Page 93 of Slap Shot
The second his gaze snags on mine, I canfeelthe heat behind his eyes. The look is so sensual, so hot, I have a visceral reaction to it.
He’s staring at me like he wants to devour me, and my skin burns hot at the thought of his mouth on my body. Kissing the space below my ear. Running his tongue along my collarbone then moving lower to my thighs.
I blow out a breath and shift on my feet. My underwear is wet, and the ache between my legs is almost unbearable.
“Hi,” he answers. The syllable is rough, ragged, and I swear I feel it everywhere. “You look…” Hudson trails off. Cups the back of his neck with a large palm. Clears his throat. “Wow.”
“Is my dress okay? It’s the only thing I had and?—”
“Wow,” he repeats. There’s more emphasis behind it the second time. He moves his hand to his chest. “Shit, Madeline. You’re beautiful. Fucking gorgeous.”
“You said your favorite color was green and I—” I lift the dress at my hip, gesturing at my ensemble. “I thought it was festive.”
“When I said green, I meant that exact shade. You in that outfit, really.” His cheeks are flushed, and his Adam’s apple bobs. “No other variation is ever going to do.”
My insides twist into a knot with his compliment. “I’m glad you like it.”
He’s still staring at me, and I’m seconds away from melting. “I’m sorry. I’m not sure if I should’ve said that, but you deserve to hear it. I hope I didn’t?—”
“Thank you,” I interrupt. “For saying it. It’s the holidays, right? We should be able to compliment each other without it being like we’re overstepping a line. You look great too.”
“Do you…” Hudson swallows. He seems rattled. “We should head out.”
I think I’d like to stay here instead.
I’d like to peel off his jacket and unbutton his shirt. I’d like to run my tongue down his chest muscles and see if I can make him moan.
Instead, I smile. Nod and say, “sounds good.”
I unhook my peacoat from the rack in the foyer and look at him over my shoulder. His eyes bounce up from where they were focused on my hips, and I give him a smirk. “Let’s do this, Bombshell.”
I’ve beento a handful of fancy parties in my life, but nothing compares to this gala.
There are twenty-foot Christmas trees and candles everywhere. Holiday decorations hang from the walls and servers walk around with expensive alcohol and crab cakes.
It’s overwhelming, but I’m warm and happy when Piper, Lexi, and Emmy sidle up next to me.
“Madeline. You lookfantastic.” Lexi takes my hand and makes me do a twirl. I laugh when she whistles, appreciating the way she’s hyping me up and being the ultimate girl’s girl. “And thatass. You get that without doing any Pilates? I’m so jealous.”
“I saw half the team eye-fucking you,” Emmy says proudly.
“They werenot. No one wants my mom bod.”
“You’re wrong, my friend.” Piper hands me a drink and grins. “Liam had to knock Ethan on the side of the head because he wouldn’t stop gawking at you. Good thing he intervened before Hudson saw.”
“Oh.” I smooth my hands over the front of my dress. The satin is form-fitting but soft, and it’s exhilarating to be seen. To be looked at and noticed. “Is Ethan single?”
“Why?” Lexi smiles. “Interested?”
“No,” I’m quick to say. I don’t want to give anyone the wrong impression. “He’s way too young for me. And I’m not sure I’d like to date someone whose life is so public.”
“It’s hard, and it’s even harder in the age of social media. Everyone has an opinion about everything, and if I post three photos in a row without Maverick in them, I have a thousand comments asking if we broke up, why he’s not included and if I’m hiding somewhere because he cheated on me.” Emmy rollsher eyes. “But then I think about the moments when no one is around, like when he washes my hair after practice. Or the tattoos he gets for me and how he falls asleep with his head on my chest.”
“Riiiiight, yeah. Sounds terrible, Em.” Lexi nods emphatically, and Emmy has to bite her lip to keep from laughing. “All kidding aside, though, I know what you mean. I’m not sure I could date one of the players. I know so much about them. I’ve seen their asses and heard them make stupid jokes to each other when they’re on the trainers’ tables. Kind of loses the mystery, you know? There’s no romance.”
“You don’t want romance.” Emmy scoffs. “You want to be fu?—”
“Am I interrupting?” Hudson asks, grinning at the four of us.
