Page 87 of Truce: Declan
The laughter that bubbles from his chest is too much. He bends over, trying to catch his breath as he’s laughing from the image that I’ve put into his head. “Stop it. You’re going to kill me!” More laughter vibrates through him.
“It’s not funny,” I say.
“It kind of is,” Noah claims, standing up straighter. “Maybe we shouldn’t have had some of my teammates do a little strip tease, but that’s all that it was—their boxers never came off.
“Right, because that makes it so much better! Do you hear yourself?”
“Do you hear yourself?” Noah retorts. “I knew you might not thank me for what I did, but I thought you’d realize how much help I was and be appreciative.” He steps closer, invading my personal space, as we stand toe-to-toe.
“That doesn’t make any sense!”
“Neither do you!” Noah shouts and the next thing I feel is his lips are on mine as he walks me back up against the wall and his tongue sweeps across my lips and my mouth parts hungrily for him.
With one hand tangled in my hair, the other strokes my cheek and moves down my neck, caressing my breasts.
Heat floods my body. No doubt he feels it too.
He tastes like chestnut and oak. His touch sets fire to my core, sending tingling sensations flooding through me. He’s awakened all of my senses, putting them on heightened alert.
I push him away after our intense kiss. “You can’t just kiss me and expect me to fall limp into your arms, and we live happily ever after.”
Noah’s gaze flinches. “I was expecting it to shut you up.”
“Ha!” I say and point at him. “Well, you’re wrong, again.”
TWENTY-FOUR
Noah
Charlotte Grace is the most frustrating woman I know.
Correction.
Charlotte Grace is the most frustrating person on this planet. And probably any other planet in existence in this universe or any other universe.
I swear she enjoys complicating matters just to toy with me.
I’m seated on the bench, and the coach makes me sit the game out because I showed up late after intermission. There’s a chance he’ll put me in, but I’m paying the penalty.
Yes, kissing Charlotte may have had something to do with it. That wasn’t the only thing. It was also the hard-on that she had me sport that made me rush off into the locker room to recover before going out on the ice.
I wasn’t chancing anything happening to my best man.
And while I blamed it on a muscle spasm in my calf, the coach didn’t buy my story. He told me if my muscles are spasming that much, then I ought to sit my ass on the bench and rest them.
I didn’t think that little lie through.
Malone’s not an idiot. I’m sure he knew what we were doing. I’m just not sure what he’s doing.
Abbi and Charlotte are seated on the bench in the back with the players. Why didn’t he have them return to their seats after the game started?
“Do you still have stuff to work out?” Malone asks, glancing at me before returning his attention to his players on the ice.
“No, sir.”
He doesn’t appear convinced, but I’m trying my damnest to make it believable. “I’m good. I’m ready to be put back in.”
“Your spasms may be better, but your head isn’t in the game.”
