Claire
I nibble at my bottom lip and hesitate just outside the sunlit lobby, gaze searching for Jackson, half expecting this to be some sort of cruel joke.
That Jackson will come to his senses and not show up.
That I’ll be standing here feeling inadequate until I manage to make my legs work enough to go back to my room and hide.
“Coming through!”
I realize that I’m blocking the hallway leading from the elevators to the lobby itself and jump to the side, allowing the employee with a huge cart through.
Not that I have a choice—it’s either that or find myself beneath the rattling wheels as he determinedly makes his way across the lobby.
It’s not just the man who’s making noise, the entire space is busy with activity. There are people checking out, the aforementioned staff zipping through, shoes clicking on the marble floor as they accomplish their various tasks for the day. Across the other side of the sunshine-dappled room, the restaurant, currently serving breakfast, is hopping—including a large conglomerate of the Breakers crew consuming all manner of waffles and pancakes, cereal and granola, fruit and coffee.
Yeah, it’s ten in the morning.
But hockey is played late into the night—three hours for the game (unless it goes to overtime, in which case they end even later). Then there are press conferences and post-game cool downs and workouts. Add in meeting with the training staff to address an injury or to keep the guys feeling good enough to endure the brutal eighty-two game season and early mornings aren’t the norm.
Not if we can help it, anyway.
We, because I work with Luc and the team in charge of travel plans to try to make it as easy on the guys and staff as possible.
“Kitty cat.”
I jump again, but this time it’s to whip around and slam into a big, strong chest.
Jackson’s not as tall as yesterday since he’s not wearing his skates, but the moment his body meets mine, I feel it.
It.
Why it hurt when I thought he hated me.
Why my stomach was in knots thinking that he might not show this morning, that he might change his mind and leave me standing here, alone and—
“Don’t.”
I blink.
“Don’t think that.”
“What are you talking about?” I whisper as his hand lifts and cups my chin, as he tilts my head and pins me in place with his deep brown gaze.
“No more thinking I hate you.” A gentle sweep of his thumb over my bottom lip. “And no more lies,” he murmurs. “I stayed away before because I know I’m not good for you.”
I open my mouth to protest but he doesn’t give me the chance to form words.
Lightly, he presses down on my lips. “No, sweetheart. You know why.”
And I get it then—the insane reality this man is living in. I want to argue, to speak against those fingers on my lips, to make him see what I see. But…
I also don’t want to ruin this moment.
I’m going on a date with Jackson Hunter, with the man I’ve wanted and fantasized about in equal measure.
It might all blow up in my face—hell, it likely will blow up in my face, there’s no might about it.
But…I want this.
I need it.
I—
“I’m not good for you,” he says again, more quietly, not bothering to hide the pain in his eyes, the shadows of the past. They call to mine, to those old and deep wounds that never seem to fully heal. “But I need to give you this,” he murmurs, brushing his thumb over my cheek. “I need to give you today.”
“Wh—”
Only, he’s already bending, sealing his mouth over mine, kissing me right here in the lobby, like he doesn’t care who sees me, like he doesn’t care if the team sees us—
That thought ricochets through my head in an instant, and I snap back, pulling my lips from his. “The guys—”
“Don’t give a fuck,” he mutters, weaving his fingers into my hair, drawing me back to him, tasting me slow and deep and easy. So slow that I’m not scared or too frozen to match his pace. So deep that desire blooms in my belly, spreads out to my limbs. So easy that I’m not thinking about all the things I don’t know how to do, all the things I’m not confident about, all the things I might do wrong.
I’m just here.
With him.
“I don’t understand,” I finally murmur, when he pulls back but doesn’t release me.
His fingers sweep lightly over my temple. “Don’t understand what, kitty cat?”
My heart feels like it’s going to pound out of my chest and my legs might as well be jelly. But Jackson doesn’t let me go, just holds me against him. “This is just…you’re kissing me, holding me, and you hated me—”
“No.”
The word is fierce enough to snap me out of my pleasure-filled haze.
“I know,” I say, shaking my head, smoothing my hand along his chest. “I mean. I understand now that it wasn’t really hate.” I take a breath. “But this is…a whirlwind, Jackson. I-I’m spinning here—one second you were scowling at me, the next you were chasing me down the halls, and then we were kissing—are kissing and going on a date—” I nibble at my bottom lip. I should just roll with this, not try to make it make sense, especially when, God knows, it won’t make sense, and when I’ve had to roll with so many things in my life.
It’s just…
Some part of me needs the explanation, needs the pieces to fit together perfectly, needs—
His face gentles.
Needs that.
Understanding. Gentleness. The soft brush of his hand along my jaw, his lips pressing to my forehead. “It’s a lot to throw at you.”
His words are less question than statement, but I nod anyway. “I feel like I’m spinning like one of those reflective lawn ornaments, around and around and around.”
“Cute,” he murmurs, trailing his fingers down my throat. “Always so fucking cute.”
I frown. “Me spinning?”
A shake of his head. “The things you say. The way you look at me. Your soft moans on my tongue—”
I inhale.
His mouth hitches up. “The pink on your cheeks. The freckles on the bridge of your nose. The way you nibble at your bottom lip.” He softly frees said lip with his thumb.
“Jackson,” I say.
“Come on.” He takes my hand, spinning me and tucking me against his side, draping his arm around my shoulders as he draws me through the lobby, by the group of Breakers’ players and staff, who are all staring unabashedly, and toward the spinning door at the front of the hotel.
“Where are we going?” I whisper.
He pauses then grins down at me suddenly, his smile beyond sexy.
“The best first date of your life.”