Page 28 of Cross-Checked

I’ll never admit how much it stung that the choice was to get rid of me, instead of Chet, who was actually the toxic one. His ego was hurting the organization.

“Itwaswhat was best,” she insists, pushing out a heavy breath. “For everyone involved.”

I inch closer to her. “Foryou?”

My eyes focus on those full lips, and the way the tip of her tongue darts out to wet her lower lip before she pulls it between her teeth.

Goddamn. I’ve wanted this woman for eight fucking years, and I need to get over this.Now.

“Yes.” She glances up, meeting my gaze. Her look is one of steely determination, the same look she wears when she’s taking a player to task or negotiating a new contract, but her voice is devoid of emotion. “It was a necessary trade for me, too.”

“Why?” I’m genuinely curious. But also, marginally hopeful. Could she have needed me gone because she was starting to think about me the same way I was trying so hard not to think about her?

“Because I was married, McCabe. And you wouldn’t stop looking at me like I was your next meal. I could ignore that and make sure things stayed professional, but Chet was noticing. So was Miller. Your little crush was becoming athing, and it had gone on long enough. It was getting in the way of my career, and yours.”

It wasn’t a fucking crush, I want to say. But I don’t, because she’s probably right. I didn’t know her well enough for it to be anything but a crush...an attraction to not only her beauty, but her brain.

No one knows hockey better than Alessandra Jones. I’d never met a woman who knew half as much about the sport as I did, soto have her recruit me when I was in college, and then have these high-level conversations about my career and hockey strategy when she was the assistant GM...it was a huge turn-on.

“So...” I drag the word out. “Instead, you created a situation where I would hate you?”

She rolls her eyes. “Why would I do that?” Her tone is flippant, but her expression tells me I’ve hit too close to home.

I inch even closer, fully invading her space to see if she’ll step aside to increase the distance between us. Instead, her arms move from her chest to grip the edges of her big wooden desk behind her. “I don’t know, AJ. Whywouldyou want me to hate you?”

She turns then, like she’s going to step away, but the movement has her shoulder and arm brushing along the entire front of my body. And when her knuckles graze my dick, it has heat pooling there, then erupting into flames that lick through every nerve ending and light me up.

That’s the only reason I can think of to explain the way I reach out and grab her arm as she begins to step away, pulling her back to me.

And when my mouth crashes into hers, all logical thought ceases to exist. Because the way she wraps her hand around the back of my neck and threads her fingers into the hair at my nape, the way her lips part for me and she lets me invade her mouth, the way her entire body presses up against mine in response...it makes no sense.

Nothing that’s happening here—not the way my fingers toy with the edge of her sweater before sliding it ever-so-slowly down one shoulder, or how she snakes one of her legs around mine to anchor me to her—makes one lick of sense.

But I’m not thinking about what a terrible idea this is. I’m allowing my body to act on instinct. And my instinct hasalwaystold me that AJ and I together would burn hotter than the sun.

She hums her approval as my mouth travels from her lips, along her jawline, and down her throat. I lift her hips, setting her on the edge of her desk, as my mouth trails across her collarbone. And then I’m pulling her sweater aside, revealing the sheer lace of the bra she’s wearing. Her nipple is stiff and pressing right against the seam of the cup, and when I brush my thumb across it, she arches into my hand with another appreciative hum.

Holy shit.She’s going to be the death of me one way or another, so it might as well be through pleasure.

My eyes flick up to meet hers before I dip my head down to her breast, laving my tongue against her nipple through the fabric, and then sucking her between my lips. She moves her hands behind her back, pressing herself into my mouth as she slides both sleeves off her arms. When I lean back to look at her, chest heaving, I can’t stop myself from saying, “You’re so fucking beautiful. Too beautiful.”

And then I slide the straps of her bra off her shoulders, and she pulls her arm out as I slide it down to her waist with her sweater. Both my hands are on her breasts, thumbs sweeping across each nipple, as she reaches out and undoes the button on my jeans.

Her hand pauses on my zipper, and I glance back up at her to find her staring at me. There’s naked lust written across her face—the way her pupils have almost taken over those big brown eyes, her lips parted as her tongue darts out to lick them, her cheeks pink with an exhilaration I’ve never seen from her.

The thought that she’s actually feeling something here, and that I’m the one causing that, spurs me on. “Go ahead. I want you to see what you do to me. And I want to feel what I do to you,” I tell her as I reach down and smooth a hand up the inside of her thigh where her legs are spread for me. I keep my eyes locked on her, wanting to make sure I don’t see a single trace ofdoubt on her face, and she nods, giving me the go ahead. So I rub my thumb along the seam between her legs. “You’re fucking soaked.”

In response, she slides my zipper down and reaches into my pants to grip my quickly hardening dick. My hips shoot forward involuntarily, my entire length pressing along her palm.

“So this is what I do to you?” she asks, her voice a cross between teasing and curiosity.

“Yes.” It’s a groan as I pump my cock into her hand, wishing there wasn’t the fabric of my briefs between us. And then I lean forward to kiss her, our mouths meeting and our tongues clashing like we’re both trying to assert our dominance as I hold one of her tits, running my thumb over her nipple, and slipping my other thumb into her panties where I circle it over her slick clit.

“Fuck, yes.” She pulls back from the kiss and sighs the words out as she tilts her hips up to meet my thumb, over and over. “Don’t stop.”

She’s so wet for me, and I’ve never felt as needed or needy as I do right now.

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” I tell her. She slips her hand inside my boxers and the feel of her skin on mine as she grips my shaft has my mouth colliding with hers once more. There’s nothing gentle about this kiss, and my throat rattles in response as I let out a primal growl.

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