Page 118 of Hockey Halloween
The rapid pulse at the base of his neck calls my attention. It is nearly as fast and jagged as my own heartbeat. I close my eyes and shake my head to break the spell he has over me. It doesn’t work. The second I open my eyes, they roam over the terrain of Tristan’s sculpted torso, the granite sharpness of his jaw, the pouty shape of his lips, and those darkened hazel eyes.
They stare back at me without mirth or guile. He almost looks... amazed?That can’t be right.
“You’ve changed, but you haven’t changed.”
“In a good way?”
“In a great way,” he says, eyes falling to my lips. “And me? Have I changed?”
“Stop fishing for compliments,” I reprimand. “You know you’re hot.”
He offers a crooked grin and an arched brow. “I hadn’t realized you noticed.”
“But not in a good way,” I quickly add.
“There’s a bad way to be hot?”
“Like Gaston fromBeauty and the Beast. Muscles and nothing else.” I point my finger and poke his chest.
“Seriously? I have a bachelor’s degree in business administration. How dare you compare me to an illiterate brute.”
“Fine. You’re not stupid like Gaston,” I concede.
Before I can pull my finger away, his circles my wrist and rests my palm over his chest.
“Thank you,” he responds, reaching for my other hand and likewise placing it on his chest.
“For what?”
“For your compliment. It’s called politeness. You should try it out some time.”
“I take it back. You’re not like Gaston. You’re like the sidekick inTop Gun.Who is he again?” I ramble while my hands remain glued to his body. “Actually, it doesn’t matter. You’re good-looking like all the sidekicks in theTop Gunfranchise. Handsome and smart, though ultimately disposable.”
He leans down with a chuckle, and the result is that my arms end up on his mountainous shoulders. Tristan’s forearms bracket my back.
“How am I going to keep my ego in check when I’m around you, Terror?” he rasps lazily, clearly more concerned with the press of our bodies than the hit to his large ego.
It isn’t the only thing that’s large. He rubs his erection againstmy stomach. Or am I the one doing the rubbing? Does it matter at this point?
“I said don’t fish for compliments.” My fingers massage his neck, basically pulling him down.
He chuckles.
“Do you even know what a compliment is, Ligaya? Because calling me dumb and irrelevant is the farthest thing from one.”
Our foreheads roll together, and somehow it’s more intimate than the last time I had sex.
“Ididadmit you’re hot,” I concede with a stupid grin on my face.
“You did, didn’t you? Say it again. This time without all the bad movie references,” he insists.
Tristan pulls back, watching me intensely.
“Still fishing . . .” I say breathily.
“You can add my stellar hockey skills.”
“Deep-sea trawling at this point . . .”
