Chapter 63 Chapter Sixty-Three
Vanessa POV
The meeting with Dr. Han had gone well—she'd been pleased with my progress on the dissertation and even complimented the depth of my player interviews.
It was the last meeting for the term until the Christmas break so I'd have some time to think the rest of it through at the very least. I should have been ecstatic, riding high of my academic validation.
Instead, all I could think about was my date with Danny tonight.
And more specifically, about the fact that every time things started to heat up between us, he pulled away.
I understood his reasoning. I really did since he wanted to take things slow, build a solid foundation, not repeat the mistakes of our past relationship. It was mature and thoughtful and exactly the kind of approach that made sense.
But it was also driving me absolutely insane.
I'd spent the afternoon getting ready—showering, doing my hair, changing outfits three times before settling on jeans and the green sweater Danny had once said brought out my eyes. I'd even put on makeup, which I rarely bothered with for casual dates.
When Danny picked me up at seven on the dot, he looked unfairly handsome in dark jeans and a button-down shirt, and the way his eyes lit up when he saw me made my stomach flip.
"You look beautiful," he said, and the sincerity in his voice made me blush.
"You don't look so bad yourself," I said, trying to play it cool even though my heart was racing.
Dinner had been perfect—a little Italian place off campus where we talked and laughed and shared a pasta dish that was so good I'd momentarily forgotten my sexual frustration.
Danny told me about practice with the new player, Ryan, who was apparently a fast learner but needed work on his defensive plays. I told him about Dr. Han's feedback and my plans for the next chapter of my dissertation.
It felt normal, easy. Like we were any other couple on any other date.
And then we'd come back to my apartment to watch a movie, and now, two hours later, I was ready to combust from sheer frustration.
We were supposed to be watching some action thriller Dylan had recommended. I couldn't remember the title.
Couldn't remember the plot. Hell I couldn't remember anything except the feeling of Danny's arm around my shoulders, his thumb tracing absent patterns on my arm, his body warm and solid beside me on the couch.
The movie had devolved into white noise about forty-five minutes ago when Danny had leaned over and pressed a soft kiss to my temple. I'd turned toward him, and he'd kissed me properly—just a quick peck, nothing heavy.
Except somehow that peck had turned into something more.
Danny's hand cupped the back of my neck, angling my head so he could deepen the kiss. I shifted closer, practically climbing into his lap, and his other hand found my waist, pulling me against him.
God, he was such a good kisser. I couldn't believe I had forgotten that, three years apparently was enough to fog my memory.
He knew exactly how much pressure to use, when to slow down and when to speed up, using just his lips and tongue to make me forget my own name.
My hands were in his hair, tugging gently, and he made this low sound in his throat that sent heat pooling low in my stomach. The movie was still playing in the background—explosions and dramatic music that neither of us was paying attention to.
I wanted more. I needed more.
My hands moved from his hair to his chest, feeling the solid muscle beneath his shirt. I could feel his heart racing under my palm, matching the frantic rhythm of my own.
This was it.
The moment where things would finally go beyond just kissing. I could feel it in the way Danny's hands tightened on my waist, in the way his breathing had gone ragged, in the way he kissed me like he was drowning and I was air.
I made a decision.
My hand slid from his chest to his wrist, and before I could second-guess myself, I guided his hand up to my breast.
Danny froze.
For a second, neither of us moved. His hand was exactly where I'd placed it, warm through the fabric of my sweater, and I could feel my heart pounding so hard I was sure he could too.
Then his phone rang.
The shrill sound cut through the room like a knife, and Danny jerked back like he'd been burned. His hand dropped from my breast, and suddenly there was cold air between us where moments ago there had been heat and pressure and promise.
"Shit," Danny muttered, fumbling for his phone on the coffee table.
"I'm sorry, I—"
He looked at the screen, and something in his expression changed from aroused and confused to worried.
"I have to take this," he said, already standing up.
"It's Coach."
He stepped into my bedroom,his phone pressed to his ear, and I sat there on the couch, breathing hard, my body still thrumming with unfulfilled desire.
What the hell just happened?
I could hear Danny's voice through the door, muffled but urgent.
"Yeah, Coach. I understand. No, I can be there in twenty minutes. Is he okay?"
Silence as he listened.
"Right. Okay. I'll head over now."
A minute later, Danny emerged from my bedroom, running a hand through his hair—hair that was messy from my fingers—and looking apologetic.
"I have to go," he said, and he was already grabbing his jacket.
"There's an issue with one of the players. Ryan got into a fight with one of the guys during an impromptu practice and they need me at the athletic center."
"Is he okay?" I asked, trying to focus on the actual emergency and not on the fact that my body was still humming with need.
"Coach thinks he might have hurt him from taking so many punches but I have to make sure he's fine," Danny said, already moving toward the door.
"I need to make sure he's alright and talk to the team about not doing unsupervised practices without proper safety protocols."
He was captain. Of course he had to go. I understood that logically.
Emotionally, though, I wanted to scream.
"Okay," I said, forcing a smile.
"Go. Take care of your team."
Danny stopped at the door and turned back, crossing the room in three long strides.
He cupped my face and kissed me hard, the hard press of his lips against mine that promised more, that said "this isn't over," it made my toes curl and my breath catch.
"I'm sorry," he murmured against my lips.
"Rain check?"
"Sure," I managed to say, even though my brain was currently offline.
"I'll call you later," Danny promised, kissing me one more time before pulling away and heading for the door.
And then he was gone