Game Misconduct_A Baltimore Banners Hockey Romance

by Lisa B. Kamps

  What the hell was he doing here? He had wanted a distraction, but not one like this. It had been two years since he'd played this scene—a scene he hadn't missed at all. It was still early, he could turn around, go back to his empty apartment, do...something.

  Shane nudged him in the back, pushing him deeper into the club. Corbin hesitated but only for a second, then followed Shane and Hunter into the crowd. One drink. One drink, then he'd make an excuse to go home. This was their third club so far in the last two hours, nobody would say anything if he left after one drink.

  Shane pushed his way to the bar, stopping and talking to a handful of women on the way. Smiling, flirting, leaning in for a quick kiss. Had it been only two years since Corbin had done the same thing? Different cities, different clubs, different crowds of nameless women eager to claim bragging rights in the morning. It would be hypocritical of him to judge, not when he'd been in Shane and Hunter's shoes a few years ago. But not anymore. This wasn't him, wasn't who he wanted to be.

  He nudged Shane in the lower back, urging him away from the leggy brunette who already had her arm wrapped around his waist. Shane tossed him an impatient look, leaned down for a quick kiss, then continued pushing through the crowd. There were no empty barstools but it didn't matter, not when a path cleared in front of them.

  Their drinks were ordered, the tab picked up by a fan on the other side of the bar. Stools opened up, vacated by other fans eager for a story to tell in the morning. Or hell, maybe tonight, considering how many of the people around them were already on their phones, snapping pictures that were no doubt being posted to social media.

  Corbin accepted his drink from the bartender then eased onto the edge of a stool, his gaze slowly raking the crowd. He kept his back to the bar and took a sip, the whiskey sliding down his throat with a welcoming burn.

  Hunter leaned toward Shane, his voice raised over the surrounding noise. "I don't see her."

  "See who?" Both men ignored Corbin's question as they looked around.

  Shane tossed back his drink, wiped his mouth on the back of his hand, then slid the empty glass across the bar and motioned for another. "Doesn't matter. If not tonight, some other night."

  "I think you're getting your hopes up."

  "Nah. Just a matter of time."

  Corbin glanced around then leaned in closer, not really caring but curious just the same. "A matter of time for what?"

  Hunter nudged him the side with a small chuckle. "Masters is trophy hunting. Personally, I think he's out of his fucking mind."

  "Nah. Like I said, it's just a matter of time."

  "And like I said, you're crazy. It's not going to happen."

  "Sure it will."

  "Yeah, right. Just like you were going to score with that goalie from the Blades. Look how that turned out." Hunter took a long swallow of his drink then rolled his eyes. "You're all talk, Masters. You'd be better off going after a sure thing."

  Corbin frowned, trying to follow the conversation. Shane had been after Wiley? No, he must be hearing things wrong. He didn't know the particulars but based on everything he'd heard so far—and that lip lock Caleb Johnson gave her after the game tonight, right there on the fucking ice—Shannon Wiley was already spoken for.

  "Wait. I don't understand—"

  "It's a game Masters likes to play. Pick the woman least likely to want anything to do with him—or the one most likely to cause the most trouble—then go after her." Hunter leaned forward and poked a finger in Shane's chest. "You need your fucking head examined. There's something seriously wrong with you."

  "It's the challenge. I enjoy rising to the occasion." Shane wiggled his brows then tossed his head back and laughed. Corbin simply shook his head, not bothering to say anything. There were guys like Shane on every team—and he wasn't exactly in a position to judge, not with his own past.

  He raised the glass to his mouth, his eyes scanning the crowd as Hunter and Shane continued their bickering. He caught a glimpse of honey blonde hair, frowned at the brief profile of a face through the crowd. Non. It was just his imagination, brought on by seeing her earlier tonight.

  Brought on by the memories clinging to him, memories he couldn't shake for some reason.

  Mentally shrugging, he took another long swallow of his drink, only partially listening to Hunter.

  "And I'm telling you, stay away. Number one, she's not your type. Number two, she's not worth your career. No woman is. Don't be an ass."

  "Who gives a shit if she's not my type? I told you, it's the challenge. And as far as my career goes—I'll be fine."

  "Who are you talking about?"

  "A sweet piece of ass with legs that go all the way up to her neck and eyes that swallow you whole." Shane's smile grew wider, his glassy eyes flashing with calculated desire. Corbin shifted, a trickle of unease playing along his spine. He had no idea who Shane was talking about and he didn't want to know—but his gut was telling him it was time to leave. He didn't want to be dragged into whatever scheme the other man was hatching.

  He sat his drink on the bar, ready to push it away and make an excuse to leave. Another flash of blonde hair caught his eye and he looked over, blinking in surprise. He was seeing things, that was all—

  But he wasn't. Lori was several yards away, a small smile om her face as she tugged another woman through the crowd. Toward them.

  Toward him.

  Corbin slid from the stool, started forward then stopped. What was he going to do? Race toward her? Pull her into a hug? Make an ass of himself by causing a scene?

  Yeah, almost. He should leave now. Just push through the crowd and bolt outside before it was too late. But it was already too late because Lori had seen him, had one hand raised in greeting as she weaved through the crowd.

  "You better hope to hell Coach Donovan never hears you say something like that. He'd have your ass in a heartbeat."

  "Maybe. But it would be so fucking worth it."

  Corbin's blood froze. He pulled his gaze from Lori's, his hand curling into a fist as he leveled a cold glare at Shane. "What are you talking about?"

  "Not what. Who. Donovan's niece. She works for the Banners, has something to do with all that feel-good social media bullshit." Hunter turned and shoved a finger into Shane's chest again. "And I'm telling you, Donovan would kick your ass."

  "Who cares? It would be worth it. Fuck. To feel those long fucking legs of hers wrapped around my waist, her heels digging into my ass as I sink my cock—"

  Corbin rammed his fist into Shane's face, felt cartilage give and skin break, felt a splash of something warm against his knuckles. He was vaguely aware of shouts of surprise, of a dozen different flashes popping around them. A hand closed over his shoulder, jerking him back as Shane bent over, blood dripping between his fingers as he held his hands over his face. Hunter spun him around, his eyes wide as he stared at him.

  "What the fuck, Gauthier? Are you fucking crazy?"

  Corbin brushed Hunter's hand from his shoulder, turned in time to see Lori stumble to a halt in front of them. Her startled gaze darted from him to Shane's bloodied face and back.

  "Corbin! What the hell did you do? Are you crazy?"

  Crazy? Yes, he must be. That's the only thing that could explain this wild frenzy gripping him, boiling his blood and destroying his vision.

  He didn't hesitate, didn't stop to check on Shane, didn't say anything—he simply reached out and closed his hand around Lori's, his grip firm and sure as he pulled her through the thick crowd. Did she struggle? Tug on his hand and try to stop him? No, he didn't think so. But he couldn't be sure, not when he was focused on nothing else except getting her out of there.

  Away from Shane.

  Away from the image conjured by the other man's words.

  Away from the fury that anyone would dare to talk about Lori that way.

  He pushed his way through the door, barely aware of the cold night air slicing through him, barely aware of the crunch of gravel beneath his feet.<
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  "Corbin, stop!" Lori's frantic voice finally cut through the red haze gripping him. He slowed his steps then turned, reluctantly facing her. A light from the parking light burned behind her, casting her face in shadows. It didn't matter because he could still see the surprise in her wide eyes, could still see the way her mouth opened and closed, as if she wanted to say something but couldn't find the words.

  And he could feel the way her hand tugged against his, pulling to break free. He uncurled his fingers from hers, felt cold air brush his palm when she finally jerked her hand from his.

  "What are you doing? Are you crazy?" She repeated the words in a hiss, her voice filled with anger and disbelief. She stepped toward him, one long finger pointed dangerously close to his face.

  Corbin took a hasty step back. Crazy? Yes, absolutely. That was the only answer that made sense. He ran a hand through his hair, winced and held his hand in front of him, oddly surprised to see the torn flesh of his knuckles. He dropped his arm to the side, met Lori's gaze then quickly looked away.

  "I—" Heat filled his face when his voice cracked. He cleared his throat, nodded then shook his head as his mind raced for words to say.

  "Are you going to tell me what happened back there? Please tell me you had a damn good reason for laying out one of your own teammates." She leaned closer, her finger jabbing him in the chest with each curt word. "Your. Own. Teammate. In public!"

  " Je m'en calice! He was insulting you."

  Lori's eyes shot up in surprise and she dropped her hand. "He was insulting me?"

  "Oui. Yes."

  "Insulting me, how?"

  "Non. I cannot—"

  "Insulting me, how? What did he say?"

  "I will not repeat it."

  "Corbin. You just flattened Shane Masters in full view of a hundred people. With phones. I'm sure it's already going viral as we stand here, which means I'm going to be spending my day off tomorrow doing damage control. You owe it to me to tell me why."

  Corbin shook his head, firm in his refusal to repeat the words. Lori didn't need to hear them, didn't need to know what Shane had said. But she kept watching him, her face filled with a determination that made him want to turn and run. She must have sensed it because she reached out and closed one hand around his arm, holding him in place.

  "Corbin. What did he say?"

  "He—" He snapped his mouth closed, shook his head, shut his eyes against the silent demand in Lori's steady gaze. Then he took a deep breath and repeated the words in a harsh whisper as anger spread through him again.

  Lori's silence dragged on for several minutes, long enough that he worried he had made a mistake in telling her. He shouldn't have given in, should have refused to tell her—

  Laughter washed over him, the sound oddly strained. He opened his eyes, wondering if maybe he was hearing things, wondering if laughter was Lori's way of handling her anger and upset.

  But she didn't look upset. The small smile on her face wasn't strained and there was no worry in the amber eyes gazing up at him. She ran a hand over her face then brushed a few wayward strands of hair out of her eyes.

  "You were defending my honor."

  Corbin narrowed his eyes. "Is there something wrong with that?"

  "No. No, there's not." She placed her hand in the middle of his chest, warmth from her palm seeping through his shirt and settling over his heart. "But I have no idea how I'm going to spin it."

  "Spin it? I don't understand—"

  "You don't need to. Don't worry about it." She patted him on the chest, that small smile still playing around the corners of her mouth. He expected her to move her hand and step back, to call him crazy again and leave. But she did none of those things. Instead, she moved even closer, her head tilted back as she looked up at him with an expression he didn't want to acknowledge in her eyes.

  "Thank you. That's very sweet of you."

  He stiffened at the words, tried to move away but his feet were firmly rooted in place. "I told you, there is nothing sweet about me, Lori. I'm not the same man you knew from before."

  "I know." Her voice grew quieter, softer. "You're the man who would wallop his own teammate to defend my honor."

  How had she gotten so close? He didn't remember her moving, knew he should step back, put distance between them. He shook his head, trying to deny whatever it was she was thinking. "Lori—"

  And then it didn't matter because she was in his arms, her mouth soft and warm against his as she kissed him.

  Chapter Five

  As far as kisses went, it was a huge disappointment.

  Lori shifted closer, pressed her mouth more firmly against his, and tucked her hand inside Corbin's jacket. She felt the beat of his heart against her palm, strong and steady, fast. Except for that one telltale sign, she'd think he wasn't affected by the kiss at all. His body was tense, his mouth failing to yield to the pressure of hers.

  And oh God, she was making a fool of herself. Just like the way she had done that morning all those years ago. At least then, he had kissed her back, given her a taste of the passion simmering just below the surface, a glimpse into what might have been between them if not for all the obstacles in their way.

  But now...whatever she felt was obviously one-sided. He wasn't moving, wasn't kissing her back. In fact, he was standing so still, he could pass for a statue—if not for the heat rolling off his body.

  And oh God, what was she doing? Still kissing him, her body plastered to his, desperately seeking some kind of reaction. At least he wasn't pushing her away. He wouldn't though—he was too much of a gentleman to do something like that, no matter what he said.

  She jerked her head away from his, ending the kiss as awkwardly as she had started it. Praying the darkness hid her flaming face, she stepped back and forced a smile she didn't quite feel. "Um, yeah. Anyway. Uh, thank you. For defending my honor, I mean. That really was sweet. I should be going—"

  "Lori—"

  "No, really. It's okay. You should probably get home, get some ice on that hand. Or, you know, whatever it is you guys do after fights." She waved her hand between them, a desperate attempt to brush off her embarrassment. She took one step back, then another, wondering how much worse it would be if she just turned around and started running.

  Why not? She'd already embarrassed herself once. It wasn't like it could get any worse.

  She took one more backward step, stumbling when her foot slid against the gravel. Of course it did, because why not? What was one more embarrassment after everything she'd just done?

  Corbin's hand wrapped around her elbow, steadying her. At least, she supposed that's what he thought he was doing. There was nothing steadying about his touch, about the way her skin prickled with awareness from just that little bit of contact. She jerked her arm free—at least, she tried to, but Corbin's grip was strong and he refused to let go, was actually pulling her toward him.

  "Lori. Ma cocotte. What are you doing?"

  Her heart hammered in her chest, her throat closing with emotion at the sound of the silly pet name wrapped in his accented voice. There was nothing soft about it—the pet name or his voice. And there was nothing soft about the way he was looking at her, with the gleam of a predator lurking in the depths of his warm, brown eyes.

  Dangerous. She saw it now, in the way he watched her, in the way his pulse jumped in the hollow of his throat. Dangerous, yes—but she knew he would never hurt her. Not physically. Emotionally? Yes, he had the power to do that. He'd always had that power, whether he knew it or not.

  Lori swallowed against the knot in her throat. Her tongue darted out and swiped her lower lip as the knot grew, changing to something else when his gaze dropped to her mouth.

  "What are you doing, ma cocotte?" Corbin repeated the question, his voice low and husky, his accent more pronounced. She opened her mouth, closed it again when she realized she had no idea how to respond.

  "I'm not the same man—the boy—I was all those years ago."

 
; Her heart twisted at the deprecating anger in his voice, at the desperation she sensed lurking beneath his words. She stepped closer, her eyes never leaving his. "You told me that already."

  "You're playing with fire, ma cocotte. You need to leave, before I do something we'll both regret."

  She glanced down at his hand, still wrapped around her elbow, then took a deep breath and met his smoldering gaze. "What if I don't want to?"

  Time hung suspended, thick and heavy. Had she just made a mistake, one she would never recover from? No, she didn't think so, not when he watched her from beneath heavy-lidded eyes. Yet he didn't move, not even to breathe, not for what felt like an eternity.

  Then he muttered something, the guttural French too fast and low for her to make out. She didn't care, not when one strong arm wrapped around her and pulled her to him. Not when his hand threaded in her hair and tilted her head back. Not when his mouth crashed against hers.

  Hard. Hot. Demanding.

  Possessing.

  She pressed even closer, her body molding to his as her mouth opened, as the heat of his tongue tangled with hers. This. This is what she wanted. What she'd been waiting for.

  He angled his head and deepened the kiss. Need exploded through her. Need and desire, scalding, beckoning, consuming. Yes. This.

  But it wasn't enough. Not nearly enough.

  She wrapped her arms around his neck, crushed her breasts against his chest, sighed as her nipples pulled tight with the friction. He groaned, the sound nearly lost in the desperation of their kiss, and dragged his hand down her back, settling it more firmly against the curve of her ass. Squeezing, teasing, finally pulling her hips against the length of his erection.

  God, yes. This. This. She wanted him. All of him. Here. Now. It didn't matter, as long as she could have him—

  She rocked her hips against his, reveling in the feel of his hard length. Again, slower. Slower still, delighting in the feel of his body, in the heady sense of power wrapping around her.

  This. She was doing this to him. And there was so much more she wanted to do...