“Sophie already texted me.”

“I’ll be home Thursday night, late. I think our plane lands at two in the morning or something. So Friday, I guess.”

“I know.” He’d already left me his schedule for the week on the counter. “You can go, Kane. I’ll be all right, you know. And if I didn’t thank you for today, thank you. I had a great time hanging out with you.”

“You did. At least a dozen times.” He smiled then and his gaze fell to the hem of my shorts that were way too short and raked slowly back up, stalling at my chest, my throat, and when our eyes met again, his dark brown eyes were narrowed.

Heated.

Damn. If only he didn’t still love his ex. As it was, I felt that look from across the room. The pull of him was undeniable, and before I knew it, I was taking a step toward him.

Then another.

This could be the death of me.

Or maybe… wishful thinking and all… the beginning of something?

Who said it had to be forever?

“I hope you have a good flight,” I whispered, and surprised myself with the depth of my voice, the grit in it. “And a good game tomorrow. I’ll be watching.”

“The whole thing?”

“Every moment you’re on the ice, my eyes will be on you.”

“Good.” He cleared his throat. His voice was as gritty as mine. I was closer to him now, so close I could reach out and touch him, and yet that last step was difficult, leaden with fear and hope and mixed with lust and tinged with oncoming regret.

“What are you doing to me, Emmersyn?”

“Probably the same thing you’re doing to me.”

Confusing the hell out of me. Spinning my world off its axis. Giving me hope I could still find a decent guy to love me—or at minimum, care and respect me.

“Fuck it,” he muttered. He dropped his suitcase and before it crashed to the floor, his lips were on mine, hand at my lower back, and pulling me to him.

“Oh.” I gasped in surprise and then hummed in pleasure as our mouths touched, his tongue slipped out and tasted mine.

The kiss was soft, gentle, but the hand at my back was tense, fingers pressing into me and holding me against him like he couldn’t walk away. Couldn’t let me go.

If only that were true.

I prayed a prayer of fruitless hope that maybe things could be different between us, could become real, and kissed him back, hoping to hide that hope for fear of him pushing me away, but then his mouth opened and he didn’t just kiss me, he devoured me like he was as hopeful as me, and I stopped giving two shits about potential heartbreak and regret.

I had this man for a year and we were both clearly fighting attraction.

Would it be so wrong to throw my hands in the air and enjoy the ride?