AllFreeNovel
Share Us
But Owen… Owen is cackling like a damn hyena—not that I care.
Because now that Tennessee and I are in the same place, and she’s here to help me with my shot, the hat tricks are about to be happening in abundance.
On and off the ice.
Chapter Fourteen
Tennessee
It may sound crazy—or hell, I might be crazy—but I have felt D’Artagnan Miklas’s presence in this damn state since I entered it.
When we crossed the border, my neck ached with imaginary beard burn.
When we got to my apartment on the coast, my nips throbbed.
When I entered Malcolm Peterson Practice Compound, my lips felt swollen.
When I walked into the team meeting, not only did my heart go insane in my chest, but my knees felt like they couldn’t support me.
But nothing, and I mean not a goddamn thing, could have prepared me for when my eyes meet Dart’s.
My hands clench at my sides, burn, and feel like they’re not even my hands. My heart is fluttering like a damn hummingbird on twenty Red Bulls. My stomach feels like it’s full of bees on crack that are stinging me everywhere. Between my legs? My desire is thick, pulsing, and screaming for him. I feel like it’s calling to Dart like how the ocean calls to Moana.
Did I really just compare my pussy to a Disney movie? I need fucking help.
No. I need D’Artagnan Miklas.
Even his name feels like sex.
He hasn’t changed, not even a bit, and tears sting my eyes with the relief of seeing him. I look up at him, the only thing between us a flimsy piece of fucking paper. I memorized his face; it’s seared in my head, and still, I don’t want to look away. His dark-blondish hair falls over his forehead, shaved neatly along the sides of his head. The hair on his jaw and over his lip is coarse and lush, and my lips ache to brush against it. His lips mock me, a little tip up because he knows exactly what I am feeling. But it’s the eyes that do me in. Usually the color of the sky, they are thunderous storm clouds right now, and my next breath is nowhere to be found.
It’s then I realize that in just these few seconds, I have felt more desire than in all of the last three months.
And it’s him. D’Artagnan Miklas.
What is this? What is this hold he has on me? Fucking hell, I want him.
I find myself leaning toward him when his eyes fall to my lips. But then loud laughter, much like that of a hyena, reminds me where I am. My eyes widen, and it’s as if I’m smacked back to reality. I take a full step back before clearing my throat. I pull my gaze from his, shaking my head free of the lust cloud he has enveloped me in, and clear my throat again, louder. With more determination, to wake myself the fuck up. What the hell am I doing? I am a professional!
But then I meet his gaze again, and all I want to be is his.
No.
Whoa.
Okay.
Tennessee fucking Lynn Dent, get your mind right! You are at work.
You are the face of CapitalCare!
But he’s here and… His eyes.
His lips.
Oh, they turn up, sinfully appealing, and I lick my own lips.
No.
When he chuckles, low and dangerous, I gasp, and it only makes that smirk grow.
Fuck. My. Life.
I close my eyes for a moment and then open them to look at the paper in my hand. “D’Artagnan Miklas,” I say, and when he groans ever so softly, I know no one heard him but me. The sound is music to my ears, and my body wants to dance, but damn it, not now. I am a professional, successful, fantastic girlboss! I do not get gooey over men with “Sunshine” neck tattoos and dragon tattoos and big dicks.
At work.
At home…whole other story.
But you are at work! my brain screams at me, and I clear my throat again.
To no avail.
My fingers bite into the paper, and his chuckle is wicked. Oh, he knows he is driving me crazy. I look up at him. “Quit.”
“No fucking way,” he mutters, shaking his head. “Months, baby doll. Months.”
A chill runs down my spine. “Please,” I beg, and God, that grin is sinful. “Phone number,” I say louder, and he covers my hand with his, heat creeping up my arm, before taking the pen.
“I don’t want you to lose it or write it down incorrectly to where you can’t get ahold of me,” he says in a way that lets me know he is not happy. He writes down his number and then hands me the pen back. “And the next thing you know, it’s three months later.”
I yank the paper from him and ask, “What is your availability?”
“I told you, Tennessee—” I didn’t forget how wonderful my name sounds on his lips, but hearing it once more has my thighs clamping together “—name the time and the place.”
