Caged (Gold Hockey #11) - Elise Faber Page 0,16

I have errands.”

His lips twitched. “Me, too.”

She waited.

“What errands do you have?” he asked.

A muscle pulsed in her jaw, just beneath the edge of the bone, at the top of that kissable expanse of neck. He could almost feel the tremble against his mouth, wanted to dart his tongue out to taste the flicker.

“Dani?” he prompted.

Her fingers clenched on the steering wheel. “Grocery shopping.”

“What else?”

Her shoulders crept up. “Nothing.”

“Sweetheart?”

“Not your—”

“Sweetheart,” he interrupted. “Right. Sorry.”

Her lips pressed flat.

“So, what else?”

There was that pink again.

“What?” he pressed.

“I should go.”

Okay, now his curiosity was seriously peaked. But he was seeing that this woman was stubborn, that she wouldn’t give in easy. Which, of course, made her all the more interesting, especially considering this was the longest conversation they’d ever had. “What are you buying?”

Her brows drew down, another V forming.

“At the grocery store,” he said, anticipating her query. “What are you picking up? More cold pizza?”

He watched her throat work as she swallowed. But then her chin lifted, her tone growing clipped. “Food, Ethan,” she muttered. “I’m buying food that isn’t pizza.”

“Me, too,” he said. “I’m going to the store to buy food, too.”

This was definitely not a charming exchange, this definitely bordered on inane and nonsensical, and yet . . . he was having a fucking ball.

“And then what?” he asked. “After the food, you’re going . . .”

Silence. Long and drawn out and . . .

That chin lifted again, the amber in her eyes flared with fire. “And,” she snapped, “now we’re circling back to why are we even having this conversation?” Her eyes were on his, not disappearing over his shoulder or sliding down to her hands. Just fierce brown eyes holding his . . . and he fucking wanted her.

Bad.

“I don’t know,” he admitted.

Other than the fact he was in deep . . . and loving every minute of it.

“So, you’ll be going?” she asked, the question so expectant that a curl of wickedness coiled through his abdomen, slipping in alongside the need and affection. She might as well have asked, “So you’ll be coming inside me?” for how his body reacted.

He liked her like this—her expression arched, her eyes on his, that shyness slipping away so he could see the fierce woman inside.

He rose to his feet. “You’re right.”

That froze her again, the plump, kissable pillow of her bottom lip separating from the top, a flash of bright white teeth as she scrambled to comprehend his sudden agreement.

As tempting as it was to lean in, to taste that mouth, he gave into wicked.

Well, wicked that wasn’t having him take liberties in the parking lot of a public library.

Smiling, he stepped out of the opening between the door and car, snagged his books, crossed around the front, picked up her books, and crammed himself into the passenger’s seat of the tiny sedan.

Chapter Five

Dani

The click his seat belt startled her out of her shock.

“What—”

Ethan spun toward her, and for a moment, she thought he might tug her into his arms, yank her across the console, and kiss the shit out of her.

She would have liked that, too.

Not that she would have admitted it.

Because even though this man was beyond gorgeous, even though she burned for him, she dreamed and fantasized and touched herself pretending he was hers, that wouldn’t ever be.

He would destroy her.

It was as simple as that.

Despite that, she still wanted him to kiss her, still wanted to feel his body against hers, his hands on her skin, his cock thrusting deep. Throat going dry, her fingers actually cramping with the urge to touch because the thought of him inside her was intoxicating and dangerous when this man was so close—close enough that her pussy throbbed, that her nerves were on fire, that—

He didn’t kiss her.

He just set the stack of books on the back seat and faced forward again. Then calmly asked, “Would you like me to drive instead?”

“Wh-what?”

His hand came down on top of hers, squeezing lightly where it rested on the steering wheel. “Are you okay?”

Such an absurd question, she thought.

Of course, she wasn’t okay.

She was nowhere even near it, and how could she be when this man was so close, the spicy scent of him filling her car. She could smell the mint of his toothpaste on his breath, and it mixed with the tang of pine, the faintly biting, briny notes of the ocean. His smell made her want to move closer, to forget about him tugging her over the console and instead,