"Fine," I grumble, and lean forward across the table to take a bite. My teeth sink down into the light crust and warm chocolate spills over my tongue. I can't help the moan...absolutely impossible with what was just put into my mouth.
As Ryker pulls the croissant away from me, a small dribble of chocolate stays on my bottom lip. I quickly lick it off and then chew on the ecstasy in my mouth. I look at Ryker, nodding my head vigorously to indicate how good that was.
He smiles at me, but it's almost lecherous in nature. His eyes travel down to my lips and he says in an almost whisper, "Still got chocolate on your lip."
The way he's looking at my lips...it wouldn't surprise me in the slightest if he just leaned across the table and licked it off. I think by the mere fact that I don't make an immediate move to wipe it off myself must mean that I want him to do that. Finally his eyes rise to mine and our gazes lock.
I wipe my mouth with a napkin. "What are we doing?"
"Eating chocolate croissants and drinking coffee."
"No," I say with a shake of my head. "What are we doing?"
He studies me for a moment, acting as if he's trying to glean something from my face, but in truth I can see the gears grinding in his brain. He's trying to decide how truthful to be with me, not to ease his own conscience but to ease mine. I know this because Ryker Evans is a man who really doesn't care about appearances.
"Would you let me kiss you right now?" he asks.
"What?" I exclaim, trying to sound outraged and not turned on. "No, of course I wouldn't. That would be inappropriate."
I expect Ryker to argue with me. To call me a liar.
Instead he pushes out of his chair and rounds the table. He walks right up to me, and even though I lean back sideways in my chair because the closeness of him is too intoxicating, he keeps right on coming.
Hand sliding into my hair, covering the back of my neck, and holding me firm.
Ryker bends over, tugs on my hair to tilt my head back, and when I gasp in surprise, uses the opportunity to press his lips against mine. He kisses me softly, no tongue. My eyes drift closed and I try to swiftly commit everything to my nearly eidetic memory because until this moment, I'm not sure I've ever truly been kissed before.
His lips are full, soft. I didn't expect they'd be so soft.
I can still smell that same combination of eucalyptus and peppermint, a shower gel I'm guessing, and there's just a faint underlying hint of the sweat he worked up during our yoga class. His scruff-covered chin rubs against my own and his fingers tighten in my hair.
It's too brief. I want to cry out in disappointment when he pulls away. My eyes immediately snap open, wary and uncertain as to what this all means.
Ryker does nothing more than squat down beside my chair. He keeps ahold of the back of my neck and stares at me, his eyes warm and confident. "I'm doing what feels right to me. You feel right to me."
"We can't," I murmur.
"We can," he cuts me off, rubs a thumb on the side of my neck.
"I'm your boss...it's inappropriate."
"And yet I don't give a shit."
Is it really that simple? My mind quickly tries to process all of the implications if I were to give in to this. If we were found out, I would lose credibility. Ryker would lose credibility. My father would lose faith in me. The entire executive office would lose faith. The players, who already think I'm a joke, would revel in this. I have so very much to lose.
I bring a hand up and wrap it around Ryker's wrist. Not to remove his hand from touching me, but simply to give him a squeeze so he knows that I very much like his touch just the way it is right now.
"Ryker...there's just too much risk for me to get involved with you. I've just started as the general manager. I have everyone doubting me--"
"I don't doubt you," he interjects.
"No, you don't and that's part of what makes this so damn hard to say this. I have too much to lose for something that may be nothing more than a fling. It's just too difficult."
Ryker's hand falls away from me but he remains squatted down so we're eye to eye. "You're wrong about one thing. A fling wouldn't be difficult, because it would be quick and secretive and over probably as soon as it started. You'd have little risk of ever being caught. But I don't do flings. You would be way more than a fling to me."
I blow out a breath of frustration, because damn...damn, damn, damn. Why do we have to be in this position? Why, for the first time in my life, do I have to be really interested in a man who is amazing for me personally but terrible for my career?
Why, why, why?
"Tell you what," Ryker says as he stands and moves back over to his seat. He picks his croissant back up and waves it at me. "How about we just let things ride for a bit? At the very least, let's agree to be friends."
Gratitude overwhelms me at this moment, because while it could still be considered a conflict for me to have a personal friendship with a player, right now...Ryker is the only one besides my father who has truly supported me since I came on board as a GM.
"Okay," I say in a quavering voice filled with emotion. "I could use a friend."
Ryker gives me a big smile. "Friends then."
I pick up my coffee to take a sip.
"But," Ryker drawls. "If you ever decide you want to try to seduce me, I just want you to know I'm not going to stop you."
And that's just fucking great. I was kind of hoping Ryker would be the strong and sane one out of the two of us, because for all my brave words just a moment ago, I know that I'm going to have a terrible time resisting him.
Chapter 9
Ryker
"Eat your toast, Rubes," I say as I tilt my wrists slightly to lower the top half of the newspaper to peer at her. She immediately drops her iPad--because, yes, at nearly five years old she has an iPad because I felt pressured to get her one since all the other five-year-olds had one.
I slide my eyes over to Violet, who is thoughtfully chewing on a piece of banana, her eyes looking out the window. If I were to ask her what she was thinking right now, ordinarily she would launch into an epic tale she was spinning in her head, but I know she's thinking about her mother. Hensley should be here soon to spend the day with the girls.
I flip the paper back up and continue to read the article about last night's game against the Boston Eagles. I can't help the satisfied smile as I read the same paragraph again. It's the third time I've soaked it in.
Once again, veteran goalie Ryker Evans was unstoppable, securing another shutout for the Cold Fury. Not even the league's goal and point leader, Patric Sutter, could seem to breach the impenetrable Brick Wall. Sutter launched a record high nine shots on goal against Evans, and each one was easily stopped, including one breakaway that pitted the best player in the league against one of the best goalies ever.
Man, I love that sports reporter. I should send him a fruit basket or something.
I have no clue if Hensley is going to bring Patric with her for this visit, but it's going to be hard not to gloat about the game. I shall try to persevere, though.
I decide to move past that one paragraph and read the rest of the article. There's a small mention at the end that Max Fournier, the starting goalie for the Cold Fury last year, has just been released from the injured reserve list and will be starting practices with the team next week. Of course, the postulations have begun about whether he should replace me as starting goalie and I'd be lying if I didn't say I was a little worried about it. It's just not something I've thought about until now, instead having concentrated on myself and getting wins for the team.