Page 80 of The Roommate Remodel

“Really?” I say in wonder, taking my eyes off him to glance at my feet.

Big mistake.I stumble forward and crash into Brax’s chest. But he doesn’t even wobble for a moment. Instead, he wraps his hands around my back to steady my body with his.

The impact of our bodies touching is explosive, like someone threw a match on a highly flammable liquid inside me.

I leave my hands on his chest, where I can feel the rise and fall of his breath under my fingers.

With his mouth against my ear, he whispers, “I’ve got you.”

Those three words radiate through me before he adds, “I told you I wouldn’t let you fall.”

I pull back, just enough to see his expression.

His gaze skates over me, hungry for something that I want too.

“Just one thing more I want,” he murmurs. His eyes darken, like black holes pulling me closer.

“What do you want?” My words are a strained whisper.

“I want you to be mine.” He rests his forehead against my own, his grip tightening on my back. “I don’t know how to make you trust me again. But I’m willing to do whatever it takes. And wait as long as you need me to.”

I let him pull me closer so there’s no space between us.

Last time this happened, we were on the dancefloor at Boots and Buckles and he walked away. But tonight he doesn’t move. He’s letting me call the shots.

This time, I’m ready.

I cup his face with my hands, the stubble soft and scratchy against my palms, then reach up and bring my mouth to his. It’s a slow, tender kiss, and not demanding at all.

Brax is so careful with me, like he’s afraid of doing anything that will wreck my heart.

We’re not in a hurry. We have all night to do this. The rest of our lives, even.

I let myself savor his closeness, his insatiable hunger for me, and feel the flutter in my stomach just like when I first leapt off the zip-line platform, his words echoing in my ears.Don’t think. Just close your eyes...and jump.

EIGHTEEN

Brax

When the puck drops for our first game against the Texas Stars, I’m hardly aware of the half-empty seats or the tepid applause. I’m only focused on where the puck is and where it needs to be:in the goal.

Bodies cram the ice while flailing sticks and elbows fight for space. The smell of sweat fills the air as a body slams into my side.

“Watch it,” I mutter as I scramble to reach the puck before my opponent does. Excitement balloons in my chest as I gain control of the puck and pass it to Leo. Without hesitating, he takes a shot that’s blocked by their goalie.

As we hustle the other direction, Tate cuts off an opponent, then grabs the puck and passes it to Rourke.

I scramble toward our goal, watching Rourke pivot and flick the puck to Vale, who’s in prime position to shoot. Vale slaps it toward the net, and my heart clenches as the puck slips under the goalie’s knees.

“Yes!” I mutter under my breath, my gloved fist pumping the air as relief courses through me. I glance around and notice the few people here are cheering enthusiastically.

Apparently, not everyone thinks we’re going to have another season as the Carolina Losers.

I crane my neck to see one figure dressed in our team colors of black and teal, leading the cheering section.

Jaz waves her arms and jumps up and down, thrilled that we’ve just scored. It’s only the first period and everything could change, but a surge of pride sweeps through me.

We’ve worked hard, but it’s not just the team that makes me proud. It’s Jaz. She’s single-handedly going to give this team a fan club.

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