Here We Go

by Shannon Stacey

  Kristen let herself savor the sensation of having a man under her. It wasn’t a pleasure she indulged in often, so she intended to enjoy the hell out of this one while she had him. His kiss was demanding, almost rough, and his fingertips bit into her thighs before his hands slid up to cup her breasts.

  She expected him to go right for the clasp, but he ran his thumbs over the satin fabric, making circles around her taut nipples. Then he pinched, almost painfully, and she moaned against his lips.

  In case he was waiting for permission, she unclasped the bra herself before undoing the lower two buttons of the Henley shirt. She wanted him naked sooner rather than later.

  He didn’t pull the straps down and fling the bra away. Instead, as she broke off the kiss and straightened her back, he slid his hands under the fabric and cupped her breasts again before slowly drawing the straps down her arms. She watched him stare at her body, and his expression left no doubt he was very into soft curves.

  When his mouth closed over her nipple, she ran her fingers through his thick dark hair before stroking the side of his beard. It was soft, not prickly, and she was looking forward to feeling it on the inside of her thigh.

  He sucked hard, and she gasped, her hips rocking against his. The sound he made low in his throat thrilled her, and she decided it was time he lost some clothes. Like, all of them.

  As his mouth moved to her other breast, she gathered the hem of his shirt and pulled it upward. He pulled his arms out of each sleeve as she held it, and then he caught her nipple in his teeth for a second before lifting his head.

  She flung the shirt away and gave herself a few seconds to enjoy the look and feel of his muscular chest before climbing off of his lap. He took her hand and pushed himself off the couch, and she led him toward the bedroom.

  “I don’t usually pack condoms to read my book, so I hope you have some,” he told her as they crossed the threshold to her room.

  “I do,” she said. More than enough to get them through several rounds if he had it in him. And she really hoped he did. “So it’s safe to lose the pants.”

  There was enough light shining in from the living room so she could appreciate his sculpted ass and thighs as he stripped the rest of his clothes off. He even had amazing calves, which she noticed when he removed his socks.

  Then his hands were on her again, and he kissed her as he backed her toward the bed. She explored his body with her hands—his chest and his back before sliding her hands down to cup his ass—while his tongue danced over hers and his hands caressed her breasts.

  Once it was within reach, she broke off the kiss to open her nightstand drawer. She withdrew a condom packet and tossed it on the table before closing the drawer. It was kind of a test—would he pick it up right away or let it wait while he got to know her body better?

  And the man passed the test.

  Ignoring the condom, he lifted her onto the bed and, after stripping her of her panties, got to know her very thoroughly. His mouth and his hands moved over her, and he took his time with her breasts. The hollow of her throat. Her shoulders. He kissed his way down her stomach as his hand slipped between her thighs and stroked her. Then he hooked one hand behind her knee and opened her to his mouth. She’d been right about how good his beard would feel against her thighs.

  He not only knew where to find the clit, but he sucked and licked with just the right amount of pressure, and the orgasm hit her hard and fast. Her fingernails dug into his shoulders, and he soothed her with gentle strokes of his tongue before he kissed his way back up her body.

  “It’s been a while,” he said, giving her a sheepish grin. “So tell me now if there’s another condom in that drawer or if this is my only shot.”

  “There’s more,” she said, and she snagged the wrapper off the nightstand to hand to him. “I want you now.”

  It only took him a few seconds to roll on the condom, and then he covered her body with his. She ran her hands over his chest, liking the way he held eye contact with her as he guided the tip of his erection into her.

  He took his time, easing into her slowly then backing off before pushing a little deeper in slow, even strokes. Kristen wasn’t sure if he was making sure she could handle it or if he was trying to exercise some self-control, but she liked it. His muscles were hard under her touch, and she loved skimming her palms over the chiseled curve of his ass.

  When he was fully inside of her, Will paused, lowering his head to suck first one nipple and then the other before nipping at the side of her jaw. She turned her head, capturing his lip between her teeth before kissing him.

  Finally he started moving with long, steady strokes that gave her the delicious friction she’d been craving. He looked down at her, the corners of his mouth turned up as he quickened the pace, and she moaned.

  Each stroke came harder and faster, until she could feel the tension growing inside her again. Reaching between their bodies, she scraped her fingernails over his hip bone and skimmed them over his balls before pressing her fingertips to her clit.

  He thrust hard into her as she came, and she dug her fingers into his biceps, her back arching off the bed. As the waves of pleasure subsided, she felt him shudder, and he groaned as he came seconds later. He pushed into her, holding there while his hips twitched and his breath came in ragged gasps.

  After a few seconds, he reached down to hold the condom and pulled out of her before rolling and flopping onto his back. Kristen listened to their breathing as it slowly returned to normal, and she liked the fact he slid his hand toward her until his pinkie was hooked over hers.

  “There’s a box of tissues on the nightstand and a trash can under it,” she said in a still slightly breathless voice.

  He rolled away for a moment, and then he stretched out on his back and tugged her close. She rested her head on his shoulder, running her hand over his chest. It wouldn’t be comfortable for very long, but it wasn’t as if she was going to fall asleep like this.

  She didn’t want him to fall asleep, either—not only because she wasn’t finished with him yet, but also because he wouldn’t be spending the night. Usually this was where she’d get up and throw her robe on, and then ask him if he’d like a drink before he called for an Uber. But she didn’t want Will getting out of her bed yet, so she figured conversation might keep him awake until round two commenced.

  “I’d never seen you at Firewall before and then you’re there three nights in a week. What made you suddenly pop up like that?”

  “I’m in Boston for business.”

  “Oh? And what is it you do?”

  He chuckled. “I thought you didn’t care about my job. Or my zodiac sign.”

  She trailed her fingernail down his sternum. “I find you a little more interesting now than I did when I said it.”

  “Okay. I’m a Scorpio. And I play hockey.”

  “Shit.” She sat up, pulling the sheet over her breasts. “Shit.”

  He snorted, obviously amused. “Scorpios aren’t as bad as they say, you know.”

  This couldn’t be happening right now. She’d finally met a man she already knew she wouldn’t tire of after a few dates and he was a freaking hockey player.

  “Hockey?” she asked, just to be sure. Maybe she’d heard him wrong. “Really?”

  “Yes, really. You asked what I do, and what I do is play professional hockey. Minor leagues at the moment, but not for long.”

  “I should’ve known when I had my hands on that ass you played hockey. Dammit.”

  He sat up, though he didn’t get out of her bed. “Most women want to fuck professional hockey players, you know.”

  “I’m not most women. I hate hockey, and I don’t fuck hockey players.”

  “Didn’t.”

  “What?”

  “You didn’t fuck hockey players. Past tense. Now you do.”

  “Did.” She gave him a pointed look. “Past tense.”

  “Ouch.”

  “My brother plays hockey.”

/>   “Really? Like in a local league?”

  She slid off the bed, letting the sheet fall away so she could pull her robe on and signal he should get dressed. A hockey player? Not a chance. She was done here, and it was time for him to go. “No, professionally. For the Boston Marauders.”

  She happened to be looking at him when she said the words, so she saw the effect they had on him. His face froze, the color draining from it, and she was willing to bet if she could see the back of his neck, the hair there would be standing up. “Your brother plays for the Boston Marauders?”

  “Yeah. Erik Burke.”

  He stared at her for a few long seconds and then fell back onto the pillow. “Oh, fuck.”

  Of all the women in all the gin joints in Boston…or something like that.

  Will scrubbed his hands over his face as he tried to figure out how the hell to get out of the predicament he’d gotten himself into. He’d just had sex with the sister of the only guy he’d ever really hated off the ice—the guy with whom he had a rivalry so infamous nobody talked about one’s career without at least a passing mention of the other.

  He needed to get the fuck out of here and forget he’d ever met this woman.

  But he didn’t want to. He didn’t want to leave yet and even though the sweat had barely dried on his skin, he already knew he wasn’t ever going to forget her.

  “What’s going on right now?” she asked, and he sighed, surrendering to the inevitable.

  “Does the name Cross Lecroix mean anything to you?”

  She rolled her eyes and made a sound that told him yes, the name meant something to her. And it wasn’t something good. “Of course. It wouldn’t be a Burke family dinner without a heaping side of Cross Lecroix hate.”

  It took everything he had not to laugh out loud. Not that there was anything particularly funny about the situation, but the improbability of them ending up in bed together was so ridiculous he could barely hold it back.

  Before he could speak, she pointed a finger at him. “If you’re about to ask for an autograph or help getting to the majors or some bullshit, you can get up and get the fuck out right now. You’re not getting to either of them through me. Not my brother and certainly not Cross fucking Lecroix.”

  That did make him laugh. Cross fucking Lecroix? But he stopped laughing when she sent an icy glare his way.

  “I don’t want an autograph.” He got up and pulled on his boxer briefs because it was time to get dressed. The way this night was going, he was going to be out the door pretty damn soon, and he’d prefer to be fully dressed when it slammed behind him. “Do you not even know what Lecroix looks like? You haven’t seen a picture of him? Seen his face on the television?”

  “Not that I remember or paid any attention to. I might have to listen to my family bitch about him, but other than that, I ignore him. I ignore all of it.” She frowned, and then he could practically hear the click of puzzle pieces falling into place in her mind. “No. Absolutely just…no.”

  “I swear I didn’t know who you are.” He really hoped he could make her believe this was nothing but an accident, even though he could barely believe it himself.

  “You said your name is Will.”

  “It is. Will Lecroix.” He shrugged. “When I was a kid, I had a bad habit of cross-checking, and with the name Lecroix, it became a nickname. By college, nobody was even using my real name anymore. Except my mother and sister, of course.”

  “You said you play in the minor league.”

  “And I also said not for long, and I meant that literally. I’m in Boston for a conditioning stint with the Skimmers.”

  She cinched the belt on her robe tight and then exhaled slowly. “This is bad.”

  He couldn’t disagree with that, but only to a point. “Getting naked with Erik Burke’s sister is definitely right up there on the list of sins I shouldn’t have committed, but I’m having a hard time being as sorry about it as I should be. Tonight wasn’t all bad.”

  When she put her hand over her mouth and then turned her back, Will decided to give her a moment. It was a lot to digest. But when her shoulders started shaking, he mentally ran through every curse word he knew and shoved a hand through his hair.

  Goddammit, he’d made her cry.

  Because nothing about their interaction tonight—as focused on the physical as it might have been—led him to believe she was a woman who cried easily, dark thoughts crept into his head, and his fists clenched at his sides. Maybe Erik Burke was even more of an asshole than he’d thought. Or their old man. That guy was a real piece of work, from what he’d seen and heard over the years.

  The thought of her being afraid of the men in her own family turned his stomach, and he’d closed half the distance between them before he realized she wasn’t crying.

  She was laughing.

  And he didn’t know what to do with that, either. How the hell had he gotten himself into this predicament? And maybe the better question was how he was going to get out of it. Or did he even want to?

  He didn’t find it quite as laugh-out-loud funny as Kristen seemed to, but of all the people in the world he could have had semi-anonymous sex with, Burke’s sister had to be the least likely. And if he hadn’t already met her, the very suggestion of such a thing happening would have sent him running like his ass was on fire.

  But he had met her. He’d met her and wanted her and, if he was honest with himself, he already wanted her again.

  “It’s tempting to think you set this up somehow,” she said when the laughter had passed. “But I saw your face when I said Erik’s name, and there’s no way you knew.”

  “What would I get out of tracking you down and then sitting there by myself, reading a book and minding my own business until you decided to have sex with me?”

  She snorted. “Just to piss off my brother? Remember, everything I know about you has been filtered through my dad and Erik. Does your mom sit around talking about what a sweet boy Erik Burke is?”

  “I wouldn’t say she’s a big fan, no. Especially lately.”

  “Yeah, about that.” She tilted her head. “Didn’t you get hurt? I mostly tune out the hockey talk, but I have a vague memory of my dad and Erik talking about him taking you out of the game.”

  Ouch. “They were probably just excited because with me out, the Marauders might have a chance to win something.”

  She arched one eyebrow. “Seriously? I have zero interest in this macho bullshit, in case that wasn’t clear before. I’m merely curious because I heard you were injured, but you didn’t seem to be hurting tonight.”

  “It was just a separated shoulder that had nothing to do with him.” He threw the words out casually, but he shuddered at the memory of how the nagging pain had become a searing pain when he was swinging at Burke and turned into a flaming agony when they went down on the ice and Will took both their weights on his shoulder. It had everything to do with Burke. “I’ll be doing a conditioning stint with our affiliate team here in Boston after the All-Star break, and then, if I’m still pain-free, going back to Baltimore.”

  “Huh.” She chuckled. “I feel like there’s some irony in your team’s minor league affiliate being here in the city that hates you.”

  “Yeah, I know. But it’s not like the teams had a big rivalry umpteen years ago, when that decision was made. That’s centered more around me and Burke...uh, your brother.”

  “I need a drink,” she announced.

  “I wouldn’t turn one down myself, unless you’re throwing me out.”

  “I’m not throwing you out.” He would have grinned, but she cast him a hard look over her shoulder. “Yet.”

  3

  Cross Lecroix was in her apartment. Not only was he in her apartment, but not too long ago, he’d been in her bed.

  Wrapped in her bathrobe, Kristen curled up in the corner of her sofa, once again facing Will, who’d sat in the other corner. They each had a fresh vodka soda, with an emphasis on the vodka, because what the hell
had even happened tonight?

  There was no way she could have known the hot guy in the gray Henley reading a biography of Abigail Adams in a Boston bar was the man her father and brother hated more than anybody else. Hating Cross Lecroix was like the family legacy—any night the Marauders lost sucked, but if Lecroix’s Harriers also lost their game, it wasn’t all bad.

  Trying to wrap her mind around Will and the notorious Cross being the same man had her sipping her drink again, watching him over the rim of her glass.

  “You’re not going to run your mouth, are you?” she asked after a few minutes of sitting in silence that was more contemplative than awkward.

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean, you’re not going to use this as some kind of trash-talking weapon in your hockey war with my brother, are you?”

  He looked so shocked and offended, she almost felt bad for voicing her concerns. “Okay, I get that we don’t actually know each other all that well, so I’m not going to get mad about that, but no. I wouldn’t do that to you. Or to him, to be honest. Family’s a line you shouldn’t cross.”

  “Okay. It’s just that I have a very conservative boss, and I’m up for a promotion I’ve worked my ass off to get. The last thing I need is to be caught in some one-night-stand sex scandal with the most hated athlete in the city.”

  “Maybe not the most hated athlete.” He scowled. “Probably top five, though.”

  “You’re top three on a good day. And you getting caught defiling Erik Burke’s little sister would totally knock the other two out of contention.”

  “Defiling?” He laughed, shaking his head. “I’m pretty sure you defiled me.”

  “Possibly.” She shrugged, and her robe slipped down her shoulder a little. She was going to fix it, but Will’s dark eyes locked on the skin it revealed, and she left it alone. “It was something of a mutual defiling, but I doubt Boston hockey fans will see it that way.”

  “So, what now?”

  That was a good question. If she had any sense, she’d not only tell him to call an Uber but make him wait in the lobby for it. Then she should forget she’d ever met the man, because nothing good could come from letting this situation go on.