Page 236 of Playing the Pucking Game
“See anything you like?” he teases, combing his hair back from his brow, making his abs tighten.
My eyes freeze on the dark bruise that covers his right shoulder from a rough hit he took at last night’s game.
“We need to stretch that out today,” I tell him, ignoring his question.
He shrugs it but winces in pain.
“It’s fine. I’ve been icing it.”
“Please, let me look at it,” I beg, hating the idea of him being in pain and even more terrified that he’ll go into our next game carrying an injury.
“Okay,” he agrees before lifting the pan from the stove and carrying it toward two plates that are waiting. “You didn’t answer my question,” he teases, shooting me a wicked smirk.
“The waffles. I love the look of the waffles,” I tease.
He shakes his head as he continues plating our food.
“Go and take a seat. Your coffee is waiting.”
“Wow,” I say, looking around. “What did I do to deserve this?”
He shrugs again.
The table is set as if he’s waiting for a date. There’s even a fresh bunch of flowers.
“Did you go out and get all of this?”
“It’s not a big deal, babe.”
My heart clenches. It is to me.
No man has ever done anything like this for me.
With a plate in each hand, he walks over.
“This looks incredible,” I breathe as he places it before me, my stomach growling embarrassingly loudly.
“Eat up.”
“Why? What do you have planned?”
His smirk makes everything south of my waist clench.
Oh my god.
Oh my god. Oh my god. Oh my god.
Are we going to…
While things might have been progressing with us, aside from the other night with my vibrator, we haven’t messed around.
In that respect, he’s been the perfect gentleman, giving me space and not pushing me for more when he so obviously wants it.
I do too. I’m desperate for it. But I know that once we cross that line, there will be no going back. Not for me, at least.
Any other man, I could walk away from.
“Aren’t you hungry?” Linc asks when I don’t immediately dive for my food.
