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“No, it’s not that,” I explain. “It’s still just a bit fresh, you know? I don’t really like talking about it.”
“Ahh . . . just answer me this,” he says. I give him a smile and a small nod, encouraging him to continue. “Is this guy the reason you’re not giving me a chance?”
As I study him for a moment, a million different cheeky comments come to mind, but I settle for the truth. “Honestly, yes and no,” I say. “I’m not ready for anything, not so soon after what he put me through, and no offense, but you have the worst reputation as a player, and I’m the kind of girl who falls hard and fast. I can’t let myself do that because you’ll one hundred percent break my heart, and I’m not sure it can take another beating.”
He nods as he takes in everything I’ve just told him, and I know he’s considering every last word. “There’s something about you, Dani,” he says. “I don’t know what it is. But I need to figure it out.”
Well, shit just got real.
“Can we put the spotlight back on you now?” I ask, feeling a little shy.
“Alright,” he laughs. “What do you want to know?”
“Um . . . why hockey?”
“Geez, go straight for the kill,” he mutters.
“Sorry,” I mutter, hoping I’m not crossing a line.
He squeezes my hand and tugs me closer to him. “It’s okay. I haven’t told anyone this for a long time,” he says, then takes a breath. “My dad died when I was seven, and I went through this phase of hating the world and everyone in it. I was angry and didn’t know how to deal with it. Dad was a huge hockey fan, so Mom put me in lessons as a way of being closer to him and as a way to use up all my energy. I fell in love with it. I’d stay at the rink for hours practicing, come home, and do it all again the next day.”
“Wow,” I say, a little unsure of how to respond. “That’s kind of amazing and tragic at the same time. I guess hockey was your dad’s last gift to you.”
He’s thoughtful for a moment. “I’ve never thought of it that way,” he murmurs. “I like it.”
“Do you miss him?”
“Yeah. I mean, I was seven, so I only have a handful of memories and a few photos, but I wish he was around.” I give him a sad smile, not knowing how he does it. How anybody does it. I couldn’t imagine losing a parent. I haven’t seen Mom and Dad since Christmas, and I’m already going crazy.
“I bet,” I respond as we head down the small path leading to my front door. “This is me,” I tell him, indicating my house.
As I go to find my keys, I let out a soft yelp as Miller’s hands find my waist, and before I know it, he has me up against the locked door, his darkening gaze locked and loaded on mine. “What happened to being a gentleman?” I ask him, my lips kicking into a seductive smirk, the feel of his body pressed against mine doing wicked things to me.
“Even a gentleman hopes for a goodnight kiss,” he says, slowly dropping his face to mine, giving me the chance to pull away.
Oh, God.
I know I shouldn’t, but the invitation is quite literally staring me in the face. I reach up and hover my lips before his, the hesitation all too real. Letting myself take a leap, I press my lips to his.
Miller’s lips move against mine, kissing me with intense passion, enough to drive a woman wild. He slips his tongue into my mouth and I moan against him.
God, this is good. Too good.
My hand slides up his hard chest and over his broad shoulders, tangling in his hair as my other slips around his waist before lowering down his strong back. His hands begin exploring my body and come to a stop on my ass, gripping me tighter. Miller lifts me and my legs automatically lock around his waist as he holds me against the wall, and I feel him there, his cock raging and ready to go as he grinds against me. My eyes roll with pleasure, more than ready to let him take me right here on the fucking doorstep.
I gasp for breath and his lips find the soft skin of my neck. “Fuck,” I moan. I know deep down I need to stop this before it gets too far, but it feels too damn good. He slams his lips back against mine and we continue our sensual dance against each other, his slow grinding driving me wild as the sexual tension skyrockets between us.
No, no, no. I’ve got to stop.
I pull back from him and rest my forehead against his. “Stop. We can’t,” I tell him as I try to catch my breath.
