Caged (Gold Hockey #11) - Elise Faber Page 0,29

how she wasn’t sexy, how she was too fat and frumpy and too fucking shy to be sexy.

But then he . . . sucked.

His lips pursed on her skin, sucked lightly, and Dani could have sworn that she melted—just turned right into an ice cream encountering the mid-summer sun, turning into a puddle as it dripped down its cone.

“Will you go out with me now?” he murmured.

Her hands clenched, and for a moment she didn’t process that she’d reached behind her, was grasping onto his neck and shoulder, her breasts lifted, pleading for his attention, her fingers of one hand plunging into his hair, those on the other digging into the hard muscle of his deltoid.

“I—”

His hips were flush to her ass, his cock hard, and she grew even wetter as his hand trailed up her side, stopped just beneath where she wanted it, fingers running lightly over the bottom edge of her bra.

He nipped at the spot where her shoulder met her throat, and she jumped, spinning in his hold, wanting to see his face, needing to deduce what was in his expression. In the blink of an eye, the move had her against him, had her front pressed to his front, and fuck having an up close and personal view (and touch) of Ethan Korhonen was a damned good thing.

“Is that a yes—”

A knock interrupted his question.

“Ignore it,” he whispered, his fingers tugging the collar of her shirt to the side, his lips and tongue and beard driving her slowly insane.

“Dani?” A voice called.

Except, it wasn’t just a voice. It was Fanny.

Nosy, pushy Fanny.

Ethan cursed, pushed off her, plunking into a chair and somehow able to look cool, calm, and collected, even though she was still that cone full of melted ice cream, liquid leaking out of her and turning into a puddle.

Another knock.

Ethan pushed out of the chair, took Dani’s hand and led her to her seat, pressing her down into it. “It’s unlocked,” he called, picking up a tablet and appearing in an instant as though he hadn’t just been practicing giving her hickeys on her neck.

The handle turned, and Fanny came in, her gaze alighting on Ethan and then Dani, brows raising into sharp little rainbows on her forehead. “Am I interrupting?”

Ethan stood. “Nope,” he said, voice calm and friendly. “I’m just returning this.” He held the tablet out to her, his expression relaxed, though when his gaze met Dani’s, his eyes held a heat.

One that she knew was mirrored in her own.

Then he was gone, and she was trying to convince herself that she wasn’t disappointed she hadn’t gotten to answer him, hadn’t felt that stubble on her lips.

Nope.

Not disappointed.

Relieved.

That was what the sharp, jabbing pain in her heart felt like.

Relief.

Yup.

Yup.

Fanny sat in the chair Ethan had just vacated, and Dani felt a bolt of annoyance that her friend was there instead of the man she was lusting after. But then Fanny began expounding on her latest exploits as a thirty-something woman trying to find a man who wasn’t a total freaking loser and . . . seriously, she could relate.

Except . . . Ethan wasn’t a loser.

So, yeah, she was disappointed and annoyed—at herself.

Stifling a sigh, she tuned into Fanny’s words, knew that she owed it to her one friend to pay attention.

But it was a struggle.

Because she couldn’t help but feel that she was utterly, royally fucked to the moon and back.

But it’ll be a fun, fun ride, her inner daredevil—the one that was usually stifled by her anxiety, her fear—said.

Until it’s not, the sane part of her countered. Until it’s not.

Chapter Ten

Ethan

It was almost time to get on the ice.

It was their last match at the Gold Mine before a six-game road stretch. Not that Ethan minded the trip. He wasn’t leaving his family behind or a significant other. Actually, the whole trip was a net positive for him because his parents were coming to the game in Baltimore, and he was excited that he’d be able to hang with them for a day. Usually, the team only played their Eastern Conference opponents twice during a season, so he was glad his parents could make it out for one of the match-ups.

Not that he was like a little kid desperate for them to come and watch.

Rather . . . he was like a little kid excited to show off his new toy—and that toy was not Dani (she’d be fucking terrified if it was, though he couldn’t deny he hoped to