Parker (Face-Off Series Book 1)

by Jillian Quinn

  By the time the third period starts, I’ve been giving the girls around me the rundown after each stoppage of play. How they can be married to professional athletes and not even attempt to learn the sport is beyond me. Candice seems like she’s trying to understand, but most of the time, she mixes up the penalties and doesn’t understand when or why the lines constantly change. One minute, she’s talking about how amazing her husband looks on the ice, and the next, she’s inviting me to Sunday brunch with the girls, as if I’m one of them. I politely decline, of course.

  The Flyers are down by one point with thirty seconds left on the clock until the Penguins take a shot on goal that hits the crossbar and lands next to Alex’s skate. As a defenseman with serious offensive skills, he rushes down the ice, his speed and agility working in his favor. Kane catches up to him, and Alex passes the puck, allowing Kane to take the shot that sails between the goalie’s legs.

  They score, and the entire arena erupts into chaos, everyone around us clapping and cheering. The team huddles together into what I like to call a hockey hug.

  Isn’t that every girl’s fantasy to be trapped between all those men?

  Hockey is a sexy sport. There’s no denying that, and watching Alex tear it up tonight is such a turn-on.

  With the score tied 2-2, the period ends, and overtime begins. Alex looks amazing tonight. He’s slowly reverting to the player he was in DC. His mojo is back, and he’s stronger and faster. The team has a nice rhythm going. Scoreless after two minutes, the Flyers take possession of the puck and make it into the neutral zone before a hard check sends Spencer into the boards. Kane scrambles to get the puck back and trips over a player’s skate, resulting in a turnover that leads to the Penguins scoring the final goal.

  The mood around me plummets into the toilet. Our excitement turns to disgust, and most of the people boo the visiting team. Losing a game at home sucks. I look over at the Flyers bench and spot Alex staring at me. I expect to find irritation on his face, but instead, he presses his glove to the glass, and I return his smile.

  “That man likes you, sugar,” Candice says into my ear. “You’re one of us now. I’ll see you for brunch on Sunday.”

  Her words terrify me, but I can’t take my eyes off Alex.

  Can I make this work between us? Is it possible to be Coach, the agent, and Charlotte, Alex Parker’s girlfriend?

  He gave me one week. I can give him one date.

  Coach

  We were supposed to have dinner at Luciano’s, an Italian restaurant in town, for our first date. Except I had to call twenty minutes before our reservation to cancel because Dante Fisher, the highest-paid basketball player in the NBA and Mickey’s gold mine of a client, had another crisis I had to deal with.

  I bet a woman canceling a date is a first for Alex. But it’s not as if I have any control over my clients’ lives. I also doubt Alex even dates, which means this was a big deal for him and I left him hanging. We’re not off to a great start.

  After Alex has been waiting on me for two hours, I finally walk through the door around eight p.m. and find Alex in the kitchen. My apartment smells of garlic and herbs, and the scent is intoxicating. He sets the pan he’s leaning over onto the stove, comes over to help me out of my winter coat, and then hangs it in the closet along with my purse. I could get used to this side of Alex.

  “Welcome home.” Pulling me into his arms, he kisses me on the cheek, as if this were our normal routine and he were my husband, making me dinner after I’d had a long day at the office. “I decided to order takeout from Luciano’s since I didn’t know how long you’d be.”

  “I’m really sorry I ruined our—”

  He silences me by saying, “Shh,” and presses his finger to my lips before he plants a kiss on them. “You didn’t ruin anything, sweetheart, so get that thought out of your head. This is actually better than eating at a restaurant.”

  I return the smile that he’s wearing on his handsome face. “And why is that?”

  “Because we can get right to dessert after we finish eating, and by dessert”—he stops to appraise my legs first, his eyes traveling up to my skirt and light-pink blouse, licking his lips once he reaches my chest, before he meets my gaze—“I mean, devouring every inch of your body with my tongue.”

  I suck in a deep breath and let it out. My cell phone rings and interrupts our intense staring contest. “I’d better—”

  “Nope, not tonight.” Alex takes it from my hand since it’s permanently glued to it and switches the ringer to silent. Then, he opens the drawer behind him, places it next to the silverware organizer, and closes it. “You’re all mine now. I’m not sharing you again until tomorrow.”

  “You’re leaving tomorrow.”

  He grabs me by the waist, steers me toward the kitchen island, and pulls out a chair for me, gesturing for me to sit. “Exactly. That’s why I’m banning you from any outside communication for the rest of the night.”

  I lean my elbows onto the counter and watch him as he walks around to the other side to serve me.

  “I hope you like chicken cacciatore.”

  “Yeah, that sounds great,” I say with a smile.

  As if he didn’t already look amazing on a normal day in track pants and a cutoff shirt, he’s wearing a pair of gray slacks that fit him as if a tailor had sewn them onto his perfect body. I might start to drool if I don’t stop myself from taking in the sight of his thick legs and tight ass in those pants. Rolled up to his elbows, the sleeves of his black oxford show off the definition in his forearms and hug his broad chest and shoulders. I have no idea how I’m going to make it through dinner because I want him right now.

  I’m just an average-looking girl, nothing remotely special about me in terms of my appearance, and here I am with a man who could model underwear for Calvin Klein. Not only does he want to date me, but he’s also been sleeping in my bed at night, helping me to cope with my nightmares. I almost feel unworthy of him right now. Maybe this can work between us. Around me, he’s not the same guy the rest of the world knows. But I have my doubts.

  He struts around the bar with our food in his hands, sets one plate in front of me, and then takes a seat next to me. “Eat up, Charlotte. You’ll need your strength for later.”

  I gulp and choke down the nerves. This is going to be a long night.

  Tonight marks my sixth night with Alex, and I still have no idea what I’ve gotten myself into by inviting him to stay with me for the week. My willpower evaporates every time Alex is within my airspace. The walls I’ve erected to protect myself crumble with each minute we spend together. I’ve already broken my rules for him. My life is about control and purpose, and that purpose is my clients and their careers. Alex is one of those clients I need to steer in the right direction.

  What if this doesn’t work out between us, or even worse, what if Mickey finds out?

  After Alex and I ate a fabulous meal together, the sexual tension thick between us, I managed to escape by excusing myself for a shower. He took a hint that I needed some space and retreated to his bedroom. With several deals on the table for my clients, I needed to focus on more than Alex’s career and my raging hormones.

  Alex didn’t know that I had more than one cell phone when he hid mine in the silverware drawer. The gesture was cute, but I don’t think he understands how demanding this job is for me.

  Between reading contracts and making calls at the office, I received an email from Mickey telling me that he was pleased with the outcome so far and that I needed to keep my eye on Alex as much as possible. He has no idea I have been helping Alex with his drinking problem by stashing him in my apartment. I’m not even sure Mickey would care as long as Alex continued to make it to practices and games on time and kept his face off the six o’clock news. But I do not want my boss to think something is going on between Alex and me. Except it’s too late for that because, whatever is between us, even I can’t fight, no matter how much I want to.

  With Alex in his
room and the door shut, I assume he has fallen asleep, and I crash on the sectional couch in the living room. Just like Alex’s unused apartment, the room has high ceilings and a wall of windows that overlook the Camden Waterfront. I reach for the remote on the coffee table and then dim the recessed lighting to get a better view of the lights twinkling on the other side of the Delaware River.

  I chose this building because of its location. The house I had grown up in, long before my parents turned to drugs, had a stunning view of the Michigan River. When I first saw this place, the realtor said it wouldn’t last long. She was right. And, since it reminded me so much of my childhood, the part of my life that I desperately clung to, even when times had been rough and my foster parents had treated me like their slave, I bought it on the spot.

  Exhausted, I reach for the TV remote and start flipping through the channels, fighting off sleep. It’s only nine thirty, but the ache in my bones from staying up late again with Alex makes it feel like it’s well into the middle of the night. These nightmares have been a real bitch. I’m not sure how I’m going to sleep once he’s gone.

  I don’t even hear his footsteps, oblivious to Alex watching me, until I see his shadow in the window. Startled, I look over at him, wondering why he hasn’t said anything, as if that’s not creepy.

  He flexes his jaw. The strength behind his angular features and the effect they have on women are not lost on me. Bare-chested and dressed only in a pair of black boxer briefs, he walks toward me. Despite knowing each other for less than two weeks, he’s very comfortable in my house and acting is if we’ve lived together for months.

  Without as much as an invitation, he plops down on the couch next to me. His hands shaking, he touches my thigh, resting his hand at the seam of my mesh shorts. If he were to kiss me again right now, I wouldn’t push him away, and that’s what scares me most. I should be the one to say no because this is wrong on so many levels, but I like him too much already, and I can tell something is wrong.

  “Talk to me,” I say, placing my hand over his to steady his tremors. “Are you okay?”

  He sucks in a deep breath and lets it out. “No…no, I’m not okay. Charlotte, look at me. I’m a fucking mess right now, and I’m nervous.”

  “Because of me?” I ask, curious what has changed since dinner.

  “No…yes…I don’t know. It’s been so long since I’ve been with a woman, and I wasn’t, you know, drunk. Before my dad died and I started drinking, I didn’t have a lot of time for women. My dad made sure of it. He said I didn’t need any distractions, and he was right because playing without them helped me. I know it’s been six days, and I’ve kept my promise to you, but I can’t stop myself from thinking that one sip would take the edge off.”

  He needs to fight the urge, and I cannot let him give up, not after he’s made so much progress. “Why don’t you try going to bed? We can hang out another night. You have to get up early to hit the road anyway, and you must be tired after staying up with me again. I know I am.”

  Alex shakes his head. “I can’t sleep. I’m too irritable.”

  “You just need a distraction. Give it time, Alex. Your body is going to crave alcohol, and if you truly want to get better and get your life back on track, then you’re going to have to resist the temptation. The fact that you’re doing this well so far tells me that you don’t have as much of a problem as I originally thought. Just stick with it, and the urge will go away.”

  I sit up and scoot my butt along the leather until my back hits the cushions in the corner of the L-shaped couch, giving Alex more room to spread out and relax. But it’s not just for his benefit. We need some distance between us, or I’ll end up doing something I will regret. I’m still torn between what my body wants and what my mind tells me is wrong.

  “We could make some popcorn and watch a movie. I think there’s a new Bourne movie out.”

  “They’re still making those Bourne movies?” He laughs. “I think the last time I went to see a movie in the theater was probably around the time the last one came out. That was a long time ago.”

  “Well, how about you make yourself useful and go pop us some popcorn while I find the movie? I’m pretty sure I saw it on On Demand last week. The bowls are in the cabinet next to the fridge, and the popcorn is the pantry.”

  “You know, you’re kinda sexy when you’re ordering me around. I like it.” He stands and smiles at me before setting off toward the kitchen.

  As he works on our snack, I can’t help but commit to memory the ridges of his back muscles as he opens the cabinets or the way his broad shoulders move as he runs a hand through his shaggy brown hair that falls onto his forehead. His abs…oh dear God, his stomach and the perfectly sculpted V of his pelvic muscle make me want to explore that part of his body with my tongue.

  Most professional athletes are toned and in top physical condition with the stamina to match, but they’re not standing in my kitchen in their underwear, and they’re certainly not Alex Parker. Every ounce of willpower drains from my body as I watch him press the buttons on the microwave. To me, his movements look sensual, but in reality, it’s just my undersexed mind taking mental snapshots for later.

  By the time Alex sits next to me on the couch, bowl in hand and stuffing his face, I have to close my legs tightly together and pull them up to my chest to quell my own desire. With my arm draped over the edge of the couch, I click the remote with the other hand to start the movie before dropping it next to me.

  “Here.” Alex shoves the bowl in front of my face with a smile. “You’d better take some of this before I eat it all.”

  I look down and find that he’s already eaten most of the bag he popped, and I grab a handful. But I’m not hungry for food. I’m hungry for Alex.

  After I thank him with a polite nod, he places the bowl on his lap, and I can’t stop staring, wishing I could take its place, as I shove the popcorn into my mouth.

  “Bourne is the fucking man!” Alex points at the massive flat screen on the wall, a look of excitement on his handsome face. “Did you see that shit? Damon’s still got it after all these years.”

  I don’t bother to answer since his comment is more of a statement than a question, and the noises coming from the surround sound speakers almost drowned out his words.

  Then, he does something I didn’t expect. He sets the empty bowl on the coffee table and cuddles up next to me, as if this is a normal thing we do. I know we were supposed to go on a date earlier, but I also avoided coming home because I was terrified of developing feelings for Alex. I’m becoming attached to him, and it scares the shit out of me.

  Propping himself up with his elbow, he sinks his face into his palm and leans into it. Our bodies are touching, as we watch the movie. My breath hitches when he readjusts his position and lifts his arm, grazing my leg and leaving a trail of fire on my skin. I have no idea what’s happening on the screen. There’s the loud bang of guns, sirens from police cars, and the usual action music, but all I can think about is the way my skin tingles from his touch. It’s been far too long since I last had sex.

  Midway through the film, I rub my forearm against Alex’s hand next to me on the couch, closing the gap between us. I want to think that it’s an accident, but subconsciously, I know this is what I want even if it’s just for the night. I have needs, too, and those needs haven’t been met in eighteen months.

  His fingers appear to be moving to the beat of the music or maybe to keep from trembling. At first, he doesn’t seem to notice that I keep finding ways to lightly touch him, not until he stops moving and his eyes meet mine.

  Why did he have to come out here without a shirt or pants?

  And why does he have to give me that sexy-as-fuck look, the one where the corner of his mouth turns up into a cross between a smile and a smirk?

  His attention shifts from my face to the couch, and he opens my closed palm and raises my hand to his lips. I suck in a deep breath, and Alex glances up at me, intently watching how my bo
dy responds.

  By the way he devours me with those hazy gray-blue eyes, he knows I want him. His mouth grazes my knuckles, the heat from his breath sending a chill down my spine that makes my legs open slightly and my toes curl with anticipation. Men like Alex don’t miss these tiny nuances.

  When he notices the rapid increase in my breathing and the way my legs part for him, he places his big hand on my thigh to test the waters. I don’t stop him as he moves his fingers upward and toward my throbbing core. Not until he slides beneath my shorts, right at the seam, do I think we’ve gone too far for the second time this week.

  But I don’t want him to stop.

  Alex slides closer, his hand still in place, and leans over to kiss me. At first, it’s a small peck on the lips, again teasing and testing me to see how far I will let him go. Parting my lips with his tongue, he kisses me softly, the passion between us growing more intense by the second, and I pull his head closer and deepen the kiss.

  He breaks away from me for a second and whispers, “Are you sure about this?”

  I nod, and his lips crash against mine. His fingers traveling further up my thigh, he rubs my sensitive spot over my lace panties. When Alex moves beneath them and slips two fingers inside me, I moan and open my legs wider, allowing him better access. My body tightens, and my mind goes blank from the intense pressure building within me.

  His lips stifle my moans, each kiss more passionate and eager than the last. Alex increases his speed, his thumb circling my clit, and mumbles, “Come for me, sweetheart.”

  I hate when he calls me sweetheart, but just like that, as if he willed it to happen, I bite down on my bottom lip, a fire burning beneath my skin, and my entire body trembles as an orgasm rips through me, tearing me apart. My moans turn to screams that die off as Alex covers my mouth with his.

  “That was fucking hot,” Alex whispers as our lips separate. Then, he removes his fingers and raises them to his mouth to suck on them. “And your pussy tastes amazing. But I’m not done with you.”