Page 18 of Pucking My Grumpy Accidental Husband
"And she actually seems to understand hockey," Torres continues. "Not just the psychology part. During the second period timeout, she made some comment to Chen about our defensive rotation that was spot-on."
Of course she did. Because apparently my wife is not only beautiful and brilliant, but she's also making everyone around her better just by existing.
I'm so fucked.
"Kingston?" Torres waves a hand in front of my face. "You still with us?"
"Yeah. Just tired."
"Right. Well, maybe you should get some sleep. Big practice tomorrow."
Sleep. In a hotel room with a broken connecting door lock, three feet away from the woman who's been haunting my dreams.
This should be interesting.
By the time we get back to the hotel, it's nearly 11 p.m. and most of the guys have peeled off to their rooms or the hotel bar. I'm walking toward the elevators with Tessa and a few stragglers when Torres announces he's going to check out the lobby's sports bar.
"Anyone want to join me for a victory drink?" he asks, but his question is really directed at me.
"I'm beat," I lie. "Early practice tomorrow."
"Dr. Bennett?" Torres turns his charm on her, and I have to resist the urge to step between them. "One drink to celebrate your first road win with us?"
"That's sweet of you, but I should probably review my notes from tonight," she says with that professional smile. "Lots of good data to analyze."
"Your loss," Torres shrugs, but he's grinning like he knows something we don't.
The elevator arrives, and suddenly it's just Tessa and me stepping inside. The doors close with a soft ding, and the silence that follows is thick enough to cut with a skate blade.
I press the button for the fourth floor and try to ignore how her perfume fills the small space. Try not to notice how she's standing just close enough that I can feel the heat radiating from her body.
"Great game tonight," she says quietly, her professional voice slightly strained.
"Thanks to you."
She looks at me sharply. "What do you mean?"
"Your prep work. The mental training. It showed tonight." I meet her eyes in the polished steel of the elevator doors. "You're incredible at what you do."
Her cheeks flush pink, and she looks down at her hands. "I just did my job."
"You did more than your job. You made everyone better." The elevator dings for the fourth floor, but neither of us moves toward the doors. "Including me."
"Dax..." she whispers, and hearing my name on her lips sends heat straight through my cock.
The doors start to close again, and I reach out to hold them open. We need to get out of this elevator before I do something that'll get us both fired.
We walk down the hallway in silence, the space between us charged with everything we're not saying. When we reach our doors, I stop with my key card halfway to the reader.
"Tessa."
She freezes at her door, key card trembling slightly in her hand.
"Can we stop pretending this doesn't matter?" I ask, my voice rougher than I intended. "Because it's killing me."
She turns to face me, and the expression in her hazel eyes makes my chest tight. "What are you asking?"
"I'm asking if we can talk. Really talk. About what happened in Vegas. About what's happening now."
