Page 38 of Breaking Point (IceHawks #1)

My heart is hammering wildly as he lowers his mouth to my ear, his warm breath sending a shiver down my body. “Walk forward for me, Bella,” he whispers.

Swallowing thickly, I do as he says, for once in my life my body listening to someone’s command besides my own. He steers me through the crowd, not getting into conversation with anyone.

As he nears the bar, he calls something over his shoulder and then opens a door that leads to an office. The moment the door closes behind us, we’re plunged into silence, the music and laughter from the bar nothing but a dull thrum, only our heavy breathing filling the air.

I’ve never felt so aware of someone in my life, and yet with Grayson, it’s a constant.

As he takes a step back, my body leans with him until I almost topple over trying to seek his warmth again.

His large hands gently rest on the dip of my waist to steady me.

But they’re there and gone, and a short while later, I’m stunned by a camera flash.

Spinning, I find Grayson holding up his phone with a picture of my back.

Showing the name sprawled across my shoulders.

Gasping, my hands smack over my mouth. “No wonder he winked at me!”

Grayson grimaces. “Whoever sold you Kieran’s jersey was trying to fuck with you. Most girlfriends and wives wear the jersey of their partner.”

“And here I am walking around oblivious that your best friend’s name is on my back. ”

A small breathy wheeze leaves him, the only warning before Grayson doubles over with laughter. The sound of his deep chuckle has my own smile lifting and a laugh drifting from my mouth.

“He’s never going to let this go, is he?”

“Nope,” Grayson says, popping the p as he wipes tears from the corner of his eyes.

I throw my hands in the air. “What the hell am I supposed to do now? I don’t want to go back out there.”

Grayson shakes his head as another chuckle falls from his lips. “It’s fine, Bella.”

“No, it isn’t!”

“No, it’s not, but it will be fine,” he says.

I’m about to ask how but Grayson’s hands drift to the edge of his shirt a moment before he lifts, pulling the dark gray T-shirt over his head.

Every word that was on the tip of my tongue ceases to exist.

Grayson is standing in the dark office, shirtless , his muscles rippling as he breathes a little faster than before.

My mouth is dry.

My hands are sweating.

And I cannot stop staring at my boss wishing he would do despicable things to me.

“Your turn,” he says gruffly, his voice suddenly thick.

My head snaps away from his chest, but only for a moment. Like a magnet, it pulls me right back.

“My turn for what?” I’m practically drooling.

Maybe I am no better than a dog.

Grayson steps forward, all his muscles invading my space so perfectly I take a deep breath, hoping he doesn’t realize I’m trying to get a whiff of that tantalizing cologne he wears.

“Take off the jersey, Blaze.”

The roughness of his voice, the command—it’s nothing like the soft-spoken, blushing man I’ve seen the past few weeks, but God does my body respond to the deep timbre of his demand. And that name again. What is it about that damn name that makes my stomach flip ?

Without a thought, I’m pulling the jersey over my head, and for a moment I catch a glimpse of disappointment in Grayson’s gaze as he finds I kept my long undershirt on beneath the jersey.

Does he want to see me shirtless?

My mind stops working entirely.

Does he find me attractive?

Shaking my head, I stop the train of thought. Of course he doesn’t, we are in an agreement, an agreement in which we have to be a united front and I’ve ruined that tonight by wearing Kieran’s jersey.

This is fake .

The electricity humming beneath my skin and the warmth flooding my belly and the urge to kiss him is entirely one-sided.

But what about the moment in the kitchen? a tiny voice pops up to ask. It’s replaced by another one, one that sends a bucket of ice over my head.

He will leave when this agreement ends.

I stomp on that thought as I hand him the jersey. He tries to give me his shirt in return but I shake my head. “I can just wear my undershirt.”

Grayson frowns at my sudden retreat, and no doubt at the slight coldness in my voice. “You’ll freeze,” he points out.

“It’s a stuffed bar. I’ll be fine.”

I go to move past him, but an arm shoots out, stopping me. Then hands me a balled-up gray T-shirt. “Take the shirt, Bella.”

Slowly turning my head to him, I’m foolish enough to lock my gaze on his blue eyes.

He pushes it into my hands as he pleads softly, “Please put the shirt on, Bella.”

“What are you going to wear?”

His lip twitches. “Worried people will look?”

Scoffing, I still refuse to wrap my fingers around the shirt. “You’re a famous hockey player. They’ll look regardless.”

His brow quirks. “Jealous?”

“Of course not. I’m just trying to save you from a headline.”

He drops his head an inch from my lips. “Blaze, we’re already a headline after tonight. ”

The kiss cam.

Lifting my chin, I purr, “Then let’s not make it two.”

His eyes narrow.

“ Hey! ”

He quickly snatches the jersey out of my hand, and before I have time to get it back, he’s placing it over his head and grinning. “Done, no tabloid.” He straightens. “Now put my shirt on, Bella, or I’ll do it for you.”

“Since when were you so bossy?” I grumble, but all the while, a thrill shoots through me, secretly loving the way he’s commanding me.

It’s…refreshing, to not be the one in control.

And sweet baby Jesus am I glad he commanded me. His T-shirt smells like him. It’s oversized, practically swimming on my short frame, and it’s like being cocooned in his warmth.

But he doesn’t need to know how much I love it.

Crossing my arms over my chest, I nod at the jersey that barely fits his large, muscular frame. “A bit tight, love ,” I say with a shit-eating grin.

Teasing the hockey player who’s blocking my only exit isn’t smart, but I can’t help myself. And maybe, just maybe, I don’t want to leave this little bubble we’ve found ourselves in.

Grayson stares me down. Something shifts in his gaze, something that makes me want to smash my thighs together.

“What?” I snap, my tolerance for how long I can fend off his attractiveness wavering.

He shrugs, his blossoming smile so beautiful I wish I could take a photo of him. “Nothing. You just look good in my clothes.”

“Well don’t get used to it,” I say over my shoulder as I hip check him, trying to get him to move away from the door.

He doesn’t budge. Instead, he traps me against the door, placing a hand on either side of my head.

“What are you doing, Grayson?” I ask, trying to keep my emotions in check, yet the rasp no doubt gives me away.

“Turn around.”

My body stiffens as I do everything in my power not to turn around .

He drops his head, his lips brushing against my ear. “Please,” he says softly.

God damn him.

Sighing, I put up a mask of indifference as I turn, into the awaiting cage of Grayson’s arms. His eyes are soft and inquisitive as they flick back and forth between mine. He’s looking for something, what that is I’m unsure of, and I don’t think I want to know.

“If it wasn’t clear before that we’re dating, it certainly is now after tonight. It’s all anyone is talking about. But…”

“But?”

He swallows thickly, his eyes dropping down to my lips and staying there. “No one has seen us kiss,” he whispers.

My heart simply stops. “That’s a problem.”

“It is.”

Licking my lips, Grayson tracks the movement, his head leaning forward slightly.

“How could anyone believe we’re dating if we don’t kiss? They see me touch you, they know I’m an affectionate guy, and yet we still haven’t kissed.”

The tension between us is like a living, breathing thing, burning with such need it’s screaming at us to do something to relieve it.

I lift my chin, the words rolling off my tongue. “Then we certainly need to fix that.”

“I think we should practice first,” he says gruffly, his voice so deep my toes curl.

“I agree,” I breath. “We don’t want to stumble around awkwardly?—”

“They’ll know it’s our first time,” he cuts in.

“Precisely.”

His eyes grow hooded. “We can’t have that.”

“No, not at all,” I practically purr.

His breathing has grown labored, and his eyes haven’t left my lips this entire time.

“Should we practice now?” he asks.

“Ye—”

I don’t finish the word before Grayson’s lips are smashing against mine.