man—his scent, spice and salt, but not unappealing; his gentle touch, his arms slipping around her, holding her carefully; and his words, softly whispered in her ear, words of love and romance, ones she didn’t fully process at first, except to understand that the tone was smooth and easy, and then she did, and more tears joined those on her cheek, her lungs breathing.
Because this man was wonderful.
Ethan ran his hand up and down her back, calming her, still murmuring gentle words, comforting her without telling her to stop crying.
Because she hated that, hated when someone told her to not cry.
And of course, he instinctively knew that, just continued to whisper that he “had her,” and held her tight, stroked her gently until she’d gotten herself under control, until the tears no longer came, and the sobs quieted.
“Sorry,” she whispered, wiping her eyes and cheek with the hem of her shirt, glad that what little makeup she wore was waterproof and so wouldn’t end up with her fun, sparkling gold eye shadow smeared all over her face. “This was supposed to be a romantic moment, but now I snotted all over you.”
“You never need to apologize for letting me hold you,” he said, cupping her cheek, thumb drifting up and wiping away some moisture she had missed. “Snot or otherwise.”
Inhaling and exhaling slowly, Dani shook her head. “I didn’t mean to lose it. I—”
“Dani.”
She was already forming the next reply in her mind, started to pull herself out of his arms. “I just. It’s been a lot and I—”
His hand on her waist tightened, holding her against him. The one on her cheek stayed gentle. “Dani.”
“And I—”
“Dani,” he said. “I’m telling you this in the nicest possible way.” A beat as she watched laughter trickle into his expression, his mouth softening, so fucking tempting that she wanted to rise on tiptoe and close the distance between their lips. “But please, just shut the fuck up.”
Outrage down her spine.
A gasp of indignation on her tongue.
But he didn’t stop talking, just continued to hold her stare as he said, “I love you.” That thumb swept forward, traced over her bottom lip. “You’ve held my heart in your palm from the moment I first saw you stroke an iPad, from the second you laughed and let those amber eyes meet mine.”
She wrinkled her nose. “They’re just boring brown.”
“Lies.” He shook his head, hand sliding up, thumb now lightly drifting across the bottoms of her lashes. It tickled, but she didn’t back away. “You have tones of mahogany and amber in there, tiny streaks of gold and russet. I swear,” he said, tone going a little husky, “every single time that you let me see them, I find a different shade in them.”
Her pulse skipped around in her veins, as though someone had somehow dumped Pop Rocks into them. “I like your eyes, too,” she whispered.
He smiled, that lovely turn up of his lips Dani felt in the depths of her soul—sticky cotton candy on her fingertips, sweetness tingling on her tongue, warmth in her belly . . . desire pooling between her thighs.
“Dani?” he asked again, and God, she loved the way he said her name.
“Yeah?” she whispered.
“I’m going to kiss you now.” A millisecond later, his mouth was on hers, his palm tilting her head back so their lips were perfectly aligned, his hand on her hip drawing her a little closer, until she could feel his shin guards pressing against her legs, the thick protective hockey pants he wore firm against her pelvis and stomach, his chest hard where it met hers, his muscles gloriously clad in just that thin, black material. Her nipples tightened, her womb clenching in her abdomen, her pussy growing damp.
His tongue flicked against her mouth, deftly parting her lips to drift inside her mouth, to tangle with hers.
She rose on tiptoe, drifting closer, her tongue and lips not shy but joining in the glorious dance with him. The world fell away. She forgot about his gear, about the cool air of the ice drifting down the tunnel—she was plenty warm in his arms anyway. She forgot all about the publicness of their position.
And she wouldn’t care anyway.
Because the team was part of their love story.
And anyway, Ethan was the only thing she could process.
His body, hard. His touch, gentle. His ability to melt the very marrow of her bones, vast.
His kiss, marking the beginning of their happy ending.
His hand slipped from her cheek to skate along