Page 3

Three

Emily

I wake up before my alarm the next morning, and for a split second, I forget where I am. It takes a couple of slow blinks before the dim room comes into focus and I remember that I’m in the guest room of professional hockey player Wolf Hartley’s stunning penthouse. Because I’m in Toronto to dance with the National Ballet for the next six weeks. This is a major opportunity for me, a huge step towards my dream of dancing full-time for a professional ballet company.

I stretch out in the luxurious bed, and instead of my usual thoughts of ballet, my mind immediately drifts to Wolf.

He’s so gorgeous I feel like I can’t breathe right around him. He’s got this thick, dark hair that I want to run my fingers through, and these piercing gray eyes that I want to stare into for hours. He’s got a close-cropped beard and full lips, and the perfection of those lips contrasts so perfectly, so beautifully with his slightly crooked nose. He doesn’t seem to smile much, but when he does, he’s got these lines that fan out around his eyes and make me feel all melty inside.

And the sheer size of him…god. He towers over me. He’s quite literally twice my size, and that combined with the protectiveness in his voice when he said he’d drive me to and from the ballet school makes me want to climb into his massive lap and curl up there.

Which is insane. We met yesterday. Maybe I’m just channeling any homesickness into horniness.

And it’s not like it matters. He probably thought I was a gawking idiot yesterday because I couldn’t stop staring at him. At his gorgeous face, at his huge, muscled body.

I lie in the dark, blushing furiously as I think about him. About the rough texture of his voice and how it sends a shiver down my spine and straight to my core every time he speaks. About the size of his hands and how they might feel on me.

There’s something primal about Wolf. There’s a raw masculinity there that’s doing something to me. I’ve never met anyone like him, and I don’t know how to process it. Because my brain is taking things and twisting them. He’s just being nice. I’m here because he’s doing Mike a favour. And I’d be an absolute idiot to think there was anything more going on here than that. My crush on Wolf is entirely one-sided.

Not to mention that phone call I overheard between Mike and Wolf yesterday. I didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but Wolf was only a few feet outside my bedroom and my door was open. Mike’s voice was loud enough that I could hear both sides of the conversation. I was so embarrassed at the way Mike “joked” about Wolf keeping his hands off me. Now every time Wolf looks at me, he’ll hear Mike threatening to kill him.

Great. Exactly what I was hoping for.

Not.

But again, it doesn’t really matter, because what would a man like him want with a girl like me? I’m completely inexperienced, and he’s way out of my league. Rich, sexy, successful, accomplished and mature. And I’m…I’m just Emily David. A girl with a dream.

I’ve never had these kinds of feelings before. I’ve had little crushes here and there, sure, but this feels different. Bigger and more consuming. Ballet has always been my sole focus, leaving almost no time for boys or dating or anything like that.

But Wolf…well, he’s not a boy. He’s a man. A gorgeous, gruff, intimidating man who makes me blush and makes my panties wet just by looking at me.

I let my eyes drift close again as I try to imagine what it would be like to kiss Wolf. I’ve never kissed anyone before, but I try to picture it now. What would his lips feel like? What would his hands feel like on my body? I think they’d be rough and strong, demanding and sure. My face heats in the darkness as warmth pools in my belly. What would his beard feel like against my skin? Would it be scratchy or surprisingly soft?

What would it feel like to be underneath him?

My pulse races, my breath catching as I imagine him touching me in ways no one ever has. His fingers trailing down my stomach, dipping beneath the waistband of my leggings. His hand cupping my pussy, one of his impossibly thick fingers sliding inside me, stretching and filling me.

I start to slip my hand between my legs, wanting to ease the ache that’s building there as I lie here and fantasize about Wolf. But just as my fingers brush against the edge of my panties, the alarm on my phone starts to chime, pulling me back to reality.

I sit up and turn the light on, squinting against the sudden brightness. As I rub my eyes and blink a few times, I take in the room around me and I’m reminded of how I very much don’t belong here. I don’t fit in Wolf’s luxurious home, with its plush carpeting and designer furniture and soaring views of the city. I don’t fit in Wolf’s world, which is filled with professional athletes and other rich, successful people, I’m sure. I don’t fit in this city, which is huge and intimidating and makes me miss home. And I’m terrified I won’t fit in my program at the National Ballet School, either. Yes, I had to audition and be offered a spot but…imposter syndrome is hard to ignore sometimes.

I stretch, arching my arms above my head and rolling my neck, trying to dispel the nerves and doubt curling through me like smoke. I’m probably just nervous about my first day, and probably just feeling a bit lonely and homesick because I spent the evening watching a movie by myself while Wolf was at his game. He left in the late afternoon and wasn’t home yet when I went to bed.

I shove my feet into my fuzzy pink slippers and pull a hoodie on over my tank top and pajama shorts, shuffling out towards the kitchen. My feet scuff quietly against the immaculate hardwood, and gray, early morning light pours in through the massive windows. The lights are still on in the city below, slowly winking out as morning crests. My stomach is a jumble of nerves as I move through the quiet penthouse. First day jitters are getting the best of me, and I’m hoping some tea and toast will settle my nervous tummy.

The last thing I need to do is puke all over my pointe shoes. God.

I round the corner into the kitchen, my steps faltering when I see that it isn’t empty. Wolf is leaning against the counter, a steaming mug of coffee cradled in his massive hands. He’s wearing a soft gray T-shirt that stretches taut across his impressive chest, the sleeves straining around his thick biceps. His dark hair is damp, like he’s just stepped out of the shower. My brain very unhelpfully supplies the image of Wolf, naked with soapy rivulets of water running over his broad body.

My clit pulses and my heart hammers against my ribs at the thought.

He turns in my direction, my breath catching as his gray eyes meet mine. My cheeks immediately go warm, and it’s like there’s an electric hum in the room.

“Morning,” I manage to squeak out, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear.

“Morning, Emily,” he rumbles, and hearing my name in his deep voice does something to my insides, twisting them all in knots. He gestures to the fancy coffee maker on the counter. “Want a cup?”

I shake my head, moving towards the electric kettle. “I’m more of a tea drinker.”

He nods and opens a cupboard, pulling out a couple boxes of tea. “Take your pick.” I scan the labels, deciding on English Breakfast, and by the time I’ve plucked out a tea bag, he’s set a mug down on the counter in front of me.

We fall into a comfortable silence as I make my tea and toast and he sips his coffee. I can feel his eyes on me as I move around the kitchen, and it makes me hyperaware of every single movement I make. It makes goosebumps dance across my skin. It makes my stomach dip and swirl.

I mean, of course he’s looking at me. I’m only a few feet away from him, in his kitchen. I’m only reacting this way because of my crush on Wolf—a crush that’s only growing stronger by the minute.

We sit down together at the small bistro table to eat. It’s in a corner, ensconced by two massive windows that join at the seam, and I feel like a bird in a nest, perched above the city, surveying it all. His knees are almost touching mine underneath the table, so close that I can feel the heat of his legs. When he shifts, I can smell the warm, woodsy scent of him, and I have the sudden, insane urge to rub myself all over him like a cat.

I take a deep breath, trying to steady myself. I’m a ball of nerves today, and I’m not thinking straight. I’m anxious and homesick and projecting all of that onto my very sexy—and very temporary—roommate.

Who most definitely would not be interested in a girl like me, with no experience and no boobs and nothing to—

“Nervous?” he asks softly, interrupting my swirling thoughts as I pick at my toast.

I nod. “Uh. Yeah. A little. I just…I want to do well. I want to prove that I deserve to be there.”

He takes a sip of his coffee, his eyes never leaving mine. “You’ll be great, Emily. You wouldn’t be here if you weren’t talented. You’ve earned this.”

I small smile creeps across my face as I peer down at my tea. Warmth blooms through my chest at his kind words, at his confidence in me, at the way he says my name in that deep, rumbly voice of his. I smile shyly at him, feeling some of the tension ease from my shoulders.

We finish up our breakfast and then take our dishes into the kitchen.

“You just about ready? I’ll drive you,” he says as he loads the dishwasher.

“Oh, um. You don’t have to,” I say, shaking my head, even though I want him to. I just don’t want to be an inconvenience. That’s the last thing I want to be.

“I know I don’t have to. But I want to, and I insist.” He looks up, his gorgeous gray eyes meeting mine, and I melt a little. I don’t argue because Wolf seems like the kind of man who gets what he wants. Who people don’t argue with.

I suck in a breath, realizing that what I’m feeling right now goes deeper than a crush.

I want to be good for him. I want to please him, make him happy. All the better if doing what he wants means I get to spend more time with him and I don’t have to figure out the public transit system.

I quickly gather up my pale pink duffel that holds everything I’ll need for the day, my palms sweaty against the smooth straps. Once we’re bundled up against the January cold, I follow him to the elevator that takes us directly into a parking garage, where he leads me to a sleek SUV. Without a word, he opens the door for me, my arm brushing against him as I climb up, sending sparks of electricity racing through me, even though we’re both wearing heavy winter coats.

We pull out into the morning traffic, the weak sun struggling to emerge from behind wispy gray clouds. The streets are filled with traffic, the sidewalks bustling with pedestrians huddled in their heavy coats against the cold. I curl into the warmth of the seat, wanting to talk to Wolf but unsure what to say.

I’m unsure of a lot of things this morning.

“So, how long have you been dancing?” he asks in that deliciously gruff voice, his gloved fingers curled around the leather steering wheel as he makes a turn.

“Since I was four,” I say, glancing over at him. God, he’s so sexy. Those eyes and that hair and those lips and that bearded jaw and those shoulders and thick thighs…gah. I could melt into a puddle of lust just from looking at him. He’s just so…so hot. “My mom got a flyer in the mail about a free dance class, and she took me. I fell in love with it almost instantly, and I’ve been dancing ever since.”

He nods, his eyes on the road as he smoothly changes lanes. Even the way he drives is sexy, with one hand resting easily, confidently on the steering wheel.

“So that’s…what? Fifteen years of dedication? You’re…you’re nineteen, right?” he asks, then clears his throat when his voice seems to catch.

“Yeah, I’m nineteen.”

“Right. Nineteen,” he says quietly, almost as though he’s talking to himself. “That level of dedication his impressive,” he adds quickly.

I shrug, but a blush spreads across my face at his praise. He makes me feel like a little kitten. I want to rub myself all over him and curl up in his lap while he strokes me and tells me what a good girl I am for him.

My clit throbs at the thought, and I shift in my seat. Apparently, I’m not subtle either, as Wolf looks over at me with an arched brow.

“I can turn the seat warmer down if it’s too much,” he says, but I shake my head quickly.

“No, I’m fine. It feels nice.” A silence falls between us, and I lick my lips, wanting to keep talking to him. “How old were you when you started playing hockey?”

“I learned to skate when I was five, started playing hockey when I was six.”

“You must be both talented and passionate to have made it to where you are.”

He frowns at that, and it’s like the sun going behind the clouds. Was that the wrong thing to say?

But when he comes to a red light and glances over at me, his beautiful gray eyes are soft. “Yeah. Hockey’s my passion. Or…it was, for a long time. Maybe it still is. I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?”

He shrugs his massive shoulders. “The game has changed. Or maybe I’ve changed. All I know is that it doesn’t…thrill me the way it used to. It’s like there’s something missing.”

“Like what?”

He shrugs again. “I don’t know. Maybe I just feel this way because I’m a hell of a lot closer to the end of my career than the beginning.” He swallows thickly, and before I can talk myself out of it, I reach across the center console and lay my hand on his enormous, rock hard thigh.

“These things we love—hockey, ballet—have very, very short career lengths. My goal is to soak it all up while I can and enjoy it, trusting that I’ll know when it’s time to move on. If you don’t know, then you’re not ready.”

He rumbles out a sigh, nodding slowly. “That’s very astute.”

“What do you think you’ll do, after retirement?”

He pauses, taking a breath. “I don’t know. I always kind of…pictured myself raising kids, being a dad, but…” His gaze flicks over to me before returning to the road. “I’m very single and have been for years, so I don’t know how realistic that is.” He clears his throat again, then turns the conversation back on me. “What about you? I know you’re just starting out, but where do you see yourself in twenty years?”

I laugh softly. “In twenty years? God. I have no clue.”

“What’s the point blank, gun to your head answer? Don’t think, just say what comes into your mind.”

“I’d be running my own ballet studio and have a bunch of babies.”

I swear his breath catches in his throat, and when I look over at him, his gaze is glued to me. He’s staring at me as though he’s transfixed. Like he can’t look away. Heat blooms across my skin, and I wiggle slightly in my seat, feeling nervous and hot under the intensity of his attention.

“I know I’ve only just met you, but I think you’d be a great mom, Emily.”

“Yeah?” I ask, a little breathlessly.

He smiles at me, and I can feel the connection between us like a physical thing. I feel like I’m buzzing. I feel a little drunk on Wolf’s attention, on the way he looks at me.

And while I know it’s all in my head, I’m going to enjoy it, because I’ve never felt this way before. Like I’m the bubbles in a champagne glass, fizzing and dancing and golden.

“Yeah. You’re warm and sweet and gentle. You work hard at the things that matter to you, and you’re willing to step out of your comfort zone when it matters. You’re brave and kind.”

“Wow,” I whisper, my eyes stinging. “That’s…um. Wow. That’s one of the nicest things anyone has ever said to me.”

His smile grows, his eyes sparkling as he looks at me. “Well, I mean it. You’re…really great.” I can tell he was going to say something else and then changed course at the last second.

“You’re pretty great, too,” I whisper as he pulls up at the curb in front of the school. My face flames as I look at him, and as he shifts towards me, I can smell the foresty scent of his cologne. I want to bury my face in his neck and breathe him in. “You’re really nice for letting a total stranger stay with you for weeks on end. Not just anyone would do that. And you…make me feel safe,” I say, my voice tiny.

A sexy grin spreads across his face at my admission. “Good.” Then he tips his chin in the direction of the school. It’s a pretty, red brick building with arched windows and huge carved wooden doors. My stomach dips as my nerves come flying back. “Knock ‘em dead, Emily.”

I suck in a steadying breath and nod. “I will. I hope.” I scoop up my duffel bag from where I laid it on the floor by my feet and start to step out of the SUV.

“Text me when you’re done for the day and I’ll come get you. Okay?” He pins me in place with his eyes, and I nod again.

“I will. Thanks, Wolf.”

His nostrils flare slightly when I say his name, but then he just nods, and I hop out of the car, walking up to the ballet school on legs made of Jell-O.

I turn and walk into the building, feeling his eyes on me the entire way.

And I like it.