he is!”

He shot off before I could grab hold of him, and made a beeline for Dawson. Which left me out of place and painfully self-aware in a horde of hot guys, some of whom weren’t fully dressed yet.

My eye caught Boone, staring straight at me. He was topless, with nothing but some K-tape strapped to one shoulder. I brought my legs close together and squeezed.

“Like what you see, McCabe?” His grin had that easy edge that made me want to roll my eyes and laugh at the same time.

I was grateful for it, because it made being around them way less nerve wracking than it had the potential to be. These past few days alone, Dawson had proved more complicated to navigate than I was ready for. So the Boone-branded levity was welcome.

“Depends,” I said. “If what I see is a guy who’s about to be late for one of the biggest games of the season, then I’m going to want my money back.”

He came over, all swagger and winning smile. “We’ve been so busy training for tonight, I never had the chance to give you a stern talking to about what you did.”

“What I did?” He was standing far too close to make this a random conversation in the middle of a packed and bustling locker room and yet, he acted like we were the only two people in there. As though he had me all to himself.

“The pool the other day? You left me in a bit of a… predicament, to put it mildly.”

I dipped my head and bit back a laugh. He’d never know how much restraint it took to walk away from him that day. I’d used studying as an excuse, but my focus had been fucked when I got back to my room.

“Sounds like a you problem,” I said, and let the room filter back in.

Henry was quite at home with the team. He jumped onto the bench, palm out, calling “Good luck,” “Good luck,” “Good luck” each time a player passed him with a high-five.

“Sorry, I probably shouldn’t have brought him down here.”

But Dawson, who’d been overseeing the lucky vibes, simply shook his head. He looked like a proud dad showing off his kid to everyone. “He’s no trouble.”

Even then, it felt as though he were only acknowledging me because I’d spoken directly to him. I didn’t like the knot that formed in my stomach over it.

Soon the room thinned. The other players drifted toward the ice. Just Dawson, Boone, and Gage remained, the noise of the arena folding around us but not quite leaving.

Henry jumped off the bench. “Can we go get popcorn before the game?”

“Sure, kiddo.” Then I looked at the guys, backing toward the door. “I think he’s covered the good luck part, so I’ll just say—”

“Don’t. Don’t say it,” Dawson interrupted, cutting the sentence clean.