Page 120 of On the Power Play

Delia exhaled. "I can go out."

Jack shook his head. "No, it's good. It's been a long time, that's all."

Delia's placid expression cracked. "Jack?—"

He twisted and pulled her between him and the counter, finally giving himself permission to touch her. Really touch her. As his hands settled on the curve of her waist, feeling the edge of her hip bone under the thin cotton shirt, he realized his mistake. He'd opened up a floodgate that he had no energy left to close back up.

He let his eyes travel slowly up her body until he met her gaze. "Have I earned this?”

Delia frowned for a moment, then her focus sharpened. She knew exactly what he was referring to. That morning in the café. When she’d said the word he hadn’t been able to stop thinking about since. Sacred.

He’d toyed with that concept every night as he lay alone in bed, analyzing the years since Angie left. It explained everything. Why he couldn’t bring himself to touch other women, why he couldn’t push past the first awkward moments to begin building an actual relationship.

He knew connection, body and soul, and nothing else was good enough. But growing that with Angie had taken time. Pain. Effort. It had all been so much work, and he’d convinced himself he didn’t have the energy to do it again. He didn’t want to have the energy to do it again, because for years he’d been looking back. Wanting only her. Living in a past he couldn’t tap into, and ignoring half the life he was forced to stand in.

Then came Tony’s call. Dinner with Delia. His signature on that contract. It had forced him to step into a world he refused to enter on his own, and now here they were. Standing in a hotel washroom. His hands on her hips. Looking into her eyes of ice and fire.

No place had ever felt so hallowed.

Without meaning to, he’d dipped his toes into the water, then stumbled in up to his knees, and he’d been toying with the idea of plunging his head under the surface since he’d seen Delia at the Saddledome.

He was ready.

Was he ready?

Delia swallowed, then nodded her head. “You’ve earned a lot more than this.”

Jack’s knees went weak. He blamed his shredded hamstrings and widened his stance. An ache built in his middle as Delia pulled him closer. When he spoke, he sounded as if he’d just skated a double shift.

“I don't want to be your fake boyfriend anymore.” Jack lowered his forehead to hers. “I don't want to kiss because we're trying to make it look real, and I don't want to stick to a damn schedule.” He paused, trying to figure out how to make his words honest. “I don't know what I'm doing. You know it's been years since I've wanted to be with someone, and I don't know—I can't promise you I won't be a mess, but I want to try. With you." He stood there breathless, his hips against hers, giving away every last thought in his head.

Delia pulled her hands off the counter and placed them on his stomach, then moved them over his chest, sending shivers down his spine. "What about the contract?"

Jack lifted his head and tucked her hair behind her ears. "To hell with the contract."

“What about the money?”

“I don’t need it.” He didn’t know if that was true, but he sure as hell wasn’t going to take another dollar out of Delia’s pocket.

“Do you know if they’re bringing you back for next season?” she asked. He shook his head. “Then?—”

Jack put a finger to her lips. He didn’t want Delia to ask any other questions—he was all too aware that his life was in shambles. That they didn’t even live in the same province, and that Delia would have to go back to Toronto eventually. It was terrifying that a growing part of himself hoped he didn’t get signed to the Blizzard so he wouldn’t be stuck on the other side of the country.

Delia snorted. “I didn’t know you lived in a fantasy world, too.”

He knew she meant it as a joke, but the words hit home. Was he kidding himself? “You of all people should love that.”

Delia’s voice dropped to a whisper. “I do love that.” She slipped her hands into his back pockets. “We’re supposed to have a public break up in a couple of weeks."

Jack worked to catch his breath as he pressed his lips to the soft skin just under Delia’s jaw. “I’ll happily sign an addendum.”

Delia sighed and tipped her head back. The sound sent another rush of blood to his middle, and after waiting three years, the thought of waiting another thirty seconds to tear her damn loungewear off sent him out of his mind. He fumbled for the hem of her shirt, but Delia stopped him.

“Jack.” She lifted a hand and ran it through his hair. “I know it’s the least sexy thing in the world, but I do need to brush my teeth.”

_____

Delia sucked in a breath as Jack grinned against her skin and kissed the underside of her jaw, then stepped back, wincing at what she could only imagine was the tight fit of his jeans. She forced herself not to look down as she reached for her toothpaste and toothbrush.

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