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“No?” I question, stepping in front of her as the bartender lays her drink on the bar behind us. I set my whiskey beside it. I’m standing close, so close that her breasts are brushing my chest. But I want her full attention. I’m demanding it. And I want to show the rest of the women here tonight who I came with. I place my arms on either side of the bar, caging her in. “Well, believe this: I don’t give a shit about any other woman who approaches me tonight. Because all I see right now is you.”
She rolls her eyes and looks anywhere but at me. “Stop throwing your smooth lines at me, Sam. I’m not one of your conquests.”
“It isn’t a line, not with you,” I insist. I turn her chin until her golden eyes fuse with mine. The air crackles in between us. “It’s the truth. And you aren’t a conquest. Nothing about us makes much sense, Em, but you’re all I think about these days.”
It’s the most honest I’ve been with a woman in years. Maybe ever. I don’t want to play games with her.
She searches my face for a few beats, probably looking for lies. “It’s hard for me to believe you.”
“Why?” I murmur.
“Because you’re … you. Sam, the hockey stud. The man-whore. I’ve watched you for years, going from one woman to the next while not really caring about any of them.”
I wasn’t that way with Oakley, but I’m not dumb enough to point that out. Somehow, I don’t think it would win me any brownie points, mentioning my past girlfriend, who just so happens to be one of her current besties.
“I have done that,” I openly admit. “But give me a chance, Emerson. Let me show you that this is different. You’re different.”
“I’m not your type,” she declares, looking up at me with those eyes.
I get the sense she wants me to disagree with her, and I do, wholeheartedly. “Maybe that’s why I like you.”
She watches me again. “You scare me.”
“You scare me,” I counter.
I lean in and run my nose along her jaw. I feel it when her breath hitches. She smells sweet, like peaches.
“Someone will see …” she warns.
“I don’t care.” And I don’t. Our contract is the furthest thing from my mind right now.
I kiss along the sensitive skin of her neck, smiling when I feel the goose bumps I caused and stopping when my mouth is an inch away from her ear.
“Just give me a chance. I’ll prove it to you.”
I cradle her face in my hands and kiss her. Just a taste. It leaves me hungry for so much more.
She leans back until I can see that her skin is flushed all the way down her chest.
“I need a drink,” she breathes out in that husky voice of hers.
I chuckle, handing her the gin and tonic before chasing the taste of her with another sip of whiskey.
“Damn, Emerson! You look hot!” Cruz says from behind.
I grudgingly step away until I’m standing by her side.
Emerson’s smile is genuine as she returns my teammate’s greeting. She hugs him briefly. “So do you, Cruz.”
I arch my brow, and Emerson gives me a brief warning glance before turning her attention back to my teammate. I hold back the sarcastic remark on the tip of my tongue.
We become surrounded by the rest of the guys and Madison as the heaviness of the evening lightens. We eat and laugh together with the easiness of close friends who feel more like family than buddies or simply teammates at this point.
Ann, the event coordinator, comes to get us about an hour later in preparation for the live auction. Madison’s brows lift in surprise when I casually kiss Emerson goodbye before walking off. A few of the guys look equally shocked.
“Excuse me,” Cruz says.
“What?” I ask, following Ann to the back of the venue.
