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Not in the typical guy “honk-honk” way, but slow and easy and gentle with his thumb sweeping lightly over my nipple.

I shiver, feel it tighten, and he gives it another sweep, this time paired with circling and⁠—

Yeah, so it’s likely this man hasn’t overestimated his skills.

“No, princess,” he says. “I didn’t lose this.” Another squeeze. Another sweep. “That’s it,” he coaxes, drawing me closer and I realize I’m pressing back against him, instinctively seeking out the lean strength of his body.

He slides his other hand from my hip, down and in, brushing lightly over the skin of my stomach.

I hold my breath, wondering if he’s going up to join the party at my breasts.

Or down to start a rave between my thighs.

But he doesn’t do either.

He just holds me close and massages my breast, strokes my belly.

I’m confused.

Very confused.

I can feel him hard behind me. He’s made it clear he’s attracted to me. I’m giving him the green light.

Except…

Am I?

I’m not shoving him away and I’m not shooting barbs. But I haven’t exactly said, “Ace Ambrose please fuck me senseless.”

Because that’s what I want.

Even if it’s not smart.

Even if it’s with a hockey player.

Even—

He gives my nipple one more sweep then releases me.

And I’m too shocked processing my sudden freedom to really hear his next words. “We should get up. The Laurents are flying in today and⁠—”

I pounce.

He’s halfway out of bed which means me rolling over and launching myself at him nearly send us both off the tiny mattress and onto the floor. I can only assume it’s Ace’s athleticism that saves us—he clamps his arms around me, absorbing the impact with a grunt while at the same time dropping one foot to the floor.

“What the fuck⁠—?”

I kiss him.

Not the client. Not the hockey player. Not the asshole. I kiss the man who turned off the vent on the plane because I was cold, who pressed his lips my bruised knuckles, who asked me about books and shared his past. Who called me beautiful and said my father was an idiot and is gentle with his mom.

And…he kisses me back.

With so much skill that things quickly get out of control.

I land on my back on the mattress, his hard body on top of mine. He parts my lips with his tongue, sweeping in and taking control of the kiss in a way that has me moaning and arching against him, my hands diving into his hair to keep him kissing me forever.

But I lose him as he pulls back, his eyes blazing hot. “You sure?” he rumbles.