Page 98 of Face Off
“Stop flirting with me.”
“You’d know if I was flirting with you.” I brush my lips over her shoulder and kiss her neck. “This is nothing.”
I shift out from behind her and lean her carefully against the wall. I run my hand up her shins and straighten out her legs, tugging the flimsy shorts down her hips and thighs.
“I hate these things,” I say.
“What did they do to you?”
“They’re distracting. I’ve gone years without something pulling my attention from the ice. Then you show up, and I can’t focus on anything except your sleepwear.”
Her smile is soft and subtle. “Sorry. I’ll start wearing cargo pants to bed.”
“You’re not sorry at all.”
“No.” Emerson reaches out and traces my tattoos. Her fingers move across the taco shell on my bicep and the fern down my forearm. “I’m not. The shower is behind you, by the way.”
“Figured it was. I just wanted to keep looking at you.”
“You said I look like I got hit by a truck.”
“Doesn’t mean you’re not beautiful,” I say. “Why didn’t you tell me you weren’t feeling well? I would’ve been here the secondyou called. You wouldn’t have had to spend hours all alone with your head in the toilet.”
“You would’ve?”
“I already broke the door down once. I’d do it again.”
“You broke down the door? For me?”
“Yeah. Might have fractured half the bones in my arm in the process, but I’ll survive. I’ll get you a new one, by the way.”
She rubs her thumb up the inside of my wrist and closes her eyes. “I might need to start calling you Superman.”
“Easy, Hartwell. You’re going to give me a complex.”
“I would’ve called if I realized what was going on. One minute I was fine, and the next I was puking my brains out for hours on end. I don’t know where my phone is, and moving through the apartment sounds like hell.”
“You’ll let me know next time, okay?”
She grumbles again. “Fine.”
“Stubborn woman.” I stand up and scoop her into my arms. “I’m not letting you take a shower—you can’t keep your head upright. How about a bath?”
“I haven’t taken a bath in years.”
“Really? I love baths.”
“You do?”
“Hell yeah. I light some candles, put some Epsom salt in there, and set up my iPad with an episode ofTed Lasso. It’s my favorite way to unwind after a hard workout.”
A quiet laugh slips out of her, and I love that fucking sound. I want to make her laugh again. “I’m picturing you with battleships and rubber ducks.”
“It’s fun to pretend to be a war general.” I pull back the shower curtain and turn on the faucet. “How hot do you like your water?”
“Scalding,” she says.
I wait for the water to warm up before I set her in the tub. “Too hot?”
