Page 45 of Play Book

“I try.” He looks at me, and I can’t tell what’s lurking behind those sapphire orbs. It’s not sexual, exactly, but almost like a hunter scoping out his prey. Like he’s going to devour me. And I’m not sure what that means.

“I guess I could take half a day,” I say with a smile.

“We’ve got a game and then the gala,” he says. “Then we head out on another road trip. I’m not around much during hockey season.”

“I understand. I’ll be traveling a bit coming up too. And the gallery’s been busy since the vandalism. I’m worried about not having enough stock.”

“How long does it take you to come up with new paintings?” he asks as the waitress puts down our food.

“It’s always different. Sometimes I can do it in one sitting. Other times, it takes weeks. Every piece is different, every day is different. Sometimes I just don’t feel like painting. Other times, I can’t stop. My creative muse is kind of an asshole in that way.”

“I don’t think I have much creativity in me,” he says thoughtfully. “Not like with artistic stuff.”

“We all have different strengths,” I say. “I mean, put me on skates and you’ll see a distinct difference.”

He laughs. “I’d like to see you on skates. Would you go skating with me sometime?”

“Sure.” I nod. “As long as you don’t care that I’ll be grabbing on to you for all I’m worth.”

“That’s what would make it fun. I skate for work, so the only reason I’d do it for fun would be to have a gorgeous woman hanging on to me. Or to maybe teach some kids to skate.”

“The Phantoms do a lot of community outreach. I’m surprised Harper hasn’t hooked you up with a program like that yet.”

“She hasn’t needed me,” he responds. “A bunch of the guys already do it and I got here just before the season started so I didn’t have time to settle in for all that stuff. Maybe next season.”

We chat about random topics as we eat, including the upcoming gala and the next games. It’s comfortable, even though I spend a lot of time trying to focus on something other than how handsome he is. How nice it feels to be close to him like this. How my body is on constant alert just by his proximity.

I can’t explain the connection between us, and he hasn’t acknowledged it verbally, but why else did he show up at my place last night? He came right out and admitted he had the opportunity to sleep with someone else, but he didn’t want to.

He wanted me.

I know it’s just sex—really, really good sex—but it’s hard not to want more.

Especially when I know he wants me too.

“Your nipples are hard,” he murmurs against my ear, one hand traveling along the side of my neck. The same spot he squeezed last night as he made me come riding his fingers.

“Canyon…” I whimper, squirming in my seat.

“You’re making it really difficult to be a gentleman,” he says quietly, using his free hand to drag one of mine to his crotch.

He’s hard.

Sweet Jesus, he’s as turned on as I am.

“Maybe I don’t need you to be a gentleman,” I whisper, swallowing.

“You’d rather spend the day in bed instead of going for a drive?” It’s a question, but it’s also a statement.

Because he already knows the answer.

Hell, he knew it before I did.

“I want both,” I admit.

“Then you’re going to have to take more than half a day off.”

Luckily, I can do that.

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