Flirting on Ice

by Veronica Forand

  “I’m leaving my parents’ house soon so I’ll be home in an hour. I’ll massage your neck if you want.”

  He’d already had a half-hour rubdown by one of the team massage therapists, but she probably knew that. “I’m all set. And I wouldn’t be able to handle just a neck massage.”

  He wanted her hands all over him, not just on his neck, and he wanted to do the same to her.

  He heard her sigh. “You’re right, but I can’t help it. This separation feels like forever.”

  “That’s an understatement.”

  After they hung up, he couldn’t get the idea of a full body massage with Heather out of his mind. It would help him relax, and her, too. What was one night? He tried to think of a way to sneak into her apartment without drawing the attention of the press corps and crazy, pissed-off fans.

  “Up for a little burlesque?” Sequoia leaned on the doorframe and pulled his blond hair into a ponytail. He looked ready for a night on the town in black pants, a black sweater, and biker boots. Hell, he could be the bouncer at any club they went to.

  “Not tonight. I thought I’d head home.”

  “Don’t lie to me.”

  “How the hell do you know I’m lying?”

  “I just do.” Sequoia frowned, and any sign of his oldest, dearest friend evaporated. “I don’t usually give you dating advice, but in this case, it’s needed. Don’t screw around with Heather. She’s a good kid and doesn’t need the shit the fans put her through tonight.”

  “It’s not like that.”

  “What’s it like?”

  “I like her. A lot. And I know she feels the same way. She gets me. Almost as much as you do.”

  A grin emerged on Sequoia’s face and transformed the two-hundred-pound right-winger back into a friend. “What can I do to help?”

  “I need your car. Can you get a ride from someone else tonight?”

  “I’ll go with Mikael.” He tossed Zac the keys to his Escalade. “Have fun.”

  …

  Heather pocketed her phone and called for Brindy. The dog padded across her parents’ deck and rubbed against her legs, a comforting touch in a hectic time.

  The humiliation from the crowd’s reaction to her image during the game had increased as she’d watched her parents’ faces line with tension. Her decision not to wear the jersey she’d purchased, adorned with Zac’s name and number, had been a stroke of luck. She could only imagine the outcry if she’d been seen wrapped up in Elliot, number seven.

  Throughout the game, Ben had clung to her side, interrupting the uncomfortable silence in the owner’s suite with negative comments on Zac’s performance and mentions of unsigned centers who’d excel if signed to the Hustlers. She’d deflected his comments about Zac as best as she could and fought to control the famous Ryan temper, but having to put up with him throughout dinner tried her patience. Thick tension clutched her stomach in a viselike grip. Escaping to the deck gave her a brief reprieve.

  When she returned to the house, she heard her parents talking in her father’s study. Ben sat at the kitchen table. “Too bad we didn’t share a car today. Want to catch a late movie after we get home?”

  “I can’t.” She leaned against the counter and glanced at the clock over the sink. She didn’t want to stand in her parents’ kitchen, holding a conversation with Ben. She wanted to be at home, with Zac. Hopefully his ankle was okay.

  “We don’t have to go out. We could stay in. You can come down to my apartment.”

  “I said I can’t.” She couldn’t keep the edge out of her voice. Wanting to keep the peace with the team’s general counsel, and not give the situation more attention, she hadn’t called him out on his lies.

  Big mistake.

  He smiled and his persuasive tone crooned, “I know you get upset after a loss but don’t let it get to you. Zac couldn’t control the puck tonight and—”

  Enough. Anger erupted and carried her closer. She planted her hands on the table. “Look, I know you lied to Zac and to me. So leave me alone, unless you want me to say something to my dad.”

  Ben’s eyes widened and his mouth opened and closed. “I don’t know what Zac told you but—”

  She held up her hand, seething. “Just stop. Friends don’t lie to each other. I’m about three seconds from blowing up, so you need to leave. And from now on, stay away from me.”

  He stood, gaping at her. Hands curled into fists, she stared him down and gained a small measure of relief when he left the room and bid her parents goodbye.

  Despite Ben’s absence, and despite her mother’s attempts to lighten the situation, dessert with her parents didn’t improve her mood, or her father’s opinion of the team’s play. She escaped as soon as the dishes were washed.

  Heather threaded her way through traffic, listening to the sports station’s post-game analysis. Caller after caller blamed her for the loss. Their hatred flared through the speakers. After one particularly livid man’s recap of the game, she switched stations and settled on a slamming heavy-metal beat.

  She pulled into the underground garage at her apartment complex and immediately relaxed. Here, was sanctuary. The relief was short-lived. A large, black SUV had parked in one of her reserved spots. Another reporter? She exhaled. Annoyance overrode her anticipation. After cutting the engine, she climbed out, preparing an icy retort for whoever dared to cross her path.

  The driver’s-side door opened and Zac, in dark jeans, sneakers, and a black shirt pushed up to the elbows, stepped out, wincing slightly. Her defensive posture melted away.

  “You came.” She rushed around her car, but hesitated as she moved closer. Was his ankle okay?

  He must have read her mind. With the grace of a lion at the kill, he sprang toward her on the hurt ankle and grinned. “I’m fine.”

  Happiness doused her reserve. Laughing, she launched herself into his arms.

  His arms banded across her back, locking her against him. “It’s been too damn long. I have to taste you.”

  The most perfect lips closed over hers and the feel and scent of him made up for all the berating the fans had tossed her way. She grabbed tight to his shirt collar and poured the need she’d bottled for weeks into her kiss. Tongues glided together, testing, tasting, and sparking desperation for more.

  Zac’s hands slipped into the back pockets of her jeans and pressed her against his hard middle. His touch fueled her hunger for him. She trailed kisses over his face, then nipped his ear lobe.

  He groaned and directed her lips back to his. “I’ll never get enough of you.”

  The distant sound of a car alarm’s chirping pulled her back to her surroundings. She tilted her head away from Zac’s. His lips grazed her throat, and her knees weakened when his teeth found a sensitive spot on the side of her neck. His heavy breathing matched her own. Locked in his embrace, she held tight as the explosion of emotions leveled to barely banked flames.

  “We should head upstairs.” Her fingers linked with his as they strolled up the ramp, through the lobby, and onto the waiting elevator. When it lurched in ascent, Zac shifted his stance from one leg to the other.

  “How’s your ankle, really?” She gripped his hand tighter.

  His mouth transformed from hot and intense to the beginnings of a smile. “I’m not thinking much about it right now.”

  “Did you ice it?”

  The smile spread into a grin. “Yes. Don’t worry, I’ll be fine.”

  He took the keys from her hand and unlocked the door. His gaze skimmed the room, and he crossed to the window. She’d forgotten to close the curtains earlier. Thousands of stars winked against a backdrop of black.

  “Nice place.”

  “I like it.” Heather stepped out of her shoes, then joined him at the window. “You can’t beat this view.”

  Zac drew her against him. He unwound her scarf and then focused on slipping each button through its loop until he’d unbuttoned her coat. After weeks of longing, seeing him in her private space was lik
e a dream come true. He turned and tossed her coat on a nearby chair. His powerful build and fluid movements mesmerized her. She stepped closer, needing to touch him, and slid her arms around his waist.

  His hands caressed her sweater. “Not being able to touch you was driving me crazy.”

  Crazy? Was she really the cause of his problems on the ice? She stiffened. “Am I distracting you from your job?”

  His hands stilled, and he studied her with quiet intensity. “No.”

  “I wouldn’t want to do anything to jeopardize you or your career, especially now.”

  “Nothing would affect my game, except losing you. Phoenix outplayed us. It happens. But it isn’t your fault.” His large hands cupped her face.

  “I hate the media circus.” Digs at her character cut deeper than she cared to admit.

  His lips feathered across her mouth. “Me, too, but right now, right here, it’s just you and me.”

  “You’re right.” Heather rose onto her toes and touched her lips to his.

  Zac brushed the sides of her neck with his fingertips, then slid them in a slow, sensual journey down the vee of her sweater.

  She shivered and tugged his shirt over his head, then tossed it onto the couch. Golden skin covered sculpted muscles. His rugged beauty pulled the air from her lungs. She stroked his forearms and biceps, then his pecs and abs.

  He sucked in a breath and caught her hands in his.

  “I’ve thought about this moment, imagined how it would be when I finally got my hands on you.” His lifted her sweater up and over her head, his knuckles grazing her skin. A low whistle exited his lips, and his finger brushed the curve of her breast. “Red silk. You’re better than every one of my fantasies.”

  “I go all the way when wearing team colors on game day.” She gasped as his mouth followed the path of his fingers and his tongue laved a line of wet heat over her skin. A flash of want, desire, and need surged through her body. Zac was the center of the storm.

  He lifted his head, and a wicked smile flashed across his features. He slowly drew down the zipper of her jeans and inch by inch, slid the denim down her legs. She held onto his shoulders and stepped out.

  “You do go all the way on game day.” His finger traced the black lace edging of her red silk boy shorts.

  Desire overcame patience. She pressed her body against his hard middle, then slipped her hand between them and teased along the zipper of his jeans. His groan emboldened her movements.

  Zac captured her hands in his, and his lips teased hers in slow, soft kisses. She shuddered and leaned into him. Steeped in his scent, she let her tongue play with his. She slipped her hands from his grip and glided them over his chest. The ridges and planes rippled under her touch. His hands, hot on her back, splayed against her spine. One hand skimmed her skin and fisted in her hair. The other drifted and cupped the satin at her hip. His strength wrapped around her, and she wanted more.

  Her hands gripped the waistband of his jeans. She tugged his jeans down his legs and trailed her fingers over his boxers, drawing moans and murmured urgings. Zac kicked off his shoes, jeans, and boxers. With a predatory smile, he stalked toward her.

  “Every night, when I close my eyes, I think about you.” His hands cupped her breasts. “I think about you during the day, too.”

  She closed her eyes as his clever fingers teased through the satin and lace. With a quiet snick, the clasp opened. His lips and teeth replaced his hands.

  Her fingers tangled in his hair, and she rode out the waves of pleasure. “I’ve waited so long for this. I want to feel you.”

  After rolling on protection, he grasped her hips and lifted her.

  Heather wrapped her legs around his waist. The cool glass window met her upper back. Hot and cold vied for dominance. And cold jarred reason through the fire.

  “Wait.” She pushed against his chest until they were eye to eye. “We need to move. Anyone standing on the beach will have a clear view into the room.”

  “Where’s your bedroom?”

  She pointed toward the hall. “The room at the end.”

  “Too far.” Zac carried her away from the window, trailing kisses over her throat. She closed her eyes and fisted his hair to keep him close. He veered to the left and in seconds pressed her against the marble pillar beside the couch. Cold kissed her shoulders and she leaned into his heat.

  Zac’s thigh shifted her higher. A thin barrier of silk separated them as he rocked against her. Desperate to feel skin on skin, Heather tightened her legs, pressing him as close as possible.

  “More.” She threaded her fingers through his hair, streaked her other hand down his chest, determined to give him the same dizzying pleasure.

  Zac’s hand brushed her center, and he shifted the black lace aside. His gaze lifted from his fingers to her eyes. Her breath caught, and she focused on the intensity and concentration on Zac’s face. Here with her now, warm and strong and real. The weeks of waiting were over, and she wanted to remember every detail. Acutely aware of the hiss of the furnace, the warmth of the room, and the feel of his body against hers, she leaned in and pressed her mouth to his. A groan rumbled deep in his chest. His muscles stiffened, but he kept the kiss gentle.

  When she lifted her lips, he murmured her name, and fiery desire burned brighter. She pulled him closer. “I need you.”

  With one hard thrust, he filled her. Heat lanced into her core. Biting back a scream, Heather clamped her arms around his shoulders and urged him on. Need fed off need, and touch encouraged touch. Whispered promises and murmured demands stoked the fires higher until nothing mattered but the man filling her world.

  Her nails scraped his back as she rode out the wave of explosive tremors. Zac followed her over the edge, then covered her mouth with his.

  “You. Only you.” His voice rasped in her ear.

  “Yes.” Satisfaction soared at his words. Heather hugged him tighter. Her pulse slowed and her system leveled out. Only Zac.

  She slid down his body. Her legs couldn’t hold her weight, and he caught her and carried her to the couch.

  “Sit in front of me and face the window,” she demanded. If he faced her, she’d need more kisses, and right now, he deserved to be spoiled. Her hands traveled over the rock-solid muscles in his back. She wanted more of him. She’d never have enough. “Time for the massage I promised you. I intend to start at the neck and work my way down.”

  …

  As the first light of morning filled her bedroom, Zac’s method of waking her jolted her from sensual dreams and set her body humming. Throughout the night, they’d turned to each other, again and again, catching snatches of sleep between passionate kisses and erotic explorations. She clung to his shoulders until the tidal wave of ecstasy crested.

  “Do you think you can give me another massage? I’m feeling stiff.” His body shifted over hers, showing exactly what he wanted massaged.

  The pleasure pulsing through her body arrowed into her heart. She loved the easy, comfortable, sexy pattern they fell into when together, but the sunlight shifting across the room reminded her of the realities and responsibilities waiting outside their cozy cocoon. “I want to say yes, but are you sure this will be okay?”

  “What nobody knows won’t hurt them or us.” Zac’s confident smile alleviated some of her concerns.

  “In that case, I’ll give you a little preview of what I have in mind for tonight.” Grasping his hand, she pulled him from the bed and toward the bathroom. “Let’s see how you are at water sports.”

  The steamy shower with him lasted longer than she’d anticipated. Heather rushed to dress for work while Zac tugged on last night’s clothes.

  “I’m going to be late. I’m never late.” She glanced at the clock and willed the gurgling coffeemaker to finish brewing.

  “You’ll make it. Nothing bad could happen today.” He pulled her against him and pressed his lips to hers.

  She lingered in his kiss until the coffeemaker beeped. She brushed her f
ingers over Zac’s shirt, then opened her door for him. “Call me later?”

  “Count on it.” With a nod and a grin, he walked to the elevator. She closed the door behind him and ran an Olympic sprint through her apartment, gathering her purse, phone, and keys.

  Five minutes later, carrying a travel mug with coffee mixed with a shot of espresso, she climbed into her car, secured the coffee in its holder, found a sultry tune to accompany her drive, and drove through the garage.

  She turned onto the street, and, waiting for the light to turn green, stole a sip of coffee. Something slammed into the back of her car and spun her sideways. The contents of her cup sloshed down her coat. Her head and shoulder smacked the window. Pain destroyed the blissful stupor she’d been in all morning. Heartbeat pounding in her throat, Heather sucked in shallow breaths and glanced at the large pickup truck reversing away from her car. It backed up until the driver’s-side door was even with hers.

  Wearing a sneer, the driver leaned out his window, bald, brawny, and menacing enough to send chills through her system. “Stay away from Zac Elliot. Next time the Hustlers lose a game, you won’t escape with bruises and a broken axle.”

  Chapter Five

  Zac left Heather’s with barely enough time to drive home and change. He’d need to haul ass to avoid arriving late for practice. Hopefully, Sequoia would share his usual coffee-and-doughnut breakfast, and he could devour it before the coach arrived. As he approached his house, ten miles outside Atlantic City in the New Jersey countryside, he saw Eric sitting in his car by the front gate. Zac slowed down next to him, his heartbeat accelerating into a relentless pounding through his chest. Shit. If Eric was here, something bad had occurred. Again.