Page 39 of Never Pucking Ending

Any second now.

I try. I really try to gather the courage and ask him about the other night. But I chicken out.

“I should take a shower and get ready,” I tell him, hating how pitchy my voice sounds. “I’m meeting Rae to go over a few things before my meeting with the city board.”

His smile softens. “Did they give you a date to speak?”

I nod, some of the nervousness sliding off my shoulders. “I speak to the planning board in two weeks. They want me to have all the forms signed and submitted, and tentative plans and blueprints to make sure it wouldn’t go against any codes.”

He dried his hands off with a dish towel before draping it back over the oven handle. “Let me know what date and I’ll go with you.”

My heart picks up at his thoughtfulness. I already looked, and it’s a night he doesn’t have a game. He could be done with practice or footage and come with me with hours to spare. The fact he offered makes my chest warm and fuzzy. “You don’t have to do that.”

He leans his back against the counter behind him, crossing his arms over his chest. “I know, but I want to be there for you.”

Heart = gone.

I groan. I meant to do it internally, but it comes out of me before I can stop it. “You were written by women for women, and that’s so annoying.”

He blinks at me. “I…what?”

I wave at him, gesturing toward the entire length of him. “Everything about you belongs in a romance novel, Jesse. You’re the hero in the hockey romances we’ve been watching. You’re Garrett or Shane or Illya. Well, them minus the hot gay sex.”

Although, I don’t know what happens in the locker rooms. Probably not that though. A shame.

Jesse chuckles and shakes his head. “You need more fresh air. You read too much and watch too many of those shows.”

He knows damn well I’m right. “Whatever you say, hot stuff. You can only live in denial for so long.”

His eyes roll at my mischief, making me giggle.

I jab my finger behind me. “Seriously, though. I need a shower. My hair is disgusting and I’m desperate to feel human again.”

His eyes roam over the front of me, tilting his head. “You’re the furthest thing from disgusting, Bells. Trust me.”

I don’t let myself soak in that compliment, or the way his eyes lock on my lips again. This man licked me not even five minutes ago, and I don’t want to blush any harder than I probably already am.

Clearing my throat, I say, “Thanks.”

It’s a lame response, but I don’t trust myself to say more without giving too much away. We haven’t talked about…it. The kiss. And the other stuff. He hasn’t brought up what he said before he left my room that night. Was this morning him initiating more? Am I misreading the signs? Should I do something?

I’m staring, and he’s staring back. His eyes look darker. More hooded than earlier. Can he hear my heart? I can feel it thumping so loud is vibrates in my ears. Suddenly, the air in the room feels thicker. Hotter. Anticipation rises between us, but so does nerves.

I swallow hard. “I should go,” I tell him hoarsely, shifting from one foot to another. “Take a shower, I mean.”

He dips his head but stays quiet. I see the way his Adam’s apple bobs though. He wants to say something. He wants to do something. And I want him to too. So bad. But I’m scared of a million different things.

And that fear is palpable. So much so that tears burn the backs of my eyes from how much I feel. It builds in my chest and settles there, aching and desperate to be released.

Jesse must feel it too because he pushes off the counter with pinched brows. “Bells,” he says gently, pulling me into his chest. He doesn’t make a move—not the one I want him to. Instead, he hugs me, tight and warm and comforting. He hugs me like his life depends on it, like he needs me to understand he gets it.

“I know, baby girl,” he murmurs, tightening his arms around my waist. “I know.”

I know.

Meaning he feels this too.

The tension.