Page 64 of Ice King

He took a deep breath, lowering his head so he was only a couple of inches from mine while bringing my white knuckles to his lips.

“Close your eyes,” he instructed, his voice low and husky and undeniably sexy. Even with the cabin full of excited hockey players whooping and hollering about the trip, I could hear every word Ford whispered with utter clarity.

“I can’t.”

“You can and you will. For me.”

I did as he asked, my stomach lurching.

“Take a deep breath and hold it,” he continued and his lips had to be mere centimeters from my ear.

Three tries later and I finally managed to do as he asked.

“Now, imagine we’re lying on a soft white beach in the tropics, turquoise water lapping at our feet. The only sound is the waves gently sweeping across the wet sand. The warmth of the sun is relaxing, the soft breeze tickling your skin. There’s nothing on your mind but relaxing. In the background, you sense a delicious dinner is waiting for you on the grill.”

“Is it chicken?”

He chuckled. “It can be whatever you’d like it to be.” When he stopped providing a beautiful image for me to concentrate on, neither the fear nor the tremors returned because he was rolling his lips across my knuckles.

The action was so sensual, so calming that I felt no need to open my eyes. Only a short time later and the jagged knots in my stomach began to vanish, replaced with an equally evil creature.

Butterflies.

A huge swarm of them, so many that I was lightheaded. All because of the man sitting next to me.

“Feel any better?” he asked, still holding my hand. Still kissing my fingers.

When I felt the tip of his tongue between two, my eyes flew open only to stare into the sexiest pair of emerald jewels. The shimmer was entirely different on such a beautiful late morning.If the weather had been stormy, there’d been no way even an entire team of players could have dragged me on board the plane.

Even the one staring at me with more than just concern in his heated gaze.

I tried to pull my hand away, but he wouldn’t allow any movement. Unless by way of his massive body scooting closer to mine. At this rate, I’d be sitting in his lap soon.

Not that I’d complain.

Stop it, Georgia. You can’t do this.

While we hadn’t laid any official ground rules before he’d left my house a couple of nights before, what couldn’t happen was for anyone to think we were together. I’d seen the chatter on Instagram about us. With Ford’s ongoing and heavily increasing notoriety, the worst thing that could happen was for some wayward reporter to catch wind he wasn’t America’s latest sweetheart bachelor.

There also hadn’t been any promises made between us or even an exchange of phone numbers. I’d barely seen him over the last couple of days, which was a clear indication he was busy preparing.

And that I’d been right in that what we’d shared had been a blip. Right now, the goal was to get through the next three games, helping any way I could.

Not by canoodling with the star of the show.

“I’m fine. You can let go now.”

“What if I don’t want to?” He leaned in even further, so his lips were far too close to the nape of my neck.

I yanked my hand this time, finally pulling my fingers free. Every inch of me was tingling all over. “Be a good boy and go back to your seat.”

“Better view here.” He continued to crowd my space, squeezing my knee as he did. “I might never leave.”

“What are you doing? You don’t need any rumors flying around. You need to concentrate on the game. Plus, you’ve purposely ignored me.”

“We’re on a damn plane. Who’s going to see?” Good lord, his smile was practically a leer.

“In case you haven’t noticed, we’re flying commercial. See those people over there, the ones paying way too close attention? They aren’t with the team. Do you understand what I’m saying?”