Connell (Carolina Reapers 3)

Logan shrugged but placed a tender kiss on her forehead.

“That’s nice, man,” Connell said before taking a sip of his coffee.

“Thanks,” Logan said. “Good for me, good press for the team. I’ll take it.”

“You’d have a hundred more offers rolling in if you’d just model like I’ve been asking,” Blair said.

I couldn’t argue there. Logan had rich brown eyes, dark hair, and was just quiet enough to be marked as the broody and mysterious type women lost their minds over. He also had a Reaper body, which meant sculpted perfection. Though he was beautiful, nothing stirred inside me when appreciating him. Not like it did when Connell…breathed.

“No,” Logan said, his tone a bit sharper than before. “I won’t.”

“He will,” Blaire said, ignoring Logan and instead looking directly at Connell and myself.

“I’ve told you a hundred times, Blaire,” he said. “I’ll never model.”

“Tons of your teammates do it. Tons of celebrity athletes do it.” She rolled her eyes again. “Use what you have—”

“No.”

Connell and I picked up our coffee mugs at the same time, glancing at each other through the awkward tension. I pressed my lips together to keep from laughing at the wide-eyed look Connell flashed me.

“Okay,” Blaire said, finally focusing on the severe look Logan wore. “Sorry, babe.” She stroked his chest. “I didn’t mean to bring it up,” she continued. “I’m just so proud of you for your deal.”

The tightness in Logan’s shoulders visually loosened, and I watched, fascinated at the way Blaire coaxed him back to his previous pleasant state.

“That didn’t get awkward at all, did it?” Connell asked me an hour later as he walked me to my car outside the restaurant. The couple of interest had already left.

I laughed softly. “Not at all.”

We stopped outside my closed drivers’ side door, the warm night air carrying the scent of the rose bushes decorating the exterior of the building.

“Do you know why he’s so against using his good looks for publicity?” I asked, curious.

Connell leaned an arm against my car. “So you think Ward’s attractive, do you?”

I grinned. “Anyone on the planet would think he’s attractive, Connell.”

A muscle in his jaw ticked, but there was a playful mischief in his eyes as he stepped closer. “You say such awful things,” he said, his body so close to mine his knees brushed the billowing skirt of my dress.

“He’s not my type,” I said, my heart racing as I held that gaze.

“That’s better,” he said. “And who might be your type?”

I bit my lip. “Definitely someone serious,” I teased. “Someone truly grounded. Not a goofball. Absolutely not an athlete.”

Connell leaned down, his breath warm on my cheeks. “Sounds boring.”

I gaped at him in faux-shock. “Then I must be boring.”

He shook his head, and I hated how much I wanted to push back those strands of blond hair from his forehead. “You’re far from boring, Annabelle.”

I lifted my chin. “Oh, yeah? Then who do you think is my type?”

He smirked, his eyes trailing down my face, my neck, and up again. “Someone who can make you laugh. Push you out of those confined boundaries you keep yourself in. Someone who can let you be your powerful, professional self during the day, but the minute you come home? He takes over. Takes care of you. Lets you lose that control you cling to in favor of complete, mind-blowing, freedom.”

My bottom lip trembled from the tight breath that loosed from my chest at his words. Heat snaked through my blood, pulsing in my core with an endless hunger.

Kiss him.

Wrap your arms around his neck and drag him into your car.

Invite him home.

“Good night, Annabelle,” he said before I could say one coherent word.

I breathed a sigh of relief at him saving me from something I knew I’d regret. And maybe he’d sensed that. Maybe he knew me better than I thought. Because I couldn’t…we couldn’t…and he understood that. Respected it, and damn him for it because it made me like him even more.

“Good night, Connell,” I said as he headed toward his car across the lot. “Thank you for dinner,” I called just as I’d slipped opened my car door.

He spun around to walk backward, his dark blue suit shaping his body like it had been made for him. “Of course,” he said, and winked at me. “See you tomorrow.”

I bit back my smile and hurried to sink behind the wheel and close the door, scolding myself for already counting down the hours until tomorrow came.

5

Connell

“So, you’re really not coming?” Cannon asked through the speakers of my Jag as I pulled onto a country road just outside Sweet Water. He was the best defenseman on the Reapers. Hell, he was probably the best defenseman in the NHL. He was also covered in tats from head to toe, had an infamous temper, and was scary as fuck to the general population.