Hooked On Her: Ice Kings, #3 Page 11

  “Fine?”

  “Ugh. I hate you.”

  She balls up her napkin and tosses it at me. “I’m your favorite and you know it so don’t deny it. So spill, come on. What’s it like?”

  The instant urge to defend and hide my feelings for Jason cling to the forefront, but then I realize, I’m desperate to talk to someone about all my conflicting emotions. All of them. From Will. About work. To Jason. To all the things he’s said and the kiss. Dear sweet heaven, the kisses and the cuddling and his fingers sliding through my hair.

  I open my mouth to start and then it all spills forward, rushing from my stomach like I’ve been holding it back for far too long and now that the dam’s been breached, there’s no stopping it. I go back to the beginning, my crush as a teenager that blossomed to more. The guys I slept with in college who reminded me of him. Will. Everything.

  By the time I’m done, I’m breathless and yet a weight has been lifted. I’ve never once talked about Jason with anyone because I’ve always felt it pointless, but now... what if it’s not?

  “So what do I do?” I ask.

  Debbie gives me a funny look for a beat and then throws her head back and laughs. She laughs so hard and for so long, customers at tables start giving us funny looks too. Some laugh quietly as if they’re in on the joke. Only I’m not joking.

  “Tessa, girl, you kill me. What do you mean, what do you do?”

  I don’t think the question is either funny or confusing. “I mean… what should I do?”

  “You’re living with Jason Taylor and he’s made it clear he wants you. What you do is you go for it, no looking back. No regrets.”

  Well, she makes it sound so darn easy, doesn’t she? “My life is a mess—”

  “Oh please. Enough of this Will crap.”

  She’s always hated him. Mental note: when everyone who knows you best can’t stand your partner, leave. ASAP. I try a different tactic. “What if we ruin everything?”

  “What if I would have looked at your brother and instead of giving him a chance I thought, ‘Oh look, there’s that hottie hockey player. He’s probably a player and wouldn’t want anything to do with some tech nerd like me,’ and didn’t give him the time of day? But I did. And it was scary as hell in the beginning. Trusting him on the road. The comments about me and him, the comments on his social media pages. There were a lot of times it seemed too hard to be with someone so noticeable, Tessa, but look at me. It was worth the fear and the risk and he did hurt me a few times because that’s life. Also, Jason’s not Will and he could never hurt you like that. I think deep down, you know that too.” She leans forward and covers my hands with hers and squeezes. “It’s Jason. You know what kind of guy he is. And now you have your chance. Go for it.”

  Just Do it. According to Debbie, I should become a walking, talking, and sexy little walking ad for Nike and perhaps it was the three mimosas, or the excitement about the wedding planning or perhaps finally unburdening everything I’ve held so close to myself for so long.

  Maybe she’s not wrong. I’ve been thinking of what is the worst thing that can happen if I go along with what Jason’s suggesting. What happens if I flip the script and think of the best thing that could possibly happen?

  What if I get everything I’ve wanted when it comes to a man and relationships since before I’d ever had my first real kiss?

  I’m dazed as I ride the elevator up to Jason’s condo. I have a plan in place. A car ride to consider. A very fast elevator ride that shoots me up to the top of his building to finesse it.

  I’ll order a romantic dinner.

  I’ll discuss my concerns.

  I’ll throw on one of the sexy summer dresses Debbie bought me today when we finally headed out shopping after lunch, style my hair, throw on my makeup.

  Essentially, I’ll dress to impress and after we’ve had a glass or two of wine—well me, Jason will probably have a beer. Maybe he’ll look even sexier sipping on a single malt whiskey—something expensive, probably. And when it’s done, I’ll drag my fingertip over his shoulder, smile down at him, and once he’s fully surprised that I’m the one coming on to him for a change, I’ll lower my lips to his… and then he’ll take it from there.

  Like Jason knows my favorite Indian restaurant is Tandor’s Kitchen, I know he loves one of the local steakhouses when he wants a nice meal out, so I’ve already called and requested a takeout order via a food delivery app of filet mignon and lobster tails, salads for sides along with asparagus, and rice pilaf. It will be heaven. Fortunately, it’s also only a block away from his condo, so hopefully it arrives as scheduled in exactly one hour, nice and warm. Which gives me just enough time to start part one of my plan.

  Showering. Knocking his socks off with my sexy little black dress and slamming hot lipstick.

  See? Foolproof.

  And it’ll end with me seeing stars and loose limbs after finally… finally… Jason and I spend hours exploring our bodies with our hands, our mouths, and connecting in other, even better ways.

  All of this means I can feel the grin stretching my cheeks as I open the door to his place, already planning my undergarments so I’m completely shocked as I kick off my shoes and slide them under the entry table as Jason always does to find him in the kitchen, closing the fridge with one of his pre-made meals in his hand.

  “Stop!” I cry, and my bags are abandoned at my feet. He stares at me and I run to him, slapping away the plastic container. “Don’t eat that!”

  It splatters to the ground. I gape at the upturned black plastic bowl before peering up at Jason.

  Instead of the shock I expect to see, he’s giving me a curious expression, lips upturned at one corner. “Was there something about my salmon that offends you?”

  Umm. I roll my lips together before letting them pop loose. “Well, yeah.”

  I hadn’t considered the time I was arriving back. I for some, stupid ridiculous reason hadn’t even considered the fact he’d be home and well, hungry, when I returned. We stayed at the restaurant for hours and then did some significant damage at the mall, in part because Debbie kept stopping at every single baby clothing store and bought out the entire supply of gender-neutral clothing along with decor for the walls and newborn infant toys. Then we took a break for protein smoothies when she started feeling tired and a bit nauseous before finishing our mall ravaging and her extravagant spending at the department stores.

  I had no clue Debbie can shop and she’s not even in prime form right now.

  Still, none of this explains my extremely bizarre behavior.

  Jason crouches down and picks up his meal, checking to make sure nothing has spilled. “Care to explain?”

  Well now that I’ve just acted like a lunatic, I suppose I have to.

  “I ordered us dinner. It’s coming in an hour and I don’t want you to spoil your appetite.”

  “You could have simply said that instead of assaulting my food.”

  Sure I could have. He should know acting sane and rational has never been a strong suit of mine.

  I shrug. “Probably.”

  “You’re acting strange. What are you planning?”

  “Moi?” My hand goes to my chest.

  “Tessa.”

  Somehow, my name sounds like a curse and I scowl at him. “Nothing, okay? I’m not planning anything except a dinner. From Maple’s Place.”

  His dark brows shoot up, lines crease his forehead. “You planned a dinner from my favorite restaurant? Tessa… that’s not necessary.”

  His voice softens as he speaks. I can picture his mind, adding up the cost of what I probably purchased because if I’m getting food from his favorite place, I’m definitely going to get him his favorite foods.

  “Let me do this for you,” I plead and I hate the begging tone in my voice. It makes me feel small. Pathetic. Because he knows my funds are minimal and he’s obviously noticed the massive number of bags I dropped. Pretty sure they shook the floor. But Debbie was generous and insis
tent on pretty much a whole new wardrobe. Also, it’s impossible to say no to a newly engaged, happily pregnant woman.

  His gorgeous dark eyes crinkle at the edges. With a voice smooth like honey and as sinful like dark chocolate, he says, “Okay Tessa. We’ll do Maple’s.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  Jason

  * * *

  Tessa’s definitely planning something, only I haven’t yet been able to suss out what that plan is. From her strange behavior as soon as she stepped into my place to her disappearing act shortly after I agreed to her dinner idea, I’ve been left alone to try to figure it out.

  Only, she gives me nothing, but a quiet pleading tone that practically begged me to allow her to spend way too much money on a dinner and left me with no idea how to proceed during this night so I don’t screw it up again. Is it simply a thank you dinner for allowing her the freedom to stay here?

  Is it something else? Please, for all that is good and right in the world, please let this be the night she realizes how much she wants me. I want absolutely nothing more and if Debbie spent that many hours with her this morning, I’m hoping like hell she helped Tessa get her head on straight.

  Preferably with that pretty head aimed in my direction.

  There’s also the chance it’s a goodbye dinner. Although the bags of clothing give me hope she’s planning on staying, what if she’s simply replenishing her wardrobe before heading back to Toronto?

  The uncertainty has me on edge when I finally hear the door to her room open. I’m standing in the kitchen having a beer and wishing it was something stronger as I wait for her to appear.

  “Holy shit.” I’m dumbstruck at her appearance and my arm slowly lowers to the counter.

  Her blonde hair is curled, loose waves bounce and sway over her shoulders as she heads toward me. Her face is tipped toward the phone in her hand, thumb swiping over the screen which is a shame because it means I don’t get the incredible appearance of her eyes or the rest of her face, but I’m pretty sure she’s doing this on purpose. She’s in a skin tight black dress. It looks sleeveless, just a whole lot of skin showing along with her cleavage before two thick straps angle up to her throat and disappear behind her neck. Jesus. It looks like someone ironed the fabric onto her, melted it straight against her skin it’s so damn tight to every single one of her beautiful curves, and then forgot the second half of the fabric because this dress ends only a few inches past her ass.

  Her feet are strapped into the sexiest pair of black sandals I’ve ever seen, fabric or ribbon threads that criss-cross over her feet and wrap around her ankles, almost up to her calves to a dainty bow tied at the back which I can barely see.

  She looks dressed to kill and for a night out at the club.

  And she’s done this for dinner with me.

  My dick hardens at the sight of her. I’m vastly underdressed in my typical shorts and tee I wear when I’m lounging around home, but my skin is overheated at the sight of her. I could be wearing nothing at all and still feel like my body is burning with the need to have her… but more, the need for her to give herself to me.

  Just.Like.This.

  Shit. Having her come to me like this, a sexy little sinfully delicious package I can’t wait to unwrap is better than anything I imagined. And the heels with the bow? They’ll be coming off last. Maybe after I’m finished with her.

  She doesn’t glance at me at all as she sways and steps, so damn steady on those heels it’s a miracle and heads straight to the door. The view of her from the back is almost worse. Mostly because the dress doesn’t have much of a back. My brain is so fogged, suddenly evaporating from my skull and headed straight south I almost miss the look she has on her face as she walks away from me. I catch a glimpse of her cheeks, hot pink and flushed and her teeth are poking out from the corner of her lips.

  She’s nervous. Trying maybe to act like she doesn’t see me eye-fucking her from the kitchen, but she’s aware of it.

  And I have a feeling my slack jaw and possible drool slipping out of my mouth is the exact reaction she was hoping for.

  She opens the door to my condo, thanks someone quietly and when she returns, she’s holding three large plastic bags in front of her. Already I can smell the steak and the garlic from the butter sauce for lobster.

  While I’m honored she knows my favorite meals like I know hers, the very last thing I want to eat right now is food.

  “Tessa.”

  It’s highly possible I growl at her.

  She smiles at me, head tilted up, bright red lipstick staining her lips and a similar heated blush on her cheeks. She lifts her hands in the air, carrying the bags directly toward me. “I have dinner. Are you hungry?”

  Oh yeah. I’m hungry like a man who hasn’t eaten for weeks. And still… not thinking about food here. She might be trying to kill me. If this is all some “thanks for the great time see you later,” game plan of hers, I hope she realizes that will never happen. If so, I’m chaining her to my bed. Hard to run away from this thing between us when she can’t move.

  “Famished.” It comes out guttural, leaving her no confusion as to what exactly I’m hungry for. And again. Not for food. “Also, you gotta know right now I think you’re fucking gorgeous.”

  She blinks at me slowly, jaw going slack before she sets the bags on the counter. As much as I want to stand here and keep staring at this bewitchingly insane view of her, I turn toward the cabinets and as she removes our food from the to-go bags, I set up plates and silverware, even going so far as to set out rarely used placemats at the kitchen table.

  Something tells me whatever she has planned doesn’t involve scarfing down food while standing at the kitchen counter like I usually eat my meals.

  Unless later that will mean eating her while she’s on the counter.

  First things first.

  With my back turned, I reach down and give my dick a tight squeeze. I’m hard as a rock and I don’t need to be poking out of my shorts while she attempts to continue this ridiculous game she’s started.

  “Would you like some wine with dinner?”

  “Please,” she says, and I have to bite down my laugh. This girl. Doesn’t she know I don’t need all this? Don’t get me wrong. She looks fucking fantastic, but I’d happily take her in her running shorts and tank tops and messy hair.

  “Red or white?”

  Her hand goes to her ear and she tugs. “White, please. I think I have some opened in the fridge still.”

  She does, so I take out the opened bottle and grab another bottle from the pantry so that can be chilled while we eat. Something tells me she’ll need more than a glass or two to get through whatever she’s planning.

  I don’t like games with women. I’m always upfront. I don’t typically do the giggly, flirtatious, ridiculous stuff women pull that make them seem younger and less intelligent than they really are. I like women straight up, confident. Sassy and not afraid to be themselves.

  But whatever game Tessa is playing? I’m all in. For now, I’m content with waiting to see what she has up her sleeve, if her dress had sleeves, anyway.

  I attempt to keep conversation rolling while we set the table and I bring her the glass of wine. I pour a beer into a glass and take a seat across from her at my table. Normally, I’d sit at the end where I could view the television but I turned that off earlier when she disappeared down the hallway. Not that I’m complaining, the results of her disappearing act are a much better view than anything the television could have on. Yet, she answers me with stilted answers, making my frustration with this game of hers come to a breaking point.

  It’s possible I’ve read her wrong. Or maybe she has plans after and none of this is for me? Doubt doesn’t come naturally for me. I succeed on the ice based on instinct and learning the feel of others. There’s a certain amount of confidence, and yes arrogance, that it takes to make it to the pro level and the reason I’m so good is because I know I am.

  I’ve asked her about lunch.
While she was gone, I called Sawyer and congratulated him on proposing and being engaged. We threw in a quick workout at a gym near where he lives and spent a couple hours watching game films from last year’s playoffs. With Jude out, we didn’t do nearly as well as we wanted to and I’m determined this year we’ll bring another Cup back to Charlotte. That means before the season ever begins, we have to figure out every weak spot against our biggest competitors, Boston especially.

  I take a breath and relax and stare at the beauty across from me.

  Tessa is thoughtfully chewing on a chunk of her steak, much longer than necessary and looking equally distracted.

  My gut sours at the thought I’ve read her all wrong.

  “Maple’s Place never disappoints,” I say, trying to get her attention on me. “Thank you for this.”

  I haven’t realized how much I needed a decent meal until it was in front of me. Filled with all my favorites, the asparagus and lobster and steak are all done to perfection. And man, nothing beats this. My pre-planned meals taste good. They fill me up and give me the nutrition and perfect blend of calories and fat and protein to sustain me for the season, but nothing beats Maple’s.

  She chugs her wine like it’s the last drink she’ll ever have. “You’re welcome.”

  I tear off a chunk of lobster and dip it into the buttery garlic sauce. “You going to tell me what the reason for this is? And the dress?”

  She chews on a piece of her vegetables and while she does, blush staining her cheeks further in a way that makes no sense, I take a sip of my beer.

  Bad idea.

  As I’m swallowing, she looks at me, wide-eyed and blushing and states, “I think we should do it.”

  I choke on my beer, swallowing it down, but some comes up and burns my nose.

  “Do what?”

  “This.” Her hand flicks back and forth between the two of us and she says, “You know, it.”

  Not what I was expecting. And not what I wanted to hear.

  “By it do you mean, you want us to fuck?”