Caged (Gold Hockey Book 11) by Elise Faber (romantic love story reading TXT) 📕

ever in her life, Dani didn’t care what anyone else was thinking.

She only cared what Ethan was thinking, and she supposed, what she was thinking. And the thoughts floating through her mind were light, happy ones, cautious optimism and a need to know everything about this man. His family, his parents, every sad and positive story of his life.

She wanted to know his favorite color and food and—

“Why’s there smoke coming out of your ears?”

“What’s your favorite color?”

He straightened, lips parting and then curving. “It’s like that, huh?”

“It’s a perfectly acceptable first date question.”

“We’re on a date?”

Her sigh was disgruntled, and she swatted at his chest. “We’re going to be at some point. Well, if you stop being such a pain in my ass, that is.”

He grinned, his gray eyes dancing, and she nudged him with her elbow. Which just had him snagging her arm, tucking it against him . . . tugging her against him. Her breath caught, desire swirling through her, and she was quite desperate to taste him again.

His hand came to her cheek, his thumb brushing along her bottom lip. He groaned. “Don’t look at me like that.”

She would give almost anything right then to be able to kiss him like she had on her porch the night before, like her body was an extension of his and if she just kept sipping at his mouth, the rest of the world could go on without them.

“Not helping,” he murmured, that thumb still running back and forth.

“You came up to sit by me.”

“I like you,” he said. “I like to sit by people I like.”

“That’s a lot of likes.”

He tapped her nose. “Sass. I like that, too.”

She laughed, shook her head, leaning back enough so she could focus. “Well then, just answer the question already. I want to know all the little things.”

“All the little things?”

“Leave the comedy to Max.”

“Fuck.”

She froze at the suddenly gruff tone. “What?”

“I really fucking like you, Eastbrooke.”

This whole conversation, paired with his body next to hers, was threatening to turn her into a pile of mush. Which meant that she needed to pull herself together. Otherwise there would just be a pile of Gold emblazoned clothing on the floor sitting in a Dani puddle. “All right. All right,” she said. “Enough of that.” She waved a hand. “I’m ordering you to answer my first date question.”

He paused. “I think I like taking orders from you.”

“I think I can’t give you the kind of orders I really want, so you need to behave yourself for the duration of the ride to the airport.”

Warm fingers laced through hers, a rough palm engulfing her hand, tendrils of heat curling up her arm, sliding through her middle, and his eyes were filled with liquid lightning when they came to hers and held, the air between them crackling. “Raincheck on the orders, love.”

Her lips parted, her lungs shuddering. “Be good.”

“As long as you promise to stroke me at some point in the future.”

The heat was no longer a curl. It was an inferno, a forest fire, a volcano exploding within her. She swallowed hard. “Ethan,” she whispered.

“Raincheck, sweetheart.”

“Your fault,” she murmured.

His smile was sexy and scorching and just the right kind of wicked. “Definitely my fault.” Then he straightened, pulling slightly away from her, the fog of his nearness dissipating, allowing her to at least put a few thoughts together.

“Favorite color. STAT.”

“Blue,” he stated without preamble. Then paused, said, “Actually, no. Not just blue. Turquoise.”

And out of his pocket, he produced the stone she’d slipped him the night before.

Her heart was a kitten in her chest, batting a ball of yarn around inside her torso, twisting this way and that.

“Yours?” he murmured, sliding closer as Coop made his way down the aisle. Calle had slid into the row in front of them, and Dani didn’t miss the look she tossed their way.

Gossip would be flying.

Or was flying already.

She could feel the gazes on them.

A tug of her hair as the bus started moving forward. She blinked, reprocessed the conversation. “Yellow,” she whispered.

“Why?” he asked.

“Why?” she repeated.

“Yeah.” His thigh pressed to hers. “Why is yellow your favorite color?”

“It’s bright.” A shrug. “Like sunshine and warm sand and pineapple juice.”

He leaned close, his lips coming to her ear. “Did you just call warm sand yellow?”

She was focused on Ethan, on his lips brushing the lobe of her ear, on the goose bumps his warm breath raised on her skin, on the heat from his body, so his words didn’t immediately process.

Then they did.

Straightening, she looked down her nose at him. “Really?”

He leaned in, nipped her bottom lip. “Really. It’s a travesty. Clearly, sand is beige, not yellow.”

“You have permission to smack him,” Calle said, glancing over her shoulder with a smirk. “No man should be that at ease when he’s trying to win over a woman he likes.”

Ethan bent in again. “For the record, I’m not at ease.” His eyes flicked down, drawing hers to follow, to see that he was hard in his slacks.

“Oh,” she murmured, biting her lip.

“But I am trying to win over the woman I like,” he said. “Now, it’s my turn to ask some First Date questions, okay?”

Her heart stuttered, that kitty with its ball of yarn making a reappearance, as the bus pulled onto the freeway, as Ethan began peppering her with more First Date questions. Which she was fine with answering, so long as she was able to get his answers in return. She nodded, whispered, “Okay.”

He smiled.

She smiled.

And by the time they got on the plane, she’d learned his favorite TV show, food, place he’d traveled, animal, and superhero movie—The Office, steak, New Zealand, lion, and Captain America: Civil War. She’d approved of all his choices, aside from the steak, as clearly a Caesar salad was the best food on the planet, and while she liked all the Marvel movies, her favorite supe flick was Wonder Woman (the first, clearly . . . because that thigh jiggle and Chris Pine and