Chapter 14
BENNETT
Tori stays.
I’m shocked. Luckily, it’s dark and she’s staring at the movie like it’s her job, giving me the chance to read her. The TV flickers light across her face, high cheekbones glowing. She’s still taking these tiny breaths, her chest barely moving up and down.
There’s a chase scene and she flinches, bumping into me.
The touch is accidental at first. But she doesn’t pull away, so I let my thumb stroke her shoulder. Lightly, like a toe drag.
I’d never say it out loud, but she stopped my spiral tonight.
Maybe she stayed for her dad.
Maybe she didn’t.
She settles in, her body sinking into the sofa inch by inch. Another bad guy goes down and we’re at the final fight scene. My hand brushes her bare skin. She’s soft and warm, and I’m zero percent interested in the movie.
The familiar theme song plays and nerves ping-pong around my gut.
I don’t make a move for the remote and neither does she. The credits roll, both of us motionless on the sofa. The ‘Play Next’ timer counts down.
My thumb could stop it.
But it doesn’t.
The next Mission Impossible movie starts, but I’m not watching it. All my attention’s on Tori — the flutter of her pulse in her neck, her hands resting on the outside of her thigh, our fingers almost touching.
“The credits rolled. I should go.” Her voice is a whisper.
I don’t want her to leave.
“You don’t have to.”
She glances over her shoulder, fixing her gaze on mine.
“You need sleep.”
“I’m good.”
Her fingers flutter to her neck, toying with the delicate gold chain resting there. My mind instantly snaps to her in my bed, wearing only that shiny necklace and nothing else.
A phone buzzes on the coffee table, lighting up the dark room. We both ignore the vibration, staring at each other. I ease in closer to her, lowering my feet to the floor, our knees inches apart. Blood roars in my ears, drowning out the movie.
I’m locked in on Tori.
Her quick breaths, the pink flush on her cheeks, her full lips parted slightly.
Tempting me, drawing me in.
I pause. She doesn’t move away.
I edge in closer still.
Knock, knock, knock.
Three quick, loud raps at the door. Tori jolts away from me with a sharp gasp, like she’s been stung.
“I really need to go.” Control snaps back into her voice and she hops up from the sofa. Adjusting her sweatshirt, she covers the bare skin of her shoulder where the cotton slipped down. She swipes her phone off the table and checks the messages.
“Shit. It’s almost midnight.”
“Relax, Cinderella,” I tease, rising. “You live right next door. Plenty of time to get home before you hit pumpkin status.”
Another rap at the door and Tori grimaces.
“I hear you — I’m coming!” I shout at the banging, shuffling behind her to the door.
Just before she turns the knob, I reach out and touch her hand.
She freezes, lifting her dark eyes to mine. The air’s heavy between us, her sweet perfume winding around me.
“Thanks.” My voice is low. “It felt better with you here.”
Her breath hitches, cheeks staining pink.
“You’re welcome.”
I want to close the distance between us, even more than I did the night of the gala. To press my lips to hers, taste her on my tongue.
Somehow I manage to rein myself in, only feathering my fingers across her tiny wrist, the skin smooth beneath my calloused hand.
I drop my arm and she swings the door open to Knox.
“You guys okay?” His eyes flick from Tori to me, then back again — the flushed cheeks, bare feet, the two of us too damn close. “You didn’t respond to my text.”
Tori swallows hard, forcing a tight smile. “Sorry. Everything’s good. He ate. He’s hydrated. He’s in for the night.”
Knox tips his head, a barely perceptible nod.
“We were catching up on the Mission Impossible movies.” I scrub a hand across the back of my neck and Knox gives me a flat stare.
Tori clears her throat, turns to me. “Night, Bennett.”
“Night.”
Then she disappears into her condo. Knox stands guard in the hall, his broad shoulders squared up, arms folded across his chest.
I shut the door harder than necessary and blow out a frustrated breath, rubbing my face with both hands.
Fucking unbelievable.
An inch from her mouth and Knox shows up.
Cockblocked by a wellness check.
But the bigger problem?
How badly I wanted to kiss her.
A day later, the team’s back and we’re finishing up morning drills. I slap the puck across the ice to Morrison and he wings it over to Weston to take the shot. Coach Keller paces, taking notes on his clipboard.
Coach shouldn’t have any beef with me, though.
I did as I promised — stayed home, trained hard, stayed out of trouble.
Turns out, that last part was tougher than expected.
And I’m not sure if Tori was the solution…or the problem.
Because she’s all I’m thinking about when I’m not on the ice — and that’s a real fucking issue.
The owner’s daughter isn’t exactly a prime dating candidate.
“Steele. My office. Now.” Prince barks at me from the gate and I swallow hard over the lump in my throat.
Either the man’s psychic or the league’s made a decision.
I’m hoping the latter.
Skating off the ice, I slide my blade guards on and follow behind him through the tunnel.
I’m sweaty from practice and fresh perspiration dampens my armpits.
My heart’s racing, and it’s not from lack of a proper cool down.
Prince doesn’t make any small talk as we move down the bright hallway, and I don’t bother trying.
He opens his office door and stalks inside, crashing down into the rolling chair behind his desk. I take a seat across from him and wait. Prince doesn’t say anything. Just turns to his computer and starts typing.
Minutes tick by.
What the hell am I doing here? And what are we waiting for?
My right knee bobs up and down. I drum my thigh with my fingertips to the beat in my head.
“You need to lay off the caffeine, Steele.” Prince growls at his monitor, not bothering to make eye contact.
“Sorry, sir.” I kick my legs out, clasp my restless hands to keep them still. “Um, what am I doing here?”
“The league made their decision.”
My gut knots, hard and tight.
“And?” My voice tips up with anxiety, even though I’m trying to stay chill.
“Sorry I’m late, Daddy. The call with the investors ran late.” Tori glides into the office, taking the seat next to me. Her perfume drifts in my direction as she settles into the leather, and my dick instantly hardens.
Not the time, champ.
I shift in my chair, adjusting the situation and avoiding her gaze.
“No problem. Bennett’s back in the lineup.”
Cool relief floods my system and I pump my fist in the air.
“Hell yeah. I’m back.”
“Not so fast.” Prince plants his palms on the desk and levels a hard stare at me. “The league’s watching you — and the team — closely. The rest of the season at a minimum.”
“O-kay…” I draw out the word, my relief evaporating under his glare. “What does that mean?”
“You’re on the roster, but nothing else changes. The rules are the same. You stay in the condo — and you answer to Tori.”
“What?” Tori’s hands grip the armrests of her chair. “Daddy — Bennett’s proven himself.”
Her words hit me hard straight in the chest.
She trusts me.
I glance over, warmth spreading through me. She raises her chin and continues.
“I can’t stay. I need to get back to New York.” Her voice is clipped and in control.
The warmth in my veins turns icy.
Tori wants to leave.
The thought hits me harder than a bodycheck.
“We can get the COO, Mangus, to step into the role, manage the hedge fund while you’re gone. You can call the shots from here, continue working remotely.”
She manages a hedge fund and her dad’s acting like she’s the lead barista at Starbucks. Easily replaced by this Mangus dude.
Her jaw ticks, dark eyes flashing. “Mangus can’t handle the investors like I do, and you know it.”
Prince takes off his readers, tossing them onto the desk and pinching the bridge of his nose. Like he’s staving off a tension headache that’s got Bennett Steele written all over it.
“Mr. Prince—” I clear my throat, trying to maintain control. “I’m a grown man, a professional hockey player. I don’t need twenty-four-seven supervision.”
Elbows on the desk, he screws his eyes shut tighter and mutters under his breath. Something that sounds a lot like Bennett Motherfucking Steele and Rocky Plays Hockey.
After a long minute, Prince opens his eyes and squints at both of us.
“Listen. The league may have cleared you, but as far as I’m concerned, you’re still on probation. The same terms apply. One slip-up, Steele, and you’re benched.”
Nice fucking guy.
My fists ball, knuckles turning white, and I’m glad my hands are blocked from view. Grinding my molars, I give Prince a tight nod.
Nothing good comes from arguing with the owner.
And selfishly, I don’t want Tori to leave.
But I’m never admitting that.