Total pages in book: 96
Estimated words: 97767 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 489(@200wpm)___ 391(@250wpm)___ 326(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97767 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 489(@200wpm)___ 391(@250wpm)___ 326(@300wpm)
My heart pounds so loudly I’m certain he can hear it.
“I-I don’t think this is appropriate.”
“What’s not appropriate?” he whispers, closing the space further by gripping my chair by the arms and pulling it forward.
Not aggressive.
Just deliberate.
Purposeful.
“I’m working. It’s not appropriate to…”
“To do what?” He leans forward, mouth brushing the side of my neck where my pulse beats erratically.
He kisses it again.
“That.”
“Why?”
Cause.
Just…cause.
He is giving me every chance to stop him. To turn my head. Shove him away. Resist him like a good girl because I AM AT WORK. THIS IS NOT PROFESSIONAL!
But I don’t push him away.
I don’t resist.
As much as I hate to admit it, I want him to keep kissing me.
I want him.
Not because he’s Gio Montagalo but because he’s so fucking sexy and sure of himself.
And so, when his lips brush against mine, tentatively to test the waters, I let him. In fact, my breath hitches with excitement and before I know it, I’m kissing him hungrily, hands instinctively reaching up to touch his face.
Stroke his cheeks.
My fingertips trail along the curve of his jaw, feeling the roughness of his stubble against my smooth skin—a contrast between us that sends a shiver racing down my spine.
Yum…
His lips, soft yet demanding, press against mine with increasing fervor, coaxing me to respond in kind.
I tilt my head, giving in completely, and the world narrows to just this: the heat of his mouth, the gentle scrape of his stubble, the intoxicating taste of him.
Sweet, like candy.
My candy—the kind I keep on my desk for students to take.
The air between us is charged—electric—and I feel like I’m floating and free-falling both at the same time. My senses are flooded—his scent, the warmth of his body, the rhythm of his breathing mingling with mine.
Hot tongue.
Full lips.
When we break apart, gasping for air, I feel lightheaded, my lips tingling and swollen from the force of our connection. My chest rises and falls in uneven bursts, heart pounding so hard it’s a miracle it hasn’t leapt out of my rib cage.
The whole thing gives me butterflies.
“Whew,” I let out, doing my best to smile. As if I make out in my office on the daily, like—no big deal.
Gio straightens to his full height, his presence still commanding even as he steps back, and the wheels of my chair roll me gently into place.
“Think about it,” he murmurs, his voice low and teasing, his lips curling into a grin.
“Mmm?” I manage, voice shaky. I have betrayed myself and judging by the look he’s giving me, he is well aware.
Gio stands slowly, the absence of his warmth making me feel unmoored. Makes me want to yank him back and kiss him all over again…
“You know—us.”
“Us?” My head tilts to look up, up, up at him, brows furrowing.
He grins down at me, that maddening, cocky smile that has my knees going weak even though I’m sitting.
“Yeah, you goof. Us. I’d love to see you at my next game.”
I roll my eyes. It’s impossible not to. “Yeah—so you win.”
“That’s not the only reason I want you there, but if it gets you to the arena, I’ll take it.”
Gio Montagalo is still sniffing after me to be his good luck charm and the thought still blows my mind. Of all the things…
“You’ll come around to my way of thinking.”
Arrogant bastard.
I open my mouth to argue—tell him how ridiculous he sounds. Unfortunately the words get stuck somewhere between my brain and my lips and before I can untangle the mess of thoughts swirling in my head, he steps back, hands sliding into his pockets.
“I’ll see you later, Professor,” he says, giving me a wink that manages to feel both playful and arrogant. Like he knows I’m putty in his big, strong hands.
Then.
He turns and walks out of my office, leaving me staring after him like a freaking idiot.
When the door closes behind him, my hand drifts to my lips, still tingling from the kiss; my brain struggles to catch up with what just happened.
What did just happen?
I blink at the door, half-expecting him to come back, to say something else, to explain himself. But he doesn’t. He’s gone, and I’m left alone in my office, my thoughts racing and my heart still pounding.
Think about it.
As if I’ll be able to think about anything else.
9
gio
Iwhistle while I skate to the center of the goal, the tune for my ears only.
It’s one that’s been stuck in my head all morning; a melody with no name and something to keep my nerves steady.
As I settle into position, the familiar rhythm of practice takes over. The ice is my sanctuary, the only place where everything else fades away—except maybe for her.
I smile at the thought of Austin.
Coach blows the whistle, signaling the next round of shots, and I drop into my stance, stick ready, eyes sharp. Charlie barrels toward me first, puck on his blade, trying to deke left.