HOT ICE: Complete Sporting Romance Series

by Lily Harlem

  I’d be glad when today ended—what with the shock of Henri’s marriage, Dustin’s arrival and Dad’s departure, and then, to top it all, getting mugged. I’d had enough.

  Yes. I’d be happy to start fresh tomorrow and hope the stars had better things planned for me.

  “Hey, you okay?” Dustin asked, catching up to me.

  I glanced at him. He had his t-shirt off and it was tucked into his jeans, flapping behind him. He threw a pebble in the air and caught it with a snap of his hand making his biceps tense.

  “I’m fine.”

  “Are you pissed that Henri’s getting married?”

  “No. I’m happy for him.”

  “Oh, okay then.” He jogged ahead and threw the stone into the waves. “So what is it?”

  “What’s what?”

  He was walking backward, looking at me. “Are you in pain? Did that bastard hurt you more than you’re letting on?”

  “No, no I’m fine…relieved, it could have been much worse.”

  “Yeah, it could have.” He stooped and grabbed another black stone. “You should bathe that knee with antiseptic when we get back.”

  “I will.” I saw the roof of the villa come into view. Pressed my lips together and stormed ahead. Not much farther now.

  “So if you’re not bothered about Henri and you didn’t get seriously hurt, why have you got a face like a cat’s ass?”

  “I have not.” I frowned.

  “You have. You were actually quite normal for a bit back there, at the candy stall and that.”

  “Normal?” I gripped the strap of my purse, didn’t look at him. “What does that mean?”

  “It means you smiled.”

  “I can smile, you know.”

  “You just don’t like to.”

  “Perhaps I don’t have much to smile about today, what with you being here.”

  “Me!” He bent down, plucked a bigger stone from the sand and threw it in a perfect arc. It landed far out to sea with a fat splash. “Jesus, there’s gratitude. And I got your wallet back and everything.”

  I tore my gaze away from his rippling muscles, how they moved and stretched beneath the surface of his skin as he twisted and turned.

  “I’m grateful for that, it’s just…”

  “Just what.” He stopped right in front of me.

  I was forced to come to a halt. I studied the few curled black hairs on his sternum and then raised my eyes to the hollow of his throat, the stubble on his cheeks, his scarred bottom lip.

  “Say it how it is, sweet cheeks.” His voice was stern and I sensed his patience was running out. “I can take it.”

  Well, tough. My patience had evaporated days ago. Ever since the first day I’d met him. “It’s just that you shouldn’t be here at all. You weren’t invited.”

  “I have a different view, as you know.” He slid his sunglasses over his cap and scowled down at me.

  “You shouldn’t have worried my father about this whole contract business. He’s sick.”

  “I didn’t, my agent did. That’s his job.”

  “He should have contacted me.”

  He huffed. “Perhaps he knew he’d get as much sense out of you as he would a damn puck.”

  I poked his chest. This time, instead of feeling the hard padding he wore when dressed in his goaltender getup, I felt his sun-warm skin and the solidity of his sternum beneath my finger. I tried not to let touching his flesh affect my body, but it did. There was something about his skin and the strength beneath that flicked my switches. “I told you back there,” I said as firmly as I could, “I’m here to stay. Get used to it.”

  “So am I?” He grabbed my wrist, wrapped his big fingers around it and pulled my hand away from his chest.

  “We’ll see,” I said, tugging.

  I was surprised when he me let go and quickly made the most of it by stepping around him. I needed the sanctuary of the villa.

  I’d taken five steps when I felt him clutch my upper arm and the heat of his hand burn onto my skin. He spun me quite roughly to face him. I staggered but he had a good hold and righted me with what seemed like no effort.

  “So let’s fucking do this,” he said harshly. “Right here, right now.” He grabbed my other arm, pulled me close.

  I caught my breath and stared up at his wild, angry face cast in shadow by his peaked cap. “Do what?”

  “Hash this out. The damn contract.”

  “No, that’s not how it works.”

  “It is in my world. Tell me, what do I have to do for an extension with the Vipers. I want three years. I’ll go with the same conditions as I have now. Can’t start fairer than that.”

  “Dustin, no, we can’t do this. Not here, not now.”

  He licked his lips, leaving a wet sheen there that captured my attention. “We can. Come on, what do you want?”

  I shook my head, licked my own lips. I couldn’t bring myself to say it. But the truth was I didn’t want him at all because the team couldn’t afford him. Not on his current exorbitant salary anyway. God knows what my father had been thinking when he’d agreed to that. He must have been on the whiskey or something.

  I looked out to sea, watched a lone gull swoop across the surface of a crashing wave.

  “Tell me,” he said again, pulling me closer still.

  My breasts came into contact with his chest. A dart of longing went through me like it had in New York when he’d kissed me. How did he do that, when he was so damn furious with me it just made me want to get closer to him, physically that was. Sense told me I should run, get the hell away, but I couldn’t. I didn’t want to.

  “This won’t work,” I said.

  “Why not?’

  “Because I…I don’t want you.” I pressed my hands on his dense pectoral muscles, stared up at him.

  “Why not?”

  “The state I’ve inherited the team in is…” I stopped myself. I couldn’t go into all the financial details with a player. That wasn’t fair, nor ethical. Not when I hadn’t had a chance to hash it out with Dad yet.

  “The state you’ve inherited the team in?” He spoke with a guttural quality to his voice, as though he’d mixed gravel with the words.

  “I can’t discuss it. You’ll just have to accept the decision.”

  His nostrils flared and his lips flattened. “You mean that, don’t you? You really don’t have any intention of renewing my contract.” He paused. “Shit.”

  God, I hated to see pain in his eyes. He clearly loved playing for the Vipers. And who could blame him? It was every hockey player’s dream come true.

  I slipped my hands higher onto the base of his neck and rubbed the taut tendons there with my thumbs. “I wish I did want you,” I whispered.

  Oh, what a lie. Because I did, just not for the team. His body, pressing against mine, the smell of his slightly malty breath and the way he was eating me up with his gaze. It all made me want him very much. In my bed.

  Suddenly he snapped me tight against him, wrapped his arms around my waist and set me flush against his body.

  “And I wish I didn’t fucking want you,” he said, his jaw tightening, the syllables seeming to struggle to get out from between his gritted teeth.

  He wished he didn’t want me? Those words ping-ponged around my mind. What did he mean? That he did want me, the way I wanted him, even though it made no sense?

  I went up on my toes and cradled the back of his head. I stared into his eyes, looking for answers. His pupils were wide despite the sunshine, and desire flamed within them. Yes, I’d been right, he did want me, exactly the same way I had to have him. Now.

  I kissed him. With the same furious passion he’d inflicted on me in the hotel. For a horrendous moment I thought I’d made a God almighty mistake—his lips were still, his tongue flat. But then he melted, opened up and let me in.

  He groaned, dipped his tongue into my mouth and slid his hand up my back to my hair, bunching his fingers in my casual updo.

 
Like before, his kiss transported me to a wild place where anything could happen. I writhed against him and was aware of his cock hardening against my stomach. It thrilled me that he was turned-on by me. Big, tough Dustin was hot for a bit of action with little old me. Bring it on.

  “Fuck,” he muttered against my lips.

  “Okay,” I gasped.

  Chapter Eight

  In an instant my world turned upside down. My belly pressed into his shoulder and I flailed my arms before gripping his waistband at the back, in the hollow of his spine.

  “Hey. What the hell are you doing?” I shouted, kicking my legs but then freezing when his big hand slapped down on my ass and stayed there.

  “What I just suggested,” he said, striding, almost jogging in the direction of the villa.

  I stared at the blur of sand whizzing past. I was bobbing in an ungainly fashion on his shoulder and tried to keep a grip on my bag as it dangled by his legs.

  “Dustin,” I shouted. “For fuck’s sake, put me down. What are you, a damn caveman?” He was pressing on my ass with considerable force, having a bit of a grope too.

  “I’ll be whatever you want me to be, sweet cheeks,” he said, reaching the deck at what felt like breakneck speed. I grunted as he jumped onto it, unable to control the rush of air from my lungs.

  “But I…argh!” I cried out as the horizon skimmed over my vision and I found myself on the Bali bed outside the lounge doors, looking up at the fronds of a palm, my arms and legs spread-eagled.

  Thank goodness the mattress was the best quality—nice and soft. He’d literally thrown me onto it, from quite a height, too.

  “You drive me crazy,” he said with a frown as he shoved at his shoes. They hit the deck with two solid bangs. “Fucking crazy, woman.”

  He movements were desperate, frenzied, and I watched as he popped the buttons on his jeans and shoved them off. His boxers came down, the material all caught up as one.

  I swallowed and stared at his erection springing from his black-as-night pubic hair.

  But I didn’t get a long study, because he threw his hat aside and dropped over me, his hands roaming my body, sending sparks of lust through me with each new inch he explored. His cock nudged my outer thigh and the heat of his skin burned into mine, fever-like.

  “We should stop fighting this,” he said against my lips and then kissed me again hard. So hard I could barely breathe and our teeth tapped several times.

  “Yes,” I managed when he swept his tongue down my neck and then nipped my skin. “Stop. Fighting.”

  He suddenly reared up, wrapped his fingers in the waistband of my bikini bottoms and dragged them and my sarong from my body.

  “Get it out of our systems,” he said, chucking my clothing to one side with a flick of his wrist. “This stupid desire for each other.”

  “Yes, it’s stupid, I don’t even like you…”

  “And I don’t like you. Not one bit.” He was between my legs, his cock nudging my entrance. He pushed in a little but his entry was difficult. He was big, I was small.

  I tried to relax though it was impossible. I was so turned-on, and also mad as hell that I wanted him so much when we were the most incompatible couple ever.

  He locked his elbows, his hands on either side of my head, dipped his head and stared down at his cock prodding my folds. Showing no mercy, he curled his hips under and forged forward in one fast plunge. Claiming me, owning me, burying himself balls deep.

  “Ah, shit,” I panted, arching my back and gripping his biceps. Pain mixed with pleasure. Heat poured through me. He’d made me feel so full, so full of him and all that passion and fury and desperation that had ignited between us.

  “Oh, sweet Jesus,” he groaned, screwing his eyes up tight. “Fucking…too good.”

  “More,” I gasped. “Give me more.”

  He pulled out, shunted back in. Then repeated the action again, catching my clit and all my internal sweet spots perfectly.

  “Ah yeah, that’s it. I’m really fucking you now,” he said, dropping down and kissing my collarbone. “Really fucking, fucking you.”

  His words jammed in my mind. “No,” I managed, shoving as hard as I could at his shoulders. “No.”

  I must have taken him by surprise with my vehemence. He tipped off me, falling out of me, landing on his back with a shocked expression on his face.

  I slid over him, set my legs on either side of his waist and prepared to take his cock back into my pussy. “I’m fucking you,” I said, setting my palms on his chest and locking my elbows. “Got it. I’m fucking you. Ah, yeah…”

  I took him deep until he was nudging my cervix, then began to grind, working my clit on his coarse pubic hair and the hardness beneath.

  He gripped my thighs, pressing his head into the pillow and gritting his teeth. I wondered how near the edge he was. Pressure was building in me, delicious, needy pressure.

  I flung my head back, letting the sunshine scorch my face as I bounced and gyrated on his cock. My orgasm was just there, another few seconds and sweet relief would be mine. I was gasping, panting, my spine weakening as the explosive pleasure built.

  Then it stopped. One quick twist and a flip and I was on my stomach, my cheek bunching on the starched white pillow and once again wondering which way up I was in the world.

  “Screw you,” he muttered by my ear and then bit it, quite hard.

  I groaned in complaint and in delight, a sharp nip when I was so turned-on was luscious. But I’d been so close…

  “No…screw you,” I managed, spreading my legs and increasing the dip in my back. Inviting him in.

  He took the offer, moved between my legs and pushed his cock into my pussy again.

  I fisted the sheet, moaning loud and abandoned as he shoved right in, nudging up against my G-spot perfectly and stretching me from a wholly different angle.

  “This is it,” he said, “just one fuck to get it out of our systems, okay?” He bunched my hair in his fist, yanking and twisting my head to the side. “Got it? Just one.”

  “Yes, oh, yes.” I arched my spine, loving the possessive hold he had on my hair. “I have to get you out of my damn system, Dustin. I don’t want to want you like this.”

  “And I don’t want to want you, sweet cheeks.” He barged into me with extra force, shunting us both up the bed. “But fuck, you feel good.” He kissed me, kind of. Both of our concentrations were elsewhere and our lips could barely move together. We were just panting into each other’s mouths.

  “Come,” he grunted, “now.”

  I shoved my right hand down between the mattress and my stomach, hunted lower, sought out my clit and rotated it to the same frantic tempo he was blasting into me.

  The added pressure of his body weight buffeting me with each thrust increased the pressure on my clit and within seconds I was spiraling through ecstasy. My climax was a big, glorious starburst of sensation that glittered behind my eyelids and set all my nerves on fire.

  “Oh fuck, here it is,” Dustin groaned, grasping my left hand in his and squeezing it tight. “Ah, ah, oh fucking hell…”

  He froze with his balls shoved up against my pussy lips and pumped out his release. His breaths were a storm in my ear. I could hardly expand my lungs because of his crushing weight over me.

  My pussy contracted over and over around his cock. I jerkily continued to fret my clit, eking out every last ounce of pleasure.

  “Oh yeah,” he moaned, pulling out and slipping back in. “Keep hugging me with your cunt, it’s fucking amazing.”

  I did, but not consciously, it was the intensity of the orgasm that had the pleasure extending and the spasms continuing.

  Finally, he stilled, but stayed lying heavily on me.

  “Get up,” I managed. “I can hardly breathe.”

  “Fuck, sorry.” He lifted, pulled out but stayed sitting between my legs.

  I gulped in air, twisted my head and neck into a more natural position and settled my face on a pill
ow. Wow, that had been intense. More than intense, it had been incredible. Well worth getting out of my system.

  He put his hands on my ass, one on each buttock, and swept over them, pushing them out and then together. “These damn sweet cheeks were my undoing,” he murmured, almost as if to himself.

  I wondered if there was a hint of irritation in his voice but I was too floppy to do anything about it and instead just sucked in a lungful of air then sighed.

  “Too fucking sexy by far,” he went on, “and certainly too hot to belong to a woman who thinks she’s my damn boss.”

  I had to reply to that one. But I kept my eyes closed, my head resting. “I am your boss.”

  He didn’t answer. Instead he kissed over my ass, into the small of my back and then down through the crack between my butt cheeks.

  I re-gripped the sheet, opened my eyes. Oh God. I felt so on display, so vulnerable. My pussy was spread before him, his cum leaking from my slit, and my anus…He wasn’t going to… Oh fuck, he was.

  Why was I surprised? This was Dustin Reed I was naked with.

  He licked over my tight pucker, his tongue exploring carefully before heading a little lower, to the soft patch of skin near my entrance.

  I wriggled and groaned. It felt good, really fucking good. I’d just orgasmed but he had me buzzing for more again. Who would have thought that would feel so erotic?

  He traveled his tongue back up, gave my asshole more attention and then sucked and nipped at my buttocks, the palms of his hands swooping over my flesh in big sweeps.

  I fluttered my eyes shut, relaxed my spine and gave myself over to him. He was spreading butterfly kisses up my back now, adoring each one of my vertebrae. This was the last moment we would connect like this. It was a one-time-only fuck. To get it out of our systems.

  I should make the most of this bittersweet, post-coital moment, park it in a to-be-remembered-forever folder in my memory.

  He settled next to me a few moments later and shut his eyes. I allowed myself to drift off to sleep—stark naked, on my stomach with my legs spread to the sea breeze.

  I was sure I looked well and truly fucked, but hey, I was. I couldn’t dispute that, or had I been the fucker? I couldn’t remember. It didn’t seem important now who had fucked whom.