Page 26 of The Goalie's Gamble
Panic prickles up my spine.
I’ve done the one thing I promised myself I wouldn’t.I blurred the lines.What started as fake dating to save the youth center has turned into something so much more complicated.Something I’m not sure I can control.
I squeeze my eyes shut, my thoughts racing.What if last night was just a fling for him?
He said I was his first, but how is that possible?I mean, look at him!He’s a professional hockey player, handsome, charming, used to women falling at his feet.Maybe this is normal for him.Maybe he brings women back here all the time.Maybe I was just convenient.
The idea makes my stomach twist.Because for me… it didn’t feel casual.It felt like sparks turning into fire, no matter how hard I tried to douse them.
CJ stirs beside me, shifting closer until his mouth brushes the curve of my shoulder.His voice is rough with sleep when he murmurs, “Morning, Princess Angel Baby.”
Heat floods my cheeks at the nickname, but before I can snap at him, he presses a lazy kiss to my bare skin.My heart lurches traitorously.
“I have to go,” I blurt, slipping out from under the covers before I lose the ability to move.I grab my dress from the floor and tug it on, ignoring the way his gaze follows me.
“Go?”he echoes, propping himself up on one elbow.
I make the mistake of glancing at him.Big mistake.His hair is mussed, his chest bare.Every line of muscle is carved from hours of training, but it’s the softness in his eyes that undoes me.
“I need to change and get to the center,” I say briskly, smoothing down the satin of my dress like that will make me feel less exposed.“Work doesn’t stop just because?—”
“Because what?”His grin is lazy, knowing.“Because you spent the night with me?”
I glare at him, but it’s half-hearted.He’s too smug, too comfortable in his own skin.Meanwhile, I’m a mess of nerves and second-guessing.
He swings his legs out of bed and stands, stretching.I force myself not to stare at the way his sweatpants hang low on his hips, but my eyes betray me anyway.He catches me looking and smirks.
“See something you like, Boss?”
“Get dressed,” I mutter, grabbing my shoes.
Minutes later, he drives me back to my apartment.When he pulls up to the curb, he leans across the console and kisses me.It’s quick, sweet, but enough to leave my lips tingling.
“I’ll see you later,” he says.
I freeze.
Later.What does that mean?Later, as in, when we’re fake dating for PR?Later, as in, at the youth center where I’m technically his boss?Or later, as in, last night wasn’t just a fling to him?
I don’t ask.I just nod and climb out of his car, my heart hammering.
Work, I need work,I think as I head into my apartment.
I rush through a shower and throw on some clean clothes.In under half an hour, I’m walking back out the front door and heading to the Youth Center.
As soon as I walk in, a million things are going on, and I smile as I bury myself in work.I answer emails, sort through donation receipts, settle arguments over the foosball table, and remind Malik for the third time that phones go in the basket during homework hour.Anything to keep from replaying the feel of CJ’s mouth on mine or the way his arms fit around me like they belonged there.
By the time the last kid has been picked up and the gym is quiet, I’m exhausted.I pack up my laptop, ready to walk home and collapse into bed, when there’s a knock on my office door.
“Come in,” I call, expecting Jada or one of the volunteers.
But it’s him.
CJ leans against the doorframe, grinning at me like he has all the time in the world.His Thunder hoodie is rumpled, his hair damp from a shower, and he looks maddeningly good.
My heart lodges in my throat because I realize I’m in real trouble.
I’m falling for the cocky goalie.
