Penalty Play

by Lynda Aicher

  “I need to take care of the condom,” he said, voice lazy with spent passion. Hell, he wasn’t even sure he could move yet.

  She hummed a response then sat up. Her hair swept around her face in a tangled mass of glory that added to the sex-sated expression and soft smile. Could she get any more beautiful?

  He grabbed the base of the condom as she lifted off him. She rolled to the side with a sigh and buried her face in a pillow. Yeah, he understood that. With reluctance, he heaved himself off the bed and stumbled to the master bath to clean up.

  She was in the same spot when he came out of the bathroom. He didn’t think she’d moved a single muscle. A wave of pride puffed his chest out at the sight. He’d done that to her.

  The light had faded further to deepen the shadows and frame her in gentle tones of gray and white. The rounded mound of her bottom curved down to long legs. A scattering of freckles dotted her back, and he could just see the full edge of her breast beneath her raised arm.

  She turned her head, brushing her hair from her face when he lay down. He longed to tuck her into his side yet didn’t want to crowd her. So he settled for facing her, one leg weaving between hers, his hand stroking the soft slope of her back in lazy circles.

  He met her steady gaze, unable to read what was going on in her eyes. Should he thank her? No. That sounded too…short-term.

  The song changed, a repeat of an earlier one. How long had it been?

  “I have to go,” she said, reading his mind.

  “I don’t want you to.” He managed to control his cringe even though he apparently had no control over his tongue. Not a new thing with her.

  She leaned in to press a kiss to his lips, holding it for a beat before shifting to place one more on his temple. “Thank you.”

  For what? The fuck? The orgasm? Letting her ride me like a damn bronco? Or wanting her to stay?

  He bit his tongue when she rolled to the edge of the bed, scooped up her clothes and ducked into the bathroom. The contented closeness that’d surrounded him moments ago cracked and crumbled with the click of the closing door.

  He stayed where he was, his back to the bathroom, and waited. Covering up or dressing didn’t cross his mind. She’d already seen his naked ass, so it really didn’t matter to him.

  The music didn’t hide the reopening of the door, not that he’d been listening for it.

  “Is Saturday still a no?” His voice was flat when he asked, already knowing her answer. At least the other women didn’t mind being seen in public with him.

  She came around the bed, hand grazing over his calf when she passed. “I have to work.”

  Again, her expression was unreadable, and it killed him that he couldn’t decipher her thoughts. He was usually pretty apt at that.

  She kneeled on the bed and leaned over until she was in his face, brown eyes light with the mischief he was now recognizing as trouble. “Thanks for showing me your piano.”

  His short puff of laughter managed to yank his pout out of him. “Right.” This was just sex for her.

  She pressed another kiss to his lips, shoving in with her tongue until he rolled to his back, arms coming around her. She took everything from him, blazed a path that scorched his frayed nerve endings before she lifted away.

  She licked her lips, eyes sultry with renewed heat. He could only stare back, lost and dazed as he struggled to catch his breath. She had a way of stealing it from him.

  “I’ll call you,” she said, the husky timbre racing down his chest to nudge at his exhausted dick.

  She vaulted off the bed and was almost to the door before he found his voice. “I’m on the road Sunday and Monday.”

  Her hair flowed across her back when she turned around. “Good luck.” She started out, then stopped. “Have fun on Saturday.” Then she was gone.

  “Not likely,” he mumbled into the empty room.

  The music cut out, and he quickly scooted to the end of the bed, scooping up his pants. He couldn’t let her leave like that. Not after…that. What they’d done.

  He stumbled into his jeans, half hopping to the doorway, only to hear his front door bang closed. His shoulders dropped, hands frozen as the quiet rushed in to surround him.

  She was gone.

  He ground his forehead into the doorframe, focused on the pain spreading across his face instead of the one pounding on his heart.

  It was fine. He was good. There were other women who wanted to be with him. At least for a while.

  A lot longer than two hours—if not forever.

  Chapter Nine

  Jazz music floated over the din of the crowded banquet room. Henrik tucked himself into the corner, took a sip of his soda water. How in the hell have I survived these things before?

  He managed a chin bob of acknowledgement to Allen Benning, the Glaciers’ GM, held breath easing out when the man kept moving. Henrik had done his mingling and smiling for the press when he’d arrived. He’d been trained from an early age to do the social small talk with almost anyone at events like these, but he was done tonight.

  He pulled out his phone to check the time. Another hour before he could sneak away. Great.

  Not having a girl on his arm to control the conversation and force his interaction with others was more annoying than he’d anticipated. Yet his intention of finding a Patricia replacement had fizzled out the second he’d stepped into the room and eyed up the possibilities. All the woman here paled in comparison to Jacqui—who likely hadn’t thought of him since she’d walked out of his house. Two days ago.

  This whole social event would be so much better if she was here. Out of spite and boredom, he sent a text to Jacqui. I’m not having fun.

  He regretted it the second it was off and too late to withdraw. He read it again. Yup. A pouting, petulant child he was. He stuffed the phone in his pocket before he could make it worse. Was drunk texting a plausible excuse?

  He drained his glass, the soda water mocking him as it slid down his throat.

  Shit. He rubbed his eyes and tried to shove thoughts of Jacqui away. That worked about as well as it had the last hundred times he’d tried. And when had he ever spent days thinking about a woman?

  “Hey, Roller.” Hauke punched Henrik’s arm. “How’s it going?”

  Henrik glared at his friend. A grunt was his answer.

  “That good, huh?”

  Like he needed to respond to that one. He stared at the mix of people in the room. The event had been mandatory for all the players, even the prospects who hadn’t been cut from the roster yet. They still had three more preseason games before the final lineup would be set for the season opener.

  Suits of varying color and style were on every man. The dress code for the women was more fluid, like usual. The businesswomen—reporters, Glaciers’ staff, sponsors—tended to wear dressy suits, while the wives and dates wore cocktail dresses that were generally more conservative than the single female “guests” who were also invited.

  One of those in the last group of women caught his eye, and he quickly looked away. He’d been dodging them all night. An oddity, given his girlfriendless status.

  “She’s still looking,” Hauke said.

  “So?”

  He shifted to face Henrik, the man’s scowl more concerned than angry. “Seriously. Are you good?”

  Henrik dropped his head back, sigh heaving out. The variations on that answer would take him places he didn’t want to go. “Yeah. I’m fine.” Hauke was still studying him when he glanced at him. “Shouldn’t you be with V?”

  Hauke barked a sharp laugh. “She’s fine without me.”

  The stunning PR rep was across the room talking to Vincent Segar, the Glaciers’ owner. Her hair draped down her back in a curtain of ebony silk that appeared almost blue against her black suit jacket. Sleek and haughty, Henrik had no doubt she could probably bring every man in this room to his knees if she wanted to.

  She’d certainly done it with Hauke.

  “Does she hav
e her whip with her?” Henrik poked at his teammate. It was better to dig at the man than to be scrutinized himself.

  Hauke’s grin was pure devilry. “The whip’s only for me.”

  The burst of stunned laughter that flew from Henrik’s chest was followed by a quick cough. “Right.”

  He shrugged. “You asked.” Hauke didn’t broadcast the lifestyle he led with Vanessa, but he’d revealed parts of it to Henrik and Walters over two years ago. Since then, light ribbing and banter around the topic was common between the three of them. Well, the two of them now that Walters was gone.

  Henrik shook an ice cube into his mouth from his empty glass, the crunch satisfying. “So, uh…” He cut a side glance at Hauke. “That stuff still work for you?”

  Hauke’s eyes narrowed. “What stuff?” He scanned around them, lowering his voice. “There’s a lot of stuff that still works for me.”

  The man was going to make him say it, wasn’t he? “The spanking and kneeling stuff.” Hauke shook his head, smirk pressed flat. “What?” Henrik arched a brow. “Would you like me to yell it across the room?”

  Hauke grunted. “Go ahead…but you’ll have to answer to V.”

  Damn. Henrik suppressed a shudder. He did not want to tangle with that woman. Now Jacqui… He smiled. She was strong without being cutting or cold. Hell, she’d been all kinds of hot the other day.

  His dick perked to life at the memory of her riding him, all wild yet controlled. Shit. He wasn’t thinking of Jacqui.

  Hauke’s grin was full of victory. Yeah, Henrik wasn’t taking on Vanessa. The Ice Queen was still his PR rep, and he needed to work with her.

  But Hauke… Henrik nudged him, goading a little more. “So how does it work?” He nodded toward Vanessa. “Does she tie you up, or do you bend over willingly for her?”

  Hauke’s grin morphed into a scowl that hardened his expression into the cold glare he usually leveled on their opponents. “What the fuck’s your deal?”

  If Henrik knew the answer to that, he’d probably tell their newly anointed captain. Maybe. Hauke was a friend, a good one even, but he didn’t have the personal history with him that he’d had with Walters.

  “Just my natural charm, I guess.” He rolled his shoulder, faking indifference. He could do that all day. Sometimes it even covered the ache that never quite left his chest.

  A redhead broke away from her bunny pack and headed their way, focused determination painted on her face beneath the lipstick and heavy mascara. Shit. He usually welcomed those types because it was easier for him. Except now his stomach rolled with something close to disgust. At himself, not her.

  Why had he always settled when it wasn’t what he really wanted?

  Hauke stepped around to stand in front of Henrik, blocking the pending attack. Had that been on purpose or pure accident? Either way, relief rushed through Henrik, the knot in his gut easing a bit.

  “Where’s Patty?”

  “Patricia,” Henrik automatically corrected. “And we split.”

  Hauke let that hang, his shoulders lowering. “You’ve been avoiding the available women all night.”

  Henrik snorted. “What difference does it make to you?”

  “There’s always a girl on your arm.”

  Fuck. “Your point?”

  Hauke slowly shook his head. “I don’t know. But…there’s something.”

  “Do you want to hug now?”

  His lip quirked up. “Not a fucking chance.” He flipped his chin up. “I wouldn’t want to make the girls jealous.”

  Henrik held a straight face for a moment before his bark of laughter burst free. “Right.” He nudged Hauke on the shoulder. “You’re probably afraid of what V would do to you.”

  Hauke waggled his brows. “That hug is looking more inviting now.”

  “Christ.” The bitterness coated his mouth with sardonic mirth. It definitely wasn’t jealousy. Not at all. “I don’t need that picture in my head.”

  “What picture?” Hauke stepped away, an innocent grin in place.

  Hell. Henrik shook his head, bowing out in gallant defeat. “Don’t you have someone to schmooze?”

  The weight of his new responsibility fell onto Hauke with a physical drop of his head. “Dick.”

  “That’s me.”

  The man blew out a breath, head whipping up, charm in place. “You sure you don’t want to be captain?”

  “Ha!” No fucking way. “Good one.”

  “Shit.” Hauke swung around to stare at the room. “I could still back out and—”

  “No.” Henrik’s insistence was sharp and serious. Hauke froze, stunned brows raised. “You are the only one who can follow Walters. You get the guys and the team. We need you as our captain.” He let that sink in, meaning every word. “The guys voted you into that role for a reason.”

  Hauke pressed his lips thin, gave a short nod of acknowledgement. “Thanks.” He cleared his throat, straightened his jacket and tipped his head toward the crowd. “Guess I’d better go be the face of the Glaciers then.”

  Henrik lifted his glass in mock salute. “Wow them with your charm, because your beauty won’t do it.”

  “Fuck you.”

  “Anytime. I keep telling you that.”

  Hauke walked away, people stepping aside to let him pass. Commanding, he carried his role and experience with a natural casualness Henrik had never mastered. He could fake it with the best of them, but he was always aware of exactly how much it choked him.

  The tickling vibration of his phone on his ribs yanked him out of his unwanted self-musings. He slid the phone out of his inner pocket, grin forming when he saw the text was from Jacqui.

  Me neither. But at least you get to drink.

  His rough snort jerked through his shoulders. The soda water’s a poor replacement for you.

  He caught movement out of the corner of his eye and headed for the exit. It didn’t matter who was approaching him, the only conversation he wanted to have right now was with Jacqui. He stepped into the freedom of the hallway, the air only slightly less stifling.

  Charming even over text.

  I try.

  Good luck on the road.

  That got a small smile. Thanks.

  He waited for something more, but the conversation had come to an obvious end. No mention of another date or what, a fuck? He cringed at the word. It didn’t sound right with—for—her. Jacqui hadn’t been a fuck, even if it only ended up being the one time.

  A glance back into the room showed his teammates mingling and laughing. That was his family. Better than his own in so many ways. Not all the guys were his best buds. The occasional scorn or not-so-joking remarks about his behavior were a good clue to that. But none of that mattered on the ice. Out there, they worked as a single unit.

  Teamwork. Brotherhood. Comradery—that was why he played hockey. They were his family.

  And right now he wanted none of it.

  He turned his back, heading for the valet stand, not caring about the monetary fine management would slap on him for leaving early. It wouldn’t be his first, but usually it was caused by a woman’s demands, not his own.

  Chapter Ten

  “Grenick cuts off the pass, knocking it up to Conners, who takes a hard check into the boards from Dennison.”

  A series of mixed groans and cheers blasted from the family room to drown out the sportscasters along with a curse.

  “Daniel.” The sharp reprimand from her mother identified the culprit.

  “Mom,” her brother groaned.

  “Your daughter’s in the next room.”

  Jacqui looked up from the book she was trying to study to catch the impish smile on her three-year-old niece’s face. The little devil shook her head, dark curls bouncing around her cheeks before she pressed a finger over her lips.

  “Bad words aren’t nice,” Lanie said, completely serious.

  “You’re right.” Jacqui bit her lips to trap her smile. “Your daddy shouldn’t say things like
that.”

  The little girl wrinkled her nose. “He forgets.”

  Jacqui’s chuckle burst free before she could stop it this time. “Yeah.” She faked a stern expression. “But you know better, right?”

  Lanie heaved a sigh that only a child could get away with, her full exasperation communicated in a look. “Yes, Aunt Jacqui.”

  She leaned across the dining table to tap her niece on her pert little nose. “Imp.”

  “What’s that?”

  She shook her head, chuckling. Had she been like that as a kid? “A troublemaker.” Maybe before the cancer. After the first round, she’d pretty much retreated into her music. The piano never asked if she was doing okay or feeling sick or tired.

  Lanie shook her head, mouth puckering between round cheeks. “I’m not trouble. That’s Uncle Aiden.”

  Jacqui’s laugh was full and loud. God, it felt good to laugh.

  “Froehlich has it along the boards.” The distinctive sound of a body crashing into the Plexiglas broke over the sportscaster. “He took a hard check from Grenick, who—” Another cheer from the family room had Jacqui straining to hear the rest, but it was pointless.

  “Why don’t you watch?”

  She snapped her head around, chair almost toppling from its precarious two-leg balance as she’d unsuccessfully stretched to see the TV in the other room. Crap. “Because I don’t care about the game.”

  “Then why do you keep trying to see it?” Lanie’s squished-up brow was too cute for the observant little devil.

  Why indeed? Her skin flushed warm as thoughts of Henrik rushed in to mock her denial. Well, she didn’t care about the game. Maybe a player…

  The front door banged open around a call of “Pizza’s here.”

  Saved!

  “Yay!” Lanie bolted into the family room before Jacqui even thought of moving. “Did you get me a cheese one?”

  Jacqui made it to the archway between the two rooms in time to see her niece launch herself at Colin. Fortunately Finn was there to grab the stack of pizza boxes from Colin before Lanie dislodged them.

  “You wanted cheese?” Colin faked confusion as he swung Lanie up to hold her.