Page 175 of Playing the Pucking Game

Curious, I follow him.

My breath catches when I stop in the doorway and find him leaning over the bathtub, turning the faucet on before reaching for a bottle of bubbles and pouring some in.

Instantly, the floral scent hits my nose, and with the steam rising from the water, it takes every ounce of my self-control not to strip my clothes off right there and then and sink into it.

“Linc,” I breathe as he stands to his full height and turns to look at me.

His expression is soft, and all it does is remind me of the man he can be under all the fame and bullshit.

The man from prom night.

The man who picked me up, listened to me, gave me a shoulder to cry on.

The man who made me feel more beautiful and sexier than I ever had in my life.

The man who worshipped me and showed me how I deserve to be treated.

And then I ruined it all.

“Go and relax, Parker,” he says as he moves closer.

“What? You’re not going to try to convince me to let you join me?” I quip, trying to pull this conversation into safe territory.

I know where we’re at when we’re giving each other shit.

This right now…I have no idea how to deal with this.

I kissed him.

I caved, and I kissed him, and it was everything.

And now I want more.

Amusement crinkles his eyes. “Babe, I would love nothing more than to sink behind your naked body in that water. But I think we both know that that is the last thing you need right now. Take your time,” he instructs as he reaches out. “Try and get everything that’s happening up here to slow down.” His finger lightly taps my temple, and just that simple touch sends fireworks shooting through me.

This isn’t good.

This really isn’t good.

“O-Okay,” I croak although, right now, I feel like it’s an impossible task.

How am I meant to figure all this shit out in one bath?

“I’ll be right out there if you need anything,” he says before leaning forward and kissing my forehead.

My eyes flutter closed as the warmth from his kiss flows through me.

The need to lift up and claim those lips again is almost impossible to ignore, and my hands clench at my sides as I fight to stop myself from twisting my fingers in his hoodie and pulling him to me.

But before I get to decide if I want him more than I want the bath waiting for me, he’s gone, leaving me alone with nothing but my thoughts.

He doesn’t close the door; instead, he leaves it open an inch.

Because he knows.

A sob erupts, and I slap my hand over my mouth before a sound escapes.

As much as I might want him to come back and wrap me in his arms, I know it’s not the answer.