Page 47 of Much Ado About Hockey

He adjusted the angle of his mouth slightly, and she followed his lead—tasting him, learning him, matching the rhythm of his hunger with her own.

Kissing Jett wasn’t a simple act.

It was anexperience, anevent, a cosmic alignment thatdemandedrecognition. If there were justice in the world, this kiss would be a holiday, a national celebration with fireworks and fanfare. It was that extraordinary.

She reached for him without thinking, one hand sliding up to the nape of his neck, fingers curling into the softness of his hair, while the other drifted to his side, yearning to pull him closer. She needed more—more of him, more of this feeling that she never wanted to lose. And he responded in kind, shifting her effortlessly until she was beneath him, her back against the cushions, cradled securely in his arms. He moved with intent, the kiss deepening, and then she felt his hand on the hem of her shirt?—

And just like that, everything stopped.

Jett pulled back sharply. A sharp, sudden tension coiled through him, and she immediately opened her eyes to find him frozen above her, his expression twisted in pain. His eyes were pinched shut, his chest rising and falling with ragged breaths, and a deep crease had settled between his brows.

Her heart lurched. “Are you okay? What’s wrong? Is your head hurting? Did I do something wrong?” Her questions tumbled out in a panicked rush, fear lacing her voice.

What had she missed?

What had she broken?

“Go to your room – and lock the door,” he whispered, his voice strained and tight, his eyes still closed. “It’s been a long day, and neither of us is ready for what comes next.”

Confusion gripped her.

“What do you mean?”

“Nutella, get that sexy butt into the bedroom, lock the door, and go to sleep. I’m gonna go hit the gym downstairs, take a cold shower before bed.”

She blinked.

“What? I don’t understand.”

“I’m not ‘putting out’ on our first date,” he chuckled, but it was a soft, disbelieving sound, as if even he couldn’t believe what he was saying. “And I can’t believe I’m the one sayingthat.”

“Oh,” she whispered, startled by the rush of warmth that followed. Not from embarrassment or rejection—but because of what it meant. His restraint wasn’t distance or dismissal.

It was respect.

They were married, but he needed more between them and was the one saying ‘No’ this time. He was doing this for her and protecting them both from something too fast, too soon. And maybe… maybe that meant he was beginning to care about her or was starting to feel something?

Her gaze softened as she waited. He cracked open one eye, just barely, then groaned and shut it again.

“Freshly-kissed-wifey is my new favorite thing to look at,” he said hoarsely – and shivered, pinching his eyes shut once more. “You’re torturing me because I know you are giving me that hot, sultry, little smug smile… aren’t you?”

A smile broke across her face, small and sincere at his reaction with an awareness. He cleared his throat and then spoke, almost like he was nervous - cracking an eye open again.

“I know you’ve been exploring the town,” he began quietly. “How about we go on our coffee date, and you can show me around your favorite place so far.”

The gentleness in his voice undid her.

“So I can show off my gorgeous husband?” she whispered, emboldened to use his words, twisting them, simply by the way he reacted to their kiss. There was power in this newfound connection, and she let her breath ghost over him, just enough to make him shiver again. “The other guys aresooo mediocre.”

She was teasing him, using his words.

Karen felt his broken laugh more than she heard it, the sound breaking from his chest with an almost desperate edge. He pulled back, curling up on the opposite end of the couch like a man escaping a dangerous flame, flinging an arm over his face in surrender.

“I can’t believe I’mevendoing this,” he practically wailed in dismay, the rawness in his voice scraping against her heart. “I’m trying to be the nice guy, the good guy, to do the right thing for us… and I would really prefer my wife to fall for me before we sleep together.”

Karen stilled at his words.

They hung between them like a white flag of surrender - and awareness. He was trying to do right by her but hadn’t said that he loved her. She was afraid to admit her feelings because he might not feel the same. Love and lust were two different things – she just was unsure what part he was feeling. Doubt crept in—if he wasn’t ready, would he ever feel that way toward her?

---