Page 25 of The Playmaker

Page List


Font:  

“How’s the back?” he asks.

I take a deep breath and let it out slowly. I can do this. It’s not like we’re in the bath together. People get in hot tubs in groups, for God’s sake. No one’s having an orgy. Nothing intimate about it.

Then why does being in here with Cole, alone, feel so cozy?

“Good.” I spread my arms and brace them on the top of the hot tub. “This is so much better than a hot bath.”

“You can use it anytime.” A dog barks in the distance, and we both go quiet for a bit. “So, after watching the game tonight, any ideas for a story come to you?”

“No, not yet. I’ve been in kind of a creative rut lately.”

“How come?”

“I don’t know,” I say. “Sometimes it happens. I have to do other creative things and it helps the muse.”

“What do you like to do?”

“Watch movies, cook, just go for walks. Meet Jess for coffee.”

He nods and rakes his hair back. “That’s pretty much been my life for the last few weeks. Except for the cooking, and coffee with Jess,” he adds with a grin. “Maybe we can do those things together. The company would be nice.”

I take another sip of wine, and when I start to feel the effects, I set it down. “I better not finish this if I’m going to drive home.”

“I was thinking. Why don’t you stay here—”

“I can’t stay here,” I say quickly.

“Why not? I have tons of spare bedrooms, and if you’re going to help me cook, and not clean,” he says with a laugh, “we can start with something simple like breakfast. You might as well stay and avoid the commute. I have a laptop you can use if you want to get some writing done.”

“I…” I let my words fall off as I look at him. That little-boy-lost look is there again, giving me the sense that he doesn’t just want me to stay, but needs me to stay. He might have been a jerk most of the time, but he was there for me that night when I had no one else to turn to.

“It’s not a big deal, Nina. You’d have your own space. But if you don’t want—”

“I want.”

Oh, how I want…

6

Cole

Darkness falls over the house, the light from the street filtering in through the crack in the curtains and creating shadows on the walls as I quietly make my way downstairs. Nina had gone to bed long ago, and all my restless tossing and turning, my lust-drunk mind preoccupied with the girl in the room next to me, is doing fuck all to help me sleep.

The fifth step creaks under my bare feet, and I go still for a moment, partly so I don’t wake Nina and partly because there’s a tug at the base of my neck, a headache brewing. I stand for a moment, until the ache subsides, and glance over my shoulder, listening for sound. It’s a pretty rare occasion when I have to worry about waking someone. Other than my sister and Cason, and the party I threw with friends when I first moved in, no one enters my safe zone.

I listen for a few seconds longer and scratch my bare chest. When I’m sure I hadn’t woken my guest, aka my newly hired cook—one I want to taste in the worst fucking way—I take the rest of the steps and pad quietly across the wood floor to the kitchen. I slide my finger over the dimmer light, keeping the room shadowy so the bright light doesn’t bring back that headache.

I grab the milk from the fridge and my box of Captain Crispies. After pouring a generous amount into the bowl, I dip a spoon in and take a big bite. Fucking delicious. I’d forgotten how much I like this crap.

Instead of sitting, I stand at the big patio door and look out over the pool, lost in thoughts, until footsteps sound behind me. I turn, startled to see a figure in the archway.

Except my alarm turns to lust when Nina comes into the kitchen dressed in the big T-shirt I’d given her for bed. Jesus, talk about hot. Sexy as fuck.

An ache of need twists inside me as my gaze drops, takes in the length of her. The light is dim, but I can still make out her barely there curves that drive me fucking wild, those sleek legs I’d give my nut sac to feel wrapped around me. Fuck, is she wearing any panties under that shirt? Is her sex brushing up against the fabric, no barriers? Is her scent weaving its way through the cotton? Damned if I don’t want to find out.

“Oh,” she says, startled. “I didn’t know you were up.”

Oh, yeah, I’m up, in so many fucking ways.


Tags: Cathryn Fox Players on Ice Romance