Four
Several long moments later, after they’d finally caught their breath, RJ lifted Sugar off his body, groaning a little as his cock slipped from her tight sheath.
She made a little sound of disapproval but went without a fight. Sitting up, he gathered her into his arms and rose up until he could set her back on the couch. Then he stood, slipping off the condom and asking where the bathroom was.
Forcing her eyes to open, she waved a hand toward the tiny bathroom across from her bedroom.
Sugar thought about moving, thought about walking to her bed but couldn’t muster the energy to move. She’d never had sex like that in her life. And she’d certainly never had an orgasm that powerful just from penetration. Her former boyfriend had had to play with her clit for minutes to get her come. Luckily, they’d been young and enthusiastic, though inexperienced.
RJ was not inexperienced. A little alarm bell rang somewhere deep in her brain, but she ignored it. Nothing was going to come between them right now. Not one damn thing.
RJ was gone for only a minute or so, and when he returned, she let herself look at his naked body without a shred of embarrassment. Considering what they’d just shared, she felt she had the right to look.
Damn, the man was built like a god. Tall and lean but muscled. And those thighs. She remembered now how he’d used just his legs to rise off the couch and get them to the floor and her mouth watered. By the time her gaze reached his face, he wore a grin and her cheeks flamed. And not because she was shy.
“You okay?”
His voice, deep and warm, hit her in the gut like a fireball and spread outward, rubbing against every nerve ending and making her want to jump his bones. Again.
Smiling, she nodded, hoping she didn’t look like an idiot. Instinctively, her hands went to her hair, no longer contained by the braid. She worked her fingers through the knots, which could only get worse if she left them go. Her hair was so thick, she sometimes thought about getting it cut off. But then she’d think about her tips…
“I’m fine. My hair’s just—”
“Perfect.”
He reached the couch and sat next to her, perfectly comfortable in his nudity. And no reason for him not to be. The man was better than fine. He almost must’ve figured if she was looking, he could, too, because now his gaze slid down her body before meeting her own eyes again.
“Beautiful.”
He made her feel that way, even though she knew she was a little on the skinny side. Yeah, her boobs were decent, but she knew sometimes she could look like a stick figure.
“Come here.”
Then again, if he didn’t mind…
He was reaching for her before she’d even started to move, his hands lifting her onto his lap. The heat of his thighs burned under hers as she wrapped one arm around his waist and let the other rest against his chest, where her hand petted the fine mat of hair on his chest.
“I’ve wanted to do that,” RJ said, “since the first time I saw you.”
Her head popped up so she could see his eyes, because that sounded like one hell of a line. But the sincerity in his voice and his expression made her toes curl.
“Let me take you out to dinner tomorrow night.”
Her brain stuttered for several seconds, wanting to say yes immediately. But she knew she couldn’t.
“I’d love to, but I can’t. I’ve got work.”
“Thursday?”
She shook her head. “Working.”
“Are there any nights you don’t work?”
Sugar’s hand stopped making little circles on his chest, and RJ wanted to kick his own ass.
Shit. That’d sounded like an accusation and he certainly hadn’t meant it to be one. He just wanted to see her again. As soon as possible.
Now he sounded like an entitled prick.
“I work ’til ten tomorrow, and I work a split double Thursday. Friday and Saturday nights, I won’t be done ’til two in the morning.”
“The Brig isn’t open that late. Where else do you work?”
He wasn’t sure if he imagined it or if she paused before answering. “I pick up shifts over at Breyer’s on South Street. And I waitress in the lounge over at Nero’s Club on the weekends.”
Shit. The words on the tip of RJ’s tongue were some of the stupidest he could say so he bit them back before they could escape. Because he had no right to say them.
He had no right to question her choice of employment. Not everyone had it as good as he did. Some things came easily to him. Like his profession. He was a damn good player. Some of it was probably genetics, but mostly, he worked his ass off to be the best damn offensive player on the team. He drove himself to be good. And along with that skill came money. Even if he never played another game, he’d never have to worry about how he was going to eat.
But he wasn’t clueless. He knew most people weren’t as well off as he was. He knew Sugar was one of those people. It didn’t mean a damn thing to him. He liked to think he was a decent guy. He had good friends and he genuinely liked most people. And none of his former girlfriends and lovers had ever accused him of being a possessive asshole.
But he hadn’t known Sugar worked at Nero’s. He’d been there. He knew what went on in the private lounges on the second floor. He’d been to a few private parties there, but he’d always left before the true partying had started. The drugs and the sex.
RJ didn’t consider himself a prude, but if not wanting to drink until he passed out or have public sex with women paid to be there gave him a reputation for being a stuffed shirt, he could live with that. Which was why the accusations in California had been such a kick in the gut. Because he wasn’t that person.
He didn’t want Sugar to work at Nero’s.
All of that flashed through his brain in about ten seconds while she lay with her head on his chest and lightly dragged her nails though the hair on his chest. When she lifted her head to look up at him, he was gritting his teeth so hard, he thought he might actually crack a few.
Her brows lifted. “If you’ve got something to say, go ahead and just spit it out. Don’t let it fester.”
He considered his options, but really there was only one thing he could say. “I’ve been to Nero’s.”
Her brows rose like he’d said something stupid. And maybe he had.
“I work there. I know what goes on upstairs. I only work the first floor, never the private parties, although the other girls say you can make good money if you do. I’m not interested in being some rich dude’s toy for the night. The money I make waitressing in the main bar a couple nights a week pays my rent for the month. A couple good nights and I can pay my utilities, too.”
Choose your next words carefully.
It was something he’d heard his mom say during his teen years, mainly to his brother and sister, but also to him a few times. It reminded them to take a breath and think. Good advice for this moment.
“Do you want to work there?”
Probably not the best choice of words, if the expression on her face was anything to go by.
With a little sigh, she shimmied off his lap, and it took every ounce of his self-control not to wrap his arms around her and keep her there. But that would be a total dick move. So was the fact that his cock was already rebounding. Not a shock, really. He hadn’t had sex in months and he’d been lusting after this woman for a year. Of course he wanted her again.
But the look on her face made it clear she wasn’t thinking about sex right now. Grabbing her underwear off the ground, she pulled it on, then grabbed his t-shirt and pulled that over her head. Claiming it for her own. He liked that.
“Not everyone has their career path figured out by high school,” she said as she sat on the opposite end of the couch, not far enough that he couldn’t touch her but definitely not in his lap. Where he wanted her. “Or the ability to jump into their dream job at eighteen.”
He nodded. “I know. I know how lucky I’ve been. But…do you want
to be a waitress for the rest of your life? Or is it just a job?”
“Are you trying to ask me what I want to do with my life?”
“I guess so…yeah.”
Sitting cross-legged, she put her hands on her knees and stared into his eyes. “When I was a kid, the only thing I wanted to do was live in a big city. I grew up on a farm in the middle of freaking nowhere. My mom’s family owns one of the largest food supply chains in the northeast. My dad inherited a fortune in oil shares. They met in graduate school. Mom’s got a master’s in psychology. Dad has a master’s in environmental economics. They got married and decided to buy a farm and be hippies. Luckily for them, they had the money. We always had food and clothes, but my parents kinda went overboard on the whole ‘make your own path’ thing.”
“How so?”
“Oh, just that they let us do whatever the hell we wanted and as long as we weren’t in danger of hurting ourselves, they didn’t care. The problem was, I did.”
“You’re the oldest?”
She nodded. “Yeah. Of five. My parents realized I was more of an adult than they were when I was, like, eight. My youngest sister was one, and one day my mom handed her to me. And then my mom went back to working in her garden and my dad retreated to the barn, where he smoked a lot of weed and tinkered with the plow that he used to take us for rides in the fields.”
“And you took care of your younger sisters.”
She shrugged. “Of course.
“Firstborns.”
Her smile burned. “That’s right. You are too.”
He nodded. “Yep. There’s definitely something to be said about birth order affecting your personality. Gabby, my sister, was easy, but Brody,” he shook his head, grinning a little, “he could be a holy terror. During the season, when my dad was still playing, sometimes we wouldn’t see him for a couple weeks at a time. For us, it was normal, because we didn’t know any different. My mom was always home with us and, and with three, overachieving kids, it was more than a full-time job for her to take care of us. I tried not to be a pain in the ass.”
“Did you always know you wanted to play hockey?”
“Yeah. I mean, when you grow up with a dad who plays professionally, of course, you think about it. And when you realize you’ve got some skill… It’s kind of a no-brainer.”
“Did your parents ask if you wanted to play, or did they just assume?”
“My dad was always really careful not to influence either way, but Brody and I both knew it’s what we wanted to do.”
“And it worked out for you, so there’s that.”
The teasing note in her voice made him smile. Hell, he’d smiled more with Sugar than he had in the past eighteen months.
“Yeah, it has. Probably has a lot to do with genetics and then just being around the sport as much as we were, you’re bound to pick it up. Even if you choose to do something else, you’re still gonna learn how to skate and hold a stick, because that’s what your dad does. You know?”
She shrugged. “Not really, no. I mean, my parents hired people to work the farm, so my mom spent a lot of time in her garden. I used to spend time with her there, until I realized she mostly wanted me to keep my sisters occupied. She loves her plants. She has huge gardens, and she’s always growing all sorts of weird things she gets from all over the world. But I think she loves those gardens more than she loves her kids. Especially when they got older. My mom loves babies. Until they can talk. Then she kinda lost interest.”
Sounded like Sugar’s mom wasn’t Mother of the Year material. And it was definitely not his place to say anything to criticize her mom. Time to change the subject.
“So how are classes going?”
Smooth move, asshole. Nice transition. Probably gave her whiplash.
Her lips quirked up at the corners, and her nose did an adorable little wrinkle thing. She knew what he was doing and she was considering if she wanted to let him get away with it. Fair enough.
“Slowly,” she said finally. “With my work schedule I have to be careful I don’t take too many classes. Most of them are online, but I don’t want to fall behind and not be able to finish.”
Smart. But he’d realized over the past year that Sugar wasn’t just a pretty face. When he’d happened to catch sight of her on break, she was usually reading something on her tablet, usually for homework.
“I get it. I take a few classes every summer, just core requirements. I figure when I’m not playing anymore, I’ll have time to take a full course load and get my degree.”
Her brows rose in surprise. “What are you majoring in?”
“Sports management.”
“Ah. I guess that’s kind of a no-brainer, huh? Wait,” she held up one hand, “I don’t mean you don’t need a brain to study it. You know that, right?”
His grin widened. “I know what you meant. And yeah, I guess it is. I mean, I’m not sure what I want to do when I can’t play anymore, but I know I want to be involved with the sport in some way. So I figure I should learn how to do that before something happens and then I’m not prepared. I went straight into play after the draft. I knew college wasn’t going to happen right away.”
“Was that how you planned it? Did you want to go to college?”
“I thought about it. Talked to my parents and they said they’d support whatever decision I made. I think the first serious draft discussion started when I was fifteen. I’d just been drafted into the OHL and it never stopped. By the time my draft year rolled around, I knew I was getting drafted. I didn’t know how high, but I knew I was going to play right after high school. I didn’t bother applying to college.”
“Did your parents want you to go to college?”
“If I had decided I wanted to go to college, they would’ve made that happen. I could’ve been drafted and played college hockey for four years. But they know the game. If you’re good enough to get drafted in the top ten, you’re going to play next season, whether it’s with the AHL or the NHL. My dad got his degree the same way, taking classes over the summer. I knew I could do it.”
“How high did you get drafted?”
“I was second.”
“Wow. That’s amazing. I mean, I’m not surprised, but that’s really huge. Isn’t it?”
“It was. The press were all saying I’d go first or second, but I tried not to get too caught up in the hype. There were a lot of good players that year and the first pick that year was a goalie.”
“But you’re one of the best players in the league right now. Right?”
Coming from her, the compliment was appreciated. From anyone else, it might’ve made him brush it aside. “I’m good at my job.”
The look she gave him was wry. “You’re more than good.”
She said it so matter-of-factly, he smiled. “Thanks. I work hard and I love to play.”
Not a lie but not exactly the truth, either. He’d lost his love of the game for a while. Perceptive Sugar picked up on what he hadn’t said immediately.
“That mess in LA affected your relationship with the game, didn’t it? I mean, it’s understandable, considering what you went through last year.”
There was no curiosity or hesitation in her voice that indicated she doubted his innocence. She’d never once looked at him like she thought he’d done anything wrong. She believed him. There were few people who had that level of trust. Then again, it took a lot of trust to bring someone into your bed. At least it did for RJ. He suspected it was the same for Sugar.
It made him realize just how much this woman had come to mean to him over the past year. He’d have a shitty day, and he’d walk into the diner and see her and immediately everything would be better. Or at least it would for as long as he was there with her.
For months, he’d fought against the thought that another person could cure his problems. He never wanted to drag anyone else down into his shit, not after what had happened with Marisol.
“I honestly can’t believe anyone thought you
would hurt someone like that,” she continued. “I mean, that’s just crazy talk.”
He grinned and watched her gaze drop to his lips before lifting back to his. “Why is that crazy talk?”
“Because you’re a freaking boy scout.”
“I never had time to be a boy scout.”
She gave him a look he knew well from his sister, one that said if he wasn’t careful, she’d smack him. He’d rather she punished him in other ways. Since he was naked, she’d be able to see exactly what he was thinking if he wasn’t careful.
“You know what I mean,” she said, shaking her head. “You’re almost too good to be true.”
“No, I’m really not. I’ve got faults.”
She shook her head slowly, as if to make sure he understood what she was saying. “I didn’t say you were perfect. No one’s perfect. You’re just…”
When she didn’t continue, he said, “What?”
Her smile broadened, the hint of sass enough to make his heart pound faster and his cock thicken. He couldn’t be this close to the woman who was wearing his shirt and a pair of panties and nothing else and not want to get inside her again. Maybe this time they’d make it to the bed. The thought made his cock hard as stone.
“You’re just yummy.”
She surprised a bark of laughter out of him, which made her smile become a teasing grin.
“Then let’s get naked again and you can take a second bite.”
Without warning, he stood then scooped her up off the couch into his arms and against his chest.
Her arms looped loosely around his neck as he turned and headed in the direction of what had to be the bedroom.
As he walked, he felt her lips on his neck, quickly followed by her teeth nipping at his skin. His blood pressure spiked. So did his temperature. The combination lit his already primed body on fire. He picked up his pace and shouldered open the door in front of him. Stopping at the foot of the bed, he stopped for quick appraisal of her double-size mattress.
“You’re right. I’m not gonna fit on this bed.”
Her teeth lodged in his right earlobe and he shuddered at the quicksilver sensation that ran through him.
Deadlines & Red Lines: Fast Ice Sports Romance Page 6
