Caged (Gold Hockey #11) - Elise Faber Page 0,58

filled their hours together with meals and movies, with learning all the little things.

So, fantastic was the minimum description he could muster.

And now, she was going to meet his parents.

It was going to be great. His mom would love her. His dad would clap him on the shoulder and beam and then later would whisper in his ear, asking him where in the fuck he’d found her because she was way too good for the likes of him.

Which was nothing more than the truth.

Dani was leaps and bounds above his level, so much more than he was worth and more than he deserved—

She pushed against his chest, lips swollen, chest heaving. “We need to get ready for the game.”

That was true, but for the first time ever, he didn’t want to play hockey. He wanted to skip on the game, to take this woman into a closet and make love with her, and then he wanted to introduce her to his parents.

Probably, he should reverse the order of things.

But the body wanted what the body wanted.

Which was why he tugged her close again.

“Ethan,” she laughed.

“One more,” he murmured. “Just one more.”

“Oka—”

He cut her off with a kiss, held her tight until she pushed him away.

“Give a woman a chance to breathe.”

“No, love,” he said. “If you can breathe, then you can think, and pretty soon you’ll start questioning why you’re with a man like me.”

Her face clouded. “Baby.”

He hadn’t meant it the way it sounded, and God knew he didn’t suffer from a confidence problem. But once the sentiment was in the air, he couldn’t deny that it was the truth—at least a little bit. Hell, even in his mental conversation with his parents, the same notion came up.

She was wonderful.

And he was damned lucky to have her.

“I’m being self-deprecating,” he said. “That’s all.”

Her face gentled. “Well, don’t tease like that. If I’ve made a promise to stop putting myself down, then you have to as well.”

He ran his thumb back and forth along the inside of her wrist. “I can do that.”

“Good.” She swatted him on the ass. “Now go. Skate your butt off.”

“Then you couldn’t do that.”

She grinned, knowing him losing his hockey butt was never at risk. It was a glorious side effect of the sport.

He released her, turned down the hall.

“Ethan?”

He spun back.

“Remember that I’m always watching.”

Laughter bubbled in his chest.

She nibbled the corner of her mouth. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

Ethan had to steal one more kiss, to taste the chagrin on her lips. “I know,” he murmured, nipping at her jaw. “I promise, I won’t wink tonight.”

He’d received no little amount of shit for his previous wink. Which meant that Dani had also received no little amount of shit for the same.

Same went for the ones he’d given her during every game since.

She groaned. “I hope that’s true.”

He bopped her on the nose. “It’s not.”

Another groan.

“See you after the game, love.”

“Oh, God,” she moaned. “I’m meeting your parents.”

He kissed the fear off her lips. “They’re going to love you,” he promised.

“Go,” she said, shoving him back. “Before I freak out even more.”

“Leaving.” A tug of her hair. “I’ll try to get on some of those highlight reels.” He patted her hip, turned away.

Quiet greeted him, all the way down the hall. Broken only when he nearly turned the corner.

Then she called, “See that you do.”

He grinned, love for this woman filling him to the brim.

And Ethan found that when he hit the ice, he was still smiling.

Dani was a quiet statue at his back.

His mom and dad had taken turns hugging him and were now chattering his ear off.

“Honey, you played great,” his mom said, “and then you did that . . . thing with the puck to get it up to . . . your teammate.”

He laughed, squeezed her hand. She could wax poetic on Russian literature, but she couldn’t distinguish a forehand pass from a backhand, let alone discerning between players as they moved rapidly on the ice. “Thanks, Mom,” he said.

It had been a great game. The system working, riding the high of a series of goals from up and down the lineup. He felt like he was actually contributing and not just in working away from the puck. Ethan was connecting passes, making good defensive plays—he’d had a fire under his ass, both because Dani was watching and because his parents were there.

Things had just clicked, so Ethan was riding a definite high when he’d met up with Dani