Page 35 of Unforgettable Player

“What?”

I press kisses to his cheek, moving down to brush my mouth over his jawline before reaching his neck. He grasps my bare shoulder under the shirt, tangles his fingers in my hair as he arches his back, panting, murmuring my name. I can’t remember the last time I felt this good.

We start rutting harder, my dick leaving a wet patch in my boxers. Fuck, we could make each other come like this. Up against my parents’ front door.

I lift his shirt and spread my fingers out over his bare stomach. “I fucking love this.”

“Love what?”

“Your body.”

He lets out a strangled, slightly hysterical laugh before I drop to my knees and kiss his stomach. I bury my face in his crotch, inhaling the worn denim smell and his cologne. His cock presses against the fabric insistently. I lick it through the layers and Elliot whines.

“We can’t …” he pants. “We have to stop.” His hands are gripping my hair, keeping my head firmly in place. I stop moving because he told me to. Keep inhaling him, though.

“Do you want me to stop?”

“Yes? No.”

I plant my hands on the door behind him and force myself to get up. Elliot looks wrecked. He runs his hand through his hair, making it even messier and so fucking sexy.

“Eli, what do you want? Tell me and I’ll do it.”

He gives me this look that I can’t read. “Do you know how many times I’ve fantasized about you saying that to me?”

I had a clue Eli had a crush on me growing up, but I didn’t exactly think he sat around pining for me. Definitely not after all these years. I didn’t take it too seriously or let myself get an ego over it.

“Elliot,” I say, running my hand through his hair.

“What I want and what’s right are two very different things in this instance,” he says.

My voice comes out way huskier than I’d meant it to. “Tell me what you want.”

He looks at me, biting his lip. “I want …”

A creak on the floorboards upstairs forces us apart. Eli’s straightening himself out when someone whisper shouts from the top of the stairs. “Eli? That you?”

He throws me a look. Is it apologetic? Frustrated? A little of both?

I want to stop him from leaving and going to Scout. She’s going to ask him about his date. They’re going to sit up there talking about Cute Bookstore Guy when we just had the hottest kiss of my life.

But I don’t stop him. Instead, I’m left down here alone while he follows Scout to her room and closes the door.

The second I get out on the ice with the kids, the fact I barely slept last night doesn’t matter anymore. Chasing them around and watching them celebrate their goals is the only thing stopping that itch under my skin that’s been there since the minute Elliot walked through the door last night.

These kids look at me like I know what I’m talking about. Like I have the secret ingredient that’s gonna send them to the NHL or the PWHL.

Once again, I’m disappointed when Coach blows his whistle to signal the end of practice. This time, that disappointment comes with a dose of dread because I’ll have to see Elliot. Face up to the fact that I want him and can’t even hide it from myself anymore.

I’m about to help Coach clear away the cones and pucks when he stops me. “Someone’s here to see you.” He nods to the stands, where a guy in a suit is standing behind the plexiglass.

“Who’s that?”

Coach shrugs. “Go ask him.”

I’m sure Coach has it wrong and this guy wants to talk to him, but as I skate over, the guy flashes me a friendly smile and nods a greeting to me.

He holds his hand out and introduces himself. “Damien Rogers. Nice to meet you, Connor.”