Page 87 of Outlaw Heartstrings
I close the distance between us, bending down to meet her tiny frame—one that’s over a foot shorter than mine—and I capture her lips with mine.
She tastes like chocolate. Only sweeter, more delicious, more forbidden. When I swipe my tongue into her mouth, she lets out this breathy moan that nearly pushes me over the edge.
Heroic. Acts. Of. Strength. Dammit.
I’m dying to keep kissing her, but I pull back, pressing my lips to her forehead for a beat. “Alba…” I groan.
She’s wet. I know it. I swear I can smell it. The scent of sex and desire mixed with her sweet perfume, hanging in the humid night air.
When I start to pull away, she grabs my hand, returning it to the curve of her hip. “I’m ready formore, Easton…”
“Sorry. I’ve got an early morning tomorrow,” I explain, leaning down to rest my forehead against hers.
She flinches, my rejection stinging her in a visceral way. I don’t want to hurt her, so I decide to tell her the truth.
“I need to leave before I push things farther than you’re ready for tonight.”
I may not know what I’m doing here, but I know I can’t push things too fast. I just need to get my own body on board with that plan, because it seems to think this is a race toward the finish line.
“I want things to progress at a pace you’ll be comfortable with.”
“I’m perfectly comfortable.” Alba’s voice trembles with desire. “Be honest with yourself, Easton. You’re the one who’s not ready.”
Fuck.That reality is like a sledgehammer to my gut.
Alba’s right. It’s me. It’s all me. I’m the one who’s scared shitless here.
When I don’t answer, she releases a sigh that echoes with disappointment. “Good night, Mr. Tower.”
I watch as she turns to enter the house. “Good night, Tiny Tiger.”
Tomorrow I have to drive to Sin Valley to see the team doctors and specialists about whether this ankle is healing at a pace they’re happy with. But tonight, I need to rub one out so my blue balls don’t get in the way.
I don’t turn back, as much as I want to. I walk away from Alba with a guilty conscience, an uncomfortable case of blue balls and an ugly truth echoing in my head.
I’m falling for a woman Ishouldn’tbe falling for. A woman who’s completely off-limits to me.
33
EASTON
My day stretches out with meeting after meeting at the Sin Valley Saints practice facility. I sit in a session with my teammates, listening to the upcoming plans for pre-season training.
Then I spend several hours with the team doctors and specialists, so they can look me over and have me walk through dozens of stretches and mobility exercises.
When I’m finished there, the lead doctor joins Lincoln and me for a meeting in my coach’s office to discuss my progress. Coach is thrilled to see me, and the doctor doesn’t beat around the bush.
“Easton, whatever you’ve been doing back home is working. You’re making great progress. With everything I’m seeing, you’re right on track to play this upcoming season,” Doc tells me.
“That’s the best news I’ve heard all summer,” Coach says, clapping his palms together.
Arms folded across his chest, Lincoln nods approvingly from the seat beside me.
The three of them start talking specifics about my pathback to the ice. How to roll it out in strategic phases, so I don’t risk re-injury. I nod the whole time, my eyes darting back and forth between the men as they speak. But deep down, I’m not sure how I feel about hearing this news.
I’ve been working toward this moment since the day I landed my ass in the hospital. My only goal was to heal up and get myself back out in the game, playing hockey with my team.
I’ve been obsessed with the sport since I was a kid. It’s all I know. All I love.
