Charles glanced over at Taylor, wondering why she was so quiet. She'd been this way for most of the night, ever since they'd left the arena. Before then, even, if he stopped to think about it. He had sensed something wasn't quite right when she was on the concourse, signing autographs with the rest of the team. Yes, she'd been smiling and laughing, posing for pictures and signing the stack of pucks and shirts Murphy had ordered for the event. But he'd seen the hint of shadows in her eyes, noticed the few times her smile had faded as she'd gotten a faraway look on her face.

Almost like the look she had gotten on her face when they were standing in the tunnel before hitting the ice. He'd known exactly what she was remembering. How could he not, when he was remembering the same thing? It was hard not to, not when everything was almost exactly the same as it had been twelve years ago. That's why he'd gone over to her, why he'd said what he did. Had he been too obvious? Let too much show? Maybe, because Murph had given him an odd look when he joined him again, after the team had moved out to the ice. But Murph hadn't said anything.

There wasn't anything he could say. There was no rule about fraternizing, nothing prohibiting it. Maybe there should be. Maybe there would be. But right now, there wasn't.

And it wasn't like they weren't being discreet. They were.

But none of that had anything to do with Taylor's uncharacteristic silence.

He lowered himself to the leather sofa and held out the glass of wine he had just brought in from the kitchen. Taylor took it, her lips curling in a brief smile of thanks, then simply sat there, holding it, that faraway look in her eyes again.

He shifted closer and draped one arm around her shoulders then pulled her closer.

"I think tonight went fairly well, don't you?"

Taylor nodded and took a sip of wine, then cradled the glass between both hands. "Yeah. It was good."

"There was a nice turnout for the autographs. Another good sign."

"Yeah. Good."

Charles swallowed a sigh and ran his fingers through the length of her hair, watching as the soft light played on the silky strands. Taylor didn't move, just sat there staring into her glass of wine.

He sat back and nudged her knee with his own, waiting until she finally looked over at him. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing. Why?"

"Because you didn't brush my hand away when I started playing with your hair. Because you're just sitting there, looking like you're lost and lonely." He ran the tip of his finger along the bare skin of her forearm, across her wrist to her fingers. She released her hold on the wine glass and curled her fingers around his own, her grip loose.

"Come on, out with it. What's wrong?"

Her brows lowered over her shadowed eyes as she shook her head. "Nothing's wrong."

"You know I'm not buying that, right?"

A few minutes went by, filled with nothing but the soft strains of music coming from the sound system across the room. He waited, watching as Taylor shifted on the sofa, that odd frown on her face—like she was trying to figure something out, only she wasn't quite sure what it was. She started to raise the glass to her lips, hesitated, then leaned forward and placed it on the glass coffee table in front of them. Her shoulders heaved with the force of her deep breath as she turned and faced him.

"How can you even stand to be with me?"

The question surprised him so much, he couldn't even blink. He tilted his head to the side, wondering if he had misunderstood, then leaned forward until their noses were almost touching. "I'm sorry. What? I don't think I heard—"

"You heard me." Taylor slid away from him, just enough to put a few inches of space between them. "How can you stand to be with me? After the way I treated you?"

Charles reached for his own glass of wine and took a long swallow, trying to get his thoughts in order. It didn't help. "Am I missing something? After you treated me like what, when?"

Taylor folded her hands in her lap, her fingers twisting together. She stared at her hands for a long minute then released another heavy sigh and finally met his gaze. "When we were kids. I was such a cocky little shit, all those things I said to you—"

"Taylor—"

"And even a couple of months ago, when I first saw you again. And then—"

"Taylor—"

"I just don't understand how—"

Charles leaned forward and captured her mouth with his own, finally silencing her. She tensed under his kiss, but only for a second. Then she sighed into his mouth and leaned against him, her arms wrapping around his neck. And God, it would be so easy to lose himself in her kiss. Her touch. To lift her into his arms and carry her back to his room.

But not yet. They needed to talk. He needed to find out what was bothering her first, to find out what was behind her questions.

He gentled the kiss and eased away from her, then reached up and tucked a thick strand of hair behind her ear. "So what's going on? Why all the worries?"

"I just don't understand why you want to be with me after I was so mean."

"Are you talking about when we were kids?"

"Yeah. Mostly. But recently, too. When you first started working for the Blades."

"Why are you so worried about what happened twelve years ago?"

"Because I was so mean. And cocky." She leaned back and stared down at her hands again. "I can't believe I was that awful—"

"Taylor, you weren't awful."

"How can you say that?"

"Because I was there, remember? We always got into it when were kids. But you never dished out more than you were handed. If you remember correctly, I wasn't exactly super nice to you, either."

"Yeah, but—"

"No buts about it. I was always teasing you, egging you on. But you never backed down. That's one of the things I liked about you."

"But—I was mean!"

Her face was screwed up into such a comical expression of dismay that Charles almost laughed. Not because it was funny—it wasn't. She was truly upset, convinced that she had been so awful to him all those years ago. But he remembered it differently, remembered how he'd been so jealous and intimidated. Remembered how he'd said his own share of mean things to her, teasing her, pushing her. Didn't she remember any of that?

He reached for her and pulled her closer, dropped his mouth on hers for a quick kiss. She narrowed her eyes, watching him with a mixture of confusion and uncertainty.

"You weren't mean."

"I was."

"Okay, then. You weren't the only one who was mean. Is that better?"

"No." She tried to pull away, gave up when he tightened his arm around her. "How can you even stand to be near me?"

"Are you honestly upset over something that happened twelve years ago? When we were nothing but stupid kids who didn't know any better?"

"It doesn't say much for who I am."

He ran a hand through her hair then cupped her cheek. "Taylor, we were kids. It has nothing to do with who we are now."

"But—"

"Fine. If it still upsets you that much, I'll let you make it up to me."

She tilted her head back, the first hint of a smile teasing her mouth. "Why do I get the feeling that isn't as magnanimous a gesture as you want me to believe?"

"Magnanimous. Wow. Pretty big word for a jock."

"Hey—"

He pressed a kiss against her mouth, this one a little longer. "I'll still let you make it up to me if you want. Because I'm selfless and noble like that."

Taylor finally smiled—a full smile, one that brightened her face and danced in her eyes. She leaned closer, her mouth a breath away from his own. "I think I can manage that."

"Yeah?" Heat rushed through him, firing his blood as her hands drifted across his chest, her fingers undoing the buttons of his shirt. He watched as her eyes darkened, as her cheeks flushed and her mouth parted on a shallow breath. He reached up and closed his hand around her wrist, stopping her while his mind was still able to form coherent thoughts.

"You have a game tomorrow. Don't you need me to take you home so you can get ready?"

Taylor's eyes met his, their amber depths alight with desire. She shook her head and leaned forward, then ran the tip of her tongue against his lower lip. "No. I want to stay here."

"Are you sure?"

"Positive."

Charles may have growled, he couldn't be sure. And he didn't care, not when her mouth closed over his. Hot. Wet. Hungry. She reached between them, her fingers releasing the last few buttons of his shirt. She spread the material apart then ran her hands over his chest, each touch searing him. Branding him.

And God yes, he wanted nothing more than to be branded by this woman. Tonight. Tomorrow.

Forever.

He cupped her face between his palms and took control of the kiss, deepening it. Claiming her. She melted against him, giving herself to him even if she didn't realize it, not yet.

Charles pulled her across his lap then wrapped his arms around her and stood, carrying her back to his room. She slid down his body, her heated gaze almost shy as she stepped away and peeled her clothes from her body. They landed in a careless pile at the foot of the bed, quickly covered by his own. Then she was in his arms again and they were falling against the mattress, their bodies entwined, their hands searching with frantic need. Soft curves, toned muscle. Valleys and peaks. Charles couldn't stop touching her, would never be able to feed the hunger blazing through his veins.

He pulled away long enough to stretch across the bed and reach into the nightstand drawer. His fingers closed around a foil packet and he ripped it open, held his breath when Taylor took it from him. She rolled the condom down the hard length of his erection, her fingers trembling against the sensitive flesh. Then she fell to her back, pulling him on top of her, the same need he felt flashing in the depths of her warm eyes.

His mouth crashed against hers. Hungry, desperate. He couldn’t get enough of her, not even when he plunged into her tight heat.

Losing himself.

Finding himself.