Slap Shot (D.C. Stars, #3)

by Chelsea Curto

“I stuffed my face tonight too. I’m pretty sure I’m going to explode like a can of biscuits when I take off my jeans.” Hudson blinks, and it’s like he moves from unconscious to wide awake in the span of two seconds. His gaze roams down my body, and he’s never looked at me like this. Intentionally, and without an hurry. Under his attention, I’m aware of the thin straps of my bodysuit slipping down my arm. The way my breasts are pushed together and how tightly my pants hug my thighs. It’s like he’s undressing me, almost, and when his eyes get back to my face, they’re full of heat. “Wow. You look—” He stops mid-sentence. His throat bobs around a swallow. “Incredible.” “I do?” “Yeah.” His voice is deeper than before, and he can’t stop staring at my collarbone. “I like your shirt. Top. Thing.” I think I’m a little drunk. I think my conversation with the girls earlier is making me a little bold, because instead of hiding, I stay in place. I lean back and rest my hands on the edge of the counter, pushing my chest out ever so slightly. Hudson’s eyes flick to my breasts for a millisecond before he glances at the floor and cups the back of his neck, acting like he got caught doing something he shouldn’t have. I wonder what it would feel like if he hooked his thumbs in my bodysuit’s straps and dragged them down my arms. I wonder what it would feel like to have his hands on me. I’ve been wondering about these things more and more lately, and I wonder if he’s wondering about them too. ...