My insides tighten, my senses heighten, the faint smell of disinfectant in the air masked by the more powerful smell of sweat. Hockey players rarely smell of anything good.
“Maybe I thought your phone was broken.”
Silence.
Fuck, I’m pathetic. Literally chasing my on-ice adversary across state lines because he ignored me. “It’s rude not to thank someone when they send you a gift, Artemis. I’m sure Daddy Dearest taught you that much.”
I’m provoking him. I can’t help it. His silence only made me want to try harder. To push him, to unravel him, to consume him. But as he climbs out of the pod and reaches for a towel to dry off the excess moistures sluicing across his god crafted abs my throat dries up, and my palms get sweaty.
“Thank you.” The words scrape like they were dragged through his teeth. His voice is gruff, hoarse, and clipped.
Fuck. I track the path of a stray bead of water, it splits theBe Here Nowtattoo just under his collarbone and makes its way down his pec, onto the deep grooves of his six pack, and follows his happy trail down to the promised land.
I flex my fist. I’m jealous of water. Jesus, I need more therapy.
Now the water in the tub has stilled, the only sound in theroom is the ragged chopping of our breathing. Except he’s not labouring to breathe in the same way I am. He’s calm, composed, and guarded as always, while I’m coming apart at the seams.
Do I not affect him the way he affects me? My stomach drops. Do I not affect him at all?
I reach out to catch another droplet of water before it follows a similar path to the last one, but his strong hand grips my wrist, filling my chest with a sharp burst of oxygen on a gasp.
Where his hand holds mine, the skin burns, heat radiating from the contact between us. My eyes flick to his devilishly sexy lips before I meet his gaze. My pulse kicks like a heavy metal drumline. His grip’s not rough—just final, firm, and hotter than the sun.
“Say thank you.” I lower my voice until it’s barely sound.
“For what? I already thanked you for the gifts you insist on sending.”
I curl a lip as my focus drifts to the flickering thump in the base of his neck. The space between arguing and wanting is becoming more indistinguishable the longer time stands still within these walls. “For the reminder you’re still alive.”
I can’t stop myself from reaching out to sweep his floppy, wet hair to the side, and this time, he doesn’t stop me. My pulse rattles under where his hand still holds my wrist, thrashing faster and harder the more he doesn’t back down.
When I tuck his hair behind his ear, my finger gently caressing the damp skin of the delicate shell, I don’t miss the quiet hiss of him releasing a breath.
“Next time, I’ll send kale. See how you like that.”
He stews in silence, his eyes, his tight jaw giving nothing away as his gaze falls to where he’s still holding my arm. He drops it like it’s contagious, like he’d forgotten he was holding it, and he takes a step back, busying his hands by drying himself with the towel he’s clutching like a lifeline.
“Stop pursuing me.” His voice is steady, but everything else in the room isn’t.
My stomach swoops at his words, but I tip my head to the side like I’m regarding him with curiosity. I pick up the end of the towel and use it to dry a cluster of water droplets on his pec that had formed from his still-wet hair.
He lets me.
He. Lets. Me.
The urge to kiss him is overwhelming, to cradle the back of his head with my palm and drag him to me.
My heart stumbles once. I smirk. “I think I’ll pass.” I turn to leave. My balls are heavy, my heart’s thundering, and myhopes are—admittedly crumpled around the edges but I have a steel spine, I’m used to being the underdog, to having to work hard for what I get.
I’ll win him over eventually. I will. I just need to find out how to reach him.
As my arm lifts to open the door, a firm hand cups around my bicep. His grip is firm, claiming.
Game on, Dark Destroyer.
CHAPTER 10
Artemis
