Then Finn’s muscular arms wrap around my waist, and his clean scent and Tom Ford cologne waft around me. His voice is low. “Not so fast, mister.”
I squirm, but he pushes me against the wall, then rearranges me so we’re facing each other.
His eyes dilate, and I’m quiet, staring back into them.
“We’re alone,” he says finally.
“Uh-huh.”
He narrows his eyes. His nostrils flare. My heart takes off.
His eyes are stern and unwavering, and I lose myself in them, even though I know better.
His chest practically touches mine, and my eyes widen.
“I saw something interesting this morning,” he says.
“You did?” My voice squeaks, and I feel way too young.
I don’t know how to handle this.
I don’t know how to handle 190 pounds of NHL crafted muscle pressing me into the wall.
My cock thickens, and at any moment he’s going to know.
He’s going to know I’m super turned on, and he’s probably trying to tell me that what I was doing was inappropriate.
Because of course that’s what’s he’s going to say, right?
There’s no world where Finn Carrington, one of Boston’s darlings and skating’s superstars, has feelings for me. Even if he’s looking at me with a lot of intensity. I mean, that could mean he’s intensely amused andupset with me.
I mean, I did come all over him at night. Even the best bros don’t do that, right? Not bro code. Absolutely not skating code.
My heart patters.
His face grows larger, and it takes me another moment to realize that’s because he’s leaning closer to me. God, my brain must be sluggish, because if I didn’t know better, I swear I might think—
And then he kisses me.
And I know I was correct.
Finn Carringtonwasabout to kiss me. And, apparently, he’s still doing so.
His lips press against mine, and his tongue slips in after half a second, because this is Finn Carrington. No way are we doing a closed mouth kiss if he wants to kiss me. No way at all.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Finn
The kiss is every bit as good as I was certain it would be.
Yup, my instincts are still amazing.
After a few moments of confusion, Noah groans into my mouth, his lashes fluttering, and then it’s on, baby.
My heart races, and I swear I can feel Noah’s heart pattering on the other side of my chest. I inhale his scent, and lose myself in the feel of his arms, slightly slick from sweat.
My body brushes against his waffle-textured t-shirt.
