Page 106 of A Little Secret

“So, what’s up?” I ask. “Are you nervous about today’s game?”

He nods. “Something like that.”

He’s lying. Or, at the very least, dodging my question. He should know I can read him better than this. The bags under his eyes? The cadence of his breathing? He’s nervous.

Why are you nervous, Griffin?

Resting my chin on his chest, I push, “Okay, for real, what’s going on? Is the Tornadoes’ General Manager going to be at the game again? Is that why you’re acting weird?”

His silence rings loud in the quiet room, and I sit up even more, letting the blankets pool around my naked body. As his eyes fall to my boobs, I arch my brow. “Better look your fill, boyfriend, ‘cause after Everett and Raine move in, you can kiss this view goodbye.”

Lifting his head from the pillow, he kisses the tip of my nipple, and my breath hitches. Seriously, this man owns my body, and I doubt he even realizes it. As he lays back on the bed, he hooks his hands behind his head and replies, “Then it looks like neither of us are moving for a few more hours.”

With a laugh, I smack his chest playfully. “You’re ridiculous. And you’re also avoiding my question.” I bend forward and kiss him, not even caring about our morning breath. Not when I have someone like Griffin Thorne in my bed. “Talk to me.”

“It isn’t the Tornadoes’ GM who will be there.”

My forehead crinkles. “Then who?”

“The Lions’ GM.”

“Why would you care if the Lions’ GM is going to be at the game?” He stays quiet, and I jab his pec. “Tell me.”

“I did something.”

“Something,” I repeat.

“Yeah.” He scrubs his hand over his face. “Something.”

“And what did you do?” I prod, caught between my own curiosity and how cute the guy looks when he’s squirming.

“I, uh, I asked Uncle Henry if the Lions would be interested in a new right wing.”

With a frown, I point out, “But you’re signed with the Tornadoes.”

“The Tornadoes are across the country.” Reaching up, he brushes my hair away from the side of my face, pulling it over one shoulder while leaving the opposite side of my neck fully exposed as he stares up at me. He looks…nervous.

Why are you nervous, Griff?

“The Lions are here,” he explains. “With you. And your doctor. And your friends. And your family. And LAU.”

My lips part as I register his words. “A-are you trying to see if you can stay in Lockwood Heights?”

“I know I should’ve talked to you?—”

“Griffin, tell me you’re staying,” I push.

“I’m doing everything I can to?—”

I press my mouth to his, cupping both sides of his face. His scruff tickles my palms while his own hands trail down my spine. His grasp tightens, and he picks me up, forcing me to straddle him. Not that I care. Honestly, my mind is spinning. I can’t believe he talked to Uncle Henry. He’s so big on not riding the coattails of his infamous hockey god of a father, yet he called in a favor? It’s confusing and flattering and…a little unbelievable.

Pulling away from him, I rub my thumb against his bottom lip, trying to keep my emotions—and hope—in check as I hold his soft gaze, memorizing the flecks of navy in his eyes. “You’re really staying?”

“I told you I wasn’t going anywhere, Fin,” he rasps. “There’s only one…problem.”

“Other than your contract with the Tornadoes?” I offer dryly.

He forces a smile, then sobers. “Everett also asked to be traded.”

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