Only the younger version of myself never saw him coming. Lord knows,Ididn't see him coming, not even when I was stepping over him on the ice. I don't think that younger version even knew what to ask for when she thought about the man who'd sweep her off her feet. She certainly never envisioned a hockey star with a panty-melting smirk and a penchant for stalking her DMs.
By the time I make it back to the dressing room, he has all my stuff packed up. I stand in the doorway, gaping at him.
"You didn't have to do that," I whisper.
"I don't mind." He strides toward me, wrapping an arm around my waist. "The sooner we're done here, the sooner I get you alone again." His lips brush mine. "I want you to come home with me tonight."
My core clenches, heat flooding through me.
"I'm ready," I say, meaning it in more ways than I think he even knows.
Or maybe he does, because he grins at me like I just gave him the entire world.
We leave the stadium hand in hand.
Everly catches us before we make it to the parking lot, grinning like she just caught me stealing cookies.
"Mom called," she says, her gaze drifting to Kingston. "Dad wants to meet him."
"Crap," I groan, darting a look at him. If my dad wants to meet him, then videos of tonight are already all over the internet. My dad is smart. He knows if I'm kissing Kingston on stage, it means something.
"I'll do whatever you want, princess," Kingston says with a shrug. "If you don't want me to meet him, that's fine with me. You call the shots here."
"Tell her that I'll call her tomorrow. We'll discuss it," I mumble, not even remotely prepared to think about this right now. It's way too much.
Everly just shrugs in response. "I'll babysit Rufus. Don't do anything I wouldn't do!" she shouts as she walks away.
I groan, hiding my face in my hands.
Kingston just chuckles beside me, pulling me up against his side. "Come on, princess. You've had enough for the night."
Of my family? Absolutely. Of him? Never.
I'm not sure whyI expect him to live in a fancy mansion in a gated community, but he doesn't. He lives in a gorgeous three-bedroom beach house in Malibu. There are no gates, no security guards, nothing but sand and water stretching for miles. I know it probably cost him as much as a mansion in the Hills orCalabasas, but I like this better. It feels more like a family home than something he bought to impress everyone around him.
"I always wanted to live on the ocean," he murmurs, his hand trailing along my spine as he leads me inside. "When we visited when I was a kid, I thought the ocean was magic."
"I always thought the same thing," I murmur, turning to look up at him, only to find his eyes already locked on my face. The way he's looking at me makes me shiver. It's not like he's waiting for my reaction or like he expects me to be impressed. He's watching me like he just can't help himself again.
I could easily get addicted to that. So freaking easily.
"The first thing I did when I landed was drive out to Venice and put my feet in the water," I whisper, smiling at the memory. "We did it every time we visited with my parents. I had to do it again, just to carry on the tradition. It felt a little like bringing my whole family with me."
"Christ," he rasps. "You're so fucking cute, Evie." His hands span my waist, pulling me up against his body. "I just want to listen to you talk until you lose your voice, you know that?"
"Really?" I grin at him. "I'm not that interesting."
"The hell you aren't." His nose skims the side of my face, his grip on me tightening. "You're the most fascinating thing I've ever seen. You know, you looked like a goddess on that stage tonight? You were glowing."
"Performing makes me happy."
He lifts me like I'm weightless, setting me on the back of the couch. His lips run down the side of my throat as he steps between my legs, pulling me close. "I could spend my life watching you up there and not regret a second of it."
I moan because he's kissing me, because his hands are on me, because I can tell he means it. "You're a dangerous man, Kingston Monroe."
"How so?"
"You're making it impossible not to fall for you," I whisper, my heart in my throat. The words are terrifying—literally the most terrifying thing I've ever said. I think they may be the most important, too.