Defender (Seattle Sharks 9)

“I know.” He held up his hand to stop me. “I’m just saying…I have my own reasons for doing this. For supporting this. Risking everything. You know I do.”

I swallowed a lump in my throat. His brother. Of course, I knew. Understood. It didn’t make what we were doing any less risky.

“Is it your birthday?” he asked, and I tilted my head before realizing I’d mentioned it before.

“Oh no. It’s in a week.”

“Any plans?”

“No,” I said, shaking my head. “I never do anything for my birthday. My family, we don’t celebrate things the way normal people do. It’s always about new challenges and accomplishments.” I waved off his pitying look. “Anyway—”

“Where do you want me?” Nathan asked, eyeing the room after I’d been silent for a few moments too long, clutching that helmet like a lifeline.

“On the table,” I blurted then cringed. “The chair. By the table. Over there.” I pointed to the empty chair next to my clean table and sucked in a sharp breath. I needed to get a grip. He was just a hot guy who smelled good and did wonderfully torturous things to my body. One who happened to be risking everything to help me advance this newfound passion of mine. One who had to smile like he knew every damn thought that tumbled through my head at rapid speed.

“Do your worst,” he said, grinning up at me from his seat as I set the helmet down on the table.

“I’ll need to measure you first,” I said, biting my lip. “Your head.” He nodded, totally agreeable. Well, in that case. “It’d be easier if you took off your shirt.”

He cocked a brow at me.

“I need to measure your neck too. And your chest.” Totally true.

He gathered his shirt from behind and slipped it over his head in one smooth motion. It was hard to hold back the escape of breath at the sight of him. Smooth, slightly tanned skin stretched over an insane amount of corded muscle, the peek of some ink beneath his right arm feathering the sides of his pectoral.

“Better?” he asked, a tease in his voice.

“Mmmhmm,” I mumbled, then noted the proud, cocky look in his eyes. “I need to gather all your stats in case I want to work on chest protection in the future.”

“Understandable,” he said as I hovered around him with a measuring tape.

I uncapped one of the numerous markers lining my lab coat pocket and paused with the tip near his skin. “It’s okay if I mark on you, right?”

His tongue darted out to swipe his bottom lip, the motion looking totally involuntarily. “Harper,” he said, my name almost a whisper between us with how close our bodies were. “I’ve given you free rein of my head. You think I wouldn’t give you my body, too?”

My lips parted, and for once, words died on the tip of my tongue. My heart raced against my chest, so hard and loud I was sure he could hear it. I cleared my throat and smiled. “Thank you,” I said, and began to measure.

“For what?”

“For trusting me.” I reached to wrap the measuring tape around his chest, and he jolted when my fingers touched him.

“Cold,” he hissed.

“Says the man who lives on the ice.” I smiled as I continued to take his measurements. My hair dangled as I leaned down and it grazed his chest which erupted with chill bumps. I reached to pull my hair over my shoulders, the action causing my chest to accidentally bump into his face.

He chuckled, and I cringed. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be. Anything for science.”

I laughed at his poor attempt at a joke, secured my hair with a tie, and continued to work. A comfortable silence filled the room, nothing but the sound of Nathan’s breath and my beating heart roaring in my ears. His skin was softer than I’d imagined, yet the firm muscle underneath exuded that strength I’d seen him use on the ice. And that damn scent—God it was intoxicating and likely the sole reason that heat pooled between my thighs right this moment. It would be so easy to simply throw one leg over his hips and straddle him in that chair, to taste his kiss and see if it would be as hot as an innocent touch.

I blinked out of the fantasy and forced myself to focus. Harder, of course, when Nathan closed his eyes as my fingers grazed his scalp, lightly scraping through his hair as I measured and re-measured and tried my hardest not to let my touch linger despite the connection feeling so damn good.

Sure, it had been a while since I’d invited anyone into my bed for a fun release, but this…this ran deeper. And I couldn’t stand it. The distraction. I didn’t have time for it. Maybe it would be better to straddle him and rock him out of my system right now so the rest of our work together would be free of that…urge.