6. Daniel
SIX
DANIEL
In a pair of tight black pants that hug her beautiful curves, and with my fucking name and number on her back, Hannah is my literal dream girl.
For three years I’ve watched her. She comes to the games, then joins us at the bar afterward, and every time, she wears my damn number.
I can’t help that it’s gone to my head, no matter how often she’s batted away my flirtation like I’m a naughty boy who needs to be punished.
Punish me, Hannah. I can take it.
I’d enjoy it, actually.
God, I’d enjoy anything she’d do to me.
What I don’t love is watching her stare at Noah. And I really fucking hate how he just kissed her goodbye, even if it was just on the forehead.
But when he calls out to her as he gets on the bus, pointing out that I’m waiting, my distaste for him wanes. Maybe he’s not so bad after all. I don’t know what kind of relationship the two of them have, but if he’s sending her my way, I’ll take a guess and say they’re just friends.
At least that’s my hope.
When she turns around and surprise lights up in those pretty blue eyes of hers, my concerns evaporate. That’s all the confirmation I need. I’m at least in the fucking game.
Tonight I’m not going to think about how I no longer play on the first line with my two best friends. The second line had a good game too. Cam and I set up Keegan for a goal, and the team pulled off a win. That’s enough for me. As far as hockey goes, at least.
For now, I’ll keep my focus fixed on the woman in front of me. With my hands still in the pockets of my black suit pants, I push off the door and slowly walk toward Hannah.
She matches me step for step, the two of us eating up the distance.
“What are you doing up so late, Baby Hall?” she calls as she gets closer, a tease of a fucking smile on her face.
My stomach twists in anticipation. “Thought maybe I’d ask the prettiest girl at the game to come to dinner with me.”
She arches a surprised brow. “Aren’t our friends waiting for us back at the house?”
“I’m sure they can keep themselves entertained.”
Clearly not nearly as affected by me as I am by her, she lifts a shoulder in a casual shrug. “What do you have planned?”
“You mentioned steak and an orgasm. I can handle one of them right now. The other one might need to wait until we get to the restaurant.”
Head tossed back, she laughs loudly.
God, the way that sound fills the night air has my balls tightening. She’s so fucking pretty.
“You heard that, huh?”
I dip my chin and let my lips tick up on one side. “Was standing right behind you.”
Rather than turn pink or stutter out an embarrassed response, she breaks into a wide smile. “I’ll let you get the steak. I can handle the orgasm.”
My cock jumps as that last word rolls off her tongue with ease. That’s one of the things I like most about her. Hannah doesn’t bullshit. She’s not coy. She doesn’t hide behind a facade, not for anyone, least of all a man. She’s unabashedly herself, just like me.
She knows her worth and she demands it. It’s fucking sexy as hell.
I’ve never met someone quite like her, and I’m pretty sure I never will.
At thirty-three, so many women still haven’t figured out who they are, but Hannah sure as fuck has. She owns every facet of herself, and with that, she owns all my attention. If she’s in the room, no one else exists.
As she takes another step closer, her scent—something sweet and musky, like a spiced French vanilla—swirls around us.
And when she presses her palm to my chest, the heat of it instantly warms me.
With a pounding heart, I stare down at those soft fingers pressed against my body.
I don’t think she’s ever been this close.
And she’s certainly never touched me. I’m pretty sure her touch would be branded on my skin if she had.
It’s official: this shirt is retiring after tonight. I’ll never wash it again.
I drag my attention up her arm and across her chest to where the Bolts logo sits, then higher to her glossy lips.
Clearly knowing she’s in complete control, she drags her tongue slowly across her bottom one. “I’m not sure I’m dressed for anywhere fancy.”
It takes everything in me to keep my hands in my pockets. If I remove them, I’ll have her pressed against the wall between one breath and the next, with my fingers buried in her hair and my mouth on hers, taking everything I’ve ever wanted.
But there’s time for that.
First, we’re going to have a meal.
I’m going to show her I’m more than a pretty face and a fancy dick.
Affecting the cockiest smirk, I give her a slow, thorough once-over. “You’re wearing my name on your back, dream girl. It doesn’t get more perfect than that.”
She laughs that raspy laugh again. “Okay, Baby Hall. You can buy me a steak.”
“Oh, that’s not dirty enough,” I tell the waiter as he arrives with our cocktails.
Hannah ordered a dirty martini, extra dirty, like she always does, but it’s still almost clear.
She shakes her head. “It’s fine.”
“You hate it like that.”
Eyes flicking from me to the drink, she lets her shoulders sink and nods. “Yeah, I’m going to need it darker than that.”
“Of course.” The man sets my drink on the table before disappearing with her too-clear martini.
“You paying attention to how I take my drink, Baby Hall?” Her voice is calm, completely belying the uncertainty swimming in her gaze.
“You order the same thing every time we’re out. I’d have to be an idiot to not know how you take your drinks.”
One brow arched, she forces her shoulders back again. “Or just not focused on me.”
I don’t even address that comment. We both know I’m always focused on her.
She coughs out a laugh. “Then you know I normally send it back when it’s not right.”
“You do. When you’re with the girls. I wasn’t sure if you’d do the same thing when on a date.”
Lips parting, she once again lets out a low, sexy, sarcastic laugh. The one that emanates from deep in her throat. “This isn’t a date.”
I pick up my lowball glass of whiskey and take a sip, ignoring that comment.
The waiter returns with her drink. This time, the liquid is perfectly cloudy, with three olives pierced by a martini pick balanced across the rim of the glass.
Only after Hannah takes a sip and gives him an approving nod does he disappear.
I set my drink on the table and lean back in my chair so the front legs are an inch off the ground. “So when does the next book come out?”
Head tilted, she zeroes in on me, as if she’s trying to read between the lines of my question. After a moment, though, she shakes her head and bites her lip. “Probably not until the winter. I don’t get to write much during the season.”
“Are you still working on the stalker series?”
Those lips lift in a smile. “First Noah, now you? Coach making you boys read my books or something?”
My gut drops. So do the legs of my chair. Noah reads her books? Why?
And how the hell does he fit into her life?
Yeah, I could ask, but I know her well enough to know she’d respond with a snarky quip.
Something about how she collects hockey players or something.
I don’t want to be lumped in with other guys.
Especially my teammates. Especially Noah. So I leave it alone.
“Or something,” I reply. “Do you miss it?”
“Miss what?”
“Writing. Do you miss it during the season?”
She sighs, her eyes drifting up and to the side as if this is the first time she’s really considered it.
“I don’t necessarily stop writing. I’m always working on something, but it’s hard to give the stories in my mind the attention they need while I’m busy dealing with one PR disaster after another.
My brain can only do so much spinning, and unfortunately, I have to save my creativity for dressing up the bullshit Jasper pulls pretty regularly. ”
I cough out a laugh. “The way you spun that nun thing.”
She lights up, blue eyes flashing with amusement. “It was good, right?”
“Hell yeah. I knew the truth, and even I almost fell for it. That he meant to send the picture to the team doctor because he pulled his groin during practice, and, unfortunately, it went to his ex-girlfriend who became a nun after they broke up? Genius.”
Hannah breaks into a wide smile that shows all her straight, white teeth. “I wrote fan fic about it that night.”
Elbows on the table, I angle forward. “Shut up. I need to read it.”
She coughs out a laugh. “Guess we’ll see how the date goes.”
This time I’m the one grinning, and damn, does it make my cheeks hurt.
Martini pick between her fingers, she stirs the murky liquid in her glass. “Made any plans for this summer?”
“You looking for a second date, dream girl?”
With an exasperated roll of her eyes, she shakes her head.
I take a small sip of my whiskey and set the glass down again. “No, I don’t think about what happens after the season. I typically keep my focus on the next game.”
“So you want to talk hockey? How are you feeling about the season?”
I lean in, sliding my glass a little closer to the center of the table. “Nah, I don’t want to waste time going over talking points we could hear in the media room.”
She rests her cheek in her cupped palm, eyes glittering in the low lights. “So what do you want to talk about?”
Angling even closer, I dip my head and keep my voice low. “I want to hear more about this orgasm you’re looking forward to tonight.”
Another eye roll and a bite of her lip have my cock jumping. “What do you think your sister would say if she heard you talking like that?”
“She’s already given me the all-clear so long as I don’t hurt you.”
Hannah lifts her drink to her lips and takes a long sip of her drink, her intense gaze never leaving my face. “You can’t hurt me, Baby Hall. I’m an ice queen.”
I’m not so sure about that. I’ve watched this woman for years. She may come across as tough, impenetrable, but I’ve witnessed enough of the softness she shows to her girlfriends to know it’s a front. She’s hiding behind a thick layer of armor.