Page 60 of Anatomy of a Player

Rage coiled in my gut, ready to spring at any given moment. I thought I could deal with this, but every damn time, it made me see red. “I’ve got to go, Mom.”

“Bye. I love you.”

I blew out my breath, trying to keep the rage down. “You, too.”

I started toward the library, then froze in place, not sure if it was fate or bad luck that’d put Whitney in my path today. For days I’d waited for the moment I’d see her again, but reality had set in—I didn’t do relationships, and the L-word now left a bitter taste in my mouth.

But then our gazes met. She smiled this secretive, sexy smile, and my anger dissipated. My jumbled thoughts cleared; I could breathe again. I closed the distance between us with a couple of long strides. I wanted to reach for her, but then I remembered how seriously she took her journalist image.

Although, she had relaxed her buttoned-up dress code a bit—snug jeans tucked into brown boots and a reddish-purple fuzzy sweater without a button in sight. Her bun was messier than usual, too, with lots of loose strands framing her face. The sun lit up her hair, giving her a golden halo, and I thought she might just be an angel.

“Hey,” she said.

“Hey.” I looked around. “The coast is clear. If I touch you, are you going to scream?”

“Guess it depends where you touch and what kind of a scream you’re asking about.” She accentuated her statement with a far-from-angelic smile.

I hooked my finger through one of her belt loops, yanked her to me, and crushed my mouth to hers. I inhaled her gasp and wrapped an arm around her to mold her further into me. The way she sagged against me spurred me on, as did the expert way her lips teased mine.

She pressed her hand to my chest and broke contact. “Okay, I deserved that. But if there’s going to be kissing…” She let out a shaky breath and glanced around. “Well, there probably shouldn’t be kissing on campus. My credibility is already on shaky ground. As a certain someone pointed out, I’m not very good at faking hockey information.”

In the name of covertness, I backed us up behind a tree and spun her so she was against the trunk. “Maybe we should go somewhere so I could give you private lessons. A few sessions with me and you’ll know everything you need to know.”

“Wow. You’re quite secure in your…knowledge.”

I grinned and fought the urge to kiss her again—as soon as we were alone, all bets and attempts at secrecy were off.

“Honestly, I’m really, really tempted,” she said. “But I have to do a write up about the game that happened over the weekend, and you might remember that I was kind of busy during that time, so I didn’t exactly follow it like I should have.”

“All innuendo aside, I can help. With the game highlights and hockey terms. Knowing the game will make the guys take you more seriously than any pantsuit you put on.”

She gave me a look, but I threw it back at her. Her secret was out now. I genuinely wanted to help her, too. I understood wanting something as badly as she wanted her job, and I was determined to help however I could.

“Come on,” I said. “Together it’ll go faster, and then maybe we can find a few spare minutes before I have to go to practice—it’s so rare I get a chance to relax in the afternoon.”

She twisted one of those loose strands of hair around her finger, then her gaze ran up and down me. “Meet me at my place?”

…

It was all I could do to wait until the door to Whitney’s apartment closed to wrap my arms around her and kiss her. “Lesson one,” I said against her mouth. “You don’t want your opponent to know your next move. Keep ’em guessing. Fake a little.” I tilted my head one way, then moved it the other and lowered my lips to her neck.

I backed her up a few steps and pressed her flat to the door. “Get them against the wall.”

“Then what do you do with them?” she asked, her chest rising and falling with rapid breaths.

I kissed her again, tracing her lips with my tongue before sweeping it inside.

She ran her hands up my arms and linked them behind my neck. “Mmm. I like playing hockey more than I thought I would. Do I get to check you now?”

Before I could think of a snappy comeback, she dropped her shoulder and bumped into me, shoving me a foot or so before going for some imaginary puck. I grabbed her arm and spun her back to me—while she gave a halfhearted attempt at resistance, we both knew it was futile.

Her tiny squeal filled the air as I lifted her, my hands on the ass I couldn’t stop thinking about, and her legs wrapped around my waist.

“That was a pretty good check, but I’m afraid you’re going to need more extensive lessons.” I gave her a good once-over, my blood rushing faster through my veins as I did so. “I’m thinking full-body checks all around.”

She ran her palm down my whiskers, her touch calming even as it stirred up a lust-filled storm. “If we start this, we’ll never get to the article or filling in my hockey education, and I was serious about that.”

“You’re saying if I’m a really good tutor at hockey, you’ll give me a chance to tutor you in other things.”

---