Page 23 of The Goalie and Santa's Little Helper

“Anthony doesn’t make decisions for me. And he shouldn’t make them for you.” My lips buzz with desire. The pendulum has swung in favor of lunging at him.

Noah laughs softly, his gaze dropping to the console between us as his mouth curves up higher on one side.

“Funny, you sound like my mom.”

My eyes flash wide, only briefly.

“You talked to your mom . . . about . . .” I swallow.

He looks up at me as he rubs his palm on the side of his face.

“She saw us kiss that night in the street.”

My cheeks grow warm. Of course she did. I scrunch my eyes shut, then peel one open as I wince.

“She did, huh?”

Noah nods, his gaze dropping to my mouth, then back to my eyes again.

“Your brother thinks I cheat,” Noah says.

My brow lowers, and my stomach turns. It’s something I’ve thought about and often overlooked when it comes to my affection for this man. He’s had a lot of girlfriends.

I lift my shoulder, shrugging it off, but my movement is tepid. I think Noah senses my trepidation, and he shakes his head.

“I’ve never cheated on anything, Frankie. Not a test. Not a sport. And never on a girl.”

My lungs expand a little, but the knot in my stomach still twists.

“Okay,” I say, and honestly, I believe him. There’s so much sincerity in his expression, but more than that, he’s being vulnerable. Noah Drake doesn’t speak like this. Not to anyone. I would know because I have always been listening.

“I’ve never actually had a girlfriend. I’ve dated girls. Gone out. And stuff.” He pulls his lips in tight as his shoulder raises. He’s a hot college guy. A hockey stud. Kind of a local celebrity. I assume the “and stuff” part.

I’ve had some “and stuff.” But I’ve never had Noah. And Noah has never had me.

“Okay,” I say, twisting in my seat a little more, squaring my shoulders as I scan the space in this front seat and mentally calculate exactly how I can get from here to there.

“You know, I’ve paid attention to you, too,” he says, drawing my gaze back to his.

I bite my bottom lip to quell the shaking. I feel as if my entire body is humming.

“Yeah?”

Noah’s gaze trails to my mouth, then lower, pausing at my chest. I drop my chin to see the low cut of my green skating dress, the cut of my cleavage, and then the hard peaks of my breasts poking through the tight fabric. I look back up to catch Noah licking his lips.

“It’s cold,” I say, moving my hand to my right breast and running my fingers lightly over the hard tip.

“Ha, yeah. Uh, oh-kay.” I draw out the syllables as Noah shifts in his seat.

All the times I’ve studied him, I’ve never seen him off his game. This feels kind of powerful. I like it.

“It’s notjustthe cold, though,” I say, bringing my left hand up too and running my fingertips over both my breasts. I pinch my nipples through my dress and the sensation fires throughout my body, pooling between my legs.

Noah lets out a deep, muffled groan behind his fist. His teeth bite at his knuckles.

“Frankie, do not play if you don’t want things to go further.”

His eyes sear into mine as he inches closer. I shift to my knees and flatten my palms on the console, encroaching on his space. His stare drops to my chest and my tits swell under his stare.

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