Page 93 of Enticing the Enforcer
She licks her bottom lip, plump and red, and I bend, capturing her mouth with mine. The kiss isn’t gentle. I’m taking back all those unanswered calls and sleepless nights, of wanting her so badly it bordered on madness. She gasps against me, and I take advantage, sliding my tongue against hers. Jesus, she tastes so good.
Her hands fist in my lapels, yanking me closer, pressing that molten-steel dress against me. The fabric is cool, her body is hot, and I can feel every curve, every shiver as she arches into me. I let her feel me back.
“Jefferson,” she whispers against my lips.
“I missed fucking you so much.”
“Yeah, well, I missed you fucking me too.” She eyes me, a look that goes straight to my balls. “You wear the hell out of a suit.”
I groan, dragging my mouth down the line of her jaw, tasting the salt of her skin. My hands skim her hips, the gown slipping under my palms like liquid metal, and I swear I’d set fire to the entire ballroom, donate my first year's salary, if it meant keeping her right here, just like this.
Her nails scrape the back of my neck, and I nip at her lower lip, pulling back just enough to look at her. Her pupils are blown wide, lips swollen, chest rising and falling like she’s run a marathon. “How long until I can get you naked?”
A throat clears, deep and gravelly. Ingrid reacts before I do.
“Daddy,” she says quickly, voice higher than usual.
Her father’s gaze drops to where my hand still rests on her hip. I make no move to remove it–Ingrid isn’t something to hide, and neither am I.
“You must be the hockey player,” he says, taking us both in.
“I am.” I extend my hand, firm shake, eyes steady. “Jefferson Parks.”
Before he can say more, Madison pops her head out of the glass doors. She approaches the three of us. “Sorry for interrupting, but it’s time for your speech.”
She squeezes my arm, gives me one last searching look, then slips back into the house, the noise of the party swallowing her whole.
That leaves me standing face to face with the man whose opinion suddenly matters more than I’d like to admit. I run a hand through my hair. “This isn’t how I expected to meet you but–”
He cuts me off. “My daughter deserves a man who can meet her on every level. Perseverance–that’s key. You showed up. That’s what’s important to her and to me.” He slides a hand in his pocket. “Being with Ingrid means you get all of her. The ups and downs. The manic writing highs, and the spiral when the bad reviews come in. Are you up to that?”
His words land heavy, not like a threat, but like a line being drawn in the sand. “I know a little bit about wins and losses, sir, but I know that no matter what happens, I want her by my side.”
Then he grins, claps me on the back with surprising force and starts inside. I follow, taking a deep breath, ready for everything that comes next. Hockey, fame, prestige. None of it meant anything, until I got Ingrid back. And now that I did, I’m never letting her go.
29
Ingrid
It’safter midnight when the party finally winds down. As the guests trickle out the door, the musicians pack away their instruments and the bartender shuts down the bar. It’ll be another day or two before the house gets back to normal but for now I marvel at the handsome man next to me. Jefferson has stayed by my side all night, never once straying, his presence solid and steady.
He held firm through the small talk, shaking hands with family, old friends, and faces so famous they’re practically carved into the Hollywood skyline. He acclimates easily, no different, I assume, than at a frat party. Less beer from a keg and more champagne. But what surprised me most was how they looked at him, not as my arm candy or some temporary distraction, but as Jefferson Parks. He’s more well-known than I realized, his reputation as an all-star hockey player preceding him. They asked him about winning the Frozen Four. They asked what it’s like to play with Reese Cain. They asked him about the chances for the Surge next season.
He answered every single question with that easy grin that melts me from the inside out. At one point, his fingers threaded through mine, anchoring me, and he said, “I’m just excited about life right now.”
Swoon. Literal swoon.
Slowly, the final guests drift out, the house strangely still. My mother slumps against the banister, exhaustion written all over her, though she’s still smiling, still glowing.
“Thank you. You’re amazing,” I tell her. “I heard it was a record year for fundraising.”
“I love doing this,” she sighs, kicking off her heels with a relieved sigh, “but now I need a vacation.”
“That’s why the plane leaves in two days,” my father reminds her, tucking her arm in his. “Then we’ll be in our own private cabana overlooking crystal clear water. A reward for a job well done.”
“Good night, sweetheart,” my mother calls. “And nice to meet you, Jefferson.”
“Thank you for an amazing evening,” Jefferson replies with that charming grin, and I know my mother is won over.
