When we landed in New York, I didn't have the energy to be embarrassed when Connor nudged me awake with a puddle of drool from me on his sweatshirt.

I had gotten a straight six hours of sleep, which allowed me some sort of sanity rather than remaining in a manic state. Truthfully, if it hadn't been for the possibility of Brian spotting us together cuddled up, I would have remained asleep with him to get a few more hours of shut-eye. With the comfort his arms provided, I didn't even care about needing to deplane the jet. They could all go to hell.

Sadly, that isn't how the world works. I have a job to do, and so does Connor. It required us to head our separate ways before we had the chance to talk about my meltdown before falling asleep courtesy of Levi, who started talking game strategy as soon as Connor's arm slipped from around my shoulder.

The New York Predators are good, but we're better. The team's only lost two games so far this season, their best record yet, and the energy between the boys is electric. It'd be contagious, almost, if I wasn't so fucking exhausted and depressed.

Shifting uncomfortably from my stance on the ground, I curse myself for not wearing a thicker coat. It's the beginning of November, and it's already snowing here. My boots are covered in slushy mud and ice, and my toes are numb, but as soon as Connor steps off the bus, I'm suddenly an inferno.

I've never been blind to his looks, the man is a walking sex god. In a suit and tie, Connor Holden is a sight to behold, but I'm not only thinking about how hot he looks.

I'm remembering how compassionate and vulnerable he allowed himself to be with me on the plane ride here. The cocky, arrogant hockey star isn't who he portrays himself to be. Connor has depth to him. I wonder if others in his life know there's more to him than jokes.

"I'm so looking forward to round two with him."

After a few shutters from my camera, I glance over to the barricade where a perky blonde stands with two of her friends. She's wearing a tight jersey with Connor's number on it, batting her eyelashes at him as he strides toward us.

"He never answered my message on Instagram, but I'm sure he'll check it after the game," she continues. "I swear, I never thought I could be talked into having a threesome, but Connor can be very convincing."

My knuckles are white on the camera from how tightly I'm holding the damn thing. I accidentally take another photo, my back molars on the verge of cracking.

I'm...jealous.

I have no reason to be, and yet here I am, wanting to pull her damn extensions out when I don't even know the girl. I knew Connor was a flirt and had tons of prior experience, but hearing it spill from another girl's lips is a different story. It's a reminder that the man in a sinfully tight suit can have anyone he wants, and for whatever reason, he's focused on pursuing me.

I'm not ready for a relationship, not by any means, but getting jealous and noticing all of these qualities I didn't know existed in him has me questioning everything. Clearly, I've grown an attachment to him. It's a recipe for disaster, but that's what's happening, and there's nothing I can do to stop it.

But the realization of my feelings doesn't make me want to run away, which is what I assumed would happen. Instead, it makes me want to—

"Connor!" The blonde girl waves aggressively at him when he reaches us, leaning over the side of the barricade. "I have something for you."

Connor arches a brow in her direction as she tugs out a thong and dangles it from her fingertips. In seconds, all I see is red. "You can see me in this after tonight's game if you want."

I hate how my heart begins to race in anticipation of his answer. I hate clinging to his every word, knowing whatever he decides to do will determine whether or not I fight my reluctance to get close to him or give up.

"I have plans," he replies. More hockey players exit the bus, but I rise from where I'm crouched on the ground, trying to ignore the relief sweeping through me. "Indefinitely." His head swivels in my direction to where the girl can no longer see, and then he winks. 

The final four have already been photographed, which is all I'm really required to shoot before the game. It could be the jealousy, or maybe it's the realization of my feelings, but I find myself following him into the arena, yearning to touch him in some way.

We haven't slept together since the night of our makeshift date, and I'm craving it.

"You shouldn't be carrying that." Plucking the camera bag from my shoulder, he smiles obnoxiously at me. "What? Your elbow is sprained, Aria. It should be in the sling."

"I'll put it back in after the game," I reply, but my voice is strained. I'm hot all over the damn place. He's too caring. Too sweet. Too perfect. And does he have to be wearing a suit whilst doting over me?

"Are you alright?" He asks. We stop by an alcove by a set of water fountains, allowing the other players to pass us.

"Yes," I start but instantly shake my head. "I mean, no, I..." Fucking hell. Why is this so hard?

It shouldn't be hard at all. I'm not used to speaking about my feelings anymore. I've grown accustomed to shutting everyone out for the past five years and keeping them at arm's length. Connor is the first person who makes me want to pull him closer, so that's exactly what I do.

I'll face the consequences after.

Pulling him into the alcove where we're hidden from cameras, I drag his face down to mine, kissing him like my life depends on it.

Instantly, he drops his duffel bag and my camera to the floor before his hands find my hips. He squeezes roughly, pressing my back against the cool brick until his body is flush against mine. I kiss him until I'm gasping for air. I kiss him hungrily. Feverishly. He's becoming a fucking addiction that no amount of rehab can fix.

I pull on his damn tie, forcing his head to tilt.

My tongue licks up the column of his neck, and the guttural moan that leaves his mouth has a pool of wetness soaking between my thighs. If it weren't for the possibility of someone catching us, I'd fuck him right here in this alcove without any regrets. I'd make him never want to sleep with that girl by the barricade ever again. I'd show him he was—

Fuck, I'd prove to him he was mine.

And that's wrong of me to even think when I wouldn't know the first thing about being committed. As I mentioned before, growing attached to him is a mistake and will only result in a trainwreck, but it doesn't stop my hand from feeling the thick bulge over the fabric of his dress pants.

"Aria." My name is strangled in his throat, his head resting against the brick as I begin to leave my mark on his neck.

Mine.

Even if he can't ever be mine, I can dream of it, and in an imaginary world where I didn't fuck up and ruin everything? He would be.

"We—Fuck. We can't. Not here." He sighs aggressively, closing his eyes in frustration. "Trust me, you have no idea how badly I want to do this, but I'm not going to risk you losing your job."

"Right." Clearing my throat, I take a step away from him. "Sorry. I just..."

That cocky grin falls onto his face. "You don't ever have to apologize for that. Kiss me whenever you feel like it."

I arch a brow. "So, you're saying if I weren't the photographer for your team and kissed you right next to that girl by the barricade, claiming you as mine and ruining your chances of sleeping with her again for good, you wouldn't care?"

He grins even wider, reaching up to strum his thumb over my bottom lip. "Jealousy suits you dangerously well, baby, but you have no reason to be. There can't be a competition when you'll always win."

No hesitation whatsoever. He's telling the truth.

"The only reason we're keeping this...hookup of ours on the down-low is because of your job and your job only." He takes a step closer so he's flush against me again, and the feel of him, all of him, has me swallowing hard. "As soon as I convince you to be mine, I'm going to marry you, baby. Then I'll buy us a big house on the outskirts of town where we'll spend the rest of our lives, and I'll scream that you're my wife from the fucking rooftops."

How can he be so certain? He has no idea the things I've done. He knows nothing.

Maybe you should tell him, then.

Where the fuck did that voice come from?

Pushing the thought from my head, I focus on Connor again.

His persistence should petrify me. It used to when we first ran into each other a month ago, but his words now give me a sense of reassurance I didn't know I needed. He's not giving up on breaking down my walls, but as soon as he takes a peek at what's behind the layers, he'll bolt.

For now, I want to live in my imaginary world where I'm not broken.

For now, I can pretend he's mine, and I'm his.

A devilish grin falls onto my face, similar to the one he always gives me, and I'm pleased to see him lick his bottom lip in response. His eyes dart down to my good hand when it lands on his chest, the erratic beating of his heart beneath my palm when I bring my lips to his ear to whisper, "I hope you win this game tonight, Holden. If you do, I'll give you a reward for that speech I'm certain you won't want to miss."

Author's Note:

Oh mannnnn I can't WAIT to show you what Aria has in store for Connor ;)

How's everyone doing?! Did you enjoy this chapter?

I think SOMEONE is catching feelings...

Thank you for all the well wishes before I went on vacation. My son had the BEST time at Disney World. <3

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