Chapter 12
CHAPTER TWELVE
DONOVAN
His lips are soft.
I don’t know why that’s what I focus in on instead of the scent of Shiloh in my nose, the way his hair feels against my hand, or the way he’s reached a hand up to grip my jersey like it’s become a lifeline tethering him here to me in this space.
I don’t really know why I’m kissing him when what I really meant to do was thank him again for his artwork, but now that I am, I don’t want to stop.
Shiloh tastes like the cotton candy I watched him snack on during the game, and it’s taking everything I have inside me to keep this kiss simple and easy when what I really want to do is press him against the wall behind him and explore every inch of his mouth with my tongue.
Not that he’d let me.
With the way he flinched the tiniest bit when I first touched him, I doubt he’d let me get away with pinning him in place and keeping him held there.
Shiloh doesn’t strike me as a creature that can be held and contained as easily as a loose puck can be, and the longer I linger here pressed up against him, the more things are shifting.
Despite me making the first move, I’m not in control here, and something about that has sent blood careening south since the very second he gripped my jersey tight in his fist. Shiloh holds me where I am, his mouth moving on mine willingly, and I’m quite certain nothing will ever be the same again now that I’ve tasted him.
“Oh, shit,” I gasp as he pulls away, ending the kiss far sooner than I’m ready for it to be over. I lick my lips, gathering traces of sugary sweetness and hints of copper that cling to the edges of the cut on my own. “Shit. Sorry. I got cut earlier. Fuck.”
Shiloh lets go of my jersey, touching his lips with his fingertips as his wide eyes meet mine.
He doesn’t say a single word, simply looks at me like he’s confused, or maybe…
turned on? Somehow? I’m not sure, but I wish he’d open his mouth and speak, even if it’s to tell me off for kissing him or getting blood in his mouth.
Oh, shit. I probably got blood on his mouth. “I don’t have anything. Like, I get tested often and I don’t have like… anything.”
“Donovan,” he finally breathes, taking a small half step away from me like being near me is too much.
Have I fucked this up? I totally fucked this up.
“I meant to say thank you,” I offer, keeping my voice low. “For the mask, I mean. So, uh… thank you?”
“I went into your apartment,” he says. “You weren’t there, so I went in and stole it.”
“I know. I kinda figured… you have a key to my place now, yeah?”
“Donovan, that should scare you,” he whispers, concern and caution lingering in every syllable.
I hesitate for a moment, sweat dripping down my face and my compression garments clinging tightly beneath my pads. Finally, I find my words and ask, “Do you want me to be scared?”
“Maybe,” he responds, tilting his head up toward mine and gripping the front of my jersey in his fist again.
He pulls me down to his height and I crumble like a cookie, stooping low until our eyes meet.
Silence grows between us as he stares into my face like he’s memorizing every inch of it, and I don’t dare move, because I want him to.
I want him to look at me like he is, with wonder and question in his eyes.
I want him to look at me.
I want him, I think. For keeps, probably, if he’d have me.
At least, I’d like to try. I come with baggage and strings attached, though, that others have found hard to overlook.
It’s hard to see me as I am when there are things that will always cling to me and what I do.
Hockey will always be there, and with it comes pressures and closed doors that have to stay closed tight.
I swallow hard as I look at Shiloh, at the wonder and question in his eyes that surely mirrors my own. The amount of things I know about him wouldn’t even fill a teaspoon, but the question of what his lips feel like has been answered.
It isn’t enough, though, not enough to keep me satisfied with all the questions about him rumbling in my head.
“Tell me something about you,” I whisper, causing him to jump slightly at the sudden break in our silence.
“What?”
“Tell me something I don’t know about you. Who are you, Shiloh?”
He hesitates, inhaling a sharp breath like he isn’t sure what to say, but I know I’d take anything.
Any scrap he wants to throw my way that helps me unlock the puzzle of who he is, because maybe that would help me understand why I’m not more concerned that he’s been in my place without me being there.
If it were anyone else, I’d have punched them in the face and taken my key back by now, but for some reason, when I look at Shiloh, I don’t mind.
Shiloh opens his mouth but a shout and a loud bang followed by what sounds like a heavy door creaking open from somewhere down the hallway causes us to fly apart.
Laughter and loud country music filters through the air as I step away from Shiloh, and he in turn backs away from me.
Heart banging like a drum in my chest, I turn and glance in the direction of the locker room before turning back to Shiloh.
“I should get going,” I comment. “They’ll come hunting for me soon, I bet. Wait for me and we’ll talk after I’m done changing and shit?”
Shiloh nods once, crossing his arms over the front of the hoodie. I move to turn from him, but his hand lands on my forearm and I stop. He pulls his hand back and tilts his head up to meet my eyes. “You should change your locks.”
“Is that what you really want me to do?” I can’t help but smile as he purses his lips, his jaw clenching and his eyes growing slightly colder.
Exactly what I thought. I have a feeling that even if I changed my locks, Shiloh would find his way back into my life somehow anyway.
Another loud shout echoes from the locker room, drawing my attention, and I sigh.
I really do have to get moving or someone will come out to find me, but walking away from Shiloh right now is proving to be a challenge.
“Wait for me? There’s a lounge down the hall for family and friends, and it’s probably pretty quiet right now.
” I gesture toward the open door at the end of the long hallway, then point down at the plastic pass in his hand.
“That will get you in. Just tell anyone who asks that you’re with me and they’ll leave you alone.
There’s food and drinks, you can help yourself.
Catering makes way too much food for the lounge, and nobody eats any of it, so fill a plate or two if you want.
Grab a seat and I’ll come get you when I’m done, okay? ”
Shiloh looks stunned at the pile of information I just threw at him, and a tiny bit wary of this suggestion. He doesn’t strike me as a huge people person, but I swear if he goes and sits in the cold outside to wait for me instead of heading to the lounge, I will be so choked.
“Wait for me, California,” I murmur, leaning down to press a quick kiss to his cold, sharp cheekbone.
I turn and waddle down the hallway in my full gear, but before I reach the doorway of the locker room, I glance over my shoulder to see him.
Watching me.
His hand pressed to his cheek.
His face flushed red and his lips swollen by my kiss.
It’s the prettiest fucking thing I’ve seen in a long time, and the taste of his kiss carries me through the fastest after-game routine I’ve ever done. I finish everything in record time, rushing through the doors before I can be called back to do more, but when I reach the lounge, it’s empty.
The food has been packed up and the security officer stationed at the door doesn’t recognize the description of Shiloh I give him when he asks who I’m looking for.
The parking lot is empty.
My Jeep is empty.
He doesn’t respond to a text I send asking where he went.
Asking if he’s safe and warm.
I wait in my cold vehicle until the heat starts pumping through the vents, just in case he’s around here somewhere.
But he’s gone.