Page 81 of As You Ice It

“Don’t tell me my new favorite baby is asleep in there,” I groan.

“Finally,” Evie says, patting a baby monitor I didn’t notice, which is clipped on the waistband of her jeans. “But if she doesn’t stay asleep, I’ll happily let you hold her for a while.”

Someone drops a glass out in the main area, and a chorus ofbooserupts.

“Party foul!” someone shouts. Sounds like Van.

“That’s not going to wake Juno up?” Camden asks in a low voice.

“Thankfully, she’s gotten used to sleeping through noise. Once she’s out, she’s out. If you’re looking for the bedroom for your coats, it’s the one behind you.”

She heads back to the main part of the loft, and I follow Camden toward the open door. But the moment we’re out of sight, tucked into the small area outside the bedrooms, his mouth is on mine.

I’m not sure I could describe in words the absolute relief it is to finally kiss him after not being able to touch him the way I’d like to since we first got to the Summit. But we’re still barely out of view, so I tug him by the shirt toward the open bedroom door.

Camden tosses our coats toward the bed behind us, and then both of his hands are on my waist. His kisses shift from desperate and hungry to languid, like my mouth is a dessert he wants to savor.

Unfortunately, it feels too weird to make out with Camden in someone else’s bedroom, even if it’s a guest room. After a quick moment of dizzying kisses, I pull back. He seems to feel the same way and doesn’t protest, though the heated look in his eyes tells me he’d love nothing more than a private space.

He bends, his forehead on mine, our breath mingling. “Hi,” I say.

Camden kisses the tip of my nose, something that should feel cute and funny, but instead makes my blood feel like it’s about to ignite. “Hey, there.”

“You played a great game tonight.”

He grins, and it’s so cocky that I find myself laughing. “So you said.”

“Well, it bears repeating. Though I probably wouldn’t know the difference between great and mediocre playing.” I tilt my head, pretending to give it serious thought. “Maybe you were actually terrible and I just thought you were good because it was my first hockey game.”

Camden makes a low rumbling sound, almost a growl. “You were right the first time. I played a great game.”

“Humble much?” I ask with a laugh.

“Usually, yes.” In an instant, his gaze goes from teasing and playful to intense. “But I’ve played terribly for months now.”

I remember Parker saying something about that before. “I’m sorry. That really sucks. I’m glad you had a good night, though.”

But Camden’s expression doesn’t change. If anything, it intensifies. He slides his hands from my waist to my hips, gripping me almost like he needs me to stand.

“You don’t understand,” he says. “I’ve played badly since this summer. Since I leftyou.”

“Oh,” I say, my voice a little breathy.

“It meant a lot to me that you and Liam came tonight.” He starts to say something else but then glances away.

I can see him working to swallow, his throat bobbing. Lifting my hands from where I’ve been clutching the lapels of his suit, I place my palms on his stubbled cheeks. His brown eyes meet mine again.

“You don’t always have to come,” he says quickly. “I don’t want you to feel pressured or anything. But I want you to know that it meant something to have you there. Both of you.”

Again, I sense something he wants to say but is holding back. I want to ask, to drag whatever it is out of him to sate my curiosity. But if he’s struggling with whatever he wants to tell me, maybe he’s not ready.

And if we continue on his slow and serious track, we’ve got lots of time.

Unless he gets traded in the middle of a game, I think, the conversation I had with the women earlier coming back to haunt me in the worst kind of way.Or unless I get restless, not about a place or a job but about a person—about Camden.

I shake off those worries and lift up on my toes to press a quick kiss to his lips. “I would like to come to as many games as I can,” I tell him. “And I know Liam would be thrilled. I mean, if we can get tickets.”

“Parker was right—tickets aren’t a problem. You really want to come?”

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