Mister Hockey (Hellions Angels #1)(28)

She raised a brow, but didn’t disagree.

Ding! Ding! Ding! Ladies and gentleman, we have a winner.

Trouble was, figuring out his blunder only got him to the playing field. This was going to have to be an apology knocked out of the park or he wouldn’t be getting to a single base.

She mashed her lips together, probably noticing him over here dithering. He was blowing this harder than a fucking popsicle stand.

There was only one way to salvage this. A straight up, from the heart, no bullshit apology.

He pulled the car over and turned off the ignition. Turning, he reached, taking one of her hands. She didn’t recoil. Progress.

“I should have asked you to come over. Not assumed, just because.”

“Look, Jed.” Her voice quavered on his name. “I get it okay. You’re like you or whatever. You. Westy. Big deal. And I am so happy to be here with you. I am. It’s just . . . being around my mom flushes my self-esteem down the toilet. And then it seemed like you were here, ready to make decisions for me and I felt devalued.”

Devalued. The word socked him in the gut. He’d done that. He himself alone.

“That wasn’t ever my intention. I don’t know how to talk about the hockey shit without sounding like a stuck-up asshole. So I’ll do the only thing that I know. Which is to call it like I see it. I’m on television. Yeah. All right. I play a professional sport game watched by lots of people. But I didn’t get into this work because I wanted to be a star. I did it for one simple reason. I love the work, or used to. Skating is my life. My passion. It’s in my blood. Or at least it has been, for most of my life.”

“I’m being touchy. And it’s hard to navigate. To be ordinary and to be with you, it takes time to get used to.”

“Let me tell you one thing. You need to quit saying that. You don’t have a drop of ordinary in you. You couldn’t be average if you tried.”

Her eyes welled with unshed tears, but her smile was something else. And the knot in his gut relaxed. He had a sense he was forgiven for some of his stupidity.

“You said ‘used to.’”

He frowned. “What do you mean?”

“Used to love hockey. You don’t feel that way anymore?”

His hand went right to his head, the body language betraying him even as she looked on without a clue. “Slip of the tongue,” he lied smoothly. He liked Breezy. A lot. She was a good listener. A smart woman. But he wasn’t dropping that steaming pile of shit on her door. And besides, he had to be careful.

Last thing he needed was news of his injury reaching her sister’s ears. Jed West decides to leave the sport after one concussion too many? It wouldn’t take long for a reporter to do a little digging. Find out about Travis and reduce his private tragedy to nothing but a fucking sideshow. A cautionary tale about the dangers of having kids in sport. Helmet debates. The works.

Travis didn’t deserve to be a footnote to the Jed West story.

He’d been dealt enough shit cards.

And anyway, this could all be nothing. The symptoms a molehill, not a mountain.

He dug his thumb into his temple and rubbed. Please be nothing.

A slippery warmth skimmed his ear and he froze. While he’d been lost in thought, Breezy had clipped out of her seat belt and crawled over the console.

“Tell me you want to take me home,” she breathed.

The little hairs on the back of his neck stood at attention. And his cock woke up fast.

He cleared his throat. “I want to take you home.”

His shaft thickened at her throaty giggle.

“And then? What will we do when we get there?”

Her tone was teasing, toying and he fucking loved every syllable.

Turning, he moved fast, grabbing the back of her head, burying his fingers in that silken hair and tilting her face to meet him. He couldn’t wait to see what she looked like freshly fucked. “First thing I want to know is this . . .” He gave her a slow, thorough kiss. “Do you taste as good between your legs as you do here?”

She sucked in a ragged breath. The flush in her cheeks crept down her neck and he’d bet a Benjamin that the blush kept right on going. Her creamy skin was so damn responsive. Held nothing back.

Which was good, because he was a greedy bastard. And hungry too.

She retreated a fraction.

“Too much?” he asked. A flicker of doubt lit in his chest. He’d never spoken to a woman like this. Maybe it was a mistake letting her peek into his depraved imagination.

Her hand rose to the corner of her mouth. When she nipped the tip of his pinkie finger, he nearly groaned out loud. There it was again. That fucking adorable giggle that made him want to fuck her sideways.

“Mr. West, I do declare.” She feigned an innocent Southern accent. She pointed forward. “Drive.”

He hit green lights the whole way home.

Jed parked in the condo’s private garage and barely got her into the kitchen. “Want the grand tour now, or later?”

“I’ll settle for the grand tour inside your pants.”

He shook his head, laughing. “You’re going to hell, Miss Angel.”

“That’s fine.” She wound her arms around his neck and ran her tongue along the edge of his jaw. “Long as you burn with me.”

One thing was clear. He was going to be coming in his pants like a teenage boy if he didn’t act fast.