“I’m sure you’ll have more fun in here with me than out there in that wind.”
“I’ll take my chances.”
He smiled even wider, and I was thankful there wasn’t a light in that hot tub because from this angle, I was pretty sure I’d be able to see everything.
When we made it out of the harbor, the wind picked up even more, and I curled in on myself, teeth chattering. Even with the third glass of champagne I eagerly downed, hoping it would bring a little warmth, there was no use.
I was a Popsicle.
“Fine,” I gritted out, standing and reluctantly shrugging off my blanket. “T-turn around and c-close your eyes.”
“I like it when you’re bossy,” Vince said, and I flicked him off before he did what I asked.
Quickly, I undressed, leaving my thong and bra on. I figured I could change and get home without them under my clothes later, but it seemed pressing to not get into that hot tub naked with Vince Tanev.
The water stung at first when I stepped in, prickling my skin until I was fully submerged. When I was, I let out a long sigh of relief. The water was perfectly warm.
“Aren’t you glad you didn’t let your stubbornness win?” Vince asked, turning to look at me. I didn’t miss how his eyes immediately went to my tits, and he almost looked disappointed to find them covered.
I splashed him.
For a while we sat in a comfortable silence, relaxing in the bubbling water. I didn’t realize I let out another long sigh until I opened my eyes and found Vince looking at me.
“You needed this.”
I was tempted to argue with him, but the water had me feeling more relaxed than I had in weeks. “Maybe I did.”
“Something wrong?”
“No,” I said on another sigh. “Just… a lot going on, I guess.”
“You need to unwind.”
I laughed. “Right, with all my free time.”
That made Vince frown, and I waved him off.
“I’m fine. I do yoga when I can, which helps, and this is all temporary. I’ll be back to my normal routine before I know it.”
I thought that made him frown even more, but he smiled so quickly on the edge of it that I couldn’t be sure.
“Turn around,” he said, moving slowly toward me. He was like a snake in the water, gliding through it, head just above the waterline, his muscular shoulders making a small wake.
“What are you doing?” I asked, backing away.
His hand caught my wrist under water, and he tugged me forward before spinning me to face the opposite way.
“You are a terrible listener,” he said in my ear.
Chills swept over me, and in the next breath, his massive hands were wrapped around my shoulders, thumbs kneading into the tense muscles.
I moaned so loudly my face flamed with embarrassment.
Vince paused only a second before continuing his delicious assault, and I had no choice but to melt into him. The water, his hands — it all felt so fucking good.
The silence was no longer comfortable.
It was heavy, weighted with something that made me want to run for my life. So I cleared my throat and reached for the first thing I could think of to break it.
“That was really sweet,” I said, biting back another groan that I wanted so desperately to release when he rubbed my sore rhomboids. All my focus was on not focusing on how Vince Tanev was naked behind me with his hands on my body. “What you did with the kids at that rink yesterday…”
“Just paying a visit to an old friend.”
My stomach soured a bit. “Yeah. Bobby seems to know you really well.”
He nodded. “We were close at Michigan. He’s a beast of a defenseman, just as good, if not better, than Brittzy.”
“Why didn’t he go pro?”
“He could have. He had teams who wanted him. He probably would have started in the AHL, though,” he said. “But even if they would have told him he could have come straight to the NHL, I don’t think he would have. Bobby has always wanted to coach, to be at that rink that helped him so much. Not everyone has parents who can afford to drop the kind of cash hockey requires.”
I let that sit for a moment, wincing as he dug his thumbs into my neck. I let my head fall back when he moved to my shoulders again.
“You’ve been off on this trip.”
It was a statement, not so much a question, and Vince didn’t answer for a long moment.
“I need to play better.”
I barked out a laugh. “Why, so you can win all three stars of the game instead of just one?”
“I didn’t score in either of these games,” he said.
“You had an assist.”
“It’s not the same.”
I pulled away, turning so I could face him. I immediately missed the feel of his hands on me — which was a problem in and of itself — but I wanted to look at him when I said, “You don’t have to carry the weight of the team on your shoulders.”
“No,” he agreed, his eyes glued to mine. “But I can play better.”
“You’re a perfectionist.”
“I just hold myself to a high standard.”
“That must be exhausting.”
He smiled, looking up at the sky before he looked at me again. “It’s the opposite, actually. I feel energized when I’m performing well, when I’m scoring goals and training hard. I feel my best when I’m performing on and off the ice.”
“What are you afraid of?”
The question seemed to catch him off guard, and Vince watched me for a long pause before he answered.
“Being worthless.”
I wasn’t expecting such an honest answer. In fact, I guess I’d been expecting a joke, because the vulnerability with which he said those words struck me like a bat against the head.
I frowned, and the longer I watched him, the more Vince shifted under my gaze. Eventually, he cleared his throat and motioned for me to turn around again, swirling his pointer finger in the air. When I did, he went back to massaging my shoulders.
I groaned. “God. This feels so good.”
“Still mad at me?”
I felt under the water for his side, and then pinched it hard enough to make him squirm away.
“Ow,” he said, pointedly.
“You deserved it.”
“Why? What’d I do?”
I didn’t humor him with a response, which made him let out a soft laugh.
“You really are tense,” he said, finding a particularly stubborn knot under my shoulder blade and digging into it. I hissed, but didn’t pull away, knowing I’d feel better once it was worked out.
“Yeah, well, let’s just say, I’m not used to your hours yet.”
“Tell me about your life. What did a normal day look like before you got this assignment?”
I sighed. “Well, I usually start my morning on my mat.”
“Yoga?”
I nodded. “And then coffee, of course.”
“Of course.”
“From there, it depends. On the weekends, I’m probably tending my garden, or spending time at the beach, or hitting a new brunch spot with Liv. Sundays start at the park, as you know. If it’s a weekday, I’m either in the office or out on the town, depending on what my job is that day.”