Page 118 of Beautiful Collide

She shoots me a look, her brows furrowed like I’m somehow the one to blame for this chaos. Her gaze darts around the room, scanning for an escape route, but there’s nowhere to go.

I dip my head down until my lips brush the shell of her ear. Close enough that my words don’t carry, and I feel her shiver. “Relax, Hex.”

“This is a disaster.”

“I know.” I smirk, the corner of my mouth twitching. “We didn’t even get to the best part.”

She tries and fails to glare at me, her eyes narrowing, but her cheeks still flushed. “Not what I was talking about.”

“Was it?”

“You’re impossible,” she whispers, her tone still breathless from the kiss.

“Yet you kissed me back,” I say with a grin, dropping my voice just enough to make her blush harder.

Before she can snap back, Mason’s voice echoes closer, loud and annoyed. “Hudson, come on, man.” He sounds like he’s shouting into the void—unaware I’m here but banking on the slim chance that I can somehow hear him. “Coach wants us to talk to the media. You don’t want to keep him waiting.”

Shit.

Thatis one thing I can’t afford to do.

Mason continues to shout the same thing over, his voice growing further away this time. I can imagine him dipping from room to room, sweeping the place for me. Not for nothing, he’s a killer friend.

I sigh, stepping back from Molly, but I don’t let go of her gaze. She’s still standing there, her lips slightly parted, her cheeks flushed, and I’m not sure which one of us looks more wrecked.

My eyes locked on hers. “We’ll finish this later.”

“You wish,” she retorts, but the words lack heat. Her gaze betrays her, lingering just a little too long on my mouth before darting away.

I grin, tilting my head as I take another step back like I’m giving her space, but we both know it’s not enough. “Keep telling yourself that.”

She scoffs, crossing her arms like she’s trying to regain some kind of upper hand, but I don’t miss the way she swallows hard.

Mason’s voice echoes one last time, distant now. “Hudson Whatever-The-Fuck-Your-Middle-Name-Is Wilde. If you’re screwing around somewhere, Coach is gonna bench your ass.”

I shoot Molly one last look, a silent promise hanging in the air between us.

Wewillfinish this.

It’s just a question of when.

And judging by the way her eyes flick to mine and hold there for just a second longer, she knows it, too.

41

Molly

Unknown Number sent an attachment.

[Link: “Hudson Wilde—Hockey God or Hockey Legend? Why Not Both?”]

Unknown Number:Thought you’d like to read this. Since you’re my #1 fan.

Molly:Who is this?

Unknown Number:You’re joking.

Molly:Sorry, new phone. Lost all myIMPORTANTcontacts.

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