Standing up from the booth, a quick step puts me over on her side. With no hesitation I bend over and slip my hand around the back of her neck, pulling her up slightly toward me. A tiny gasp of surprise comes out of her mouth but I see her eyes fill with challenge.

Game on.

I angle my head in decisively and bring my mouth to hers. My kiss is confidently persuasive and she opens up to me. I don't plunder her invitation though, giving her just a moment where our lips touch, move against each other's in a whisper, then I pull back and release her.

Standing up, I look down at her and say, "Convinced?"

She nods back at me, her fingertips coming up to lightly touch at her lips, and I swear I can almost feel the touch against my own.

Moving back to my seat, I place my napkin back on my lap and ask again, "So will you go out with me tonight?"

She smiles at me. "Yes, I'd love to."

"Greata" I start to say, but then she cuts me off with a slap of her palm to her forehead.

"Shit, wait. I can't. I have plans already."

My hackles immediately rise up high, because I assume it's a date she has planned. My anger builds quickly but before I can say something, she says, "Unless...you'd want to come with me?"

Blinking at her a few times so I make sure I understand what she's saying, I ask, "Where would that be?"

"To my parents' house. Family dinner."

My immediate instinct is to say no and several reasons filter through my head. First, I want Sutton all to myself. I don't want to share her right now. Second, seems kind of lame to meet her parents for our first dateaand this could be our only date for all I knowaand finally, did I mention I want Sutton all to myself?

Then I remember that I'm leaving tomorrow for an extended away-game schedule and won't be back for another five days. Suddenly I realize I'll take Sutton any way I can get her. "Okay. I'm in."

"Really?" she asks, looking at me skeptically.

"Yeah, why not?"

"It's just...seems kind of lame, going to my parents' house for a first date."

"Thought the same thing when you suggested it."

"Painfully honest, right?"

Grinning at her, I nod. "Yup. But I realized I'd just like to spend time with you, and if your parents are half as cool as you, I'm thinking this will be fun."

"They're great. You'll love them. My mom and Jim-Dad have achieved sainthood already in my book."

"Jim-Dad?" I ask with a laugh.

"He's my stepdad. He's raised me since I was about eight."

"What about your real dad?"

"Jim-Dad is my real dad," she says, not with any censure but with genuine warmth and amusement. "Now, if you're talking about the sperm donor who is my birth fatherawell, he's floating around Raleigh somewhere. He flits in and out of my life on occasion, depending on whether he's clean or not."

My mouth drops open and I stare at her in disbelief over what I think she just implied, and the way she said it with full acceptance and not an ounce of bitterness. "Your dad is a...?"

"Drug addict? Yup. He's definitely not father of the year, but I try to support him as best I can."

"And by support you mean...?"

"Not financial. I mean I try to give him encouragement and emotional support, but it's hard when I've watched him yo-yo back and forth."

I'm quiet for a moment, comparing her revelation to thoughts of my own father, who battles with alcohol. No, that's not quite right. He doesn't battle. That would imply he's tried to quit at some point, but he never has to my knowledge. He has succumbed, nothing more.

"Is that why you do what you do?" I ask her.

"Drug counseling? Pretty obvious, right?"

"Pretty fucking impressive, I'd say."

Sutton's face flushes red and she averts her gaze with uncharacteristic shyness. She picks up the fork and starts fiddling with it again while she continues. "My life was very bad when my dad was part of it. His drug addiction brought a lot of suffering down on my mom and me. My mom saved me, though. She got me out of that environmentaas best she could. Then Jim-Dad saved us both."

Laying the fork back down, she lifts her eyes to meet mine, and she is smiling in a moment of happy reflection and love for her family.

I want to hear all about her story, but I'm actually afraid to. I'm afraid to hear it because of the comparisons I'll draw to my own life, and I hate thinking about my childhood. I also don't want to hear her story because something churns a bit in my gut. It appears we both had crappy childhoods, yet Sutton seems to have adjusted just fine. At least from what I can tell.

Me?

Not so much. I've let my past shape me into something that a few weeks ago I was pretty comfortable with.

But now?

Now I'm not sure I like looking in the mirror and seeing the reflection. I'm pretty confident that while Sutton has been a beautiful, bright spot in my life recently, she could also cause me a world of hurt by peeling away my scabs. I like her, want to get to know her, want to spend time with her.

Want to fuck her, no doubt.

But I don't want to get too close. I think that would cause repercussions that I probably couldn't bear in the long run.

Chapter 12.

Sutton

I can't believe I'm on a date with Alex Crossman. I can't believe Alex Crossman just had dinner at my parents' house. I can't believe I want him to kiss me more than I've ever wanted to be kissed before, and my palms are sweating so badly over the prospect I keep wiping them on my jeans.

The evening has been perfect so far. Alex picked me up at my house. When I invited him in and asked if he wanted a tour, he just gave me a slick grin and said, "Later. When I drop you off."

And that was when my insanely slutty side came to light. All I could imagine was him coming into my house and pushing me up against the wall...taking all kinds of indecent liberties with me whether I wanted him to or not. The image was burned so hotly into my mind that I kept revisiting it during dinner.

Sometimes I even had a hard time concentrating on what was going on around me, my mind wandering toward my fantasies rather than my reality.

And the reality was, that dinner was fun and wonderful, and the best part was seeing Glenn's face when I showed up with Alex. I thought he was going to perish on the spot, and he got so tongue-tied that he could barely say hello. Alex had pulled a bag out of the back of his Suburban when we pulled up in front of my parents' home, and when I asked what was in it, he just shrugged and said, "A few things for your brother."

A few things turned out to be a signed Crossman jersey, four tickets to the next home game for the entire family, a signed Crossman poster and a stick signed by the Cold Fury's goalie, Max Fournier. I freakin' had to turn my head and wipe my eyes on my shoulder when I saw the way Glenn's face lit up. For a split second, he doubted the entire bounty before him, and looked to Mom for reassurance that it was okay to accept so many wonderful gifts. Then my little brotheramy beautiful little baby brotheralooked to Alex and said, "It's too much."

Alex flinched slightly, then his face broke out with understanding. Treading a very fine line between encouragement to accept and understanding over Glenn's sensitivity to money, Alex played it off beautifully. He said, "No way, dude. I've had this stuff just sitting around my apartment."

Which was a lie. The freakin' stick was signed by Max Fournier, so Alex had taken the time to get this stuff for Glenn. I wanted to launch myself at him with a hug of epic proportions, but to everyone's surprise, Glenn beat me to it. He stood up from his chair and flung his arms around Alex as he sat on the couch next to me. I couldn't help but grin when Alex caught him in a bear hug and awkwardly patted Glenn on the back, looking over his shoulder at me with a soft smile.

Dinner was amazing, thanks to the fact my mom is like the best cook in the world. Despite the crusty and surly side of Alex that I had seen on occasion, he was nothing but open and candid with my family. Glenn chattered away at him incessantly with my mom and Jim-Dad popping in questions every now and then. I did notice, however, that he gently steered away from any questions about his childhood or his own parents, instead focusing on the fact that he had left home permanently to live with a foster family while playing in the Quebec Juniors. This was interesting to me because he focused on his early hockey career, when I know for a fact that he doesn't care too much for said career at all. The counselor side of me knows he's avoiding something that is more painful than his distaste for the sport.

Regardless, my mom hugged him warmly when we were leaving, and Jim-Dad invited him back over anytime he wanted. Glenn was a bit shy, his prior spontaneous hug clearly related to the excitement of Alex's gifts, so Alex bent down and held out his fist for Glenn to bump, saying, "See you next week after the game?"

Glenn nodded shyly, but I could see he was about ready to burst from the prospect.

"You're awful quiet over there," Alex says as we drive toward my house.

"Just thinking about Glenn. You really spoiled him tonight."

"No way. You can tell that's a kid who deserves to be spoiled."

I smile because that's so true. "He hasn't had a lot of nice things in life. Money has always been so tight, but he's the most appreciative kid you'll ever meet. So yeah...I guess he deserves it."

Alex reaches across the seat and takes my hand in his. It's an intimate move, and I can't stop the tiny shiver that runs through me from the contact. He squeezes my hand and says, "I think you might deserve to be spoiled too."

I turn to look at him, the ambient lighting of the car's stereo system emphasizing the sharp angles of his face. He turns to give me a brief glance and his eyes are serious, intent as they watch for my reaction.

"Alexa" I start to say, then I realize I have no clue what to say. His words are so heartfelt, yet tentative, because I can tell he has never spoken those words before.

Turning his attention back to the road, Alex pulls my hand across the expanse of the vehicle and brings it to his mouth. He grazes his lips across the inside of my wrist then releases his hold on me. That touch...oh, that touch of his lips. So seductive yet full of caring at the same time, I feel practically dizzy from the overwhelming emotions coursing through me.

"Sutton...I don't know what this is...between us. But I know it's something. I know it's pulling me, and trust me when I tell you...nothing has pulled at me in a long time."

"I feel it too," I admit in a whisper.

"Then let's see where this goes," he says confidently, and I'm nodding my head in agreement even as I say, "Okay."

But I do wonder...where exactly am I pulling Alex? I'd know if I only knew what direction I'm headed in myself. Does this have the potential to be something serious? Or does someone like Alex even do serious?

For all I know, his words tonight mean nothing more than he wants me to pull him straight into my bed. Maybe this is just sex. After all, that other girlaCassieashe was just a hookup.

Maybe I'm just a hookup.

I search my feelings to see how I truly feel about that, and of course, I don't like it. While I thought the other night that maybe my lack of feelings toward Brandon had something to do with the fact that I wanted to sow my wild oats like he had done, the simple truth of the matter is that I just can't have casual sex.

Looking out the windshield, I see that Alex is pulling into my driveway, and I start to freak outawhat if he's expecting to get laid right now?

"I can't have sex with you tonight," I blurt out, because I need to be up-front with him.

His head jerks my way and even in the gloom of the dark car, I can see his lips curve upward. He ignores my statement for a moment. When he cuts the engine off, he turns to me and says, "Who said I want to have sex with you?"

"But...you said...there's something...and that other woman...I thought that's what you might want...." I drift off lamely, because now I'm suddenly confused and feeling like I misread the signals.

Alex gives a husky laugh. "I'm teasing you. And I didn't intend to have sex with you tonight. Now, are you going to invite me in to show me your place, and then maybe we can hang for a little bit? I have to get home before too long to get packed for my trip."

Thank God it's dark in the car because my face is flaming over my misconception of the matter. "Okay," I mumble in response, and jump out of his SUV before he can make it over to my door to open it.

Alex follows me up my front porch and waits as I unlock the door. Flipping the lights on as we enter, I wait for him to come in and shut the door behind him. After I set my keys and purse down on one of the end tables, I ask, "Do you want something to drink?"

"No," he says as he walks over and sits down on my couch.

"Do you want a tour of my house?" I ask, which seems ludicrously stupid.

"No. I want you to come sit down next to me," he says as he pats the cushion. "I think I'd rather make out with you a little bit before I have to leave."

There go my palms again, sweating up a storm; I wipe them on my jean-clad thighs. He, of course, notices that move and I feel like an idiot.

"Are you nervous?" he asks.

"A little," I admit as I walk toward him slowly.

When I reach the couch, he lifts a hand out to me and I put mine hesitantly in his, praying to God I got all the moisture off. He clasps me warmly and says, "I don't bite."

Some of my nervousness melts away and I relax marginally, but then he gives a tug on my hand and I go falling toward him with a yelp. I land on his lap, and he expertly turns me to the side so my legs drape across the couch and his arm supports my back.

Alex is grinning at me, for some reason enjoying the tension that I've let build up because of my nerves. His other hand comes up, skimming his fingertips down my jaw. "You're adorable when you're nervous," he says. "I like that."

"I'm sorry," I blurt, but before I can get another word out, he leans in and kisses me.

And even though this is the second time that his lips have been against mine this day, I realize that what he did to me before could not even be categorized as a kiss. In fact, I'm not sure that any other man's lips touching mineaand there haven't been that manyacould have even been considered a kiss.

I'm not sure if it's the softness with which he first touches me, or the way that my lips seem to follow his when he opens his mouth to let his tongue slide in, but every nerve, tendon and muscle in my body seems to fire hot with pleasure. The contact is so explosive, so richly captivating, that I immediately feel like I'm drowning in a sea of desire.

I'm completely embarrassed that at the first touch of his tongue to mine, I moan loudly into his mouth and my arms snake quickly around his neck to pull him closer. For a woman who just proclaimed not two minutes ago that I wasn't having sex with him tonight, I sure as hell want to strip naked and climb on top of him right now.

Alex's arms come around me tighter and our mouths move more insistently against each other's. My fingers slide into his long hair and I marvel for a moment how soft and silky it is. Then Alex's mouth breaks away from mine and he runs his lips across my jaw and down my neck, the stubble of his chin causing electrical sparks to fire across my skin.

I feel so hot and needy, and I want him to go further. To hell with what I just said down in Alex's car, I want to have sex with Alexaright this very minute. Mentally urging his hands to move, to explore, to strip, I almost beg him out loud to do those things to me.

Almost, and I'm glad I don't, because Alex ends up being the sane one of the two of us, and he pulls away from me with a frustrated sigh and a whole lot of heavy breathing.

Leaning his forehead against my temple, he says, "God, I could do that all night."