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We kiss again before I put her down on her feet. “Do you want me to drive you back to your place?”
She shakes her head as she grabs her things. “No, it’s fine. It’s a five-minute walk, and you’ve got to meet Dawson.”
I groan loudly. “Yay.”
She smacks my chest. “He looks up to you.”
“He makes me crazy.”
She snickers as she throws her backpack on. She checks her phone and then looks at me. “You haven’t heard anything, have you?”
“Not yet. I texted Mom, but nothing. Shelli hasn’t heard anything either.”
She sighs deeply. “No news is good news,” she tells herself before kissing the side of my mouth. “I’ll meet you after your game?”
I nod. “Yeah, or I can come over after I’m done with Dawson.”
Cameron’s lips twitch. “I need to clean my room before I let you in.”
“Or I’ll just come over for lunch,” I say, wrapping my arms around her. “And you’ll be my meal.”
She giggles in a way that leaves me hot for her in seconds. “Let me see if I can get it somewhat presentable. Text me before you come over…for your meal.”
I lick my lips. “Or I can take you into the locker room for a midmorning snack.”
She leans into me, stroking her thumbs along my cheekbones. “Or you’ll go meet with Dawson, I’ll go shower, I have a meeting with my professor, and then I may clean.”
“Mmm,” I murmur against her lips, holding her close. I kiss her, and her lips part for me. I swipe my tongue along hers as I tighten my arms around her, loving how good she feels in my embrace. I pull back for a breath and then kiss her nose. “Text me.”
“I will,” she says, kissing my cheek, then my chin. “Love you.”
God, those words bring me to my knees. “Love you, baby.”
She gives me a sweet little wave, and I watch as she walks away due to the simple fact that I’m addicted to those hips of hers. I love how they sway, and I want nothing more than to grip her tightly by them and pull her to my chest. God, she’s stunning. Once I’m able to tear my gaze off her, I turn to find Cameron’s jackass of a coach standing only a few feet from me.
“If looks could kill, I’d be dead.”
I shrug as I match his stance, crossing my arms over my chest. I’m much larger than he is, but I have to remember he is her coach. I don’t want to mess with her spot on the team. “I don’t like the way you talked to her.”
Amusement twitches at his lips. “She’s my gymnast.”
“And my future wife.” His eyes flash with surprise but for only a second. “She may be your gymnast for a couple more months, but she’s mine forever.”
“That’s a bold statement.”
“I’m a confident dude,” I tell him.
He chuckles. “I could make it so you couldn’t come into my gym.”
“That’s fine,” I say simply, walking by him. “Because she’ll come home to me, tell me what happened, and I’ll plan accordingly.”
I feel his gaze on me. “Is that a threat?”
I scoff. “I don’t have time for threats. I make promises.”
His eyes darken and narrow as I walk toward the exit. I don’t have time to deal with him. My point was made. She’s only his for a little while longer, and after, if he makes her cry even once, I’m going to drag his ass. I head to the hockey part of the complex and go into the locker room. I dress quickly, and when I hit the ice with my two sticks, I find that Dawson is already there, practicing his blind passes. I lean on the boards, watching him, and once more, pride fills me. He’s doing a good job, and I’m proud.
Not that I’m telling him that.
I stand my stick behind the bench and then open the boards to head onto the ice. Dawson looks up at the sound of my skates crunching against the ice and pauses, leaning on his stick. “Hey.”
“Hey there,” I call to him as I come to a stop.
“How’s Cameron?”
“She’s good,” I tell him.
“I heard about Grandma Adler. How’s she doing?”
“I don’t know yet. I haven’t heard.”
“That sucks.”
“It does,” I say with a sigh. “So, yeah, I need a distraction. Ready to work?”
He nods. “Yeah, but I wanted to tell you… I decided that I want the NHL draft.”
That surprises me. He’s a damn good football player, and he hardly has to try to be great. Hockey, he’ll have to work. Hard. “Nice. You must be really ready to work, eh?”
“Yeah,” he confirms, meeting my gaze. “I want to be the player you see in me.”
Well, damn. I guess I don’t hate the kid that much. But still, my goal is to make him puke today.
