Page 43 of Bar Down

This kiss was different from before—less cautious, more demanding. Stephanie backed toward the bed, pulling Marcus with her, rational thought temporarily suspended. When her legs hit the mattress, she drew him down, hands already pushing under his shirt to find warm skin.

"This wasn't in my strategic plan for the evening," she admitted breathlessly as his mouth moved to her neck.

"Gotta improvise sometimes," he murmured against her skin. "Can't always stick to the system."

A laugh bubbled up from her throat, quickly shifting to a gasp as his teeth grazed her collarbone. The gentleness of the scrape sent electricity coursing through her. "Definitely off-system now."

His hands found the hem of her sweatshirt, pausing there in silent question. Stephanie answered by sitting up and pulling it off herself, revealing the simple black sports bra beneath. A flash of self-consciousness hit her as Marcus stared, his expression almost reverent.

"You're staring," she said, hearing the vulnerability beneath her attempted boldness.

"Taking it all in," he corrected, trailing his fingers across her collarbone and sending shivers across her skin. "Learning the lines of you."

"Such as?" The question emerged breathier than intended.

"The spot that makes your heart race." He demonstrated by pressing his lips to the hollow of her throat, and her pulse jumped wildly against his mouth. "The right pressure to make you respond." His hand slid up her ribcage, thumb brushing the underside of her breast through the fabric of her bra.

Stephanie's eyes fluttered closed as heat pooled low in her abdomen. "Very thorough approach."

"I don't do anything halfway." He replaced his hand with his mouth, kissing the swell of her breast above the sports bra. "Got to be thorough."

Her hands tangled in his hair, pulling him back up for a kiss that obliterated every thought of data breaches and professional boundaries. When they broke apart, both breathing hard, she tugged at his shirt, suddenly desperate to feel more of him.

"Off," she commanded. "My turn to explore."

Marcus pulled his shirt over his head in one smooth motion. Stephanie's hands immediately went to his chest, fingers tracing the defined muscles earned from years of training and battling in hockey's corners. The defensive powerhouse of the Chill was solid beneath her touch, his strength both intimidating and thrilling.

"Checking my weaknesses?" he asked, with a rare touch of humor that made her smile.

"Looking for advantages," she countered, nails scraping lightly down his abdomen and making his muscles tighten reflexively beneath her touch.

When her fingers reached his waistband, Marcus caught her hand, bringing it to his lips. The gesture was unexpectedly tender. "Careful. That's the high-danger scoring area."

The hockey term startled a laugh from her, the sound breaking some of the tension while deepening their connection. For a moment, all the fear and anger that had driven her earlier faded completely. Here, with Marcus, she felt strangely safe despite everything happening around them.

He lowered himself to kiss her again, their bodies pressing together in a way that made his arousal obvious. Stephanie arched against him, creating friction that sent sparks shooting through her body and pulled a groan from deep in his chest.

His phone vibrated loudly on the nightstand—the distinctive team notification pattern. They both froze, the outside world crashing back in.

"Ignore it," Stephanie whispered, pulling him back down, unwilling to surrender this moment.

For a heartbeat, Marcus seemed to consider it—a man who'd never ignored a team notification in his career. His lips had just returned to hers when a second vibration buzzed, followed immediately by a sharp knock.

"Spreadsheets! You in there?" Coach Vicky's voice called through the door.

Stephanie's eyes widened in alarm, heart racing for an entirely different reason now. They sprang apart like caught teenagers, scrambling for discarded clothing.

"One moment," Marcus called, voice surprisingly steady as he pulled his shirt back on.

Stephanie grabbed her sweatshirt, looking frantically around the room. Marcus pointed at the connecting door to her room. She nodded gratefully, pulling on her sweatshirt as she hurried through, closing it behind her.

She leaned against the door, heart pounding, listening to Marcus's muffled conversation with Coach. The interruption had her emotions swinging wildly—embarrassment, frustration, and an unexpected desire to laugh at the absurdity of it all.

A minute later, she cautiously opened the connecting door to find Marcus alone again, looking as composed as ever except for his inside-out shirt.

"Is she gone?" Stephanie asked, feeling oddly shy despite what they'd been doing minutes earlier.

"Yes." Marcus tugged his shirt off to reverse it, giving her another glimpse of his torso. "Though she knows you're here."

---