Faceoff (Northbrook Hockey Elite Book 1)

by Rebecca Connolly

  But what an intriguing idea . . .

  “Yep,” she said with a quick snap to her voice, pulling back and grinning at him. “I just like hugging you.”

  He smiled back, and she doubted he was fooled, but he only gestured to the house. “I like hugging you too. Holding you, really. And lots of other things. Skating with you . . . eating with you . . . ”

  “Stop it.” She laughed, fumbling for her keys and unlocking the door. “Don’t go through everything we’ve been doing. It’ll take ages.”

  “I’ve got time, and I wouldn’t mind a good reason to stay with you longer.”

  Bree turned around as she entered the apartment, widening her eyes. “Clint! Don’t intentionally make me blush.”

  His grin was slow and curled her toes easily. “Why not? You’re beautiful when you blush.”

  Oh boy. This might not be such a productive session researching internships at all.

  Distraction. Distraction, quick . . .

  “Oh,” she said slowly, forcing a teasing note into her shaking voice. “So I’m beautiful when I’m embarrassed? That’s great, that’s really great. Attractive when I’ve made a fool of myself.”

  “That isn’t what I said!” Clint laughed and sat himself down on the couch, watching her with a smile as she set her bag down and removed her jacket. “Some people blush when they’re pleased, you know.”

  Bree raised a brow. “Do they?” She went into her room to grab her laptop and took the unobserved moment to inhale and exhale gulping breaths of air. If she wasn’t careful, Clint was going to set her on fire.

  She’d blush with pleasure then, for sure, and everything would spiral from there.

  Breathing under control, Bree grabbed the computer and headed back into the living room. Clint hadn’t moved, and his attention on her was particularly fixed.

  Gulp.

  “Want something to drink?” she asked, her voice too high as she moved into the kitchen, laptop still clutched to her chest.

  “I’m good, thanks.”

  Oh. Great.

  She grabbed a bottle of water for herself from the fridge and turned back around to face him. Memories from the other night on the ice flooded back, and she could feel his hands on her waist, the gentle pressure propelling them both forward on the ice. The cold breeze from their motion combined with the heat of him behind her had made for a frenzied whirlwind of sensations within her, something addictive and delicious.

  Something she would never forget.

  Something filling her again now.

  “Bree,” Clint suddenly began, sitting forward on the couch and rubbing his hands together. “I need to tell you something.”

  She was doused in icy waters while she stood there, the shock of her heated memories popping in various parts of her with distress. “Yeah?”

  His smile was gentle, his eyes unreadable. “It’s been just a few weeks since that basketball game, and we’ve been seeing a lot of each other since then.” He broke off for a wry chuckle. “A lot, actually.”

  She could only nod, her grip on her laptop and water bottle clenching.

  “I’ve loved every minute of it,” he admitted with a rough, almost raw tinge to his voice that made her knees shake.

  “Me too,” she heard herself whisper, though she couldn’t actually feel her lips moving.

  Clint paused at that, then began rubbing his hands together again. “I’m . . . I’m never going to forget when I first saw you again. Standing there in the basketball concourse, your hands full of food, toe to toe with my teammates without any hesitation or intimidation. That alone would have impressed me, but . . . ”

  He trailed off, and Bree could almost feel herself leaning towards him, silently begging him to go on.

  She didn’t like the sound of “but” after how he’d begun.

  Clint laughed very softly, looking down at his still-moving hands. “I stood there like an idiot in the concourse, staring at you for a lot longer than I should have before I said anything to or about you. I couldn’t believe it was you, but I knew it was you, and somehow that made you even more beautiful than what my eyes were seeing.” His eyes dragged over to hers, and the intensity in their depths stole her breath. “It took me way too long to figure out what to even say to you until I got the opening I needed. I don’t even remember what I said to you that night because all I could think of was how beautiful you were and how much of an idiot I felt like.”

  The trembling in her knees increased and she set the bottle of water down on the counter, if for no other reason than to steady herself.

  “And then you hugged me, and I was a goner.” His throat worked on a swallow, and he nodded. “Knew then that things would be different. Better, I hoped. I was still speechless, but I knew.”

  Bree wet her lips very carefully, thousands of words tumbling end over end in her mind. “Nobody’s ever been speechless over me before.”

  He shook his head. “Doesn’t matter. I was. Still am. And the more time I spend with you, the more speechless I get.”

  Bree was speechless too. Speechless, breathless, senseless . . .

  “I’m in this, Bree,” Clint told her. “In for the long haul.”

  It was astonishing that she hadn’t actually crumpled to the floor or melted into a puddle, but her legs were absolutely not going to take much more of this. She turned just slightly to set her computer down, drummed her fingers on the top, then turned to face Clint again, exhaling shortly.

  “I think you’d better kiss me, Clint McCarthy. I think you’d better kiss me right now.”

  His eyes widened, and he pushed up to his feet, his mouth curving. “I was thinking the same thing, but I didn’t want to presume . . . ”

  Bree nodded on a shaky inhale. “Seriously. Now.”

  Clint’s shoulders dropped on a massive exhale, and he started towards her. “Finally.”

  She barely had time to gasp before his lips were on hers, pressing her back against the counter, one hand cupping her face and tilting it perfectly towards him. She grabbed for his shirt with one hand while the other snaked up to latch onto his neck. Her lips parted instantly for him, begging him to take full advantage, to drive her completely out of her mind until she forgot her own name.

  He seemed well on his way. There was no hesitation, no tentativeness, no resistance. His lips caressed and molded against hers, his free arm going around her waist and fitting her to him with far more perfection than she could ever have imagined. She pressed up on her tiptoes, bringing her other hand to join the first, pulling him closer, forcing the kiss deeper, curling her fingers against the skin of his neck as her pulse raced.

  Clint groaned and gave in to her, gave her everything, growled when she curled her fingers into his hair. He pressed her harder against the counter, his mouth gnawing at her lower lip, the corner of her mouth, running a ragged line to her jaw and niggling down to her chin, where he gently grazed the skin with his teeth.

  Bree exhaled in delight, dropping her head back, her fingers sliding further against his scalp. She needed more, needed his mouth on hers, needed him.

  She tugged his hair, forcing his mouth back up to hers. He lifted her to the counter, and she folded her arms around his neck, sighing against the wonders of his mouth.

  He chuckled breathlessly and gentled his kisses, his lips turning tender, wringing pleasure from her and delivering more of the same. After the depth of his previous kisses, these were maddening to the extreme, and every slow graze of his lips sent swirls of energy coiling into the arches of her feet.

  With a final gasp, her lips parted from his, exhausted and exhilarated after such a frenzy, and Bree touched her brow to Clint’s, shifting closer to him, her arms still tight around his neck.

  Clint exhaled with a soft whooshing sound, brushing his nose along hers. “Wow.”

  Shivering, Bree nodded against him. “Yeah. Wow.”

  “That’s been building up, huh?”

  She giggled, tightening h
er hold briefly. “Sure has. I thought I was going to come out of my skin.”

  “Yeah, I got that . . . ” He leaned in for a slow, gentle kiss. “But the feeling was mutual, so . . . ”

  Bree rested her forearms on his shoulders and pulled back just enough to get a good look at him, her fingers playing with his hair a little. “I don’t know how we’re supposed to get anything done anymore. Ever.”

  He grinned, squinting just a little at her. “Are you saying you want to kiss me again, Bree Stone?”

  She raised a knowing brow. “I’ve wanted to kiss you for a very, very long time, and now that I know what I’m getting into, I’m pretty sure I’ll be in a constant state of dying to kiss you at any given time.”

  Clint’s mouth dropped open, his entire frame stilling in her hold.

  Bree laughed softly and pulled him in for one more kiss. “Is that okay with you?”

  He swallowed, his fingers playing with the material of her shirt. “I believe the answer you are looking for is, ‘Yes, ma’am,’ but I am finding that hard to say when your heels are digging into the back of my knees and making my legs shake.”

  “What?” Bree glanced down, then burst out laughing. “Oh my gosh, I had no idea. When did that happen?”

  Clint shrugged. “Somewhere between the beginning and the end—it’s a little hazy—but I like being locked in like this.” He grinned playfully, then moved his hand to gently grip her chin, drawing her in for yet another kiss.

  But just a quick one.

  “Okay,” he said slowly, drawing the word out. “Now that that’s out of the way, shall we try to be productive?”

  Bree made a face. “Do we have to?”

  He gave her a searching look. “You’re the one with an internship to find. You tell me.”

  They stared at each other for a moment, then Bree slumped where she sat. “Yes, we have to.”

  He patted her waist soothingly. “Okay then. If you’ll kindly release me . . . ”

  She very slowly did so, and he gave her a warning look that made her laugh. He returned to the couch and patted the seat next to him.

  Bree sighed and hopped down from the counter. “Heard from your Northbrook guys?”

  “Actually, yeah. I asked Mr. White for that information you wanted, and he sent me way more than I bargained for.” He shook his head, widening his eyes as she came over. “No idea what to make of the mess, and I don’t know how to save the club if I can’t understand the details, but . . . ”

  An idea crashed into Bree’s mind as she slowly sat next to Clint on the couch, her eyes seeing nothing as the information surrounding such an idea unfolded.

  “Bree?” Clint prodded, his voice sounding very far off. “Breezy? Hey, babe, you in there?”

  She blinked and turned her attention to him, still processing.

  His brow furrowed. “Where’d you go?”

  Bree bit the side of her cheek, slowly releasing it as the whirling of her mind slowed. “Could you pull all that information up for me? Like now?”

  “Sure, but why?”

  She handed him her laptop and curled up next to him, excitement filling her in a completely different way. “I’m having a thought that might solve a whole lot of problems, or create a bunch of new ones. Hopefully both.”

  Bree was incredible.

  Clint had known that for some time, but the last few days had driven that point home with several exclamation points. Ever since she’d had the idea about Northbrook, she’d been on fire, wrapped up in thoughts and paperwork, typing away furiously. She barely came up for air or food, but the energy that he saw in her eyes and expression was the true magic.

  She was more alive than he had ever seen her, and he hadn’t thought she could get any more vibrant in his eyes.

  The actual details of what exactly her great idea was, she had yet to share. She was insistent that she would tell him as soon as she had something concrete, but he had a fair enough idea just by the questions she asked.

  She was taking on Northbrook. She had been looking at financial records, community reports, alumni of the program that had gone on to the pros, anything and everything surrounding Northbrook in any way, shape, or form. In the last few days, Bree had spoken to his parents five times as often as Clint had, all with random questions about Northbrook.

  He’d never seen anyone so fixated on a project in his entire life, but that was entirely Bree. Single-minded focus and an insatiable drive to see things through.

  Just yesterday he’d caught the tail end of a conversation between her and her dad that had cracked him up to no end.

  “I’m going to email you some numbers, and I was wondering if you could check them for me. Run an analysis, maybe.”

  There was a pause, followed by an exasperated sigh.

  “Yes, Daddy, I know I could do this myself, and maybe even do it faster. That isn’t the issue. I don’t have time to do this bit, so if you . . . Thank you. Love you. Call you later.”

  He’d asked her about it, but she’d brushed him off with an airy “You’ll find out” and kissed him in a way that made him forget he wanted answers to anything at all.

  It was amazing, but after that first kiss with Bree, all Clint wanted was more kisses with Bree.

  Years of them.

  Ages of them.

  She was more than accommodating in that regard.

  He smiled now as he stepped off of the team bus, just getting back from a trip to Florida to play Jacksonville, who had killed them. Normally he wasn’t thrilled coming home after a loss, but Bree made everything about coming home easier.

  She wouldn’t still be up this late, but he’d take her out to breakfast in the morning and hold her hand the entire time. It was just a habit; he needed to be continually touching her when they were together.

  He’d never been the touchy-feely kind of person until now.

  Until Bree.

  Grinning, he pulled out his phone to send her a goodnight text, fully aware of how cliché and cheesy it was and not particularly caring.

  He had a message waiting for him, but not from Bree.

  Grizz: Call me. Now.

  Clint’s smile turned the slightest bit hesitant. He knew exactly what this was about but wasn’t entirely sure he wanted this conversation.

  There wasn’t any avoiding it, but with a text like this, it wasn’t going to be pretty.

  It’s late, he texted back, hoping his brother would be asleep by now.

  When his phone almost immediately rang, he groaned but pressed the answer button anyway. “Why aren’t you sleeping?”

  “Because that was a jerk move you pulled, sending that kind of a text and then getting on a stupid plane so I couldn’t call and demand an explanation.”

  “Aww, you stayed up just to talk to me?” Clint clicked his tongue as though he were growing emotional. “That is so sweet, Grizz.”

  His brother grunted darkly. “Shut up. Now, will you kindly explain to me what in the world you meant by ‘I’m falling for Bree Stone’? Since when are you spending time with Bree?”

  Clint grinned to himself as he climbed into his truck, tossing his bag in the back. “Is Rachel there? Is she going to be firing questions at the phone with you?”

  “I’ll have you know my wife is fast asleep in bed, and I would very much like to join her, so please . . . ”

  “There is no way your wife would be sleeping if she knew you were going to drill me about Bree, so clearly you didn’t tell her.” He gasped dramatically. “Are you keeping secrets from your wife?”

  “Clint, I am very tired, it is very late, and I will very much pound you into oblivion next time you’re up here. Please.”

  Sensing his brother was actually quite concerned about the situation, Clint gave him a break. “Okay, what do you want to know?”

  “What the hell is going on? That’s what I’d like to know.”

  Clint sighed heavily and turned on his truck, waiting a second for the Bluetooth settings t
o connect. “Okay. Bree and I have been seeing each other since before you all came out for my first game. We ran into each other at the basketball game. We sent the Six Pack a selfie.”

  “I remember, yeah.”

  “And . . . I dunno, Grizz, it just happened. I was addicted to being with her, to her. It’s just been getting worse and worse, more and more and more . . . ” He exhaled, sputtering his lips as he pulled out of the arena parking lot. “I don’t even recognize myself anymore.”

  “Well, that happens. Rach hit me like a ton of bricks.”

  “I really shouldn’t be saying this to you first, you know,” Clint said with a laugh, “but . . . I’m in love with her. I am in love with Bree Stone. I don’t say that lightly either. This is the real thing. The big time. It’s been really fast and really intense, but man . . . it’s real.”

  There was no sound from the other end of the line.

  “Great,” Clint muttered to himself. “Did I lose you?”

  “No,” Grizz said slowly, not entirely sounding like himself. “No, I’m here.”

  Clint scowled. “Perfect. Now I wish I had lost you.”

  Again, Grizz gave him a grunt. “Not that lucky, baby bro.”

  “Don’t call me that.” Clint shook his head and exhaled slowly. “Fine. Go ahead, say your piece. Let me hear it.”

  “Give me a minute,” Grizz growled, and Clint could actually envision his brother rubbing his eyes while sitting at the kitchen table.

  Poor Grizz, having to put so many words together so late at night over an exasperating younger brother.

  “It can’t be Bree, Clint.”

  That wasn’t much of a surprise.

  “Why not?”

  “Because . . . because she’s Bree!”

  “Uh-huh. And it’s precisely because she’s Bree that I feel this way.”

  “Clint, you can’t.”

  “Why not?”

  “Six Pack.”

  Clint smiled tightly. “I’m not in the Six Pack. I’ve been telling you that for years.”

  “Seriously, Clint. You can’t. Breaks so many rules.”

  “Says the man who fell for and married Rachel Bennett.”

  He had Grizz there, and the brief moment of silence testified to that. “That’s different,” Grizz mumbled.