Page 84 of Cross-Checked

“Sure.” The word is gruff and borderline hostile, just like it would have been a couple of weeks ago. It’s wholly unlike how he’s spoken to me recently.What the hell?

I turn toward Tim. “Is there somewhere down here McCabe and I can chat privately?”

“Yeah, the stick room is right there.” He nods his chin at the labeled door. “Everything’s been put away already, so no one will need that space.”

“Thanks. Looking forward to seeing that jersey,” I tell him as I start walking toward the metal door labeled “Stick Room.” I can feel McCabe hot on my heels, and as soon as I reach for the door, he’s reaching past me, pushing it open for me to walk in.

The minute I step inside, I know this was a mistake. Because there are sticks lining three walls, and as he steps in behind me and closes the door, I realize there’s barely enough room for the two of us in here.

“You wanted to talk, Boss?” He leans his back against the door like he’s trying to give me space, but crossing his arms over his chest like he’s pissed.

“What the hell is that tone?” I ask, eyes narrowing on his.

His jaw tics. He keeps his words quiet when he says, “I don’t know how I’m supposed to talk to you right now, AJ. One minute, you’re chanting my name while coming all over my face, and the next thing I know, you’re running out my door and not returning my texts. So please, tell me what tone,exactly, would you like me to take?”

Pressing my lips together, I close my eyes and take a deep breath. Which is a mistake, because the only thing stronger than the epoxy smell of the carbon fiber sticks and the earthy, almost leather-like smell of the grip tape, ishim.

He smells like soap mixed with something more masculine, something woodsy and musky. I didn’t even realize I knew his scent until I was away from him. I step toward him, letting my head fall forward so my forehead rests on his chest. “I’m sorry. I’m just trying to figure my shit out.”

“We all have shit we’re figuring out, AJ,” he says, but his voice has lost its hard edge, and his arms drop so he rests his hands on my hips. My body relaxes at that simple touch. “That doesn’t mean we run away when things get...I don’t even know, because I don’t know what you’re running away from. And since you won’t talk to me about it, I’m left guessing.”

“I just needed some time to think,” I admit.

He dips his head, his lips pressing into my forehead at my hairline, as he asks, “About what?”

“About where we should go from here.”

“Doesn’t that seem like it should be anusdecision?” He brings one of his hands to my chin and tilts my head back so I’m looking at him.

“Probably. Yesterday morning I got spooked, I guess.”

“Why?” His gaze searches my face, like he’s hoping to find the answers there.

“Because I don’t know what to do with these feelings!” I’m trying to keep my voice low so no one walking by outside will hear us. “I’ve spent the last eight years learning to be okay with being alone and coming to terms with the idea that I’m never going to have children. And there you were, standing in the opening to your living room, looking sexy as hell and staring at me like I belonged there. Like I was meant to be in your and Abby’s life...not just while my wrist heals, but...for real.”

I swear his eyes turn a softer shade of green, the color of a vibrant grassy hillside as the bright sun goes behind a cloud. “Maybe youaremeant to be in our lives.” He brings his hand up and his knuckles glide along my cheekbone, making me feel cherished by the way he’s looking at me and touching me. “I know it feels impossible, given that you’re my boss. I understand what’s on the line for you. But I’m not convinced that makes this whole thing hopeless. I have to be honest...” He tilts his head down so his forehead rests against mine, and I wrap my arms upover his shoulders so I can play with the hair at the base of his neck, which is easier to do now that my doctor put my new cast on this morning. I’ve missed him so much in the past day and a half, but instead of letting that realization scare me, I finally let it convince me that it means this—us together—is right. “...now that I’ve had you, I don’t think I can let you go.”

“Now that you’vehadme?”

He can’t mean just the sex?

As if he knows exactly where my mind just went, he says, “Now that I’ve had you in my life, in my bed when I go to sleep at night, and playing with my daughter when I wake up in the morning...” he trails off as his lips brush along the bridge of my nose. “It’s not about the sex, Alessandra. It’s the way we fit into each other’s lives so naturally, like it was meant to be.”

“Just because it’s easy, doesn’t mean it’s right.” Even as I say the words, I know they’re a lie. It might be wrong for me to date one of my players, but nothing aboutustogether is wrong. In fact, nothing has ever felt so right.

“How could anything that feels like this, anything that we both want so much, be wrong? I’m not giving up unless you tell me you don’t see any chance of a future between us.” With his gaze locked on me, his lips meet mine tentatively, like he’s giving me a chance to pull away. But if the last thirty-six hours have shown me anything, it’s that I don’t want any more distance. Before I can really kiss him back, he lifts his head. His green eyes shine between those dark lashes as he asks, “Is that what you want?”

It hits me then that I can keep trying to back away, but he’ll just keep finding me, pulling me back to him. He’s not going to let me ruin this for us.

“Iwantto see a future between us.”

“Good.” Then, he invades my mouth and we’re a mess of clashing tongues and tangled limbs. We devour each other likewe’re both starved. Like it’s been two months instead of less than two days since we last had sex.

His hands work to undo the buttons down the front of my blouse so quickly that he’s got open access to my breasts in no time, and then they’re spilling out as he pulls the cups of my bra down so he can run his thumbs across my nipples. The sensation travels straight through my body like an electrical current, pulling a moan out of me as my core clenches in need.

“Shhhh,” he whispers against my mouth, and it’s only then that I remember we’re at work, that anyone could walk through the door behind him and catch us.

As he drops to his knees, telling me to put my hands against the door while he undoes the button and zipper on my pants, I find that I’m less worried about that than I should be. Besides, with me leaning up against the door like this, and him on his knees in front of it, it’s not like anyone could push it open.

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