Page 96 of For the Boys
“What is it about you that turns guys into creeps when you’re drunk around them?” Brent asked. “Anyway, what does that have to do with snapping out of your funk?”
Berkley bristled. He probably didn’t understand how that had come across, but the subtle accusatory nature of the comment bothered her. “It’s not my fault people act like that, Brent. Some men are just predators, and I happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.”
“Okay, you’re right,” he said. “I’m sorry I made it sound like I was blaming you.”
“It’s okay,” she said quietly. Then, to answer his question, she added, “But it made me realize that if I kept up that lifestyle, something bad would happen to me. Something bad almost did.”
Brent was silent for a while after that, and it made Berkley nervous.
“I’m glad you told me,” he said at last. “I know it’s not easy to talk about, and I know words don’t mean much, but I promise you I’ll never do anything to hurt you. I’m glad you trusted me enough to tell me all of this.”
Berkley turned to face him and planted a kiss on the underside of his jaw.
“Thank you. That means a lot.” She burrowed deeper into his side, the heat from the water and his body forming a safe cocoon around her. “It’s your turn again.”
“Well, I don’t know how I can ask you another question when you just told me all of that.”
“I can ask another one,” she said. “I’m full of them.”
His chuckle vibrated against her cheek. “Go for it.”
“Okay. If you weren’t making a living playing hockey, what would you be doing?”
Brent shifted Berkley so she was on his lap, his hand drawing circles on her back under the water. “I actually graduated in absentia from MSU. Believe it or not, I was a double major in business and finance. I couldn’t pick one, so I went with both. My dad kept me highly motivated to pass my classes by reminding me every day that being able to wake up and play hockey was a dream, and I needed something to fall back on. When the day comes that my playing career is over, I would really like to own a team. Or at least serve as general manager of one.”
Berkley liked seeing this side of him. He was gorgeous, one hell of a hockey player, and he treated her like a princess. To top it all off, he was extremely intelligent and ambitious. It turned her on.
She was dating a closet nerd, and she was enjoying every minute of it.
She turned so she was once again straddling him. “That’s incredibly sexy,” she said.
“Yeah?” Brent asked, placing his lips on her neck, in that spot right below her ear that made her shiver.
“Definitely,” she breathed. “I like a man with brains.”
He trailed his lips across her jaw, nipping with his teeth. “You’re definitely the smart one in this relationship though.”
She dug her fingers into his hair, her wet hands making the dark strands stand straight up, stirring up that coconut and aloe scent of the product he used to tame it, even though it did nothing for that one unruly curl that always sprung free.
He reached up and grabbed her chin, turning her head and capturing her lips with his own. Berkley ran her hands up his chest, sliding one around to cup the back of his neck and hold him in place.
Nipping and sucking, Brent glided his tongue across her lips before she gave in and opened her mouth, letting him sweep inside. Their tongues tangled together, kisses becoming slower and more languorous the longer they remained connected.
Berkley couldn’t help it; she ground her center down into Brent’s lap, grinning against his mouth when she was met with his need for her.
“Berkley,” he groaned.
She pulled away slightly, blinking heavily-lidded eyes slowly at him. “Yes?”
“How about we go inside?”
Something about the secluded setting, with the snow surrounding this rustic little cabin, forming a little bubble where only she and Brent existed, made Berkley want to give in to the pull she had been feeling toward Brent since the day they met. If they went inside, she knew exactly what would happen.
She kissed him again. “I like that idea,” she whispered.
They dashed inside, Brent displaying his athleticism as he hopped out of the hot tub and raced into the cabin in quick, smooth movements. Berkley moved slower, admiring the way Brent’s muscles flexed as he moved.
Standing just inside the doorway of the bedroom, she eyed Brent from across the room. Feeling uncharacteristically brazen, she reached behind her and pulled the end of her bikini strings where they were tied in the middle of her back. They dangled at her sides, her breasts covered only by thin triangles of black fabric, serving as a final barrier, one last escape hatch before it was too late. And Brent would understand her hesitation; she knew he would.
