Page 41 of Offside for Christmas
"Your shoulder—"
"Is fine," he said, leaning back down to kiss her again.
But she turned her head slightly, professional concern flickering across her flushed face. "Cole—"
"Ellie." He shifted his weight to his left side, taking the pressure off. "I'm fine. Don't—" He kissed her jaw, her neck. "—stop now."
She hesitated for half a second, torn between physical therapist and whatever this was between them. Then she arched up into him, and the feeling of her body against his made his brain short-circuit.
"God, Ellie," he breathed against her mouth.
She pulled him back down, kissing him harder, and Cole was drowning in her—the taste of her, the feel of her, the small sounds she made when he kissed down her jaw to her neck.
"We should stop," Ellie gasped, even as her hands slid under his shirt, warm against his skin.
"We should," Cole agreed, kissing her collarbone.
"This is a terrible decision."
"The worst."
They kissed again, even more intense, and Cole felt like he was burning from the inside out. His good hand traced down her side, and Ellie shivered, pulling him closer—
"Cole, wait—" She pushed gently against his chest.
He stopped immediately, pulling back to look at her. "Too much?"
"No, I just..." She was breathing hard, her cheeks flushed, lips swollen from kissing. Beautiful. "I need you to know. This can't be just sex. I'm not built for casual."
Cole sat back, putting space between them, trying to get his breathing under control. "What are you built for?"
"I don't know." Ellie sat up too, pulling the blanket around herself like armor. "Something real. Even if it's complicated."
"I can do real," Cole said, and meant it.
"Can you? Because in five weeks—"
"Let's not think about five weeks." He reached for her hand again. "Let's think about right now."
"That's not an answer."
Cole ran his free hand through his hair, frustration warring with something deeper. "You're right. You deserve more than 'right now.'"
"So what do we do?"
"I don't know." He looked at her—really looked at her. At the woman who'd barged into his apartment to yell at him. Who'd pushed him harder in PT than anyone ever had. Who organized half the town's Christmas celebrations because she cared about making people happy. Who kissed him like he was oxygen and she'd been drowning.
"But Ellie, I'm not Marcus," he said firmly. "I'm not going to promise you things I can't deliver. I don't know what happens in five weeks. I don't know if I'll get an NHL offer, or if my shoulder will hold up, or if any of this works out. But I'm also not going tolie and say I don't want you. Because I do. I want you so much it's making me crazy."
"I want you too," Ellie whispered. "That's the problem."
"So we have a mutual problem."
"Apparently."
They sat there in the darkness, the sexual tension still thick enough to cut with a knife, both breathing too hard, both wanting more than they were letting themselves take.
Finally, Cole lay back down. "We could just... sleep. Figure this out in the morning when we're thinking clearly."
