by Jill Shalvis
While she grumbled about the coach’s need to win at all costs, Vinny realized it had been blood dripping in his eye more than sweat.
“It’s nothing.” He didn’t want to get noticed for opening a vein.
A few of his teammates brushed past him, returning to the locker room. The coach would want to talk to them all before they showered and changed into street clothes.
“It’s not nothing. That’s three stitches at least.” She reached for him again and this time, he closed his eyes, willing her hands to linger. “You need to see the medic.”
When her touch came, it was soft. Gentle. She swiped at a damp spot above his eye, her fingers smoothing along his temple toward his helmet.
“I’ll get it stitched if you’ll have dinner with me.”
Her hand stilled on his face. He opened his eyes.
She looked so surprised and wary that he debated rephrasing the invitation, including other people in a group meal. But he’d done that six months ago and it hadn’t gotten him anywhere. He needed time alone with her.
“I… That is, the girls and I were going to drive to New York tonight.”
She snatched back her fingers suddenly, as if she’d only just realized she still touched him. He was pretty sure he could have waxed poetic for a few hours about how much he wanted her hands on him again, but he didn’t think some big romantic outpouring was going to advance his cause.
“So wait an hour or two. You need to eat.”
“I don’t want to get sleepy on the road tonight if I get a late start.” She hadn’t said “no” outright yet. Was it so pathetic that he took this as a good sign?
“You can call me from the road later if you feel tired and we’ll talk. I’ll keep you awake.”
God knows, he’d lost plenty of sleep to thinking about her before. He’d gladly trade the rest for a chance to hear her voice in his ear in the middle of the night.
Around them, the last of the players went inside and some of the other fans turned his way, no doubt thinking he was there to sign autographs, too.
Normally, he was happy to stick around and sign. But right now he kept his eyes on Chelsea, willing her to say yes.
“I don’t know, Vincent.” She bit her lip, her dark eyes filled with worry. “I’m not like the other girls around here.” She took a deep breath. “I don’t really date or anything, so…”
“I just want to talk.” He didn’t care that he was hanging his personal life out for all the world to see. For twenty fans to dissect and—of course—an ever-present camera guy to record. But he did lower his voice when he remembered the videographer must still be behind him. “Get to know you. Clothes stay on, cross my heart, Boy Scout promise and I really was one, Eagle Scout no less. Wanna see my badges?”
He’d worry about dating another day.
She sucked in a gasp and he knew a moment’s dread that she was going to slam the door in his face forever. Instead, she reached out once more to stop the blood flow from his eyebrow down into his eye.
“I’ll go.” The wariness on her face had been replaced with that fierce determination that he recognized as a core part of her character, a compelling piece of her personality that attracted him so thoroughly. “But you’re going to see the medic right now.”
He meant to thank her and leave. Count his blessings and not be greedy for more.
But he ended up covering her hand with his, pressing her touch to his face for a moment before he shifted her fingers down to his mouth. Pushing his luck when he should just be grateful for her consent, he brushed a kiss into the soft center of her palm.
Savoring the taste of her on his lips, he took off into the tunnel and hoped she would really show up for dinner. Because after waiting nine months for Chelsea Durant, Vinny didn’t think he could delay being with her another minute.
Can I come to your room?
Jennifer erased the text rather than sending it. It was half an hour after Axel’s game, and she was alone in her hotel room. She’d just finished typing her notes about the win over Montreal, already full of ideas for narration of the exciting overtime defeat. But she wasn’t as skilled with words when it came to texting Axel. Her attempts to see him tonight sounded so sordid. But honestly, she just needed a private place to speak to Axel where the camera guys wouldn’t spot them.
Still, she understood the risks of being alone with the sexy Finn. He’d told her that he didn’t plan to stop kissing her. Just that he’d make sure they were behind locked doors.
The memory of that conversation still made her pulse race. She shivered at the thought of where this unwise relationship was headed. Because in spite of the attraction, she did not want to be some decorative accessory on the arm of a successful athlete. Big-time sports stars were notorious for womanizing and living large. She didn’t want any part of the jet-set lifestyle with houses on both coasts and a garage full of cars that were never driven more than two miles.
Jennifer considered herself a social activist, not a footnote in the society pages.
Is there anywhere we can speak privately? she typed, thinking that sounded more dignified. Less provocative.
Hitting Send on her phone, she turned her attention back to her laptop and the raw footage of the game her crew had uploaded to a shared site. Part of her wanted to zoom in on Ax when he raced up the ice at lightning speed, giving him the credit that his talents warranted.
But how could she highlight a man who might be hunted by a biker gang with a vendetta? Using the footage could endanger him.
Beside her, the cell phone vibrated and she lifted it to see an incoming message.
On my way to your room now.
Anticipation slid through her veins, slow and smoky. He’d carried her bag to her room for her the night before, after the plane had landed in Montreal. So he must remember the number. She hadn’t been able to sit with him on the flight, needing that time with her film crew to work on editing rough footage of their first documentary episode, which would air in three days. The network dictated the fast turnaround time, requiring the story lines to be current and to reflect the most recent games.
That meant there were two more days until that kiss aired for all the world to see. Two days before her credibility as a director took a hit and her status as a social activist fell into question. After all, she’d locked lips with an affluent athlete whose position with the powerful international Murphy Resorts Corporation was assured after his sports career. Axel Rankin was part of the elite that she loved to battle against.
The knock at her door startled her.
Breath rushed from her lungs. She knew that as she opened that door, opposing worldviews and backgrounds wouldn’t matter. Logic didn’t come into play with how she felt about Axel, no matter how much she wanted to sweep her feelings under the rug.
“Hurry,” came a low voice from the hallway. “I think one of your camera guys is coming up the stairs.”
Crap.
She unbolted the lock and pulled the door wide, keeping an eye out for the blinking red record light. Luckily, the corridor remained quiet as Ax brushed past her into the narrow foyer leading into her room.
“Hi,” she said lamely, locking the door and turning to face him. “Great game.”
Back against the wall, she stared at him in the dim room, only the TV and her laptop on the bed providing any light. He wore khakis and a casual blue button-down, the sleeves rolled up to reveal strong forearms. She remembered the feel of those arms around her when he’d caught her climbing down from the rafters two days ago. The memory made her skin tighten and hum with awareness. He smelled clean and yummy, his hair still damp from a shower.
She curled her hands into fists at her sides to keep from tugging him closer.
“I’m having the best season of my career,” he admitted, though he seemed a little annoyed about it.
Was she reading him wrong?
“That’s terrific.” She was the queen of scintillating conversation tonight, wa
sn’t she? But it took all her brainpower to keep her hands off him.
“It should be.” His jaw flexed as he stared at her, some inner turmoil seething beneath the surface.
“But?”
“But I’m going to mess it up by getting involved with a woman.”
She felt light-headed suddenly. Her blood seemed to rush somewhere, but she couldn’t tell where it was going in such a hurry. She only knew her knees felt like jelly and her temples kind of tingled.
“How do you know that will hurt your season?” She could hardly hear the words she spoke since her heart thudded with deafening thumps.
“Any woman would be a distraction from the game, and you?” He stepped closer. “You’re distraction to the hundredth power.”
“We…” Her mouth went dry and she couldn’t speak. She had to lick her lips to get the words out. “We should discuss that.”
His gaze zeroed in on her lips and she became hyperaware of the moisture drying there. Damned if she didn’t feel her heartbeat pound there, too, her lower lip trembling with the effect.
“Unfortunately, I don’t think I can do anything besides kiss you right now.” His left hand sifted through her curls, one finger twining around a piece.
She swayed toward him, powerless to hold back.
“Did you notice I locked the door?”
His hand curved around the nape of her neck, warm and commanding, but gentle all the same. Her head tipped back, eyes glued to his as he circled her waist with one arm.
“I’ve been thinking about having you behind a locked door at least once a minute for the past forty-eight hours.” His voice hit a husky note that reverberated through her.
Fingers uncurling, she lifted her arms to slide them around his neck, her breasts meeting the hard wall of his chest.
“Maybe just this once, we could see what happens. Work it out of our systems,” she suggested.
He felt so good against her that she responded on contact. Heat flooded her sex and her breasts, the nerve endings there keenly sensitive to his slightest movement.
“You’re delusional,” he whispered so softly, so sweetly, he could have been whispering words of eternal love. “Once is never going to be enough.”
“That sounds like a promise,” she murmured, dying for a taste of him.
“A personal guarantee.” His mouth grazed hers as he spoke, his minty breath warm on her lips.
Restraint vanished. Jennifer arched up on her toes and pressed her lips to his, needing a taste of him. His hand spanned her lower back, fingers splayed against her cotton shorts and the old T-shirt she’d put on after the game. The soft fabric didn’t begin to stanch the heat of his touch, his hand warming her skin beneath.
Sensation flowed up her spine, his touch sealing her to him. All those places her body touched him seemed to melt on contact, everything inside her turning warm and liquid.
A hungry purr tickled her throat and she couldn’t stifle the needy sound. Axel filled her senses from the stroke of his tongue over hers to the silky slide of his lower lip along her mouth. At the base of her neck, his hand massaged circles beneath her hair before straying down her back just beneath the neckline of her T-shirt.
Pleasure bloomed everywhere, so intense she had to close her eyes and savor the moment and the man. The scent of him filled her nostrils, musky and male, until she couldn’t wait for more of him. Releasing his neck, she eased back to smooth her fingers down well-defined pecs. His heart thumped hard beneath her palm, the vibration urging her fingers over the buttons on his shirt.
One by one she slid the fastenings free, finding a soft T-shirt beneath the button-down. Fumbling at the shirt hem, she tugged the fabric from his trousers, moving to his belt to ease the way.
“Let me,” he offered, breaking the kiss to undo the buckle and send both shirts to the floor.
He leaned in again to kiss her, but she pinned his shoulders with her hands, her gaze raking over him.
“Wow.” Her reverent perusal of his chest was more than testament to how long it’d been since she’d been with a man. It was the same response a woman might give any honed athlete with his shirt off, respect for a human body that was fulfilling every bit of its physical potential.
“When do I get to ogle you?” he teased, hooking one finger in the V-neck of her T-shirt. “I’m dying to return the favor.”
She knew a rare moment of reticence.
“I’m not exactly centerfold material.”
His eyes met hers. Serious. Simmering with heat.
“Who wants an airbrushed fake when I’m standing next to the red-hot real thing?”
A smile kicked up one side of her mouth.
“Oh.” Just like that, she felt sexy all over. “In that case, be my guest.”
He studied her for a moment, as if assuring himself she meant it. But he didn’t undress her right away. Instead, his gaze dropped to the neckline of her shirt, now askew from where he’d tugged at it. Moving closer, he angled over her to brush a kiss at the base of her throat, his tongue darting out to stroke a slick path lower.
Pleasure sparked and fanned heat along her skin. Her breasts crested in taut peaks beneath her bra.
“I mean it,” she urged, shrugging one shoulder to work the fabric of her shirt off that side. “I’m so ready.”
And then his hands were there, at her waist, skimming the top up and off her until she wore just a plain cotton bra built for work rather than play.
Not that Axel seemed to notice. His eyes devoured her and his hands followed the same path, curling around her waist and palming her belly until he’d touched everywhere but her aching breasts. Awkwardly, she wriggled out of the straps, leaving the fabric cups perched precariously on her curves.
With a groan of capitulation, he gripped her hip and dragged her closer, cradling a breast in his hand.
“Beautiful,” he murmured. “Gorgeous. Perfect.” He put his mouth where the compliments were, his lips falling to the rounded top of one mound as he kneaded her in one hand.
Sensation swamped her and she leaned limply against the door to the hallway, counting on his arm at her waist to keep her upright. She moaned deep in her throat, her fingers skimming his close-cropped hair while he laved a trail of kisses in spiraling circles that neared one taut nipple.
Need wound tight inside her, her panties damp with anticipation when he hadn’t even touched her there. If anything, he kept his hips at too much of a distance when she was this hungry for him.
Arching her back, she forced the issue, centering her breast at his mouth until he licked a tantalizing circle around and around her there. When at last he drew on her, she whimpered shamelessly, the sweet fulfillment too exquisite for words.
Head tossed back, she writhed against him, her fingers searching for the fastenings of his fly. She freed one. Two. But before she could go any further, he hitched an arm beneath her thighs and swept her off her feet.
Axel wanted to do this right.
He hadn’t necessarily planned to jump on her the moment he walked through the door tonight, but he’d known this moment was inevitable and he’d been prepared. He had no intentions of taking her fast and hard against a hotel room door.
Fast and hard in a hotel bed is more civilized? his wiseass conscience nagged. But the spark he felt with Jennifer was like nothing he’d ever known.
Settling her on the white duvet of the king-size bed, he moved her laptop to the floor to give them more room. Her gorgeous breasts were the perfect handful and he couldn’t take his eyes off her body. Leaning over her, he unhooked her bra and peeled the straps the rest of the way off her arms.
“Keep going,” she urged, moving her hips in mouthwatering invitation. “I want everything off.”
“I am so on the same page.” He didn’t know if she meant her clothes or his, but his hands went to her cotton shorts first, even though the buttons on his fly were going to be imprinted on his Johnson for the remainder of his days.
He needed to see the rest of her. Besides, once his pants came off, his restraint would be seriously compromised.
Her skin was soft and warm when he cupped her hip. She was pale everywhere, a few freckles dotting the creamy texture. He kissed just above the waistband of the shorts, inhaling the faint scent of lilies of the valley. He licked a path to her navel, his tongue swirling around there the way he’d like to kiss her between her thighs.
Soon.
Her hips rocked against the bed and a soft, strangled sound came from her lips. Hard to believe she wanted this as badly as he did, but her fingers bunched the fabric of the duvet in a tense grip and her breath came in sexy little gasps.
Stripping off her shorts and her underwear in one swipe, he fought the urge to bury himself in her then and there. The only thing holding him back was the cotton twill of half-buttoned khakis.
He stretched out over her, keeping the barrier in place. He wasn’t going to rush this and he had so much to savor. Pleasure.
“When do I get to ogle you?” she whispered, tossing his words back at him.
Her fingers latched on to the waist of his trousers, her touch so close to where he needed it that his breath stuck in his lungs.
He tried to speak but the words were garbled. Who could be coherent with a naked goddess skimming the front of his pants?
She smiled, sexy and knowing, her red curls sliding behind her shoulder as she shifted to her side. They lay facing each other on the big bed.
“I mean it,” she urged, her hand edging nearer to the throbbing length of him. “I’m not a patient woman.”
“You should work on that,” he bit out, mustering all his willpower to rein himself in.
“One day I will, but not tonight.” She placed kisses along his shoulder.
Her fingers progressed with painstaking slowness on the last of the fastenings, an occasional knuckle brushing against him and making him damn near see stars. Fireworks, maybe. He was so on edge the slightest thing could set him off.
“You win.” He grappled for his wallet in his back pocket, finding a condom inside and slapping it on the bed. “I don’t stand a chance against all that redheaded determination.”
