Breakaway

Chapter 9 - Breakaway

DANA

By the time we flew from Raleigh to Dallas, I was totally and completely baffled by how these guys could handle this lifestyle: flying from city to city, never staying in one place for more than a few days at a time. Sure, the team takes care of all the details and logistics, but no amount of planning could really prepare a person for something like that.

I'd only been on the road with them for about a week, and I was beyond exhausted. Not just tired—bone-achingly tired. All I wanted was to crawl into my bed and not get out for a week, but we still had three days to spend in Texas, including one with a game, before we could fly back to Portland. It would probably be well after midnight by the time we landed after the game that day. Talk about insanity.

In New York, the Storm had managed to pull off a win in a tight game against the Islanders, but they'd lost in regulation the next night to the Devils. Against Carolina, they'd come away with a point by taking it to the shoot-out. A win against the Stars would help a lot with how this road swing looked, but that was still a few days away.

When we got off the plane at Love Field and walked across to board the waiting bus, I expected Eric to reach over and take my hand. That had become almost second nature between us in the last few days, and I was getting to the point where I not only expected it, but I liked it. I knew it was different for him, though. His arm did come across to me, but he didn't hold my hand. He put his hand on the far side of my waist, drawing me closer to his side than he'd ever done before.

My breath caught. He wasn't touching me anywhere other than where his hand met my waist. There was no contact between the lengths of our bodies, none where his arm fell across my back. But I could feel the warmth of him everywhere, surrounding me and enveloping me in a cocoon of comfort.

It felt so much more intimate than when he held my hand, so much more...well, just so much more. I couldn't even begin to describe the things it was doing to me.

Even though my first instinct was to pull away, I held back the urge. I allowed the sensation of his possessive hold on me to pour through my limbs, let the emotions it roused swirl through my body and settle in my core.

Yeah...possessive. It felt like he was staking a claim on me. Marking me as his. The heat of his hand was almost enough to brand me.

That couldn't be, though. It was all in my head, maybe because subconsciously that was what I wanted him to do. The thought almost made me laugh, but it was a nervous sort of laughter—mainly because I couldn't decide if I liked it or was disturbed by it.

Babs had been walking beside us, but when he saw how Eric was holding me, he gave me the most adorably sheepish look and raced ahead.

It felt weird with my arm hanging between us, not having his hand to hold onto while we walked. I didn't know what to do with it. There was nothing that made me feel more idiotic than not having something to do with my hands. It kept bumping into my side because I was trying to keep it from accidentally moving too close to Eric and bumping into his side instead. But that just seemed stupid, like I was trying too hard to avoid something I didn't really need to avoid. I knew it wouldn't bother him if I touched him in such an innocent manner. The only person it might bother was me, and I couldn't know if that would be the case unless I actually let myself touch him.

I reached behind him a little more tentatively than I would have liked and let my fingers rest on the small of his back.

As soon as I made contact, his head whipped around and he looked down in my eyes. The heat of his gaze, green and electric and tortured, scorched my skin. The tortured part of it had to be because this was hell for him, me being Brenden's sister.