Chapter 12

With the continued assistance of The Mere, I present the next chapter

It had been a long, intense, but thoroughly enjoyable trip to Ottawa but now that we were back on the west coast, I was very ready to crawl into my bed and sleep for a long, long time. 

Except, apparently, the universe had other plans for my tired ass. 

I dropped my bags as soon as I stepped inside the front door to the condo and reached out to flip on the lights but someone else beat me to it. A lamp switched on in the living room, just about giving me a coronary. 

"Jesus Christ on a pogo stick!" I shouted, clutching a hand to my chest. Chris stared at me in the dim light but didn't move from where he was currently taking up real estate on my sectional. "What the fuck are you doing here sitting in the dark? No, wait, what the fuck are you doing here full fucking stop and the fuck did you get in?!"

With his elbows propped on his knees, he shrugged. "I kinda dozed off. Didn't even realize how dark it had gotten."

That didn't explain how he'd gotten in and I guess I'd already guessed at the why. Beneath my hand, my heart finally started to slow a bit once my brain had registered that I was not actually in danger of being killed by an intruder. Of course I didn't expect my pulse to stay relaxed for long since, really, it was impossible not to recognize Chris as a threat of some sort. Taking a deep breath, I leaned down and yanked off my ankle boots, tossing them toward the entry closet. "It's late. I'm tired, and you've probably just got off the plane from Hawaii so you should be too so whatever this," I gestured vaguely between us, " is supposed to be, it should probably wait for another time or…or I'm probably going to say something I'll regret."

Chris didn't move but his eyes swept over me, from my lazy ponytail to the toes of my sunshine yellow socks peeking out from beneath the hems of my jeans. The constant hell of caring about him and the torment of being continually questioned about the nature of our relationship, never mind the fact that we weren't actually having a relationship... the whole shebang was just too emotionally draining and I was already on the verge of cracking - I really didn't have it in me to go another ten rounds. 

"Chris," I pleaded quietly, pressing my fingertips against my temples, "Please, I'm fucking begging here, just...not tonight, okay?" I could feel the sting of tears building in my eyes and knew I was seconds from an exhausted meltdown. I really didn't want him there when it happened. "I'm sure you have a fabulous monologue prepared explaining all the ways I've taken whoring to a whole new level but I really just can't do this right now. Give me a few days and then I'll be better prepared to handle whatever you have to throw at me. But just... not right now."

It pissed me off to have to beg, to let him know that he really and truly had the upper hand here and that he could easily do significant damage with very little effort on his part in the shape I was currently in. I looked over to where he was still watching me like he was expecting me to sprout a disco ball and a brass pole and sighed. There really is nothing quite like having the man that holds your heart in the palm of his hands look at you like you're the Whore of Babylon.

"Did you know…when you went to with them, did you know you were going to sleep with…someone else?" So he was going to ignore my plea. I don't know why I was disappointed but I had to fight to hold back a scream of sheer frustration as I dragged my ass to the wingback chair across from him and dropped into it.

"Do you ever get bored of judging people?" I asked, feeling tired and irritated as I stared him down. His blue eyes opened a little wider. So I'd surprised him with that one. Well I guess that was one point for me.

"How could you just…give yourself to a complete stranger?" he replied, ignoring my question. Smirking, I dramatically rolled my eyes.

"Actually it was a treat and kind of educational.  It's amazing how some things translate despite a language barrier. But I guess 'yes', 'harder', and 'don't stop' are pretty much universal." I countered, tilting my head to one side and waiting for his answer. It wasn't my imagination. He blanched and then clenched his teeth. I was too tired to be intimidated. I was too tired to even care how this went down. I wasn't the one who'd asked for this fight.

"Our guys…that's one thing but…I can't believe Hank pimped you out like that!" he growled. I dropped my head into my hands. He still didn't get it and I was tired of trying to explain it to him.

"You know what? Sex is fun, maybe you should try it some time. I mean not with me, obviously because I'm the worst person in the entire world according to you but…you know, maybe you wouldn't be so fucking uptight if you would just get your rocks off once in a fucking while." God it sounded so loud when I said it and then it got so quiet; the kind of quiet that was heavy and so, so quiet.

"It's supposed to mean something," he hissed at me like I was the misbehaving child at church, like what he wanted to do was smack my impudent face. I stared back at him and for a single, shining moment I tried to ignore that little voice in the back of my head that was telling me to let him have it, and then I didn't.

"Did it mean something with that puck in Boston?" If I'd thought it was quiet before it got empty museum quiet then as he stared at me like I'd actually just stuck a knife in his gut. I felt like I had. I felt like I could feel his blood pouring over my hand.

Well good, I thought, staring back at him, he'd been hurting me enough.

"I came here to talk about us," he said quietly and then turned his face away so it fell back into the shadows.

"Us?" I snickered. It was just so absurd. "There is no us, you've made that abundantly clear."

"You won't do the one thing…," he began but I held up my hand. I couldn't listen to this argument any more.

That's when Kris Letang's words came back to me. 

"I don't think I could be satisfied with just one man Chris. I'm sorry if that doesn't fit into the unicorn rainbow world you live in but…I like sex, a lot and I'm not going to apologize to you or anyone else for enjoying it. I wish you'd accept that they way you accept Kess for having crazy hair or…or Burr for telling lame jokes." I looked up at him, a kernel of hope deep in my gut making me expect to see the truth of what I'd just said dawning on his face but, predictably, he frowned and shook his head.

"That's not the same at all. It's not like having a big nose or something, you get paid to sleep around!" he snarled, exasperation clear in his tone. I just shrugged.

"I do and I enjoy it and I'm done apologizing for that. I like having sex and I know, in here," I continued, holding my hand over my heart, "that if you and I could get beyond this bullshit that what we would have between us would be different and I could prove to you that I can have more than just sex but I'm not gonna beg you to sleep with me Chris. This is your problem, it's not mine. Now, I'm exhausted and I'm going to bed so either you come with me or you go home but either way, this conversation is over." I wearily pushed myself to my feet and stumbled as I got upright. I didn't see him move but Chris caught me when I swayed and I blinked up into his furious gaze. "Jeezus Chris, whatryagonnado, hit me?" I asked, realizing in that moment that it would almost be a relief if he did. At least then, I told myself as I stared back into his eyes that always struck me as being the colour of deep ocean pools, I could get over him.

"Do you know how hard this is for me?" he hissed at me as his thick fingers dug into my upper arms. I smirked at him sleepily and shook my head.

"I guess kind of as hard as it is for me to have you look at me like I'm something you've just scraped off the bottom of your shoe." He blinked and some of the rage leaked out of his eyes. "Kind of like knowing that you like me and hate me at the same time," I continued, feeling that familiar ball of emotion rising up in my throat, threatening to choke me. Slowly I felt his fingers stop digging into my flesh and then, haltingly, he lifted one hand to cradle my cheek. I gritted my teeth. Part of me wanted to sob like a baby at the tenderness of his touch and the sudden change in his expression but the other part, the bigger part of my brain screamed at me not to believe it, that it would only last a minute and then he'd be back to calling me a slut and worse.

Except that he didn't. While the pad of his thumb gently stroked my cheek he cursed quietly.

"I don't hate you," he whispered, as if he was also having trouble forcing his voice around his own tangle of emotion. "I want to hate you," he added even more quietly as he reached up and slowly tugged the elastic from my ponytail. I refused to groan out loud, even though that was my gut reaction. I forced myself to keep my eyes open, not close them and lean into his hand as he raked it gently through my hair.

"I'm too tired for games Chris," I muttered, clinging to my anger like a life raft. I stared at him, into those afternoon sun blue eyes and dared him to say one more thing about my being a whore and I was going to gladly slap his handsome face.

"Me too," he replied softly and then, before I could properly process what he was doing, he dropped his hand from hair to the small of my back, pulled me against him and kissed me, hard.

The angel on one shoulder broke out her pom-poms and danced a jig while the devil on my other shoulder stuck out her tongue and called bullshit on the whole proceedings. I fell somewhere in the middle, between wanting to dig my fingers into his coarse sandy blonde hair and wrap my legs around his waist and wanting to push him away and tell him to leave. My body had already surrendered but I still didn't trust him.

"Stop," I breathed, managing to push him away, just enough to get some air. "What the hell do you think you're doing?" One corner of his mouth curled into a smile. My legs turned into limp spaghetti noodles as he stroked the back of my neck with his fingers. I bit my bottom lip hard enough that I tasted blood.

"So you're allowed to fuck all my teammates and guys on other teams but I can't even kiss you?" he asked a little breathlessly, smirking at me like I was the one that had done something funny. I frowned at him.

"I'm getting whiplash from your mood swings. You should see someone for that. I think you can get some medication," I pointed out. His gaze stayed locked on my mouth.

"Damn it woman, do you have to have a smart come back for everything?" he grated out, leaning in so that his lips were almost brushing my cheek and I could feel the moist warmth of his breath on my ear. "I want to stay," he whispered. "I want to erase every single memory you have of being with another man and I know I could… but…I'm not there yet."

"Not…? What the fuck are you talking about?" I stuttered as he drew back, cradling my face in both of his big, rough, scarred hands.

"Do you have to argue about everything?" he groaned before pressing his mouth softly over mine once more in a kiss that was rather chaste but still made my toes curl. "G'night baby," he added softly, holding my gaze for one more, long moment and then he turned and left, just like that. Not another word, leaving me staring at a closed door and wondering what the in the Sam Hill had just happened. 

"Oh good," Katie patted the spot next to her on the couch in the player's lounge. "I want to hear all the gossip from the all star game." I smiled, my thoughts immediately going back to that hotel room, the dark haired Frenchman and a bowl of freshly whipped cream he'd ordered from room service.

"Well I can tell you this much, it was fun, I'd do it again," I added with a smirk and wink. Juice's wife groaned and looked envious.

"Spill it, who'd you end up with?" Joann snorted, joining us on the couch and digging her elbow playfully into my side. I batted my eyelashes at her and shook my head.

"A Specialist doesn't kiss and tell, you know the rules," I insisted.

"Fuuuck that," Gina snorted, dropping her very expensive Coach bag between her feet as she joined us. "Spill bitch," she added playfully, "unless of course it was that douche Kane in which case I don't wanna hear it."

"It wasn't," I insisted, laughing as I recalled how at breakfast the next day he'd practically begged for a turn.

"Was it Jamie Benn `cuz he's kinda cute," Johanna asked, blushing when everyone made kissing sounds at her.

"No, oh my god, you're worse than the boys," I laughed. "Okay, fine it was Kris Letang." The room fell silent in an instant and the expression on every woman's face in the room made it clear that every last one of them had thought about being in my shoes and each one of them sighed wistfully.

"Oh please tell me he was as good as I imagine he is," Katie sighed.

"And then some," I admitted. They all heaved another sigh. I shook my head and started to giggle, and then stopped.

He was standing just inside the room, already in his hockey pants and socks but with that torn half shirt he wore under his jersey, his perfectly formed abs on display. Every pair of eyes turned towards him but his gaze was on me, and me alone. He looked decidedly unhappy.

Oh hell.

Chris turned and walked back through the door to the locker room, slamming the door so hard that it left a divot in the dry wall. I stared at that divot and inexplicably felt everything below my belly button clench with desire.

"Oooh someone's not happy you got to play with the Disney Prince." I turned and blinked at Gina. Jesus Christ on a bike, did everyone know how Higgy felt but me?

"Okay, really, everyone keeps saying stuff like that but honestly..," I started to dispute it but Katie reached over and laid her hand atop one of mine.

"I was in Hawaii with him. It was Penny this and Penny that and believe me, there were some very pretty girls in teenie weenie bikinis around. Chris didn't look at any of them." I stared at her, my mouth open to argue but then I thought of the kiss and…I couldn't.

"Oh my god Lappy, Juice and Higgy in nothing but shorts?" Gina fanned herself and everyone laughed. Everyone but me. 

I sat on the edge of my seat most nights, living and dying with each shift, feeling each hit, celebrating each goal like it was the last of the season. Against the Hawks though, it felt like I couldn't breathe. Actually it was like the entire city was sitting on the edge of their seats, holding their breaths and wishing violent and bloody thoughts towards each and every player in a Chicago jersey, especially Ratface Bolland.

Schneids was amazing, like he usually was and the home fans cheered boisterously for every save he made, taunting Toews and Kane every time he made a glove save look easy. It didn't take long for Kess to put us in the lead, a wrister from the half boards that had the entire arena on their feet and howling for blood. Ryan celebrated with a cocky grin that made me shake my head and laugh.

Unfortunately it didn't take long for the Hawks to even the score when Seabrook made a beautiful saucer pass and Mayers put it over Cory's shoulder. The crowd groaned and fell silent, sullenly watching the despised Hawks celebrate.

Then Coach put Hansen and Lappy out with Chris and I was forced to bite my nails to the quick as they raced into the Hawks end and started throwing hits like Jehova Witnesses handout leaflets on a Saturday morning. I knew and most of the crowd seemed to sense that Chris wasn't exactly a hundred per cent yet and I winced every time he put a shoulder into a Hawks jersey. I waited for him to crumple. He didn't. The boys kept the Hawks pinned in their own end for the rest of the period but Crawford stood his ground and protected his crease. We went through the entire second period without either team gaining any ground.

I hadn't even returned to my seat with a slice of lukewarm pizza when the hulking Swede Stalberg opened the third with a pretty back hand that squeaked past Schneids. The crowd grumbled making their discontent known as Toews and Kane lead Stalberg down the bench, hooting and hollering like they'd won the game.

AV put the energy line back out on the ice and as they lined up to take the face off against Sharp, Hossa and BMo, Chris stood at the top of the circle and feigned checking the blade of his stick. Except he wasn't looking at his stick at all; he was looking over it and past the Hawks bench… right at me.

If I hadn't already been confused I was downright baffled now. The expression in his eyes was dark and clearly unhappy and I felt it right down into the pit of my stomach. I was certain that look had nothing to do with the loathed Hawks. I was absolutely convinced it was entirely my fault.

"What the fuck?" I muttered and slid down in my seat, wishing for a pit to open up and swallow me whole. It was too intimate an exchange. It felt like the whole crowd had turned to look at me. I even glanced up at the scoreboard to see if I was on the damned Kiss Cam or something.

The puck had barely hit the ice when Chris took a run directly at Hossa. The only way it could have been more of a suicide mission was if he'd taken a run at Keith, Seabrook or worse, that giant meathead Scott. Hossa barely flinched. Chris took the worst of the hit and ended up slumping to the ice.

I heard the squeak that came out of my mouth and immediately tried to stifle it with both of my hands. I'd seen all of our guys take and give hits and I'd experienced everything between concern and outrage before but this was different. I felt… desperately worried.

"Jesus Christ Pen, get your shit together," I muttered to myself. The middle-aged man sitting beside me with his wife glanced sideways at the crazy woman talking to herself. I grinned at him and shrugged. Well, what else could I do? I probably sounded schizophrenic.

"You know what you need to do," Gina murmured without looking up from her iPhone. I blinked at her, totally having forgotten she was sitting next to me. I hadn't paid the least bit of attention to her since the game had begun.

"What's that?" I hissed back.

"Talk to him," she suggested quietly, pulling up the now infamous "six pack" shot of Chris on her phone and flashing it at me with a wicked smile. "Because neither of you can keep pretending you don't want to jump each other." I opened my mouth to protest, even to say that I'd rather jump her husband than Chris, but Cody lined up at the top of the circle and snapped one past Crawford and the entire arena got to their feet, me right along with them.

We were tied and there was still fifteen minutes left in the third.

As soon as Danny roofed one into the back of the net, sending Crawford's water bottle flying and everyone in the arena to their feet, ending overtime, I turned and headed down the corridor. I'd spent the balance of the third period trying to decipher Chris's actions. The guy ran hot and cold like a faucet. I didn't know which end was up and more than that, I didn't know what to feel when I was near him.

Being around him was like riding a rollercoaster in the dark. I didn't know when the twists and turns were coming and half the time I didn't know which side was up and which side was down.

My body wanted him in the worst way. He barely had to touch me and I was on fire but at the same time all he had to do was look at me and I wanted to hiss, spit and claw like a cat. He could make me so angry in one minute and turn me into melted butter the next.

It had to stop.

I had a job to do and he was a distraction but worse than that, he had constantly been doing everything in his power to belittle me. I'd long since gotten past the sticks and stones part of it, but he needed to stop talking to everyone else in the league about me and start actually talking to me.

He was outside the room, out of his skates and jersey but still in full body armour standing in the hallway surrounded by reporters and cameras. I looked at his bare feet on the concrete floor and bit my bottom lip. Skater's feet, like those of ballerinas, are a mess of bruises, bunions, twisted and broken toes and yet they are delicate, sensitive things and I couldn't help but stare and, god help me, want to touch them.

"Hey sexy, you waitin' for me?" I had stopped halfway down the hall, out of range of the cameras and was leaning against the wall watching the scrum so intently I hadn't heard the door of the opposition room open. I turned to see Patrick Kane smirking at me in nothing but a towel. I rolled my eyes.

"You wish," I sighed and kept my eyes glued north of shoulders. It wasn't that he was bad to look at. It was just that I didn't want to encourage him.

"Aw c'mon, we let your guys win, the least you can do is give me a sympathy fuck," he grinned like he'd made a funny.

"That is so not in my contract," I chuckled. I'd figured out in Ottawa that Kane was pretty much harmless, mostly bark and literally no bite. I'd also been told that he was almost all show and no go in the sack, more impressed with himself than he'd ever be with the women he slept with.

"You're killing me," he exaggerated a stumble backwards, clutching his chest. I shook my head at him. He was an overgrown teenage boy. Once realized that, his antics didn't bother me.

"If you don't go back to your own room, I'll kill you."

Oh. Shit.

Pat's eyes widened and flashed with unholy amusement as he looked past me at the wall of muscle suddenly at my back.

I tensed and bristled at having him come to my rescue when I didn't need rescuing. Plus, was he insane? There were people around and his little caveman act could be on YouTube in seconds.

"Chrissss," I hissed under my breath, glaring a warning at him over my shoulder. He ignored it, his fierce gaze locked on mostly naked Kane who smirked back at him. I wanted to tell him that by reacting he would only be encouraging Patrick but I pressed my lips shut, deciding to let Chris find out for himself.

"Did she tell you how I totally rocked her world after the skills?" Patrick asked, miming holding a woman's hips and fucking her from behind. I heard a feral growl start in Chris's throat behind me.

"In your dreams," I sighed and shook my head at Pat who grinned like a jack o lantern over my shoulder at Chris. I didn't need to turn to know that Higgy would be wearing an unhappy expression. I could feel his desire to rip Kane limb from limb coming off him in waves. "It didn't happen Chris," I added more quietly.

"Oh wait, are you two really a thing?" Kane asked, stopping mid motion, his mischievous grin growing by degrees, looking first at me and then over at Chris. "Like a…," he mimed swatting a woman's ass and then fucking her, "thing?"  Chris growled again.

This was not going to end well. I turned and grabbed Chris's upper arms, pushing him with all my might. I couldn't budge him.

"He's baiting you, you fucking idiot," I hissed. Chris continued to glare death rays towards the Hawks' diminutive forward. "Jeeezus you don't even care," I spat at him, putting both of my hands flat on Chris's chest and shoving him backwards with all my might. He barely rocked back on his heels. The shove didn't get his attention but he turned a quizzical stare down at me.

"What do you mean, I don't care?" he asked, looking sincerely puzzled.

"Okay, again, you hate what I do so by extension you hate me," I began, already bored by having to say it out loud, again.

"I said I don't hate you," he replied quietly, still staring at me like I was saying and doing something that mystified him.

"Whatever. You don't approve, blah blah blah. If you actually cared about me you wouldn't be running me down all the time. And by the way, I'd sincerely appreciate it if you didn't talk about me behind my back. It's immature and offen…."

I didn't get to finish my planned speech, the one I'd come storming down to the bowels of the arena to give. One minute I was about to lecture him and the next he had my head in his hands and his mouth was crushed against mine…again.

I was taken completely by surprise and just stood there like a statue, eyes open wide as he kissed me. Of course, in the next minute, my hands were in his hair and I was kissing him back, attempting to climb him like a jungle gym. I wanted to be pressed against him, all of him, and I wanted him to press me against the nearest flat surface but instead, he broke off the kiss and pushed me away from him, keeping me there, helpless, at arms' length.

"Enough of this shit. We're going on a date, tomorrow night," he told me a little breathlessly. His face was telegraphing his emotional state as a frown laced his brows together while a small smile tugged at his mouth. "Wear something pretty," he added, curling his index finger beneath my chin and gazing down into my face like I was an amusing but disobedient child. I opened my mouth to tell him hell to the no, but all that came out was:

"Okay."

There was an extra bounce in my step when I arrived at practice the next day with my venti mocha in one hand and a copy of the Province in the other. There was a piece about the Twins in it that I was looking forward to reading.

I passed by the player's lounge, like I usually did on the mornings I swung by to watch the guys, but as I was about to call out a greeting to the training staff a bottle of water whizzed by my face and collided with the wall. I stood blinking at it, which was the only thing that saved me from getting smoked in the kisser by the BlackBerry that followed seconds later.

"Son of a fucking cunt!" I glanced down at the pieces of black plastic littering the concrete floor and then toward the source, who had murder in his eyes. Ryan.

"Bad news?" I asked quietly, taking a few tentative steps into the room.

"Something like that, fuck…sorry, I didn't hit you did I?" I shook my head and smiled at the apologetic expression on his face. "Sorry, fuck," he muttered again, roughly running his hands through his unruly hair. There were only two things I could think of that could put the usually affable Super Kess in this kind of a mood; being injured or Andrea.

"What did she do now?" I asked quietly, depositing my drink and newspaper on the closest surface. Drawing him aside, I took one of his hands in both of mine and dug my thumbs into the palm, attempting to massage out the tension I could feel there.

"Is it that obvious?" he sighed and leaned his head against the cool concrete wall.

"Well you're not limping and I don't see any bandages so…yeah," I replied lightly, if hesitantly. His wife was still a touchy subject despite the fact that Ryan pretty much shared everything with me about their volatile relationship. I was still doing my best to keep some boundaries between us, though, of all of the players, I probably had the closest relationship with Kess.

"She wants another kid," he began, his gaze riveted to the work I was doing on his hand. The shock of his words made me falter for a moment but I continued a few seconds later. "She told me this morning that she's been flushing her pills and…I'm actually not sure that we're even going to stay together so..," he looked up at me and shrugged. I knew the rest. He didn't need to say it. Andrea had her tentacles into him and wasn't about to let go, despite her best efforts at chasing him away. It was a tug of war he was tired of being in, but she was his wife and the mother of his children; his totally adorable kids who were the light of his life.

"It could be a good thing," I heard myself say then shook my head, admitting the lie.

Ryan scoffed and narrowed his eyes at me. "You've never fed me any bullshit before, Pen. Now is not the time to start."

"I know, I'm sorry," I whispered and pressed my forehead to his shoulder. He was hurting and I hated it. I hated her right then even if I could understand that she was just trying to do whatever she felt she had to. "Maybe you need some space," I said, thinking that maybe Andrea needed to go spend some time with her parents, away from him and the team and, selfishly, me. Ryan's face lit up like a neon sign in Vegas.

"Space? Yes," he nodded enthusiastically. "I need space! I could stay with you for a few days. That's brilliant!" he grinned wickedly and then, using his other arm to pull me into a one armed bear hug, almost pressed the air from my lungs.

"I…I didn't..," I stuttered, trying to think of how I could get myself out of this. I'd just agreed to a date with Chris and now we'd have a chaperone. It wasn't exactly the most romantic idea ever. "That might be kind of…awkward," I suggested quietly.

Ryan rolled his eyes. "Hey, it's not like I haven't seen and heard it all, hello, I've been on the road with these guys for like…ever. And if they want you to themselves for a while it's not like I can't leave," he pointed out, leaning in and pressing his lips to my cheek. "God, I so need some space. This is perfect!" I watch him walk away feeling a bit like I've been run over by a speeding train.

"It's a good thing I didn't plan on you making me dinner," a voice whispered soft and low in my ear seconds before I felt a hand at the small of my back. I closed my eyes and leaned back slightly, revelling in the warmth of his touch.

"It is, because I would have said no," I smiled to myself as he whistled.

"Hey, I had dinner with you once," he reminded me. I wrinkled my nose as I turned around to look up at him. Damn. I was starting to wonder if he had some sort of aversion to wearing shirts. Normally it wouldn't be an issue but…

"We picked up Chinese, and I don't remember you eating anything so that doesn't count," I point out to him and tucked my hands into my back pockets. The urge to run my fingers over the tattoo on his chest and down over his abs is too much. Not to mention how badly I wanted to lick at the drop of sweat barely clinging to his chin.

"Well we'll have to remedy that," he said softly and reached up to brush my hair back over my shoulder. His gaze lingered on my neck and my pulse began to race at the thought of his lips there, his teeth grazing over my skin.

"I thought that was the plan," I murmured, wondering if my panties were literally going to combust if he got any closer to me.

"Part of it anyway," he grinned, running his finger down my jaw line and tipping my face up towards his. I held my breath, waiting for him to kiss me right there in the hallway outside the players' lounge like he did the night before… but he just nudged the tip of my nose with his own and stepped back. "See you later," he said, a secretive smile playing at the corners of his lips.

I watched him walk, or more correctly, strut down the hall and had to lean on the wall for support. When my brain started functioning correctly again, there was only one thought in my mind playing on repeat;

Goddamn that man was sexy.