Page 26 of Bar Down

"I don't." He moved closer still, close enough that she had to tilt her chin up to maintain eye contact. "I don't need someone else making decisions about my career or my relationships."

The word 'relationships' hung between them, loaded with implications neither had voiced.

"Marcus..." His name on her lips sounded like a warning and an invitation simultaneously.

"I saw you watching me on the ice today," he said, voice rougher than intended. "Why?"

The directness of the question startled her. "I told you—"

"The truth, Stephanie."

Her eyes flashed with challenge and something hotter. "Because I like watching you play." Her voice dropped lower. "Happy now?"

"Getting there." He was close enough now to see the rapid pulse at the base of her throat. "I missed a pass today because I was watching you in the stands."

Her breath caught. "That's not very professional of you, Spreadsheets."

"No," he agreed, "it's not."

The tension between them had shifted from confrontational to something far more dangerous. Marcus was acutely aware of every detail—the way her breath had quickened, how her body angled toward his despite her attempt to maintain distance, the slight parting of her lips as she watched him. His eyes dropped to her mouth, lingering there just long enough for her to notice. He had always believed in direct action over lengthy deliberation. Making a split-second decision—the kind that had saved countless goals throughout his career—he closed the final distance between them. His hand came up to cup her face, thumb brushing gently along her cheekbone. Her skin was softer than he'd imagined, warm beneath his touch. He paused, giving her one last chance to pull away.

She didn't. Instead, she tugged him closer.

"I've been wondering what this would be like for months," she admitted, eyes locked on his.

"Let's find out."

The first brush of his lips against hers was deliberately gentle. When his tongue traced the seam of her lips, she granted access with a sigh that he felt everywhere. His restraint lasted only seconds before Stephanie made a small sound in the back of her throat, her mouth opening beneath his, and everything ignited.

Marcus deepened the kiss, his free hand sliding to her waist, pulling her flush against him. She responded instantly, one hand moving to the back of his neck, fingers threading through his hair. The sensation sent heat racing down his spine.

He backed her gently against the desk, lifting her slightly to sit on its edge. Her legs parted to accommodate him, bringing their bodies closer. The kiss turned urgent, hungry, months of tension finally finding release. Stephanie kissed like she did everything else—with passion, challenging him at every turn, making him work for every reaction.

Her hands moved over his shoulders, pulling him closer as if trying to eliminate any remaining space between them.

A knock on the door broke them apart, breathing hard.

"Stephanie? Coach Vicky wants to discuss the Toronto media schedule." Oliver's voice called through the door.

For a moment, they stared at each other. Marcus admired her flushed cheeks, swollen lips, and darkened eyes. He'd never seen anything more appealing in his life—including a wide-open net.

"One minute," Stephanie called back, voice impressively steady despite her appearance.

She disentangled herself from him, smoothing her skirt and running a hand through her hair. Marcus stepped back reluctantly, straightening his tie and trying to regain his composure.

"That was..." she began.

"Overdue," he finished.

A smile played at her lips—lips he now knew tasted even better than he'd imagined. "We need to talk about this."

"Toronto," he agreed. "On the plane."

"Toronto," she echoed, a new promise in the word.

As Marcus headed for the door, he paused, turning back to her. "Just so we're clear—I make my own decisions about who I align with, professionally and personally. Reed's threats change nothing."

Stephanie nodded. "Understood."

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