Page 16

I’m quiet as we take an elevator up. Jacob chats amicably with an arena employee, but I tune them out.

Is he being for real?

There isn’t much he wouldn’t do for me?

Double-negative aside, that might be the most romantic thing anyone has ever said to me. I didn’t think he could top his whole ‘nothing about this is fake to me’ line from the airport, but he proved me wrong.

Everything I’ve experienced about Jacob Mitchell so far has created a war in my mind with what I thought I knew about the entire male species, and I’m having one hell of a time coming to terms with that. He’s been nothing but thoughtful and kind, patient and compassionate. My heart is ready to leap in, feet first, but my brain is putting on the brakes. He can’t be real. His flaws will show up, and they’ll be awful. He’s bound to let me down.

Should I trust in this?

I’m really in over my head. I should tell Jacob I don’t feel well, and go back to the hotel. Or maybe even the airport. There has to be a red-eye back to Denver, right? As I’m about to speak up, Jacob opens a door.

“You ready for Hockey 101?” Jacob asks as he guides me into what he described as a ‘box,’ but is actually a room with padded chairs and a partition separating the room from the stands. A handful of men in suits stand around the space, talking loudly, but Jacob walks to the edge and motions for me to sit down.

“Now you’re a teacher?” I ask wryly, and he gives me a big grin.

“Best you’re gonna get tonight. Do you know what that thing is called on the ice?” he asks, pointing down at an odd machine driving along the ice.

“Not a clue.”

“It’s called a Zamboni. It shaves off the top layer of ice, then puts down a heated layer of water that freezes onto the leftover ice. It gives us a smooth surface to skate on for each new period.”

“Why’s it called a Zamboni?” I ask.

“For the dude who invented it.”

“Makes sense,” I murmur. “What’s the other word for jersey?”

“They’re called jerseys or sweaters.”

“Who is the most popular guy on your team?” I wonder aloud.

“Levi. He’s an enigmatic mystery, which means he’s a chick magnet,” Jacob laughs. “Gabe Dawson is right up there too. He’s a top scorer, and he gets the female vote because of how he became a dad.”

“How?”

Jacob leans toward me. “A sad story, honestly. He found out about his daughter because the hospital where she was born called to tell him that the baby’s mom died in childbirth. Gabe had no idea about the baby.”

I gasp. “Oh, I can’t imagine. How horrifying. He wasn’t in a relationship with the mom, then.”

“A one-night stand. It was during the season, and Gabe was completely unprepared. The team helped him with everything, and Nally’s sister started nannying for him.”

“How old is the baby now?”

“I think about one and a half.”

“And Nally’s sister still nannies for him?”

“Yes and no,” he chuckles.

“I don’t see how that question is funny,” I say with a frown.

“It is when you hear the whole story. Just know they’re together now. As a couple. So yes, she technically still takes care of Mackenzie, but it’s mostly because Kenz calls her Mama.”

“If I had a nickel for every time I read a single dad and nanny story,” I say with a laugh.

Jacob’s brows raise. “Single dad and nanny?”

“Yeah. In romance books.”

“The spicy kind?” he inquires.

Crud. “They usually are, yes.”

A wicked smile crosses his face as he leans in, his lips ghosting over my ear. “Promise to share your favorite books with me, wife?”

My stomach leaps as pure lust pools in my core. “I didn’t take you as a reader of women’s fiction and romance, husband.”

He groans against my skin, letting his forehead rest on my temple. “I enjoy learning, Becca. And if reading a romance book helps me to learn what you like, then I’ll happily buy a Kindle and take it with me everywhere.”

“What I like?” I ask breathlessly as he places a hand on my thigh, and my eyes flutter shut as I bite my lip to refrain from moaning out loud.

Jacob absentmindedly draws across my leg, and I’m thrilled the dress I’m wearing is thick enough to hide the goosebumps he leaves in his wake. The fabric should be thick enough to hide goosebumps, but my eyes are closed, and I can’t seem to force them to open enough to look. “You’re a tough nut to crack, darlin’. If I read enough of the same books, I’ll learn what you veer toward. If you want it sweet, or if you like it rough. If you like a man to take control, or if you want to make the decisions. Hell, I might even be able to determine what area of your body is the most sensitive, and what gets you off the quickest. Because here’s the thing, Spitfire. I want to learn every fucking thing about you, your body, and what you need, and I plan on giving it all to you.”

“Holy cow,” I pant. “I wasn’t ready for that.”

He gives me a pained smile as he nods, sitting back and discreetly adjusting himself. “Yeah, I know. I came on too strong.”

“No, I liked that part,” I admit quietly, aware that anyone could be listening. “I guess I had you firmly in the golden retriever category, so hearing you speak differently is outside of the character I’ve built you up to be in my mind. Which is dumb, really. You’re a real person, so why do I have a caricature of who I think you are roaming around in my brain? I sometimes feel the need to test-run how conversations might go, from any angle I can think of. And I think I’ve made you out to be —”

“A golden retriever.” Jacob’s dry remark makes me giggle. “I’m sure most men have been called dogs before, but I’ve never been called a specific breed. This is new.”

“It’s a romance book thing,” I blurt out. His gaze meets mine. “A golden retriever book boyfriend is one who has a glass half full mentality. Finds joy in everything, and has friends everywhere. Has a great sense of humor, and people love to be around him. I smile when I’m around you. I’d bet other people think you bring joy to their lives, too.”

He looks down, a subtle smile showing in the corner of his mouth. “I bring joy to your life?”

Now it’s my turn to feel bashful. “You do.”

Jacob turns his head slightly, peeking at me from under his thick lashes. “But you liked the part where I told you all the things I want to learn about you and your body?”

Oh my. Did the temperature just jump fifteen degrees in here? Maybe I need a ride on that Zamboni to cool off.

No, I need to ride Jacob.

Good God. I’m a little too keyed up to deal with this man, and my vagina is about to take over all decisions if I don’t get a handle on things.

“Where’s the bathroom?” I blurt out. Quickly standing, I attempt to scoot past Jacob, and instead, fall into his lap. Onto it. Well, him. All of him. That one quick squeeze I snuck in while he was asleep really didn’t give me an estimate on his full length, and my eyes widen as I realize he’s likely to puncture something if — or when — we have sex. “I need the bathroom. Right now.”

Jacob lets out a rather pained chuckle as he grabs my waist, pushing me to stand, before rising to his feet. “I’ll go with you. I don’t know this level of the arena, and I don’t want us to get separated.”

That makes sense, I guess. I reluctantly trudge out of the box with Jacob in tow, hoping I can settle my whirling mind and raging hormones in the few short minutes I’ll be able to use in a public restroom before Jacob inevitably gets nervous. I assume his golden retriever tendencies could also show up in the form of barging into delicate situations because he needs to check on me. Thunder certainly does that to me fairly often.

“Oh. It looks like the only option here is a unisex bathroom,” Jacob comments as we stop in front of a door with every bathroom picture on it. Crud. Now I don’t even get three minutes to rein in my chaotic thoughts.

“We have one of these in our building,” I explain as nonchalantly as I can, pushing open the door. As I expected, there are four separate stalls with floor-to-ceiling partitions enclosing the space. A shared wall of sinks sits opposite the stalls. A television hangs from the ceiling corner, showcasing the game, with the volume turned low.

As I walk toward a stall, Jacob grabs my hand, yanking me back to him. Two quick steps and my back is against the wall, with Jacob pressed against me as he locks the main door. “You want to tell me what that was back there?”

“What?” I ask, struggling to keep my breathing even. I feel surrounded by him. Every atom of my body buzzing with adrenaline and chemistry, just aching to feel him.

“Why you tried to get away from me as fast as possible,” he murmurs, ducking his head to drag his nose along the length of my neck. I can’t withhold the deep moan that escapes my mouth.

“I feel overwhelmed,” I whisper.

“How?”

“Because it’s been a while for me, and you’re saying all these things that get my motor running. But you’re … you, and I’m struggling to gauge if how much I want you is normal.”

“Fuck,” he whispers against my skin. “Tell me that again.”

“Which part?” I ask with an airy giggle.

“The part where you tell me you want me. It does something to me, hearing you say that. Because darlin’, you have no fucking idea how much I want you,” he rasps, before kissing the spot where my shoulder meets my neck. My knees buckle, but Jacob’s arms clamp around me, holding me upright. “Tell me you want me, Spitfire.”

There are so many things that I want to tell him. I want to whisper all the things I need him to do to me. How I know he’ll own me like no one ever has before, and that I want to memorize every inch of his body. I’d love to tell him that I do want him to take control. To take me to the edge again and again before he finally sends me over. I’d explain how anxious I am about my body. And that I have more confidence because of him, but I still have a ways to go. How he’ll need to tread carefully.

But I can’t say all of that. Instead, I slide my hand up his chest, over his shoulder, and into his thick curly hair. Grabbing a fistful, I pull until his head lifts and our eyes meet. Gorgeous blue eyes are glassy and hooded as Jacob waits for my words. “Tell me, darlin’. Say it. Please.”

“I want you,” I blurt out, and Jacob crashes his lips against mine.