Page 97 of Cross-Checked

Chapter Thirty-Four

McCabe

Our third win in a row puts us up 3-2 in this semifinal round of the playoffs. The celebration in the locker room after our first win on home ice this series is dying down, and most of us are showered and dressed, but the music is still pumping and people are yelling back and forth over each other. Hartmann’s on one of the benches in the center of the room, trying to prove he can moonwalk, while our unimpressed teammates jeer.

The party doesn’t stop when AJ strides through the door, and yet everything in the room fades away when I catch sight of her. She gives me a subtle nod, our eyes connecting for the briefest moment, and then she’s turning to talk to Coach Wilcott.

Walsh elbows me, and grits out, “You trying to get caught?”

I’m fucking tired of hiding this, that’s for sure.“No.”

“Then stuff those fucking heart-shaped googly eyes back into your head before someone else sees you looking at her that way.”

I turn to face him, taking in the hardened look on his face. Luckily, we’re off to the side of our teammates, so no one can hear our conversation.

“When did you become the asshole here?” I ask.

“When my team captain started a relationship with the only person in the world he absolutely shouldn’t be dating, and I had to start worrying about anyone else finding out. Just stop being so fucking obvious about it. At least until the season is over.”

It’s exactly what Frank told AJ, and I’m sure he’s saying it for the same reason. And as she and I finally agreed the other night, it’s the right approach—after the season is over makes so much more sense. There’s no reason to risk causing issues within the team when we’re so close to making the finals, or to jeopardize her chances of winning a well-deserved award. Two or three more weeks, at the most. I can keep this on the down-low that long.

But god, it fuckinghurtsto hide how I feel about her. It hurts when every fiber of my being wants to reach out to her, wrap her in a hug, and give her a celebratory kiss. Instead, I get a nod of acknowledgement.

I watch her turn and head out the door. “I’ll be right back,” I tell Walsh.

He grabs my forearm as I turn to go, and when I pause and look back toward him, he just says, “Be careful.”

I’m not sure exactly what he’s warning me about—getting caught, getting hurt, or hurting her?

Without responding, I glance around to make sure no one’s focused on me, and then I follow AJ out the door. She’s not in the main part of the hallway when I exit the locker room, so I follow it toward the elevator she probably used to get down here. And sure enough, I find her waiting in the alcove for the doors to open.

“We’re going out tonight to grab a beer and celebrate.” I keep my tone casual, in case anyone’s in the hallway and can overhear me. “You should come, too. Jules and Audrey will be there.”

“I can’t.” Her eyes meet mine as she drops her voice lower and tells me, “You know that.”

“Why would I know that?” I ask quietly, moving toward her until there’s barely any space between us.

“Ronan,” she says in warning. I’m so used to her only saying my name in private, and usually in the bedroom, that a low hum of desire rumbles in my chest. I take in the slender column of her neck above the lapels of her suit coat.

“I hate it when you wear your hair up,” I tell her, leaning my head down even closer.

“Not feminine enough for you?” She sounds surprisingly defensive, even while I watch goosebumps erupt on her skin as my breath caresses her.

“No...” I say, trailing my finger from the edge of her collarbone up the side of her neck and stopping right behind her ear. I’m counting on my large frame blocking the view if anyone passes in the hallway behind me. “I hate it when you wear your hair up because all I can think of is what it would be like to taste your exposed skin.”

I dip my head then, my lips gently brushing down the side of her neck as she sucks in a surprised gasp, when my lips meet her hard, tense muscles. I want to dig my fingers into her shoulders, massage them until she’s loose and relaxed. But I can’t. So instead, I let my tongue do the teasing, enjoying the way it draws a shiver from her. I stop when I reach that hollow between her collarbone and neck, and then, realizing how dangerously out in the open we are, I pull back.

“Fuck, AJ. You’re going to be the goddamn death of me.”

“I doubt that,” she says with an air of nonchalance, but her cheeks are flushed and her breathing is ragged.

“Trust me,” I tell her. “I’ve never felt so close to spontaneously combusting. I have to go out with the guys, but I’ll be home after one beer. I can’t wait to get you alone tonight.”

A needy sound rasps from her throat as she looks up at me with those big brown eyes. “Drink fast.”

“This is why we should just find a diner or something like we do when we’re on the road,” I say after we send away another group of women who have approached our table at the Neon Cactus. I get it, we’re a table of five guys having some beers, and none of us is wearing a ring...yet. But Drew and Colt are engaged, and Zach’s so far gone over Ashleigh that he might as well be. Only Luke Hartmann and I are available—at least as far as my teammates know. “Or somewhere with a VIP section.”

“Nothing wrong with women hitting on you,” Hartmann grumbles, like we just took away his dessert.

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