Page 13

CHAPTER

THIRTEEN

Jett

When have I ever?

Fuck, the look in her eyes as Fable so coyly said those words to me still has me on edge by Monday morning. The fire, the confidence, her… Damn it, she has me twisted in ways I haven’t had to deal with in twenty years. I should have known as soon as I asked her to follow my lead, I was basically asking a bird not to fly.

Fable… Fuck, she’s Fable. There is no describing how beautifully unruly she can be.

When she has her eyes set on something, she doesn’t let up. I have seen it. The whole time I was showing her around, I saw the look in her eyes. She had so many questions, so many suggestions, but she sat back and let me give her the tour. While her restraint impressed me, I should have known that once she let go of her control, she was going to let me have it.

And she did, while not only being gorgeous as hell, but also absolutely right.

Our figure skating program is trash. Hell, it’s not even a program. It’s three girls whom Chelsea tries her best to coach. She doesn’t even like figure skating, but I didn’t think two six-year-old girls and a ten-year-old would be comfortable with me. So, I trained Chelsea the best I could, but it’s obvious the program isn’t thriving. Shit, it’s on the verge of flatlining. I don’t carry anything in the pro shop because people get it online. I sure as hell don’t promote it, because why? It’s embarrassing, and with how great the hockey programs do, I didn’t see a point.

Despite how badly Phillip wanted it to succeed.

Damn it, I don’t want to need Fable.

But I do. In more ways than are written out in the stipulations of Phillip’s will.

When she touched my bed, I wanted to lay her down in it. Let her nuzzle her nose in my sheets before I nuzzled her sweet pussy. Seeing her in my space, I was nervous she’d think it was plain, but she had such a look of awe in her pretty green eyes. The way her lips parted when she looked at the photo of me kissing her nose during our Olympic skate still has my cock throbbing. I want her, desperately, and if I make it through her driving me up the wall with whatever ideas she has to revive the skating program, I may tell her so. I may finally shoot my shot, as Liam said. But…for what? To fall madly in love with her and then let her go?

Again?

She doesn’t like Thistlebrook, and this place is my home.

Her in my space is a mindfuck all in itself, and I don’t know how to handle it.

I do know that my damn heart isn’t safe around her.

I’m sipping on a cup of coffee when a knock lands on my office door. I know it’s her, and instantly, my blood rushes to my cock. I try to steady myself and will my cock not to plow through my zipper. I feel like I’m sixteen again, unable to control my desire for her. How many times did I have to “go to the bathroom” to get control of myself or rub one out just to be able to touch her again? I hate to admit this, but it was enough times that, at almost-forty, I’m still embarrassed. She does something to me. Even when she isn’t here, I’m haunted by thoughts of her. Now, she’s not only living rent-free in my head, but in my space.

I have to work with her.

I slowly shut my eyes and remind myself that I have to hear her out and that she’s here to help me, not take anything from me. It almost works, until she enters my office. As soon as her lush, jean-clad ass drops into the chair in front of me and she leans on my desk with a file, I know I’m fucked.

Not only is Fable stunning this morning, but she has come with a file, and in the file are detailed plans and Post-it notes. It’s her mind on paper, and it’s a goddamn mess, while she looks like a walking dream. Her hair down in wild waves, she’s wearing a little makeup and gloss on her thick lips. She has on an oversized black tee that hangs off one shoulder, showing the strap of a bright-pink sports bra, leaving perfect spots bare that I want to suck on. Those painted-on jeans have rips along the knees, and she’s added a pair of pink canvas shoes. Her eyes are full of excitement and a determination that I haven’t seen since we were training together.

And she smells like a field of my favorite wildflowers.

Which only makes sense because my ice princess is as wild as they come. Gardenias, tuberose, mint, and lyreleaf greeneyes. She makes me want to roll around on her like a dog and hope I walk away with every single scent of hers on me.

Not even wishing me a good morning, she jumps right in. “The first thing we need to do is contact parents to let them know that I’ll be taking over instructing,” she tells me, pulling me from my horndog thoughts.

I take the paper from her and mutter, “Good morning to you too.”

“Morning,” she says, but I can’t focus on anything but the photo on this paper. It has a whole bunch of words and a photo of her on skates, her arms above her head in a pose, but all I see are her nipples through the leotard she wears. She’s wearing white tights that don’t hide the many tattoos along her hips and the tops of her tights. She has this hourglass figure that makes me want to fall to my knees for a chance at her, even if the sand runs out.

But then, I stare harder at the photo, my eyes widening to the size of pucks.

Fuck me, are her nipples pierced?

I blink a few times before I look up at her, and she looks back, confused. “What?”

“You picked this photo?”

Her brows draw in, her face showing pure annoyance as her little nose tips up. “Yes, it’s a good shot. I look approachable.”

“For a Hooters,” I say, my cock wanting a front-row seat to her in that white shirt with those tits on display.

Her eyes widen as she gawks at me. “Excuse me!”

“Princess, your nipples are hard and showing.”

She yanks the paper from my hand, and then a look of horror passes over her face. Her brows shoot up, her cheeks blazing red, and she coughs on air. “This isn’t the right picture.” She runs her hand down her face and shakes her head. “I had on a jacket that hid my breasts in the other one.”

I scoff, trying to hold back my smirk. “I don’t think a jacket would hide those babies.”

Her eyes darken. Fuck, she’s stunning. “You’re a pig,” she accuses, and I shrug.

For her… Yes. Yes, I am. “We can’t use that photo. Or, we can…and you’ll get all the men of Thistlebrook as students.” I give her a pointed look, and her scowl deepens. “If that’s your goal, just come to a game in that outfit, without the jacket, of course, and you’ll leave with someone.”

The look of disgust that covers her face pleases me entirely too much. She gives me an irritated look. “As I said, it’s the wrong photo, and I will be replacing it.”

“Good,” I say, and then my traitorous eyes fall to her lovely breasts, and I drink in the sight for a moment. She’s always had small, teardrop tits that would fit in my mouth perfectly. Now they’re just a bit bigger, but it’s all good, because I have a huge mouth.

When I look up, I meet her eyes with an over-exaggerated, bored gaze. She caught me staring at her, but I don’t care. I grin widely at her, and her breath catches audibly. “Can I ask a personal question?”

“You cannot,” she quips back, her tone breathless as she tucks her paper back into her file.

“Why not?” I ask, unable to stop grinning. She’s so flustered and I love it. “We’re friends.”

Her eyes cut to me. “Friends don’t talk about their friends’ boobs.”

“Me and my friends do.” She rolls her eyes. “And how do you know it’s about your boobs?”

Her eyes narrow. “Because I just caught you trying to look through my shirt and bra. So, no, I won’t tell you a thing about them.”

“It’s a simple question.”

“No,” she says before turning the page. “Now, I looked at the budget, and I have a list of things I want to upgrade in the west rink. I also—” I didn’t even realize my eyes have trailed back down to her boobs until she stops. “For real, Jett?”

I lean back in my chair and shrug, not the least bit ashamed. “They’re all I can think about.”

“You’re disgusting.”

“You’re the one who gave me a picture of your nipples in 3-D! I think you did it on purpose.”

“On purpose!” she complains, her eyes wide and full of irritation. “What would be my endgame in giving you a photo of my boobs?”

“To distract me and take the building,” I say simply, feeling pretty damn good about myself for coming up with that on the fly.

Maybe I can get her mad enough that I can steal that paper back.

She scoffs. “Well, you’re playing right into it, aren’t you?”

“Yes, I am,” I say without any shame. “I am very disappointed in myself.”

Fable laughs to herself and shakes her head. “That’s not my endgame, Jett. I want to work together and not talk about my boobs.”

All I hear is boobs. Yes, I’m disgusting. No, I don’t care. “It’s one little question.”

“Do you know how unprofessional you’re being right now?”

“Is this a professional meeting? I’m not dressed right, if so,” I say since I’m wearing jeans and a tee. “But if you want to change into that little number you’ve got, sans jacket, I’ll wait.”

I swear I see lust in those green depths. “Disgusting.”

But she doesn’t seem to be that disgusted by me. If anything, by the tint of her cheeks and the playfulness in her eyes, I’d say she appreciates that I want to know about them. Unable to resist, I say, “I think you’re enjoying my curiosity.”

She blinks. “I most certainly am not.”

“I think you want me to just ask.”

“I don’t,” she insists, but once more, her cheeks fill with color, and is she pushing her shoulders back?

What a naughty ice princess.

I cover my mouth as I drink her in, wanting desperately to gather her hair and pull her head back to reveal her throat. I’d suck and lick my way down, pull her shirt completely off her shoulder before yanking up that bra to find out the answer to my question. Would she let me?

Maybe that’s the question I should ask.

Going for a bargain, I ask, “You can ask me one.”

“I don’t want to know anything!” she yells, flustered, her hands flying in the air. I don’t miss the way her leg is bouncing or how she is squirming in her seat. She’s getting overwhelmed, and I wonder if she still freaks out when she gets to that point. Her parents always tried to make her hold it all in, but I loved how she blew up. She was herself.

“Lies. Surely there is something you want to know.” I can hear the deep teasing to my voice.

I grin when I realize what I’m doing.

I’m flirting with the ice princess.

She doesn’t answer right away, her green eyes holding mine hostage, and I swear I can see the wheels grinding in her brain. Her little chin tips up, looking so damn pretty I want to gobble her up. I’m on the edge of my seat, praying she says yes. Instead, she glares. “Stop messing with me and flustering me. No matter what, I am here to get this job done, and you aren’t going to chase me away.”

I grin. “You think that’s my endgame?”

“I don’t care one way or another. Cut it out. I’m not going anywhere.”

I know she means the words she says, and they surprise me. I know she doesn’t want to be here, but I’m realizing she truly does want to help me. I know that I should back off, that I’m not being professional, but I can’t help my need to get under her skin. I thread my fingers before lifting my hands behind my head and leaning back, my gaze never wavering. “If that was my endgame, you’re playing right into it. All flustered and pink.”

“Jett,” she warns, and I love that her neck is now red. “We are here for a meeting.”

“Shouldn’t we get to know each other?” I suggest, but she doesn’t agree in the least.

With her shoulders back, her back ramrod straight, and her dainty little nose in the air, she looks every bit a well-bred Winthrop. Someone I know who is completely out of my league. But fuck if I don’t want to play in that league with her.

With her voice tight and her eyes in slits, she tells me, “There is absolutely nothing I want to know about you that I don’t already know. Now, can we please get through my notes?”

I hold her gaze, and it bothers me that she doesn’t want to know anything about me.

But most of all, it drives me wild that I want to know every single thing about her.