He found himself laughing at her tales. She had such an entertaining way of telling them.
Once parked, he led the way down the sidewalk and paused in front of the Irish pub he’d chosen for dinner and drinks. “Here we are.”
She glanced up at the dark green exterior and the gold lettering on the tall windows. “Cool.”
Inside was dark with a long, polished oak bar on one wall. Numerous TV screens played various sporting events. “Did we come here to watch a hockey game?” Jodie asked, rising onto her toes to speak into his ear.
He grinned. “Nope.” He set his hand on the small of her back and led her past the bar to a smaller room with a few empty tables, and he held a chair for her at the corner table. “We’ll have something to eat here, then we go on to the next part of the evening.”
“You’re being so mysterious.”
Only because he was still worried this whole evening was going to be a big disappointment to her.
When they’d removed their jackets and settled in, he handed her a drink menu card.
“I feel I should have an Irish drink,” she said, looking it over.
He wasn’t thinking about drinks as he watched her. She looked so pretty, her hair all tousled and sexy, her lips shiny.
“Oh, I know.” She set down the card. “Smithwick’s Irish red ale.”
A server approached with a friendly smile and he ordered two of the ales. They then perused the food menu and both decided on the same thing—the black and blue burger, a burger with blackened spices and blue cheese, Jodie choosing fries and him kettle chips.
A loud cheer arose in another small room behind them, where a rousing game of darts was going on. Jodie glanced over her shoulder and smiled. “This is a fun place.”
“Apparently the food is great.”
“No crayons or pictures to color, so I’m pretty excited about that.”
He laughed.
“And where are we going after?”
“There’s an improv theater around the corner.” He checked the time on his phone. “It starts at eight.”
“Improv? Really?” She seemed excited by this.
“Yeah.”
“Awesome!”
“I hope it’s good. It’s a political satire called Alternative Facts.”
“Aaah! I’ve heard of it! It’s supposed to be hilarious!”
“Hopefully.” This seemed positive.
The waitress brought their beers, and they each took a sip, nodding approval.
Jodie let out a breath and relaxed into her chair, looking around. “Well, this is lovely. A Friday-night date.” She lifted her glass and raised it to him in a toast. “Thank you.”
“Thank you.” He chuckled. “And thanks to Kendra and Hallsy for babysitting.”
“I love my daughter, but it’s good to feel like an adult with a life occasionally.”
“Yeah, I can see that.” Although he never had any trouble seeing Jodie as a sexy, grown-up woman. “I guess when you don’t have kids, you take for granted the freedom you have.”
“Oh yeah.” She gave an emphatic nod. “Although it’s almost hard for me to remember what life was like before Zyana. I think I wasted a lot of time,” she added musingly.
“How so? Doing what?”
“Oh, you know…sleeping in. Partying all night. Shopping when I didn’t really need anything.”
“Well, how you fill your time when you have no other responsibilities may be different, but I wouldn’t say it’s a waste of time. I guess I waste a lot of time working on my house or furniture.”
“But you’re accomplishing something doing that. You’re fixing your house, and you’re creating something beautiful.”
“So for you, it’s important to be productive.”
“Hmm.” She tilted her head. “I guess so.”
“Just relaxing and having fun is important too, even if you’re doing nothing.”
“You’re right. Like this.”
“Sure.”
“I guess building relationships is sort of accomplishing something. And that’s important too.”
“Yeah,” he said slowly. “I guess it is.”
She set an elbow on the table and propped her chin on her hand, regarding him with warm interest that made his blood heat. “How did you get started refinishing furniture?”
“I’m not sure. My dad was pretty handy. He did odd jobs, lots of minor house repairs and stuff. Pretty much all our furniture was used, and he made it look newer by painting it or putting on new hardware, and I used to help him. We’d hang out at flea markets and yard sales. Then, when I was playing in the AHL, the first time I ever went to my coach’s house for a party he was having, I saw the antiques he had…not fancy, but nice stuff. They had a gorgeous big round oak table. And that weekend, I spotted a table just like that at a flea market, only it was in rough shape. I was sure it would be just as good as the one at Coach’s house if I worked at it.”
Her face was soft, her attention fixed on him. “And was it?”
“No.” He grimaced. “I spent hours on it, watching YouTube videos to learn what to do, but it turned out it wasn’t solid oak. It was cheap wood painted to look like oak. It totally fooled me. I ended up painting it and selling it.” He rolled his eyes.
“Gah.”
“Live and learn. After that, I started hunting for a table. I had my heart set on a solid oak table, and I finally found one. Of course, I had no idea how much it was going to cost, even though it needed work. I was making decent money at that point, but it seemed like a lot to spend, to me. That’s the table in the dining nook at the house.”
“I think that’s awesome, that you can see the potential in things.”
He lifted one shoulder. “It’s just furniture.”
“Phht.”
He became aware that he’d been talking a lot. He frowned. How the hell had that happened?
“What’s wrong?” she asked.
“Nothing.” He cleared his expression and shook his head.
Their burgers arrived, and they dug into the food. “I’ll never eat all this,” Jodie said, picking up a French fry and taking a bite.
His gaze landed on her holding her French fry with her fingers, and he flashed back to the weird conversation they’d had at the Sin Bin that night, about women who ate French fries with their fingers.
And then he thought back to that night on her couch and the smoking hot massage and blow job she’d given him, resulting in a stirring in his southern region.
Jesus.
“What?” she asked. “Why are you staring at me like that?”
“I guess it’s true.”
Her eyebrows knit together. “What’s true?”
“Nothing.”
“No, no, you can’t do that. You can’t say something like that and then walk it back.”
He sighed. “You’re going to wish you didn’t ask,” he muttered.
She laughed. “What?”
“According to Brick, women who eat fries with their fingers are, uh, more likely to…well actually, he wasn’t specific, but I gathered he was talking about hand jobs and blow jobs.”
She blinked. Stared at him. Looked at the French fry she was holding. Then burst out laughing. She fell back into her chair she was laughing so hard. “I’ve never heard that,” she wheezed. “Oh my God.”
“Thank God you’re a good sport,” he said with heartfelt sincerity. “Some girls would probably freak out and be offended, and it wasn’t meant that way.”
“I’m not offended.” She shook her head and wiped a tear from one corner of her eye. She leaned forward, still smiling. “After all…you’re right. It’s true.”
Oh great. Now he had a full hard-on. And the evening had barely started.
Chapter 1
6
Jodie hadn’t known what to expect from this date. Sure, she already knew that Nick wasn’t as taciturn and grouchy as he often seemed. But tonight he was talking, making her laugh with stories about furniture, the crazy practical jokes his teammates played on each other on the road, and that hilarious axiom about women who ate French fries with their fingers.
His smile had quivery sensations rippling through her when he flashed it.
The play turned out to be entertaining as well, in a satirical way that was funny because it was so true. It turned out that she and Nick had a similar world view when it came to politics, and they had a spirited discussion about the play at the wine bar they went to for another drink after the play. When Nick started talking about trickle-down economics, her body tingled and her belly fluttered.
Great. It wasn’t enough that he was tall and ripped and handsome, with a killer—albeit rare—smile that did crazy things to her. Now she was also attracted to his brain and his sense of humor, and that was even more potent.
She bit her lip and dropped her gaze to her glass of Merlot, clenching her thighs together at the surge of lust.
“So it’s never been shown that wealth trickles down to improve the economy. Instead it ends up sheltered in tax havens for the super wealthy…uh, sorry, am I boring you?”
Her head snapped up, and she met his eyes. “No! I’m just…well, the truth is…you’re turning me on.”
His eyebrows flew up. “Trickle-down economics is turning you on?”
“No.” Her cheeks heated. “You are.”
He whipped his head around, lifted a hand, and barked, “Check, please.”
“I’m not finished with my drink!”
His eyes gleamed as he picked up his glass. “Drink up, beautiful.” He downed the rest of his wine.
Her inner muscles gave a long squeeze of excitement.
He settled the bill with a credit card, and they booked it outside and down the sidewalk toward his SUV.
When he was driving, he glanced at her and said, “Uh…Zyana?”
Jodie smiled. “She’s having a sleepover.”
“Thank the sweet baby Jesus,” he muttered, and she laughed softly.
Please, please let there be sex.
He parked in the garage. She walked ahead of him and down the sidewalk, pausing outside the coach house.
“Your place or mine?” he asked quietly.
She hesitated.
“My bed is bigger.”
“Okay then.” Smiling, she started toward his house.
They shed footwear and jackets as they walked through the mudroom and kitchen, heading straight toward the stairs.
“I’m a terrible host,” he murmured, setting his hands on her hips as he followed her up the stairs. “Do you want a, um, drink? Or coffee?”
“No. I just want you.”
“Ah.” He let out a fast breath.
“Up again?”
“Yeah. My bedroom’s on the third floor.”
They climbed one more flight of stairs and emerged into a huge open space that included a sitting area and what appeared to be a big bathroom, but most important, a giant king-size bed on a platform. He flicked on a lamp and turned to her.
Her entire body quivered with anticipation, a heavy ache building low in her pelvis.
“Come here.” Despite his words, he moved toward her with arms outstretched. She drifted toward him, her body yearning to touch his. “I want to kiss you.”
“Yes.”
She laid her hands against his chest while he clasped her hips and brought her against him, and when her breasts met his hard chest she exhaled with delight.
He lifted his hands to her face, touching her cheeks so gently, his fingertips brushing over her jaw as their mouths met. He kissed her slowly, their mouths clinging, then drew back. They looked into each other’s eyes and smiled, then Jodie’s eyes drifted closed as he tilted his head and kissed her again, deeper.
His arms went around her, one hand down to the curve of her ass, the other up into her hair. She slipped her fingertips inside his shirt, over the hot satiny skin of his neck, her other hand caressing his upper arm. She opened her mouth to him, falling into the sensation of his firm lips moving on hers, his hot tongue sliding into her mouth, the taste of him and the smell of his cologne filling her head.
His hands moved over her, sliding up her back, back down to her butt, pulling her tighter against him. His erection pressed into her, and heat radiated from his skin. They kissed on and on, Jodie straining to get closer still, rubbing her aching breasts against him, her lower belly full and hot.
He kissed over her cheek and her head fell back to give him access to her neck, where he opened his mouth on her skin and gently sucked. A shiver worked down her spine.
He guided her over to the bed, and as he sat on the foot of the bed, he pulled her down with him. He bent one knee under him so he could face her, and their hands moved over each other as they kissed, long, lush, wet kisses. Her body fevered for more, her pussy flexing and clenching involuntarily. She clutched his big shoulders as he caressed her back, her waist…her breasts ached and her nipples tingled.
His big hand slid up over her sweater, brushing against the curve of her breast. “Is this okay?” he whispered.
“Yes. God, yes.” Her back arched into his touch, as he finally cupped her breast and squeezed. “Oh yes.”
She slid her hands over the back of his head, through his short, silky hair, her eyes closed as he nibbled at her lips and licked inside her mouth. Then he slowly drew back and met her eyes. His fingers curved around the hem of her sweater. “Can I take this off you?”
She exhaled sharply, his care with her making her heart swell. “Yes.”
He lifted her loose sweater up over her head, and she raised her arms to help him. Then she was sitting beside him in her bra. His gaze dropped there, and he slid his forefinger along the scalloped edge of her black bralette. “Very nice.” His fingers traced lower, over the crisscrossed ribbons on the wide lace band below her breasts.
“Th-thank you.”
He caressed the inside curves of her breasts, watching his fingers move over her, and damn, that was hot. Then he covered one breast with his hand and rubbed. He let out a low groan. “You’re beautiful.”
Electric thrills of longing raced through her, and a small moan escaped her lips.
He nuzzled the side of her neck, pushing her hair aside, licking and kissing her again, then drew back to watch as he cupped both breasts, seeming fascinated with them. She was at best average size in the boobage department, and his rapt attention was flattering.
“This is pretty, but I want to see all of you.” He met her eyes again as he fingered the lace bralette. “Okay?”
She nodded, breathless with anticipation, hungry for his touch on her bare skin.
He felt around her back, realized there was no clasp, and slid the lace up and off. Her breasts tightened as air brushed over them and her lungs emptied. He covered her breasts with his hands, lifted their weight, molded their shape, caught her nipples between thumbs and forefingers. A hard shudder shook her.
Then he captured her mouth with his again in a hot devouring kiss. Easing her down to her back, he kept kissing her and she continued to move her hands over him, wanting to touch him everywhere…his chest, his shoulders, his neck, his hair. She pulled her feet up onto the bed, bending her knees, then arching her back as he lifted his head, looked at her breasts again, and then shifted to take her nipple into his mouth.
“Oh God…” Pleasure poured through her, sensation stabbing her clit.
He cupped her breast, plumping it up to his mouth, tugging on the tender tip with his lips, then licking it with his tongue. He pulled back to stare at her, rubbing his fingertips over the taut nipple, then moved to th
e other one to suck and lick. More ecstasy lashed through her.
“So sweet,” he muttered, then closed his lips over her flesh and pulled on it.
She let out a soft cry and arched again, her chin going up, eyes squeezed closed as fire spread through her body.
He shifted back to kiss her again, hot openmouthed kisses. She held his face, and his hand slowly slipped over her abdomen, lower and lower, over the waistband of her pants, until his fingertips brushed her pubic mound.
“Now this,” he whispered against her lips. “Can I touch you here?”
“Oh God. Yes.” She would die if he didn’t touch her there.
He palmed her through her trousers, which was not as satisfying as it could be, but still felt amazing. He rubbed her there, and tension tightened in her womb, heat spreading from her core.
“You feel good.”
“Oh…” She was mindless, speechless, drifting on sensation. “Yes…”
She felt his smile against her mouth. He slid an arm beneath her neck and kissed her again. She lifted her arm to wrap it around his head.
“Want to feel how wet you are,” he murmured, rubbing his nose alongside her. “Are you wet, beautiful?”
Oh. She melted even more at him calling her beautiful. “I’m so wet,” she breathed. “Please…touch me there.”
He rose up to deal with the button and zipper, then worked her pants down over her hips and thighs. He left her in her panties, black lace that matched the bralette, and his eyes heated with admiration as he studied her. “Gorgeous.” He stroked a fingertip down her abdomen to black lace. “These are coming off too.”
“Yes.” She lifted her hips to help him, and then she was naked. And he was…not. “I want to see you too. You’re beautiful too. I want to touch you.”
He pushed back and off the bed, and she watched, enthralled, as he unbuttoned his shirt and took it off, powerful muscles in his chest flexing, then removed his pants and socks. He left on his black boxer briefs, which were snug and barely contained a huge erection.
His body was more than beautiful. She drank in the sight of it…male perfection, with wide muscled shoulders and chest narrowing down to lean hips. His abdomen was ridged and firm, and his legs were strong and dusted with dark hair. Even his arms were gorgeous…carved muscles, lean tendons, and traced with veins.
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