The Sweet Talker (Boston Hawks Hockey #1) - Gina Azzi Page 0,39

bar, and I’m pressed closer into Noah’s frame. His chest shadows my back and when I bump into him, he doesn’t shuffle back but his fingers graze the side of my outer thigh, beckoning me closer.

Jesus, what am I doing?

This is Noah Scotch. He’s one of Austin’s best friends. He was engaged less than a year ago. I’m about to out myself in front of my family and his team. He’s a hockey player.

Apparently, my body doesn’t give a shit about any of the logic running through my mind. I press into him, his warmth and his strength, until he wraps a hand around my hip, his fingertips brushing below my belly button. I shiver and he dips his head again.

I turn to peer up at him and my lips graze the underside of his jaw. Jesus, he’s so close. My body flushes hot and cold at his proximity and some of the noise of Taps falls away as Noah’s smooth jawline and his intense eyes, focused solely on mine, block everything else out.

I clear my throat. “I’ll take the shot.”

He stares at me for a long moment, a heaviness passing between us. Whatever this is, it’s more than just casual. It’s more than it’s supposed to be and we both know it. Because it shouldn’t be anything at all.

“Just one.” His gaze bores into mine.

I nod, the tip of my nose sliding against his chin.

He shifts his weight and tucks me into his frame, as if I belong there. As if we’ve done this dance a million times before and it’s just muscle memory at this point. But my body is like a live wire. Every breath Noah takes, every stroke of his fingers, every rumble of his chest travels through me with the intensity of a category five hurricane. I feel plunged underwater and lifted into the sky and wrapped in fire and ice.

I feel a thrill of anticipation, a desperate expectation, that I’ve never experienced before.

Vanny shoots me a look. Claire bites back her laughter. Mike is oblivious. Austin glares at Noah’s hand where it rests on my stomach. He opens his mouth, but before any words come out, Torsten places a shot glass in his hand and passes one to me, winking.

Torsten holds his glass in the air, turning to stare at the faces of our little huddle by the bar. “To this season!” he shouts.

Additional shouting and cheering rings out as we all raise our glasses and slam our shots.

I barely taste the alcohol.

All I can focus on is the way Noah’s arms feel around me and I don’t ever want them to drop.

16

Noah

“What’s going on with you and Indy?” Torsten asks me an hour later.

I’ve been nursing the same drink since we all took shots at the bar. Claire and Vanny pulled Indy to the bathroom with them and Torsten wasted no time cornering me. I don’t like the glint in his eyes or his tone and I feel my limbs lock down, defensive-like.

“Why are you asking?” I flip my chin at him.

He sighs and runs a hand over the lower portion of his face. “Relax, Romeo. I’m not trying to move in on your girl.”

“She’s not—”

He waves a hand, silencing me. “The girl you’ve got your hands all over to warn everyone else back?”

I shrug because that’s pretty correct. But I hate the thought of any of the guys here trying to ply Indy with drinks, especially when she’s so concerned about her work and her commitment to her students. I hate the thought of any of them flirting with her or putting their hands on her even more.

In fact, since the moment I saw her at the game, the only thing I can think about is having her again. Tonight. Now. It’s irrational, it’s dangerous, but it doesn’t change a damn thing.

“Look, I’m only asking because Austin looks like he wants to deck you,” Torsten says casually but I note the way his gaze slides down the bar to where Austin is talking with his brother-in-law. “So, whatever the deal is, you need to figure it out. Indy isn’t just some puck bunny.”

I rear back, offended he would even suggest something so ridiculous.

He sighs again and shakes his head. “Damn, Noah. Stop taking everything so personally. I’m looking out for you, man. My point is you need to either back off and stop acting like you’re making a play for Indy’s affections—” He grins, impressed with himself for delivering that message so