Page 63 of Game Misconduct
Because that’s not the Sloane Carrington the board sees, or the one who slices me down with clipped words.
That’s the woman who wrapped my shoulder with her own two hands just the other night.
And damn if I don’t feel it again now. That ghost pressure of her palm pressing ice against me, her scent cutting through sweat and disinfectant.
The brush of her wrist against my chest, the scent of her haircutting through the stink of the locker room. She taped me like she’d done it a hundred times before, and for a second I wasn’t the broken goalie or the PR liability.
I was just a man letting a woman touch the part of me that hurt.
The same way her hand now smooths over the little girl’s hair, tucking a stray strand behind her ear. Gentle. Steady.
Like she was born knowing how to ease hurt.
Now I watch her do the same thing with that little girl. No hesitation. No armor. Just giving a piece of herself away like it’s nothing.
Connor tugs my sleeve, pencil waving. “Draw another one, with fire powers this time!”
I chuckle, rough, dragging the pencil across the page. The lead smudges on my fingers, grounding me, but my gaze slides up again, traitorous, to where Sloane kneels on the linoleum next to the girl.
Her hand skims over the small of the little girl’s back, tender in a way that twists me up inside.
And then, her eyes lift.
They find mine across the room and hold. Heat arcs across the space, hot and fast, like a live wire stripped bare.
I shouldn’t be staring. She shouldn’t either. But neither of us moves.
For one dangerous heartbeat, I let it stand. The connection. The reminder of how her touch felt on me.
Then I rip my gaze back down to the crooked lines I’m sketching and, force my voice rough to keep the boy laughing.
But my grip is tight on the pencil, knuckles white.
Because if I let myself keep looking at her, I’ll forget the cameras.
Forget the kids.
Forget the job.
I’ll remember only her touch.
And I’ll want more than I can ever have.
A few minutes later, the handlers start wrapping things up, gathering cameras and clipboards, thanking staff.
Kids wave, clutching autographs like they’re treasure.
I hang back, watching the people work around me, trying to keep my focus off Sloane.
Dean and Jace chat with the doctors, while PR prince Logan charms a couple of reporters by the doorway.
Riley and Finn are flirting with a couple of the young nurses, and Eli’s standing with Cal like he’s coaching the kid even now.
It doesn’t take long, though, for my focus to be pulled back to the woman across the room.
And while everyone else appears occupied, I let my attention stay on her.
Sloane lingers with the girl, touching her little cheek before she stands, promising again about the skates.
