Defender (Seattle Sharks 9)

She nodded, and I walked toward the door.

“Really, Harper? In the lab?” he lectured her.

I turned to look at her as I backed away, lifting the fingers I’d used to stroke her with and sucking them into my mouth to taste her.

Her mouth dropped, lust darkening her eyes.

I gave her a wicked grin and walked out, hearing her say, “Worth it.”

The other voices were squeals of, “Was that Nathan Noble?”

Hell yes it was, and I was hers.

If she wanted me.

Chapter 8

Harper

“You should come,” I said, packing up the last of my travel bag. My parents’ house was only a thirty-minute drive from here, but I always liked to be prepared just in case.

Nathan’s eyebrows climbed high on his head, and I bit my bottom lip. My mind flashed back to the impromptu make-out session in my lab. The way it had been wild and unmatched. Hot and tender. The feel of him against me, his fingers electric, the taste of him, the scent of him on my skin. I’d had a hard time concentrating since that moment, like my mind would never truly settle if we didn’t finish what we’d started.

But that was a bad idea.

Because we worked together.

Because I was leaving at the end of the summer.

Because he was an incredible NHL star who shouldn’t be wasting his time with an introverted brainiac like me.

“With me,” I clarified then snorted. “To my parent’s house.”

There.

That was a cold enough mental shower.

Nathan straightened from where he’d been leaning against my bedroom door frame—he’d popped over to discuss the away schedule for after Thanksgiving.

“You want me to meet your parents?” he asked, his hands casually tucked in the pockets of his jeans.

Finally finished packing, I was able to simply look at him—the way he filled out those jeans, the way his broad chest stretched the hunter green Henley he wore, the disheveled brown hair, and the brandy-colored eyes. Suddenly my bedroom seemed ten times smaller.

“Of course,” I managed to say, clearing my throat. “You shouldn’t be alone on Thanksgiving. But, like I’ve mentioned before, my family isn’t normal in the traditional sense.”

“Like the way you never celebrate your birthday, or at least you hadn’t before I came along.” He smiled, and I couldn’t help but return the gesture. He had ensured my birthday was incredible. As friends, of course. Or a fake boyfriend…whatever.

“Right,” I said. “So there will be food. And family. But no football or naps in front of the TV. There will be some games, I’m sure.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah.” I grinned, recalling the past. “Like sometimes my dad will drag out the two oversize whiteboards and set my brother and me against each other on a formula with one error—whoever finds the error first wins.”

Nathan pressed his lips together.

I shrugged. “I could ask to play something else.”

“Don’t on my account,” he said. “I love watching your mind work. More entertaining than a movie.”

I snorted again.

“Does it sound better than staying alone?” I asked.

He stepped closer, gazing down at me, playfulness in his eyes. “I wouldn’t be alone, butterfly.”

I tilted my head, arching my neck to meet his eyes.

“Ivy and Connor invited me to their place.”

The air left my lungs in a rush. “Right,” I said. “Of course.” I don’t know how I’d forgotten about his ice family. The people who sometimes seemed to have a bond stronger than blood relations.

“When do we leave?”

“What?” I asked, my eyes returning to his.

“I could drive,” he said. “Is it an overnight trip?”

“No, we’d come home after dinner. But...you want to come with me?”

“More than anything.” His answer was quick and dripping with that tone—the one that made my toes curl in my shoes.

“But Connor—”

“Will be fine without me. I’d rather spend the time with you.”

Heat flushed my cheeks at his declaration, and I couldn’t hold back my smile. “Perfect,” I said. “There is someone I’m dying for you to meet.”

* * *

An hour later we walked through the door of my parents’ house, not bothering to announce our entry. The living room was positioned right off the entryway, and almost my entire family filled the space. Sprawled across the lush furniture sat my sister, Anne, and her husband, Clark, their ten-year-old daughter, Ally, curled up beside them, actively playing with her tablet.

“Harper, you came,” Anne said, rising off the couch to wrap me in a hug.

“You doubted it?” I teased.

“You’re late,” she said as she eyed Nathan, who stood next to me. “But looks like you have one hell of a reason.” She jutted her hand out. “Anne, the non-genius sister.”

He shook it. “Nathan,” he said. “The non-genius Shark.”

“You have a PhD,” Clark said from where he’d stood to shake Nathan’s hand too.

Anne waved him off. “In psychology,” she clarified, her eyes still locked on Nathan’s. “Which in this family could mean I scrape barnacles off the bottom of sailboats.”