Page 62 of Hot for the Hockey Player
“No!”I cleared my throat and brought my volume down.“No.I do not, and never have seen you as a son.”
“Do you find it icky though?”
I didn’t respond.
He moved closer, bracketing me against the kitchen counter with his muscular forearms on either side of my body.Crap.Here came another hot flash.My pulse quickened, and it was all I could do to keep my tongue inside my mouth as I pulled in a deep breath, and more of that delicious, almost woodsy scent of his made its way into my brain.“Do you find it icky?”he asked again, his voice low, rough and sending zaps between my legs.
“No,” I whispered.
He sighed in relief.“I heard you once, you know?”
My eyes met his.
“In your room, when I lived with you.I walked past your bedroom door on my way to the kitchen one night, and I heard you … taking care of things.”
My face surely had flames flickering off of it at this point.
“I don’t see you as amom, either.I see you as Gabrielle.Strong, brilliant,beautiful,and a wonderful mom—to Damon and Laurel—a badass lawyer, vineyard owner, and provider for her family.”He reached up and tucked a strand of hair behind my ear.“But I also see you as a woman.A woman I’m … very,veryattracted to.That’s why I’m flirty with you.Because I can’t stop thinking about you.I spend my days wondering what your neck tastes like, or what kind of noises you might make when I go do—”
“Stop!”I pressed my hand to his mouth, and he smiled against my fingers.
A war raged inside of me.One part of me knew I needed to shove him out the door, but another part, particularly the lower half of my body, wanted to grab him by that nearly see-through white shirt and crush my mouth to his, just to see whathetasted like.
“Are you attracted to me?”he asked, behind my hand.
Luckily, we were saved by thedingas Maverick’s phone started going crazy in his coat pocket on the island.
“You should get that,” I said, removing my hand, but unable to take a deep breath out of fear my chest would expand and brush his.
“It’s fine,” he murmured, still staring at me.“Can you answer me, please?”
The phone wasn’t stopping.
That interruption gave me enough time to cling to some clarity, and I pushed my hand into his chest.“I think you should go.”
Crestfallen, his mouth fell and his eyes turned sad.“But—”
“I think you should go,” I repeated, taking advantage of the few steps he had retreated, and ducking out from between his big frame and the counter.
Now his phone started to ring.He reached for it in his coat pocket, glanced at it, and made a noise of discontent.
“Maverick,” I warned, giving him a pleading look.“Please.”
He headed for the door, the phone still ringing in his hand.“I’m sorry,” I whispered before turning back to face out the kitchen window.
I tuned my ears into the door closing, his footsteps down the porch stairs, and finally the rev of his truck and the gravel under the tires.Only when I knew he was gone, did I let out a shaky breath.
Maverick was attracted to me too.
This was worse than I thought.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Maverick
“What?”Ibarkedintothe phone as I put it on Bluetooth in the truck.
My agent, Vance Pye’s, frantic voice came through the speakers.“Dude, what the fuck did you do?”
