Square to the Puck (Offsides #2)

by J.J. Mulder

This time when I walk Nigel to the door, I don’t bother with the entryway light, instead allowing the backlighting from the kitchen and dining area to illuminate the hall. He puts on his shoes, thanks me for dinner, and reaches for the door. I stop him with a hand on the forearm, his gaze immediately locking onto mine. I didn’t even mean to do it, but now that I did, I realize I don’t want to let him leave with anything less than last time. Pitiful as it is, I can’t handle anything more than a hug, not yet having worked myself up beyond that. I use my grip on his arm to pull him toward me, and he steps up with no resistance, wrapping his arms around me and drawing them tight. He’s gripping me harder than last time, as though more confident that I won’t pull away. God, I want to kiss him. I should kiss him—pull back just enough to see him, maybe cup his face the way he did to mine all those years ago. I could do it. He stands so still in my arms, the only movement coming from the expansion of his rib cage beneath my hands. His face is turned into my hair, breath tickling the top of my ear every time he exhales. I slide my hand up his back, feeling daring. There’s no way he can’t feel my heart pounding right now, pressed close as we are, but he remains stationary so I keep going until my fingertips touch the bare skin of his neck. It feels easy, like this, with the lights low and my face pressed into his shoulder. Maybe this is how it could always be. I skim my hand up the r...