Adrian: An Ironfield Forge Hockey Romance

Home > Other > Adrian: An Ironfield Forge Hockey Romance > Page 6
Adrian: An Ironfield Forge Hockey Romance Page 6

by Frost, Sosie

“Clover, think about what you’re asking. Making a baby? You aren’t even in love with me.”

  I was so hoping that wouldn’t be an issue.

  I danced around that particular complication as best I could without tapping my way out of the idea altogether.

  “Do we need to be in love?”

  “Isn’t that why a couple has a baby?” he asked. “To share their love for each other?”

  The world just didn’t make men like Adrian Alaric anymore.

  “We do have love for each other…right?” I said.

  “Of course. That’s why I’m not gonna fuck you.”

  “Then it’ll be kinda hard to get pregnant.”

  His attention darted to the locker room and the carried conversations echoing from the showers. Pretty sure the half-naked men getting ready for practice had heard far worse than our conversation.

  “Answer me this…” Adrian held my gaze—a damned stare that wrung the honesty out of me like I was a damp washcloth. “When was the last time you went out with a guy?”

  I buzzed my lips. “Jeeze. What’s that got to do with it?”

  “When was the last time you got laid?”

  Dangerous question with a thoroughly embarrassing answer.

  “It’s…uh…” I glanced around the lounge. “Little public for this conversation.”

  “It’s a little sudden for a baby.”

  Touché. Fine. I’d give him something, anything to end the conversation before I revealed anything too humiliating.

  “Let’s just say…a plane’s turbulence gives me plenty of bumps,” I said.

  His voice lowered. “Sex with me is more than a bump.”

  “Doesn’t matter if it’s a crash, thud, wallop, or jolt. As long as it gets me a baby, I’m yours all night.”

  He wagged a chastising finger at me. “You know it’s more complicated than that.”

  No, I really didn’t. But the internet made it look real easy.

  “I’m not asking for much,” I said. “You can just…lay back and relax.”

  “That’s not how I have sex.” His expression darkened. “I don’t just lay back.”

  “Whatever sharpens your skates then.”

  “You’re not listening…” He rubbed his face, delicately picking words to describe a decidedly indelicate activity. “Clover, let’s just say that there are a few things you don’t know about me and my…nighttime proclivities.”

  My stomach dropped. “There are women in these proclivities, aren’t there?”

  He pushed off the couch with a grunt. “Yes, fuck me. Jesus. I’m just saying…we’ve never discussed this sort of thing.”

  “And we don’t need to.”

  “You want to have sex.”

  “Yeah—have it, not philosophize about it.” My eyebrows wagged. “So, you’re kinky. No big deal. Maybe I’ll like it?”

  No dice. Adrian frowned, immediately ending the conversation with an irritated wave of his hand.

  Figured. He was a gentleman—a solid rock composed of morals, decency, and honor. He’d never met a lady he couldn’t seduce, and yet his own damned respectability forbade him from acting upon any of those wild and unrepentant urges with me.

  This made slipping into bed with him harder than I’d thought.

  Just my luck. My best friend had to be the good guy.

  “Look, I love you, you know that,” Adrian said. “That’s why I want to do this right. You keep talking about starting a new life, making babies, embracing a change.”

  “Doesn’t it sound wonderful?”

  “It does…” He hesitated. “Which is why you should take that leap with someone special.”

  Leave it to Adrian Alaric to be kind enough to break my heart.

  “You are that special,” I said. “In every way. We’ve already spent our lives together. It’d be easy to add another person to this friendly fairytale.”

  “You may think that now.”

  “I’ll think that always.”

  “What happens when you meet someone?” he asked.

  Hadn’t happened yet. Then again, wasn’t like I was looking too hard. What was the point in trying to find the perfect man when he was already my best friend? Better to spend my life doing all the fun stuff that didn’t require someone at my side—traveling the world, visiting exotic places, experiencing the last remaining wilds on this Earth.

  For a long time, that had seemed more fun than sex and dating.

  Then…things changed. The injury changed things.

  “You know I won’t meet a man worth my while,” I said.

  “You will, one day. And then this decision will complicate that. I won’t be the one who stands between you and your future happiness.”

  He was sweet enough to flavor my coffee, but he remained a damned pain in my ass.

  “I don’t need a relationship to be happy,” I said.

  “Not now…but what about in a year or two or five?”

  I’d never thought that far ahead before. Wasn’t about to start now.

  “Why couldn’t you be that man?” I asked.

  Another scowl. “That’s not what I’m talking about.”

  Adrian finished his burrito and wrapped the foil into a tight ball. He attempted to make a basket in the trashcan across the room and missed.

  “And this is why you play hockey,” I teased.

  He grabbed a wayward stick left propped against the wall, and took aim. He wrist-shot the foil ball and cast it into the air, aiming it with a perfect arc to land dead center in the trash can.

  “And that’s why they pay me the big bucks,” he said.

  He was talented enough that I allowed the arrogance, but he didn’t have to rub it in.

  I sighed. “Must be nice, having everything you’ve ever wanted, making money doing it, and going home each night feeling satisfied and rewarded.”

  Adrian leaned against his stick. “Is that what you think?”

  “I’d like to have something that makes me feel half as good as hockey does for you.”

  “You want my honest opinion?”

  “Depends…will it make me mad?”

  “I think what you really need is…” He cleared his throat. “A good night of making the baby.”

  I arched an eyebrow. “Is that so?”

  “You haven’t gone out on a date in forever. Haven’t experienced any sort of thrills lately. What if you don’t need a baby…what if you just need a little…”

  “What?”

  “Intimacy?”

  He wouldn’t be wrong, but that wasn’t my end goal.

  I’d been perfectly fine without anything intimate in my life, especially since there wasn’t anyone out there waiting for me either. Didn’t matter if I drank all the Mai Tais in Maui or gazed over the glaciers in Greenland, I’d never find anyone even remotely like my best friend.

  Adrian was one of a kind.

  And that made every other man in the world…

  Well…not Adrian.

  Which meant, as far as I was concerned, there was no harm in two best friends fulfilling each other’s dreams when the rest of the world came up short.

  I bounded over the couch to face him. “What rule is there that prevents a woman from finding her own happiness in unconventional ways?”

  Adrian warded me away with the hockey stick. “Unconventional is one thing. This is…”

  “What?”

  “Risky.”

  “How?”

  “To us.”

  I’d never heard anything so silly in my life. I braved the stick and marched toward the man, poking his chest with my perfectly manicured finger.

  Of course, the motion wasn’t anywhere near threatening when even my tippy-toes only brought me up to his chin.

  “A little platonic procreation poses no risk to our friendship,” I said. “And you wanna know why?”

  “Why? You think we’ll have sex with our clothes on and the lights off?”

  “If that’s what i
t takes.” I shrugged. “Adrian, it’s sweet that you’re looking out for me, but I know what I want. A baby. And you’ll be a perfect father.”

  “And what if you find a man out there, fall in love, but everything’s complicated because of our fucked-up family?”

  “Like you wouldn’t chase off any guy who was interested in me.”

  Adrian bristled. “I only did that once.”

  “Twice.”

  “Who?”

  “William and Lucas.”

  He made a face. “Who?”

  “I dated them a while ago.”

  He wagged the stick at me. “And if I can’t remember them hanging around, then how important were they to you?”

  Damn it. He was right. William had taken me to a showing of the Nutcracker three Christmases ago, and Lucas…

  He might have been the coffee date. Or maybe he was the steakhouse guy who sent his dinner back three times because he didn’t know the definition of medium rare.

  I nibbled my lip. “Hmm. See? Proves my point. I won’t get involved with anyone who can’t handle what we have. Face it, Captain. We are each other’s emotional baggage.”

  “So why can’t your airline lose that instead of my suitcase?”

  He wasn’t ruining this for me. I threatened him with kindness. “Fine. You are like my favorite t-shirt.”

  “No.” He pointed at me. “Your favorite t-shirt is my favorite t-shirt that you stole.”

  “Just my point. I wear it on cold nights when I wanna feel cozy. It’s oversized and heavy and worn out in a few places, but it’s my favorite. And I’ll never give it back, even if something flasher comes along…say something officially licensed and in a frosty blue and white?”

  “I already bought you my jersey,” he smirked.

  “Why would I need a jersey when I could just wrap myself up in you?”

  Adrian relented and welcomed my hug. His arms enveloped me, and I shrugged into his chest, my cheek on the hard muscles packed beneath his workout shirt.

  I’d forgotten how perfect his arms felt. Comforting. No matter where we traveled, no matter what time we landed, no matter what work or games separated us, his hug was always waiting for me.

  “You realize…” I peeked up at him. “Our friendship is way better than any Disney-esque true love.”

  “Is that so?”

  “Of course. We make our own fun—usually in another hemisphere where we don’t know the exchange rate.”

  “A lot of people have fun together.” He frowned. “Even fewer do it lost in an Indonesian rainforest.”

  “And it’s not just fun. It’s all the bad times too.”

  “That rainforest was pretty bad. Remember where you found the leech?”

  His hands circled me tight, holding me at my waist. Reassuring.

  I liked it.

  Liked his strength. His comfort. The deep hum of his words reverberating from his chest.

  I even took a deep breath and savored his masculine scent—something nostalgic and aged. It wasn’t a new or modern sort of fruit and citrus, but an old-fashioned whiskey, spice, and tobacco. It was a great smell that clung to the blankets on the couch and would waft up days after he had gone.

  “Hopefully, we don’t have many more bad times,” he said.

  “Even if we do, we can make it through. We’ve done it before—even survived last season. And it was because we were together.”

  His fingers teased over my curves. Familiar. Playful. But he held my hips, keeping me still.

  The power in his hands shocked me. His massive palms engulfed both of my sides.

  A sweet tingle surprised me, the sudden flutter of something heated and new which teased from deep within my core.

  Uh-oh.

  That was…unexpectedly wonderful.

  “I hope you realize…” Adrian was never good with the mushy stuff. Said it’d been beaten out of him via sticks and fists. “I wouldn’t have recovered as fast from that injury without you being there.”

  I swallowed. For whatever reason, it was more difficult than usual.

  “Someone had to bring you the ice packs,” I said.

  “It was more than that.”

  Oh, if only he knew. If only he remembered.

  Whatever they’d put in that anesthesia had really taken him for a loop. The things he’d said…

  The things he’d wanted…

  “Just goes to show you what a good idea this could be,” I said. “We’ve made plenty of promises to be together when life gets tough—anything from moving across the country to injuries to airline furloughs…” I smiled. “But this? This is a promise we could make to each other when times are good. A lifetime of happiness and excitement and adventure with a baby. And we’d get to experience it together.”

  Adrian didn’t let me go. “It’s one hell of an adventure to have the baby. It’s something else entirely to make one. Are you sure you could handle it?”

  I squirmed, squeezing my thighs together. Why was that area so damned sensitive? Just a little pinch of my hips, and I needed Adrian’s strength to keep me standing.

  Not what either of us needed in the middle of the Forge’s player lounge.

  “Your place or mine, Captain?” I smirked.

  “You think it’d be that easy?”

  “I kinda hoped that it’d be hard, actually.”

  “Not gonna have a problem there.” Adrian’s chuckle was dry. “But we’ve never even kissed, Clover.”

  “So?” I peered up at him. “That’s easily remedied.”

  The awareness flooded his expression. His brows furrowed. “You want me to kiss you?”

  “Sure.”

  “Now?”

  I glanced over the yet-empty room. A few shouts echoed from the weight room, the clanging of bars against metal. The guys weren’t expected on the ice yet, and no one had bothered rummaging through the spread for breakfast. For the moment, we were alone.

  “Start the season off right,” I said. “Consider it good luck before you head out onto the ice.”

  “And what if it gives me horrible luck?”

  I couldn’t believe that. “Nothing we do together could ever be horrible, Adrian.”

  I pressed my hands against his chest, willing my fingers to stay still and not curl into his shirt. My breath slowed. My heart flipped, flopped, then slap-shotted itself out of the locker room.

  “Well, for our friendship’s sake…” He tipped my chin back with an assertive hand. “Let me prove how bad of an idea this is...”

  His lips claimed mine with an instantaneous possession.

  And the shock of unmitigated pleasure feathered along my spine, stiffening me, breaking me, reinvigorating me.

  Oh, my.

  This confident kiss weakened me into quivering submission. I fell into his arms and grasped at his strong shoulders and bulging arms. The heat bursting from his body set my inhibitions aflame.

  A disorienting excitement thrummed through my veins.

  Hot.

  Every part of me suddenly burned.

  Could he feel the fluttering of my heart? Hear the hitch in my breath?

  What was I doing?

  This kiss.

  This life-changing, body-shaking, knee-buckling kiss.

  I lost myself within his strength, clinging to his chest and whimpering against his lips.

  Now…I wasn’t sure what I needed, but this opportunity wasn’t the only chance I offered Adrian.

  For the first time…

  I wanted to give him everything.

  I wanted to give him me.

  5

  Adrian

  Was kissing this woman the best or worst idea of my life?

  Clover melted into me. Her body trembled and fell limp in my arms, gripping me with her nails to stay standing.

  And, fuck, I couldn’t hold her tight enough.

  It was just how I expected my women to react. The weakness. The fluttering. The absolute submission of her will to mine
.

  Clover offered everything in her kiss, trusting in me to hold her steady and keep her on her feet as my tongue swept over hers and claimed everything she was for my own satisfaction.

  The heat emanating from this woman would melt the fucking ice in the rink. We burned together, gripping at the other as we seized gasped breaths.

  The kiss was fierce. Intense.

  Dangerous.

  Clover’s whimper begged me for more, and a sudden, primal urge swelled within me.

  That damned instinct punished me, demanding I take this woman. That I toss her down. Open her legs.

  Claim all she’d promised me.

  I’d mark her as mine the only way a man could take a woman. Hard. Fast. Relentless. A fucking wasn’t a fucking until the woman fell limp with pleasure in my arms and abandoned all semblance of herself and her own desires for my own. That moment, that perfect moment of utter conquest, was the only reason for me to take a desperate woman to my bed.

  And it’d been the only reason I’d ever wanted to fuck.

  Until now.

  Until I knew something better could come of it.

  The ultimate prize.

  The compete and total surrender of her womb.

  “Good fucking show, man.”

  The voice interrupted us with a skittering chuckle—more rodent than man.

  Clover pushed from my arms with a quiet gasp. Her eyes pinched shut, and she backed away with a fake smile.

  “Well, that concludes the locker room tour,” she sputtered.

  “I can show you the showers if you want,” Oz Zane, the Forge’s starting goalie and resident ass-wipe, offered her a lecherous wink.

  He stood tall and broad even without his goalie’s garb. He wasn’t a big guy—not compared to some of the bruisers, but he kept himself in shape. Shaved his head. His dark skin was a shade deeper than Clover’s, decorated with a dozen tattoos lining his arms. Most of the images were crude and vulgar, but at least the uniform covered the more explicit ink.

  The man was intimidating for someone who rarely left the crease. Goalies usually had an attitude, but Oz made damn sure people knew his threats were serious.

  He stared at Clover and practically drooled. The man had talent but no tact.

  “So…putting the boys back to work then?” Oz gawked at her tits. “Couldn’t have picked a prettier bunny for the job.”

 

‹ Prev