Page 35 of Slap Shot Scandal
I hesitate for a second before answering. “I wouldn’t worry too much about my dad’s advice. Nothing I do is ever good enough for him. That is, when he bothers paying attention at all.”
“Oh.”
Scrubbing my hand over my jaw, irritation swirls through my gut. “When he remarried, his priorities shifted. He’s mainly concerned with making his wife happy. He leaves me and my brothers alone, for the most part. Except for the occasional phone call after a game to dissect every play that went wrong.”
“Sounds like our dads would get along great.” She elbows me lightly and I shoot her a wry smile.
“Probably. If they could get past their own egos.”
“I’m guessing your dad’s not a huge fan of all three of his boys moving to Florida?”
“Not particularly. Thinks it’s a big risk.”
“It is. But that’s what makes the opportunity so perfect. We have the chance to make the Coastal Crushers the next big thing in hockey. From the ice up. It’s going to be huge, Weston.”
Her eyes sparkle in the darkness, her enthusiasm bubbling over. She’s fucking stunning when she’s excited and all I can think about is what she’s like in the bedroom— how she’d feel underneath me, what she tastes like, the sounds she makes when she’s coming undone.
For fuck sake, Steele. Get it together.
“Did you leave anything behind in New York?” It’s athinly veiled question, probably overly personal. But right now, I don’t care. I want to know everything about her.
“My apartment. It wasn’t that great, not a huge loss. And a book club. Other than that, not much. What about you?”
“I did have a pretty nice apartment. A color-coordinated closet, a home gym.”
“Oh, you had me at color-coordinated closet,” she teases, nudging my knee with hers. A spark flares low in my gut and I chuckle.
“My brothers make fun of me for that. I’ll have to report back that it’s actually a net-positive.”
“Totally is. I’m a big fan.”
“Never would have guessed…”
She blinks up at me in the dark, and my heart hammers so hard I’m certain she can hear it in the tight space. I gaze down at her, my eyes finally adjusted to the darkness, taking in her full lips, the way her teeth worry at her bottom lip. I lean in closer and her sweet perfume fills my nostrils. We’re inches apart now, her breath hitching as I tip forward.
So close.
This woman—daughter of the most legendary coach in hockey—chose to bet everything on us. On me. That kind of courage…
I shouldn’t be doing this, it’s a mistake.
But a mistake I’m dying to make.
I brush my thumb over her bottom lip, her mouth soft against the rough calloused pad. She sighs, her breath a whisper in the dark. Leans in with a tiny hitch in her throat.
“Weston…” She reaches up and grips my wrist, her fingers hot on my skin. Her lips part and I inch forward, aching to touch her.
A bad idea. But God, I want it.
Buzz.
The lights flicker and the elevator lurches, zooming down with the force of gravity. Harbor’s fingers tighten on my wrist and I hold onto her, trying to shield her from impact.
Ding.
The doors slide open, flooding the elevator with light. Both of us mashed together against the wall, sweaty and breathless.
I blink against the sudden brightness, Harbor still pressed against me, her fingers digging into my biceps.
