Icing

by Jami Davenport

  He needed to go for a walk, and I had no choice but to go back out there. The last thing I wanted to do, but I had no choice. Herc was dancing around and holding his chubby little hind legs together. Ziggy had been walking him at night for me, but Ziggy wasn’t here, and I was Herc’s only option.

  I snapped on his leash with fumbling fingers and back we went to the elevator.

  As I emerged on the lobby floor, Ted glanced up again. Herc ran toward him, and Ted gave him a dog treat. Herc loved the doorman.

  He must’ve figured out that I’d been spooked by something. “I’ll stand in the doorway while you let him do his business.”

  “Thank you.” My voice wavered, betraying how unnerved I was. I was a badass, not a coward. Even Herc sensed I was right on the edge. Instead of his usual lengthy sniffing for just the right spot, he did his business quickly and efficiently. He always got excited after the go, and this time was no exception. He did his doggy dance around my feet, his rolls of fat moving to an unheard beat.

  With a sweep of my surroundings to make sure no one was lurking in the bushes, I turned to the door and let out all the breath I’d been holding for the past several minutes. Ted was waiting for us in the doorway as promised.

  I thanked him so profusely his cheeks flamed red. Then I took the elevator up to my floor, hurried down the hall, and locked the door behind me. Before I completely relaxed, I forced Herc to follow me to each room as I checked the closets and under the beds. I hadn’t had to follow this ritual for a while since I lived with two buff, overprotective hockey players.

  There’d be other nights I’d be alone in this large condo while they were on their frequent road trips. I had to get a handle on myself. This was far safer than the bus I used to ride home late at night to a not-so-desirable part of Seattle.

  When I got spooked like this, attempting to sleep would be pointless. The guys would be home sometime this morning, and I should clean up the condo, but I wasn’t in the mood. I had plenty of time. I’d spiff it up later, after I relaxed a little and brought down my blood pressure.

  Herc and I curled up on the plush leather couch together with a bowl of popcorn. I flipped through the channels until I found one that showed sixties sitcoms. Satisfied there’d be nothing scary, I settled in.

  Chapter Nine

  Lonely Bed

  ~~Steele~~

  I didn’t spend money frivolously. I drove a four-door, ten-year-old Toyota. In immaculate condition, of course. It’d served me well over the years, and I saw no reason to buy a new car. I wasn’t like so many of my teammates, whose cars appeared to be an extension of their sexual prowess.

  Ziggy settled into the seat next to me as we drove home.

  “You drive like a grandma,” he groused, crankier than usual.

  “I’m a safe driver,” I countered defensively. I hated when the guys harassed me about my driving. I drove the speed limit and not one mile per hour over it. What was the problem with that?

  “Yeah, you are that.” Ziggy and I lapsed into a silence, both lost in our own thoughts, and I welcomed a respite from his constant jabbering. The guy had to fill any empty space with noise, while I liked my silence.

  “I wish I was more like you,” Ziggy said wistfully, startling me out of my own fantasy of finding Cin naked in my bed this morning.

  “Huh?” I blinked several times and forced my focus on the road. I must’ve misunderstood him.

  “Look at this car you drive.”

  “You want to be more like me because I drive a ten-year-old car?”

  “Yeah, because you don’t blow your entire wages on stuff, women, and booze.”

  “I try to be thrifty. A guy never knows when the next game he plays might be his last.”

  “How do you do it?”

  “Do what?” He needed to answer that question, because right now I assumed he was referring to how cheap I was and tight with my money.

  “Keep a lid on your control. Don’t overspend. I mean, you didn’t blow your rookie salary on stuff you didn’t have a year later.”

  “Nah, not me. I like my clothes, but that’s my major expense.”

  Ziggy rubbed his jaw thoughtfully. “By the time I’m done wasting money and others are done wasting it for me, there’s nothing left at the end of the month. That’s one of the reasons why I needed to stay here. This condo maintains my rep while being reasonably priced.”

  “You might want to work out a budget and discipline yourself to stay within it.”

  “I’ve tried, but I’m an easy mark for friends and family who desperately need cash.”

  Ziggy threw money around. I’d seen it with my own eyes, but I’d never pegged him for a guy who loaned money to friends and family in need. The picture I had of him was more selfish than this picture he was currently painting.

  “You need to learn to say no.” Usually I was great at giving advice, even unsolicited, but for some reason, I was sucking at it right now. I should be lecturing him on tracking his expenses and income, sticking to a budget, and socking a portion away for retirement, which, with hockey players, might come sooner rather than later. Instead, I was at a loss for words as I reconciled the guy I thought I knew with this guy sitting next to me.

  Thankfully, we’d arrived home, and I pulled into the parking garage, parked, and together we grabbed our stuff from the trunk and took the elevator upstairs.

  I unlocked the door and Ziggy followed me inside. The condo was quiet except for the drone of the television on the Andy Griffith Show. I recognized it because my grandmother had been obsessed with watching those old shows.

  The place was a fucking disaster. Dishes were piled in the sink. There were crumbs on the counter. The stovetop hadn’t been wiped down. A tuft of dog hair floated on the hardwood floor near my feet. The dining table was littered with sewing supplies, and scraps of material were sprinkled on the floor. The living room wasn’t faring any better. A popcorn bowl had been tipped over. There were rings on the glass coffee table.

  My blood was boiling. Then I noticed her. Cin was wrapped in a blanket with that obnoxious dog and sound asleep. My anger dissipated and was replaced with concern. She seemed so different, so vulnerable.

  “Good night, bud.” Ziggy winked and zipped down the hall to his room. He’d effectively left me on my own with no backup.

  I contemplated whether to wake her or leave her be and go to bed. Something on her face gave me pause. There was a reason she was lying out here rather than in her own bed beyond watching old sitcoms. I don’t know how I knew that, but I just did. It was one of those unexplainable things about me. My mother swore it had to do with my powers of observation and good listening skills. I wouldn’t go that far.

  I was a pragmatic guy who had to see something to believe it. I needed concrete proof, except when I didn’t. Only a few close friends had ever witnessed that intuitive side of me I kept hidden. Sometimes I just knew things. I’m not sure why or how. I chalked it up to intuition and being a good observer. If this crazy woman ever got wind of my gift, she’d probably think I had psychic powers when it was nothing like that.

  For whatever reason she was out here instead of in her bed, it was none of my business. She was my unwanted roommate, even if my body did want her.

  I turned to walk down the hall but froze. I did a U-turn and walked over to the couch. Herc blinked at me, not quite awake. I stepped closer, and Herc’s sleepy expression transformed into alert vigilance. His eyes glinted with mistrust and malevolence. I approached with caution.

  “Cin?” I said, attempting to get her attention while keeping one eye on her untrustworthy dog. He lifted one corner of his lip at me and emitted a guttural snarl in warning. Wisely, I stopped and had a stare down with the dog. He was unflinching, and I was embarrassed to admit I looked away first.

  Let her sleep on the couch all night. I wasn’t about to get bitten just by being a good guy. She’d have neck cramps in the morning, but not my problem.

  Besides,
if I woke her up, then what? I’d help her to her bed, and her bedroom was the last place I needed to be. I wouldn’t have the willpower to walk out of there.

  Casting one last glance longingly at her, I forced my feet to carry me away from emotional danger and to the safety of my bedroom. But, damn, it was lonely in that big bed.

  Chapter Ten

  Going Down

  ~~Hyacinth~~

  I woke early with a neck cramp and needles of pain shooting up the arm Herc slept across. I pushed him gently off the couch, earning an indignant glare before he stalked to his dog bed. Herc wasn’t an early riser. He’d sleep for twelve hours if I let him.

  Glancing around, I grimaced. I’d fallen asleep before cleaning up the condo. Steele would’ve seen the mess when he’d come home. I had a few hours before my Green meeting, and I’d use them wisely by keeping the peace with Mr. Clean and spiffing up the place. Hopefully, he’d arrived home so late he hadn’t noticed the state of the apartment and had gone straight to bed. Probably not. Steele noticed everything.

  Regardless, this place would be spotless before he rose this a.m.

  I slogged into the kitchen and made a cup of coffee in the Keurig. After gulping down the strong brew, I had enough energy to do an expedited cleaning of the condo. My attempts wouldn’t be up to Steele’s standards, because nothing ever would be, but I’d give it my best shot.

  Gathering up the cleaning supplies, I surveyed the affected area and planned my attack strategy. I gleefully patted myself on the back for laying waste to Steele’s excessive tidiness in forty-eight hours. That took a rare talent, and I possessed such a talent. The man needed to lower his unreachable standards. I had a mission to loosen him up during my time here. He’d be much happier in life if he didn’t live in a sterile and unusable atmosphere. Houses were meant to be lived in, not to be kept as props for a home magazine layout or a Pinterest board.

  To further my mission, I’d purchased several colorful throw pillows for the couch and chairs to add splashes of color to this cold, stark house. I’d added a few brightly patterned rugs and afghans. In the kitchen, I’d found a complete farm animal set of salt and pepper shakers and cannisters to liven things up. He’d either kill me or thank me.

  Singing to myself, I loaded the dishwasher, wiped the counters, and cleaned the stove top and sink. Then I attacked the living and dining rooms. I stacked my sewing and alteration projects into neat piles in the corner of the dining room. Steele wouldn’t like that, but this was my place too. I had nowhere else to put them. My own room was strewn with clothes and other personal items. I’d lose my paying clients’ items in that chaos.

  I scowled as I surveyed the living room. Herc dragged himself out of bed to help with cleanup, namely the spilt popcorn. I shooed him away. The last thing I needed was for him to get an upset stomach. When that happened, the results tended to come out both ends. That’d really give Steele a reason to blow up.

  “Did you ever think about keeping things tidy moment by moment rather than trying to clean up what appears to be the aftermath of a hurricane?”

  I stiffened at the censure in Steele’s judgmental tone. He was itching for a fight, and I was tired and cranky enough to give it to him. I spun around, ready for battle.

  He stood several feet away. His hair was tousled instead of its usual perfection. He planted his hands on his hips, drawing my gaze downward. He was shirtless and wore a pair of low-slung pajama bottoms. Normally, Steele put on a bathrobe when wandering around the house. I wasn’t sure if that was because of modesty or if he was conceited enough to fear I might jump his bones if I saw him shirtless. Ziggy didn’t care. He walked around in his birthday suit and thought nothing of it.

  But Ziggy didn’t look like this. All dark and brooding and sizzling with anger.

  A freaking hot combo that often led to rough, out-of-control sex, and I knew all about my particular attraction to broody men. A place I shouldn’t go, but I went there anyway in my depraved mind.

  His chest was glorious, with well-defined pecs, a liberal dusting of dark hair, and a happy trail that led downward and disappeared under his pj bottoms to his, uh, happy place. As I gaped at his crotch, the bulge grew, and I gasped at how big he appeared to be. Steele didn’t move. He didn’t speak. He didn’t stop me from gawking at his…endowments. And gawk I did. My dirty imagination conjured an image of me yanking down those bottoms and taking in his beautiful cock, after which I kneeled in front of him and went to work.

  He was silent for so long I managed to rein in my lust enough to raise my gaze to his face. I took my time getting there, enjoying the scenery along the way. As he’d mentioned previously, he bore a Sockeye tattoo on one arm, but no other ink desecrated that beautiful skin of his.

  When I met his gaze, his gray eyes were dark and stormy, his face was a mask of tight self-control. I could make him lose that self-control if I wanted, and I so wanted. I took one step toward him and another and another.

  He didn’t budge but held his ground. He had his chance. He could’ve retreated to the sanctuary of his room. I wouldn’t have followed him there. But he didn’t, which had to be a sign. His eyes grew even darker as he watched me close the distance between us.

  My evil twin had taken over, as she often did. I dropped to my knees in front of him. I heard his sharp intake of breath as I laid a hand on his crotch and squeezed the bulge.

  “Fuck,” he growled, and I knew with just that one word he was torn between stopping what was about to happen and letting me have my way with him. I ran one hand over the ridges and valleys of his rock-hard abs. I’d never seen a real, in-the-flesh guy with a body like his. I had to see more of it. I grasped his waistband. Before I pulled it downward, he grabbed both my hands and held them tight.

  “I don’t even like you,” he hissed through gritted teeth.

  “Since when is that a requirement?”

  “I’m mad at you for the mess you made while I was gone.”

  “That makes it all the better.” I gazed up at him. Our wills clashed, only this time I won. He loosened his grip on my wrists then dropped his hands to his sides in a gesture of resignation. Odd, that, but I’d work with it. He wouldn’t be sorry.

  I tugged his pj’s downward to his thighs and let go of them as my eyes feasted on his male magnificence. I’d had plenty of men, and many had been well endowed, but this guy…this guy was pure perfection. He should be sculpted and put in a museum for all to see.

  I sucked in a breath and let out a long, slow whistle of appreciation. His cock was long and thick and hard as a rock. It was definitely happy to see me. I placed my hands palms down on either side of his cock, feeling his crinkly pubic hair under my skin. I leaned in and kissed the tip. Immediately, Steele buried his fingers in my hair and held me in place. Not that I was going anywhere. Not until I’d had a taste of what was so proudly displayed in front of me.

  I ran my tongue from the tip to the base and back again. He tasted incredible, all male and hot and needy. I licked the pre-cum off the tip and grasped the base of his cock in one hand.

  “Fuck, fuck, fuck.” Steele pushed on the back of my head, and I knew what he wanted. The same thing I did.

  I sucked the tip into my mouth, holding him steady with one hand while squeezing his balls with the other. His hips moved back and forth as he fucked my mouth. I opened wider, took as much of him as I could. I was adept at deep-throating, but this magnificent specimen was a challenge even for me. It took some doing, but soon I was able to take all of him. He was fucking my face hard, and I was loving every minute of it. I knew the exact moment he was about to come and pulled back enough that his cum was warm against my tongue. I swallowed as he kept coming and swallowed again.

  He went limp against the nearby couch.

  “Let me clean you up.” I licked his cock until it was semi-hard again and reluctantly backed away. The next move had to be his. I’d made the overture.

  “That was fucking incredible.” His chest heaved
as he took in deep breaths of air. His eyes were dilated and glazed.

  “I’m glad you liked it.”

  “I fucking loved it.”

  “Sometimes not liking someone makes for really good sex.”

  “You think?”

  “I know.”

  I froze when I heard the unmistakable click of Ziggy’s door opening and his heavy footsteps coming down the hall. Steele heard them too. He yanked up his pj’s, shot me a panicked look, and hurried into the kitchen.

  Ziggy strolled into the living room, scratching his bare chest and yawning. He glanced at me, then Steele, and back to me again. A slow, sly smile spread across his face. He knew. Oh, yeah, he knew, but he didn’t know exactly what we’d been doing, only that we’d been doing something. The guilt was written on our faces as plain as day. Why we both felt guilty was beyond me. We were single and perfectly free to do whatever we wanted with another consensual adult. Yet I was embarrassed by almost being caught.

  “I need to get ready for a meeting. Ziggy, would you walk Herc?”

  “Sure, whatever you need.” I heard the laughter in Ziggy’s voice. He was amused and not the least bit fooled by the two of us and our innocent act.

  I glanced at Herc and realized he’d slept through the entire thing. The dog was a heavy sleeper, and for that I was grateful. I think I’d have been more mortified if he’d watched us than I would’ve been if Ziggy had caught me in the act of going down on his teammate.

  How weird was that?

  Chapter Eleven

  The Sister

  ~~Steele~~

  Cin avoided me, and I avoided her. When we met in passing, we mumbled hellos or goodbyes as if we were barely acquainted with each other, denying the undeniable fact that my cock was well acquainted with her talented mouth. We pretended like nothing had happened. Or maybe I pretended like nothing had happened and Cin went along with it. But I knew something had happened. Oh, fuck, yes.