Page 19 of Pucking Knox
"Speaking of difficult." Ace checks his phone. "You're coming to the fundraiser tonight, right? Kenny said you agreed."
Fuck. The campaign event. Where I have to play perfect boyfriend for a room full of people who think I'm not good enough for their princess.
"Wouldn't miss it."
Six hours later, I'm in the nicest suit I own (bought for draft interviews), watching Kennedy work the room like she was born for it. Which, I guess, she was.
She looks unreal in a dark blue dress that shows just enough skin to drive me crazy while staying campaign appropriate. Her hair is up, exposing her neck in a way that makes me want to mark it. Wait, didn’t I? I look a little closer. Ah. It’s covered with makeup.
"Knox." Her voice pulls me back to reality. "Come meet the governor."
I let her lead me through the crowd as my heart pounds in my chest. Her hand feels small in mine, but there's nothing fragile about her grip.
"Perfect boyfriend mode activated," she whispers, and I have to resist the urge to bite her exposed shoulder.
The governor is exactly what you'd expect – silver-haired, custom suit, probably worth more than my entire future NHL contract. His handshake is deliberately too firm.
"So," he says, looking me over, "you're the hockey player."
"Yes, sir." Like I'm supposed to be impressed by his title. "Draft eligible this year."
"Hmm." His eyes drift to where my fingers are laced with Kennedy's. "Contact sport, isn't it? Lots of... fighting."
"Only when necessary." I feel Kennedy squeeze my hand in warning. "But I prefer to let my skill speak for itself."
The governor's clearly not buying it, but Kennedy smoothly changes the subject to some policy initiative. I watch her work, amazed at how easily she navigates these sharks.
Then I spot her father watching us from across the room.
Senator Walters' disapproval radiates like a physical force. Every time I touch his daughter – a hand on her back, fingers brushing her arm, lips against her temple – his jaw clenches harder.
Good.
I spend the next hour being extra attentive. Opening doors, pulling out chairs, keeping her wine glass full. But I add edges to it – letting my touches linger too long, whispering in her ear until she blushes, standing just a little too close.
"You're enjoying this," Kennedy accuses when we finally get a moment alone on the balcony.
"Watching your father's blood pressure rise?" I back her against the railing, caging her in. "Obviously."
"Knox..." Her breath catches as I trace the neckline of her dress. "Someone could see."
"Let them." I brush my lips across her jaw. "Isn't that the point? Letting daddy see his perfect daughter with the wrong kind of man?"
She shivers but doesn't pull away. "You're playing the part too well."
"Who says I'm playing?"
Before she can answer, I kiss her – slower than last night, but no less intense. She melts into me immediately, hands fisting in my jacket.
"We have to stop," she whispers against my mouth, even as she pulls me closer.
"Why?" I slide my hand into her hair, carefully preserving her elegant updo while keeping her exactly where I want her.
"Because..." She gasps as I find that spot on her neck that drives her crazy. "Because we're at a campaign event and my father's inside and—"
"And you're wet just thinking about it."
Her whole body trembles. "Knox."
