Page 36 of Face Off
“That thing. Pretending it’s an accident when you’re clearly trying to hold my hand.”
I grin. “Busted. So, are you going to let me?”
She hesitates. Long enough that my stomach dips. Then, slowly, she turns her palm just enough that our fingers meet. I take my chance, threading mine through hers, warm and solid.
Her hand is small, cool from the night air, but she squeezes back, tentative but real.
“Well,” I say softly, heart hammering. “That wasn’t so hard, was it?”
She huffs a laugh, shaking her head. “You’re ridiculous.”
“Ridiculously charming, ridiculously handsome, ridiculously good at hockey…”
“Definitely not that last one,” she teases, though her thumb brushes against mine like she doesn’t even realise.
The walk feels shorter than it should. Every step is charged, every glance a spark. My hip throbs quietly under the weight of it all, but I grit my teeth, refusing to limp. Not tonight.
Her building looms sooner than I want it to, the warm glow of lights spilling onto the pavement. She slows, reluctant.
“Well. This is me,” she says, stopping at the bottom of the steps.
I glance up at the modern building, it’s only a few years old and it’s in the nicest part of town. It’s not at all where I expected her to live.
“Already?” I pout, dramatic. “Thought we’d at least make it halfway across town.”
“Not tonight, Taylor.”
Her voice is soft, but her eyes are steady. She’s not pushing me away, not really.
I take a breath, nerves thrumming like I’m about to take a penalty shot in overtime. Then I step closer, close enough that I can see the tiny flecks of gold in her brown eyes.
“Chloe,” I murmur, “can I…?”
I don’t even finish the sentence. I just lean in, slow, giving her every chance to stop me.
She doesn’t.
Her breath hitches, her hand still caught in mine, and then her lips are on mine, soft and warm and everything I’ve been craving for weeks.
The world tilts.
She tastes like wine and laughter, like the kind of trouble I’ll never regret. My free hand slides to her waist, pulling her closer, and she makes a sound, half sigh, half whimper, that nearly undoes me.
For a moment, I forget everything. Murphy’s scorn, Sophie’s judgement, the contract weighing over my head, the pain in my hip. It’s just her, and me, and the heat sparking between us.
When we finally break apart, both of us breathless, she rests her forehead against mine.
“This is a bad idea,” she whispers.
“Best bad idea I’ve ever had,” I counter, grinning even as my chest aches.
Her laugh is shaky, but her eyes shine. And I know, right then, I’d risk it all for another taste.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHLOE
The door clicks shut behind me, muffling the bustling night, and I press my back against it like I’ve just run a marathon. My lips are still tingling. My heart hasn’t slowed down.
