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

In fact, Stefan had a reserved seat at the Gold Mine, directly behind Brit’s net.

Not the best position for viewing the game.

But perfect for watching his wife kill it, as she did on most nights.

“I—” she whispered. “You think so?”

“Yes, I do.” With that, he patted her shoulder again and decided to take advantage of her befuddlement by calling out his goodbyes and hightailing it out of the locker room.

Babies.

They shouldn’t be the obvious conversational topic for big, tough hockey players, but they were common subjects of banter in the Gold’s locker room because the kids were folded right into the rest of the team. They were family, too, along with the coaches, with the equipment managers and trainers and support staff. Wives and girlfriends, too. Brothers and sisters, moms and dads.

All were commonly seen.

And the team played the better for it.

It was just . . . today, he was missing that he didn’t have more to add to the group. Sure, his parents came to some games, but they were busy, they had their own lives, and those lives didn’t revolve around his any longer.

Which was fine.

He was a thirty-year-old man, not a child who needed a ride to early-morning practices and away games.

Not anymore, anyway.

Smiling as he walked to his car thinking of what his mom would say if he called her and teasingly asked her to drive him to the rink, he didn’t see the flurry of silken brown hair, the lush, curvy body.

Not until it was too late.

And for the second time in one night, he collided with the woman he’d been dreaming about for months.

Chapter Three

Dani

The universe hated her.

That was the only explanation she had for why she was plastered against Ethan’s chest for a second time that evening.

He smelled good, all spicy and male, his hair still damp from the shower.

It was funny, though, for as long as his beard was—a bushy gathering on his jaw—his hair was neatly trimmed, as it always was.

“Are you growing it out?” she blurted, still in his arms, her fingers lifting to trace the bristles, finding they were softer than she expected. Also, such an inappropriate thing to do, paired with an unsuitable question for a workplace, where she liked to at least pretend she was professional, even though she spent many of her waking—and sleeping—hours fantasizing about this man. Dani could also add that it was remarkably tactless to be stroking his jaw, since she’d just turned the man down when he’d asked her out.

So, no.

She shouldn’t be looking at his beard, let alone commenting on it.

Or thinking how it might feel between her thighs.

His hands had been resting on her shoulders again, the warmth seeping through her team jacket, making her nerves skip and fire with need, but her words had him lifting one, resting it against hers on his jaw and rubbing lightly.

She heard the bristling sound—no, she actually felt it, and not just on her palm. The slight rasp skated over her middle, both dipping down and shooting up, her nipples hardening against the fabric of her bra, her legs quivering.

“Not intentionally,” he said, voice husky, his gray eyes the color of clouds readying to drop buckets full of rain. “My trimmer broke, and I just got lazy with the upkeep.”

“Oh,” she whispered after a moment, after realizing she was just standing there.

Just staring at him.

Plastered against his chest, her palm on his cheek.

Ugh.

She yanked out of his hold, pulse thrumming, moisture pooling, and hating herself for turning him down, even though she knew it had been the only thing she could do. “I-I should go.”

He nodded, the movement making a flash of tattooed skin appear, just the swirling edge that crept up the left side of his neck. She’d seen that tattoo in the flesh before, when she’d gone into the locker room as he’d been coming out of the shower. Some nudity was a workplace hazard. The guys did their best, but after games they had to shower and change, and if she ventured in, she caught an occasional glimpse of butt or penis, no matter how quick and judicious they were with towels. And, at least when it came to Ethan, those glimpses were usually tucked into her fantasies and paired with her vibrator—because side note: hockey players had the best butts. For the others, they were met with her cheeks growing hot and Dani quickly looking away. Chests and arms, abs and back weren’t so bad. She’d almost become desensitized to them, considering the way some of the guys went around without their shirts.

Not Ethan’s back though. Or his butt. Or his dick. Or his—

Right. She was ridiculously attracted to all of his parts, from his mouth down to his strong calves. But back to his . . . well, his back. She’d actually felt her heart stop when she’d first seen it—okay, so maybe not stop, but it had certainly skipped a beat, hiccupped against her ribs.

Because the tattoos covering his back were beautiful.

Colorful swirls and lines coming together in something that was a cross between flames and floral that combined to form an Irezumi-inspired look. A term she only knew because she’d gone looking after she’d seen them, had researched for hours online until she’d discovered what they looked like.

She wanted to trace them with her tongue, her fingers, her lips.

Had imagined doing that more times than she could count.

“Yeah,” he said, and it took her more than a few moments to realize that he’d said it in response to her telling him she should go.

Which meant that instead of continuing to stare at him like a freak, getting lost in those storm-cloud eyes, she should go.

Nodding, her embarrassment at a critical level now, she spun away.

And felt him walk beside her, his long stride eating up her much shorter one. She wasn’t a small woman by any means, nearly five-ten and a solid size twelve, but he was so big