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His big hands squeezed my ass and a moan escaped from my lips. He kissed my jawbone, his lips traveling down my neck while his hands moved to my blouse and fumbled with the tiny buttons. “Mister Pilates knows who I am.” His voice was low and raspy.
“He follows hockey,” I murmured. “Don’t get a big head about it.”
“Already too late for that.” His lips were hot and I arched my neck, exposing my throat to him. He kissed it and then nipped at my earlobe.
“You and your locker room humor.”
“You love it.”
I did love it, and giggled like a school girl.
“Do you like this shirt?” he asked as he fumbled with the buttons again.
“Why?” I asked.
“Fuck it.” The buttons pinged against the wall as he ripped the shirt apart. “I’ll buy you a new one.”
We could do it just one more time, I thought to myself, sliding my hands under his T-shirt and around his muscular waist. But the reality of what we were doing hit me and I removed my hands, resting my forehead on his chest.
He froze, my shirt crumpled in his fist. He met my eyes with his steely gaze and his face sank. “Let me guess. We can’t,” he said quietly.
“We can’t,” I repeated. “Don’t get me wrong, I want to. You have no idea just how much I want this.”
“Same.” He pursed his lips and shifted, looking uncomfortable as he adjusted his dick in his boxers. Then he slipped my torn shirt over my shoulders.
I shrugged it off. “I have a spare in my office wardrobe.” I walked away and reappeared with a crisp white blouse tucked into my suit pants.
“You look beautiful.” He held up the shirt. “Sorry about this one.”
I reached to interlace my fingers though those on his free hand. “If we keep doing this one-more-time thing, we won’t be able to stop.”
“We could keep it a secret.” He raised his eyebrows.
“Trust me, I’ve thought about all the ways we could sneak around. But we can’t risk it.” I leaned against his strong body. “Hug me one more time.” I snuggled into his hoodie and inhaled, knowing that I would never forget his scent or the feel of his arms around my body. He knew just the right pressure – not too light and not too hard. I was like Goldilocks, and had found the perfect hug.
“Gunnar?” I didn’t move from his embrace.
“Yeah?” His voice vibrated in his chest against my ear. “Coach thinks you’re distracted. I can’t be your distraction.”
“I know.” He kissed the top of my head. “I’m going to go now.”
“Okay.” But I didn’t move, and neither did he.
FOURTEEN
GUNNAR
It had beenthree weeks since Norman’s surgery, and the scar, while small, was almost healed.
My phone pinged with a text as Norman and I were on one of our short walks. The phone kept dinging with more texts, and I wished I had put it on silent before shoving it into the pocket of my windbreaker. The late September morning felt more like summer, and I was wearing shorts and a T-shirt under my light jacket.
The season opener was one day away, and I had been training hard and trying to forget about Everleigh. Practices had been brutal. Coach had been hard on everyone, but he seemed to have a vendetta out for me. When Everleigh and her father came to practice, they watched from the owner’s box, and I pretended that it was two old cronies up there – not one old man and his hot daughter. Most days I didn’t even look up to see if she was there. It was the only way I could focus on the game.
After filling Norman’s bowl and flopping onto the sofa, I checked my phone. The annoying dinging had been a group text from Colton, with an invite to his place to watch old game tapes and have an afternoon carb load. I slipped the phone into my pocket and opened the fridge, planning to cook one of my epic eight-egg omelets. But as I picked up the carton, I remembered that I was about six eggs short for my recipe. I settled for scooping some protein powder into my shaker and chugged it.
Getting to know my teammates had never been a priority for me. I didn’t see the point in wasting time when I could be practicing or working out.
My stomach growled and I changed my mind. I knew that Colton had private chefs. I could be social for a couple of hours if it meant a good lunch.
