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“You played a good game tonight. That slapshot was something specials.”
“What do you know about my slapshot?”
The second the words were out of his mouth, the air shifted around us. And suddenly, despite the falling temperatures, I felt hot all over. Needy and restless, my skin humming with awareness.
“You’re in Hocking Hall, right?”
I nodded. “It’s so far, and my legs are tired.” I burrowed closer into his side, wrapping my arms around his waist. “Mmm.” A contented sigh slipped off my lips.
“Harper,” Mason warned.
“But you’re so comfy.”
He muttered something under his breath but made no move to untangle me from his body.
Thank God.
I wasn’t sure I could stand much longer, exhaustion seeping into my bones. Then the world tilted around me as Mason picked me up and cradled me against his chest.
“Hi,” I smiled up at him, sliding my arms around his neck.
“You’re a fucking liability.”
I rolled my eyes at that. He was so grumpy. But his cold exterior didn’t fool me. Underneath all that ice and thunder was a good guy. A guy just trying to do right by his family and his team.
“I got drunk. I didn’t—”
“You were at a bar, drunk and alone, and you let that asshole put his hands all over you.”
“I didn’t let him do anything, and for your informations, I told him to go away.”
“Informations?” He quirked a brow.
“Yes, that’s what I said. Informations.”
“You shouldn’t have been there alone.”
“I wasn’t alone. Most of the hockey team was there.”
“Harper…”
“Mason…”
“Fuck, woman, you drive me insane.”
“The feeling is entirely mutuals.”
We reached my dorm, and he lowered me to my feet. “You good?”
“I… I don’t feel—”
“Shit, Harper.” He caught me again, holding me with one arm while he managed to wrangle my keycard out of my purse and get us inside. “Room number?”
“Two Eleven. Second floors.”
“Why do you keep adding an s onto everything?”
“I do nots.” My brows furrowed. “Huh, weird.”
