When Aria Monroe lands her dream job as the new photographer for Los Angeles's professional hockey team, the last thing she expects is to work with the cocky, arrogant center Connor Holden who rocked her world five years ago during a one-night stand...
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I need to focus.
Getting this job was a huge deal. Sure, Brian certainly had some sway over whether or not I was hired, but I'm the first Black photographer for the California Cyclones. There's an unspoken weight sitting upon my shoulders to capture the best photos the team's ever seen, and yet...
Releasing a frustrated sigh, my eyes stray back to number three and that spoken promise he left me in a hotel room six days ago. Granted, Connor isn't the type to settle down. Hell, he said he wasn't usedto having a serious conversation when, for the past five and a half years, serious is all I've ever known. We're like oil and water.
But he had also said he wanted our next kiss to be special, and what the hell does that even mean? The rational part of me wants to say this is just what he doesto get into a woman's pants, and it's certainly the logical explanation. Connor doesn't settle down. But the photographer part of me? The one who notices the details? It causes a tiny bud of hope to stir in my chest, and I don't like it one bit.
When Coach blows the whistle for a water break, number three skates over to me instead. He takes off his helmet, shaking out those damn curls, and fuck he's so hot when he's sweaty. "Hi," he pants with a lazy smile. "You look beautiful today."
"Connor," I warn.
"Hmm?"
"Your Coach is going to come back on the ice any second."
He wrinkles his nose. "Is it a crime to speak to someone?"
No, but if what Esme said is true and Connor honestly doesn'tfocus on any other girl during practices? Coach will think something suspicious is going on between us, which will eventually travel back to Brian. I can't let that happen.
"No, but you should be practicing. I'm working."
"Didn't seem like it to me from the way you've been checking me out for the last ten minutes. I think I need to invest in a bib for you relatively soon."
I roll my eyes. "You are so full of yourself."
"Not full of myself. Just speaking the truth." He leans over the ledge of the rink to whisper in my ear, "You don't need to check me out. Whenever you want me, we can sneak off to the bathroom. I'll strip myself of this jersey, kiss those beautiful lips of yours, and let you feel whatever it is you're daydreaming about. Then, we'll come back out here as if nothing happened."
Fuck. The feel of his breath along my ear has my pulse sky-rocketing. My vision is hazy as I recall that night between us, knowing exactly how much pleasure he could bring me if we escaped to the bathroom. But then, an unexpected flicker of disappointment floods me.
"I...I thought you wanted our next kiss to be special. Does a bathroom really meet those expectations?"
He chuckles, pulling away from my ear to grin wickedly at me. "I fully intend on having our next kiss be one to remember, Aria, but the lips I was referring to just now aren't the ones on your face."
