His thumb continues to graze my wrist and long moments turn into the past as we just look at each other, which is partially awkward, yet I can't turn away.
I most certainly don't have the power to pull my wrist out of his grasp, but the moment is broken when Ben yells out, "It's your turn, Daddy."
Zack slowly releases my wrist and lowers his gaze. Slapping the palms of his hands on his thighs, he gives a shake of his head and stands up from the chair. "Better get back in there."
I scramble up from the chair, muttering, "I'll finish dinner. Thanks for the first aid, HOS."
"Sure," he says quietly, and I turn and head back toward the tomatoes that still need chopping.
When I reach the counter, I still feel a little dizzy and I know that has nothing to do with the blood but everything to do with Zack's magical touch. I quickly pick up the knife from the floor and lay it beside the cutting board. Placing both of my hands on the edge of the counter, I bow my head and take in a deep breath.
Get it together, Kate.
"Are you okay?" Zack says from behind me.
Startled, I whip around to find him standing just a foot away. I press backward into the corner of the L-shaped counter, resting my hands back on the edge once more for support.
"Yeah," I say shakily. "Just a bad patient, I guess."
Zack laughs. "I've seen worse. Ben pitches a fit when I try to clean up one of his scrapes. Good thing a kiss when I'm done always seems to make it better for the little man."
"I imagine a kiss from you would definitely make everything better," I blurt out, and the minute the words leave my mouth, I clap my hand hard over my lips. My eyes widen and my face turns beet red.
Did I really just say that?
Zack's eyes narrow at me and his jaw clenches. So hard, in fact, that a tiny muscle starts jumping right at the corner.
"I-I-I'm s-s-s-orry," I stutter as my hand falls away from my mouth. "I didn't mean it like that. I just mean...a father's kiss and all that. Of course it would make Ben feel better. Fatherly lips...that's all I meant."
Zack takes a step closer to me and his hands come out to rest on the edges of the counter by my hips, effectively caging me in. His look is hard as he stares at me, and I know I've made a colossal mistake. Slowly...his eyes lower to my mouth, his thick lashes effectively hiding the fierce gaze that was staring at me just a moment ago.
I enjoy the reprieve.
It's three seconds before his eyes rise up to meet mine again, and they are now filled with so much heat, they're practically glowing.
Oh, God. I'm going to start hyperventilating.
Zack's upper body starts to lean in, his head dipping toward me. I drop my focus to his mouth, which is slightly parted, and I memorize the curve of his lips and the way they are coming closer and closer.
He's going to kiss me.
Holy fuck, he's going to kiss me.
Just when his lips are nothing more than a whisper away from mine, he turns his face slightly and grazes his cheek against my own. Leaning in farther, his stubble scratches against me until his nose rubs against my temple and his breath flutters against my ear. Shivers rack my body and my breath freezes in my lungs.
"Will a kiss make it better for you, Kate?" he murmurs in my ear.
Shivers turn into a massive shudder and I whimper.
Zack's body tenses and I can feel the air around us vibrating. I release my breath before I pass out from lack of oxygen, and I can't help the frustrated sigh that slides out with it. A slight rumbling sound comes out of Zack's mouth and he dips his head, causing his lips to graze my jaw and then lower, down to my neck. My head naturally tilts in the opposite direction, giving him better access.
His mouth slides over the delicate skin of my neck, so slight I can't distinguish whether it's his lips or his breath that's actually fluttering over me.
"Tell me to stop," Zack whispers, and I can feel frustration and need warring within his voice.
I give my head a tiny shake and Zack curses low, "Fuck."
His face pulls back as his hands clasp me at the sides of my head. It happens so quickly that I get only a flash of his molten eyes and soft lips before his mouth is on mine. He presses in urgently yet with gentleness, forcing me open to accept him. I do so readily, and I wait for him to do what he wants. I don't care what he does, just as long as he doesn't stop.
Zack doesn't give me his tongue. Instead his kiss is slow, his mouth roving against mine with gentle persistence. He tastes my lips only and the world melts away. I wait for him to deepen the contact, but he doesn't seem to be in a rush.
"Daddy," Ben calls out from the living room. "Are you coming?"
I jerk slightly and try to pull back from Zack. His grip on my head tightens to hold me in place, but he does pull his mouth from mine. His eyes laser on to me with dark intensity. My breath all but dissipates within my lungs over the desire I see.
We just stare at each other, both of us shocked and surprised about where this went. I want to say something, to tell him it's okay this happened, but I'm not sure it is. I want it to be. I want him to tell me this was okay.
But then the fever in his eyes dims and confusion filters in. "I'm sorry," he says softly.
"I'm not," I blurt back, one hand coming up to tentatively rest on his chest. My fantasy is starting to come true. I don't want it to end just yet.
Kiss me again, I want to scream, but his hand comes up and he gently pulls my own away from him.
"We can't," he says in a quietly assured voice.
Why? Why? Why?
But I know why. I'm Ben's nanny. He's my employer. He lost his love not but four months ago. He's in pain and healing. He has issues and demons. He has a son who needs him and he has his hockey career to focus on. He most certainly doesn't need a complication like me.
It's no wonder he pulled back.
It's no wonder that he won't meet my eyes right now.
The timer goes off on the oven and the remainder of the spell is broken for us. He steps away and after a lingering look that's remorseful, he says, "I'll get Ben washed up for dinner."
I don't miss the heavy sigh he lets out just before he vanishes from my sight.
Chapter 13
Zack
The early-morning skate is done, but I have time to hit some weights before heading home. Alex and Garrett left to do the same, except they work out in a private club, whereas I'm just fine using the arena facilities.
I'm going to make this a quick workout, though, as I have a shit ton of stuff to do today. The real estate agent came on Monday of this week and walked around the house with me, pointing out suggestions on things that could be done to increase the value of the house. That included repainting a few rooms and new carpeting upstairs, as well as some landscaping upgrades, since spring is the best time to sell.
Kate and I decided to knock out the painting first, and we're going to try to make a dent in that today. She spent the last two days that I was in Chicago prepping the rooms with tape and drop cloths, but I insisted that she wait for me to do the painting, as I wanted to actually participate in the work. It was Gina's house I was leaving behind. The least I could do was man up and get it ready to do so.
I hear laughter coming out of the weight room as I approach and hear the words "the Brick" filter out. That's clearly some of my teammates referencing the Cold Fury's newest team acquisition, Ryker Evans, otherwise known in the league as the Brick, the shortened version of Brick Wall.
Management announced today that it had signed legendary goalie Ryker Evans to the team. The Brick is indeed an active legend and at the ripe old age of thirty-one--which is indeed old in this league--he's still damn good. He has three Stanley Cups under him as well as four Vezina Trophies for being the best goalie in the league.
The sad part is that he's probably on his way out of the league. Although he's coming over from the starting position with the Boston Eagles, he won't be a starter here because our starting goalie, Max
Fournier, is killing it right now. No, Ryker will be our backup goalie, which is a sure sign that he's definitely on his way toward retirement.
Still, he's a fantastically solid goalie who will add depth to our team as well as maturity, especially since it looks like we're going to have a great shot at going far in the playoffs. My guess is that Ryker will probably only be with us this season and next, but I'm excited to meet him. I've heard nothing but great things about him so far.
"Shit," I hear Claude Amedee, one of the young defensemen on my line, say with a laugh, "they'll probably have to replace his goalie stick with a cane."
The other two guys, Sam Larson and Mikkel Erat, both defensemen on the third line, snicker. Normally, ribbing one another is a part of the camaraderie we all have going, but knocking on a dude's age in this league is not cool. While thirty-one is pretty damn young by society's standards, it's advanced age for a professional athlete. Fuck, I'm almost there at age twenty-seven, and I'm well aware I don't have many more years left in hockey. The wear and tear on a body ages a person fast. It's not funny, because we all have that hanging over our heads.