Page 31 of Power Play
The kiss, when it happens, is slow and sure. No big declarations. No dramatic background music. Just her hand on my cheek and my heart doing backflips.
When we pull apart, she rests her forehead against mine.
“That was a bad idea,” she whispers.
“Probably.”
“Still gonna do it again.” She chuckles.
I grin. “Good.”
Outside, the sky’s darkening. Inside, everything’s still a bit messy, a bit complicated. But her hand’s in mine now, and I think maybe I’ve already jumped.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
SOPHIE
Murphy’s mouth is on mine before I can even formulate a thought. One second, I’m laughing at some ridiculous line he’s just fed me and the next, I’m being kissed as if I’m the last shot of tequila on Earth.
Hot. Fast. Shameless.
It’s a good kiss. Adangerouslygood kiss. The kind that comes with no hesitation and just enough teeth to make my knees go a bit traitorously wobbly. I’m not new to confident men, but Murphy has the kind of self-assuredness that only comes from being adored on and off the ice, and for once, it’s not annoying. It’s electric.
“Wow,” I say when we finally come up for air, my heart punching a rhythm against my ribs. “You always open with that, or is tonight special?”
He grins; eyes gleaming as if he’s just won a bet. “Only for women who steal my hoodie and pretend it’s not foreplay.”
“Yougaveme this hoodie.”
“Exactly. Foreplay.”
Cocky bastard.
“Do youeverstop talking?”
Murphy leans in again, his lips brushing the corner of my mouth, maddeningly slow now. “Not when I’ve got you making that face.”
“What face?”
“The one where you’re pretending you don’t want me to throw you down on the couch and make you forget your name.”
I roll my eyes, but I don’t move away. My body’s already betraying me, gravitating toward his like I’ve been dying for this since he first winked at me across the bar.
“Bed,” I demand, “I’m not getting carpet burns because you’re impatient.”
“I’m very patient,” he says, dipping to kiss the curve of my jaw, his voice lower now. Rougher. “But the noises you make when you’re bossy are killing me. So, what’s it gonna be, Hart”
“It’s Sophie.”
He smirks against my skin. “Right. Sophie.”
I shove at his chest, not because I want space but because Idon’t. “You’re insufferable.”
“And yet, here you are. In my hoodie.”
“In your hoodie because you’re a walking furnace.”
“And kissing me because?”
