Page 54 of Blocked Shot
He watches the shadows play across her form, the gentle rise and fall of her breathing. Outside, the wind howls and snow continues tofall, sealing them off from the world. In the morning, they would go back to their careful distance, their deliberate avoidance.
The fire pops loudly, sending up a shower of sparks. Jake watches them rise and fade, like his hopes—bright, brief, and ultimately extinguished by reality.
CHAPTER 26
NATALIE
Natalie wakes slowly, enveloped in warmth that seems at odds with the freezing temperatures she’d fallen asleep to. The pale morning light filters through the windows, casting the living room in a soft blue glow. Something solid and warm presses against her back. A heavy, muscled arm drapes across her waist.
Jake.
Her heart stutters as full awareness hits her. Somehow during the night, they’d gravitated toward each other, closing the careful distance they’d established before falling asleep. Now they are tangled together beneath shared blankets, his chest rising and falling against her back in the steady rhythm of sleep. His hips press against her backside, and it takes significant effort for Natalie to not arch back against him.
She should move. She should extricate herself from his embrace before he wakes and they have to face this new intimacy in the harsh light of day. But his warmth is seductive in the chilly morning air, and something selfish inside her wants to savor these stolen moments of closeness.
Outside, snow continues to fall in thick, lazy flakes. The world beyond the windows is a blank canvas of white, suspending them in this moment outside of time and consequences.
Natalie’s mind races with practiced arguments: He is Jesse’s teammate. Her brother would never forgive her—or Jake. She had spent her life avoiding any entanglements with athletes, seeing firsthand through Jesse how their lives revolved around the game, leaving little room for anything or anyone else.
Yet none of those well-worn reasons seem adequate in this moment, with Jake’s arm a welcome weight across her body and his breath warm against her neck.
He shifts slightly, and Natalie tenses. Is he waking up? Should she pretend to be asleep? Move away? Before she can decide, his arm tightens around her waist, pulling her closer. Not a conscious action, she realizes, but a sleep-driven instinct to draw closer to warmth. To her.
The intimacy of it makes her breath catch.
Jake’s breathing changes subtly. The steady rhythm falters, quickens. He’s awake. Natalie closes her eyes, cowardly hoping to delay the inevitable awkwardness.
“Natalie?” His voice is rough with sleep, quiet in the stillness of the snow-muffled morning.
She should answer. She should move away. Instead, she remains frozen, caught between desire and doubt.
His hand moves then, not away as she expected, but upward. Gentle fingers brush a strand of hair from her face, tucking it behind her ear. The tenderness of the gesture makes her heart constrict.
“I know you’re awake,” he murmurs, his voice a low rumble that tickles against her neck.
Natalie opens her eyes, slowly turning her head to look at him. Jake’s face is so close to hers, his blue eyes still heavy with sleep, his hair mussed. She’d never seen him like this—vulnerable, unguarded.
“Hi,” she manages, her voice barely audible.
His fingers linger near her face, neither advancing nor retreating. “Hi.”
Natalie knows she should move. Should establish distance. Should remind him of all the reasons this is a bad idea. Instead, she catches his hand, holding it against her cheek. His palm is warm, slightly calloused.
Something shifts in his eyes—surprise, then a darkening that makes her stomach flip.
“Natalie,” he says again, but this time her name sounds different on his lips. Like a question. Like a plea.
“This is a mistake,” she whispers, even as she presses his hand closer to her face.
Jake’s gaze drops to her lips, then back to her eyes. “It doesn’t feel like a mistake.”
The first brush of his lips against hers is tentative, like a question he’s not sure he’s allowed to ask. He pulls back a fraction and waits, his icy blue eyes locked on Natalie’s warm brown. She knows what he is doing. He’s waiting for her to decide.
Natalie’s mind spins, torn between want and guilt. Her thoughts scatter, disjointed and slippery, blurring the edges of the moment, like the dizzying swell of too much wine on an empty stomach. The world tilts slightly off-center, like gravity itself is no longer trustworthy.
Trapped in the house with no contact with the outside world, she allows herself to succumb to the relentless temptation. It’s intoxicating and disorienting all at once—beautiful in its intensity, terrifying in her loss of control.
Her hands slide up to curl around the nape of his neck, drawing him closer. She presses her lips to his, harder this time, deeper. Jake’s hand slips from her cheek to her waist, and she feels the tension melting, the way he surrenders into her touch like he’s been holding back for far too long. And with that, something inside Natalie unravels. All the times she’s caught herself staring at him, all the excuses she’s made to be in his orbit—they have all led to this moment.
