Page 65 of Making the Save

“These muscles,” she said, and traced a finger across my bicep. “This hair.” She put her hand flat in my chest hair like she was going to pull it. Her thumb grazed my nipple and my whole body felt electrocuted.

Was she serious right now? Was this some kind of backwards seduction? A game? Like she was going to tease me and when I tried to do something she’d remindmeof the rules? That didn’t seem like her. It felt, and I know this is weird…innocent. Like she was just curious?

“What kind of men have you been close to?” I asked, my voice coming out of my chest. She had to feel my dick, hard against her hip. I was trying to be a gentleman but that was beyond my control.

“Not the kind who throw me on a bed and make me go blind from sex,” she said with a laugh.

Testing the waters, I reached up and pushed a curl away from the edge of her eye. “Are you interested in that?” I asked.

Her tongue came out and touched the edge of her lip and I groaned in my throat. “I don’t know,” she whispered.

Well, I did. She was. She was extremely interested in it.

Before I could stop her, she took both her hands and ran them down my sides and I jerked away, bashing my elbow against the rock.

“Did that hurt?” she said, looking up at me with round worried eyes. “Do you still have bruises from the season?”

I still had bruises and bumps and sore bones from the season. From all my seasons in the NHL. It was just a part of being a professional athlete. Pain. But that wasn’t why I flinched.

“Wait a second,” she said, her eyes narrowing. “Are you ticklish?”

“No,” I lied.

She ran her fingers along the same spot. Where my side met my back, right under that last bit of rib. I jerked away again.

“Don’t do that,” I told her.

She did it again and laughed. When I reached for her hand, she was quick and escaped my grip.

“I said no.”

“What’s the matter? Afraid people won’t think you’re big and scary if they know you’re ticklish like a baby?”

“You sound ridiculous.”

Her fingers found that spot again and I practically collapsed that side of my body to escape her touch.

“Wyatt is ticklish! Wyatt is ticklish!” She said it over and over like a chant. I had to put my head on a swivel to make sure we were still alone up here on this mountain so no one could hear her blabbing my secret.

I grabbed her hands and pressed them flat against my chest. I gave her my meanest defenseman hockey face. The one any offensive player coming onto my ice saw right before I slammed them against the boards.

She laughed in my mean defenseman hockey face.

“I’m not ticklish,” I growled. “I’m…sensitive.”

That only made her cackle more.

I scowled even harder.

“You don’t scare me,” she said.

“Many, many grown men, seasoned athletes, big dudes in hockey pads, have been intimidated by this face.”

She wiggled her hand free from my grip and placed her palm along the side of my cheek. “Not me. I can only see Wyatt.” She leaned up and pecked me on the cheek. “Your secret is safe with me.”

I let go of her, risking more tickling, but I cupped her face in my hands, holding her like she was precious. Like she was all I wanted. Her pupils got big and her breath caught in her throat.

“Are you going to kiss me?” She asked, breathlessly.