Breakaway

Chapter 14 - Breakaway

ERIC

"I'm calling it a night. See you two in the morning." Soupy got up from the recliner, stretched his arms over his head, and flexed the hand he'd blocked the shot with earlier.

Even a few hours later, after we'd had a postgame meal with some of the guys and come home, it didn't look like he'd broken any bones. It was definitely bruised and swollen, even after he'd iced it for a long time after the game. A bruised hand like that could be a bitch for a hockey player to deal with. Makes it hard to really grip a stick, and that makes it next to impossible to get anything behind a shot. He didn't act like he was going to let it keep him off the ice, though. I'd be shocked if it did. He'd spent enough time rehabbing injuries in his career already. Short of an injury bad enough that the doctors would pull him, he was going to play.

For the first time since he got here, Soupy was heading to bed without making sure Dana was closed away in her room with the door locked. Thank God. When he got to the foot of the stairwell, he looked over his shoulder, right at Dana. She gave him a little nod and said, "Good night, Brenden," and he kept going, even though he had a look of pure conflict on his face.

As soon as he disappeared up the stairs, I could feel her anticipation kick into gear. At least I hoped it was anticipation and not fear.

Not panic.

It had been way too long since I'd been able to touch her.

It was late, but I didn't want to pass up the opportunity to spend this time with her while I had it, even if it meant being tired at practice tomorrow. It had been a fairly big group at dinner of the guys and their wives and girlfriends—the ones who didn't have to rush home to relieve a babysitter, at least. Postgame dinners after a much-needed win tend to be really loose and make for some late nights. Tonight had proved to be no exception to that rule.

Babs had gone off to his apartment not long after we got back to the house. He had some video game competition going with Razor and Harry, one of the call-ups who'd arrived with Soupy, and they were going to play for an hour or two tonight.

So, now, we were alone. Really alone, like we hadn't been in over a week.

Dana was beside me on the couch, just close enough that her hand was in mine and I could feel the heat of her leg next to me. She looked up at me with a shy smile that threatened to tear my restraint to shreds.

"Can I kiss you again?" I asked, not sure what I'd do if she said no.

The way she sucked in a breath, like she was already gasping for oxygen before I'd even done anything to cause it, had my blood rushing straight to places I wished it would avoid. The more I touched her, the more I found myself needing to touch her...needing her to touch me. I wanted her in ways that were becoming torturous.

It would kill me if I had to stop myself. When she looked at me like that, her eyes lidded so she had to peek at me through her lashes, her cheeks pink, I couldn't think of anything but touching her in as many ways as she would allow.

"I was hoping you would," she said.

I reached for her to pull her closer, but she was already moving. She propped herself up on her knees, facing me at a right angle that lifted her head up higher than mine and had her looking down at me.

I couldn't resist lifting my hand and letting my fingers trail through her silken hair, especially since it might help me keep from touching her in ways she wasn't ready for. But I would let her take control of what we'd do tonight. I waited for her to kiss me, to initiate how this would go.

Her breathing was already in tatters before she lowered her mouth to mine. She moved her lips tentatively at first, testing and teasing like she was trying to learn what felt good. It all felt good to me. I knew she hadn't kissed any man but me, at least not since she was a teenager, dating boys who could never have come close to deserving her. Her inexperience made every awkward peck all the sweeter.