Page 29 of Top Shelf
Yes.
And it’s not because I don’t love those guys like my brothers. I truly do. It’s everything else that comes with it.
What if something goes wrong? Who would I side with? My sister or my brother who has my back on the ice? Could I ever trust him again if he hurt her? Could I resist beating the shit out of him? Would I need to call up my agent and demand a trade to keep from going to prison? Would I be able to live with the knowledge that the guy who is supposed to have my back has my sister on hers?
Fuck, that sounds so damn crude, but it’s the truth. It’s exactly what I would think, and I have no doubt the same would go through Hutchinson’s mind, too. He might not be as close with Nessa as I am with my sisters, but it still wouldn’t be right, no matter how much I wish it could be.
And that’s just it. It’s not right. Being with Nessa would never work. Not just because she’s related to Hutch, but because we are in two different places in our lives. She just got out of a messy divorce and is trying to figure things out. I’m not looking to get tangled up in anything that could jeopardize my season, especially not when it could be my last with the Serpents. Even without the Hutch factor, it would never work anyway.
So, I have to stop thinking about her. About her long, silky blonde hair that felt like heaven between my fingers. About that freckle just to the left of her belly button that I traced with my tongue. About how she tastes like cherries, which I fucking love. And about how her pussy was?—
No.
I push that last thought from my mind. If I let myself go there, I’m not walking out of this bathroom for at least another ten minutes, and I’ve already been in here too long. I really don’tneed someone coming to look for me and finding me mid-freak-out.
I do what I’ve done for half a year: I carefully place every memory and thought of Nessa into a box, pack it tight, seal it shut, and put it back on the shelf where I’ve kept it all this time. I pump a few squirts of soap into my palm and wash my hands, all while staring into the mirror, chastising myself.
Don’t think about Nessa.
Don’t think about Nessa.
Do not fucking think about Nessa!
When I’m absolutely sure I’ve gotten her out of my mind, I wrench the door open and turn right, determined to go have a good time with my teammates. Apparently, the lighting difference between the bathroom and the hallway is significant because I definitely don’t see the person before I run into them.
“Shit,” I say, reaching out to steady them.
The second my fingers touch skin, I know.
Nessa.
I stare down at her, taking in her wide green eyes and the pout of the lips I just promised myself I would stop fantasizing about.
“Gavin,” she says breathlessly.
Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck.Why’d she have to say my name? Why’d she have to look up at me like that? All those thoughts I so gingerly placed into the box tumble back out, racing to the forefront of my mind, and all I can think about is kissing her.
“We’ve got to stop meeting like this, love.”
Her eyes sparkle at the endearment, just like they did before.
“S-Sorry,” she says, and I barely hold in my groan as she rolls her tongue along her bottom lip. “I didn’t see you.”
Her eyes slide to where I’m holding on to her, to where I can feel her skin burning beneath my palm. I let her go and step back, putting much-needed distance between us.
“It’s fine.”
The words are clipped, though not because I’m mad. I’m just trying that damn hard to hold myself together. We stand there awkwardly for I’m not even sure how long, but it is long enough for my fingers to start twitching with the urge to touch her again. My body to vibrate with need. It’s long enough that I know it’s too long, and I’m seconds away from losing control.
Nessa must feel it too, because she tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. It’s her tell. She’s nervous. Anxious. Unsure. Whatever you want to call it.
She clears her throat. “I should… I need to…” She points behind me toward the bathrooms.
“Right. Sure.”
I move right, and she does too. I move left. She does too. She sighs, then moves again. This time I stand still as she brushes by me.
I don’t know how it happens—I’m not sure if it’s an unconscious effort on my part or what—but suddenly her wrist is trapped in my grip and I’m keeping her from walking away. I drop my eyes to where I’m holding on to her, right to her naked ring finger.
