Game Misconduct: A Baltimore Banners Hockey Romance (The Baltimore Banners Book 11)

by Lisa B. Kamps

  But she didn’t.

  Did she know somehow? Even without understanding the words, could she hear what they meant? He didn’t know and a part of him was afraid she did.

  An even larger part was afraid she didn’t.

  She blinked her tears away and leaned forward, pressed her mouth against his. Sweet, gentle. Heartbreaking. She pulled back, her breath a whisper against his lips. “Make love to me, Corbin. Please. I need you.”

  Then she kissed him again, communicating her need with her mouth, her tongue, her hands. He sighed, pulled her across his lap and took control of the kiss. Demanding. Possessing.

  Claiming what could never be his.

  He deepened the kiss as he rolled to the side, stretching his body along hers. Hands touched him, caressing his shoulders, his back. Cupping the side of his face. Touching, always touching, until his body burned with a fever he had never before felt.

  He needed her. Now. To touch and feel. To lose himself in the welcoming heat of her body. To find himself.

  To become one.

  To remember.

  He pulled away, started to reach for the condoms resting on the nightstand, but she grabbed his arm, held him in place. Amber eyes burned into his, mirroring the same need and desire tearing through him.

  “No. Please. I…I need to feel you. Just you.”

  A desire stronger than anything he’d ever felt before slammed into him. And yet he still hesitated, worrying that she wasn’t thinking clearly, worrying that her request would be followed by regret.

  Her gaze held his, never wavering despite the deep blush fanning across her cheeks, despite the slightest quiver in her voice. “I’m on birth control. There’s…there’s no need for one. Is there?”

  He shook his head. No, there was no need for one. He had always been careful, was always tested regularly. Yet he still hesitated, still held the burning desire at bay. That Lori would trust him so much, would be so open with that trust—

  He dipped his head, no longer able to contain the raging desire gripping him. His mouth was hungry, demanding, feasting from hers with a consuming need that shook him to his core. Long legs wrapped around his waist as her hips lifted. Searching, seeking. The tip of his cock brushed against her wet heat, ripping a groan from him. He pulled his mouth from hers, reached for her hands, held them in his as he stretched her arms above her head.

  He captured her gaze, never looking away. No longer hiding. He thrust himself deep inside her. Filling her. Feeling the wet heat of her flesh close around him. Just him, just her. Their bodies, together. No barriers between them.

  Not now.

  Not for this moment.

  He continued holding her gaze, refusing to let her look away as he rocked into her, over and over. Slow and deep. Harder. Deeper. Faster. Not stopping, never looking away. Not when she cried his name. Not when her body shattered around his.

  Not when his own body shuddered with release—

  Giving her the only thing he had left, the only thing that mattered: the last piece of his soul.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Lori jammed the key into the lock, tried to turn it only to have it get stuck and refuse to budge. She swore under her breath then yanked the key out and tried again but it still wouldn’t turn.

  She fumbled with the keys, dropping them with a loud clatter. She stared down at them, drew in a deep breath, then kicked the door with all the pent-up frustration of the last two days. “Dammit!”

  “Good God, woman. Would you relax? You need a stiff drink. Or something else stiff.” Danny leaned down and picked up her keys, then nudged her out of the way, unlocking the door and sweeping it open on one efficient move. She sent a withering glare his way then pushed past him into her house.

  “Don’t even start again. I warned you already—”

  “So you did. I’m just choosing to ignore you.”

  She tossed her bag to the sofa as she walked past it, then skidded to a halt with a loud groan when the bag toppled to the floor, spilling its contents everywhere. “Dammit. Dammit, dammit, shit. I quit. I fucking quit.”

  “Ouch. Such language.”

  “Danny, I mean it—”

  “So do I. Go, grab that stiff drink. I’ll clean up in here. Although I think a stiff dick would be much better for your mood.”

  She turned and hurled her phone at him, ignoring the way he deftly caught it mid-air. Ignoring his soft laughter. How could he even think about laughing? There was nothing funny or amusing about any of this.

  And there certainly wasn’t anything funny about his stiff dick comment, either. There would be no more that.

  Damn Corbin. Of all the stupid, idiotic, lame-brained, well-meaning, honorable, infuriating, stupid things to do. She wanted to smack him. Knock some sense into that thick goalie-brain of his. Wrap him in her arms and shake him then kiss him and tell him how stupid he was.

  She knew it. Knew exactly what he was going to do Saturday night, could see it in his eyes. That’s why she had made him promise not to leave without saying goodbye. She had been so positive he’d change his mind in the morning. That a night spent making love would make him forget about the idiocy she had seen in his eyes.

  Yes, he’d kept his promise. He had stayed until morning. Had leaned down and kissed her and murmured goodbye. And she had sworn, even then, that things would be fine. That he didn’t really mean goodbye the way she had been afraid he’d meant it.

  But he had.

  Because he was worried about her. Because he was afraid people would judge her. Didn’t he realize she didn’t care? Didn’t he realize she could stand up for herself? If she hadn’t been so surprised, so caught off-guard by the audacity of that woman Saturday night, she would have let her have it.

  No, probably not. Because Corbin wouldn’t have let her. Because he would have insisted on protecting her.

  Is that what he thought he was doing now? Yes, of course that’s what he thought. That’s why nothing had happened between them all those years ago: because he thought he had been protecting her.

  Of all the stupid, stupid, stupid—

  “Sweetheart, if you’re going to mumble to yourself, at least change up the words. Surely you can find something better than stupid.”

  “You’re not helping. You know that, right?”

  “Sure I am. You just don’t realize it yet.” Danny lowered himself to the corner of the sofa and started retrieving the contents of her tote bag. Notepad, pens. Tablet. Another phone. A tangled mess of charging cords, a travel charger. Her e-reader. Ibuprofen. Several tampons. A dusty ponytail holder. Lip balm.

  Danny frowned at the last item then rolled his eyes as he tossed it into the bag. “It’s not even tinted. You’re giving women’s purses a bad name. Where’s your makeup? Your hairbrush? Spare condoms for those impromptu moments?”

  Lori snorted, the sound indelicate and definitely not feminine. “Yeah, right. Not like I’m going to need those anytime soon.”

  “You will.”

  “No, pretty sure I won’t.” She moved into the kitchen, unable to bear seeing even a hint of sympathy on Danny’s face. She grabbed a bottle of water for him and a bottle of unsweetened tea for her then moved back to the living room, plopping down on the sofa with a sigh.

  Danny snagged the water from her hand. “You could have brought the wine instead, you know.”

  “No. We have to be at the arena in two hours, remember?”

  “One glass wouldn’t hurt. Hell, it might actually help calm you down. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you bounce between so many different moods in such a short amount of time. It’s like watching a ping pong match between two players on speed.”

  “Still not helping.”

  Danny uncapped the water bottle and took a long swallow, then shifted beside her. All traces of humor were gone, replaced with sympathy and understanding. “Just give him time. He’ll come around.”

  “Will he? Because I’m fairly certain he was pretty adamant
about the whole thing.”

  “He’s just trying to protect you.”

  “Do I look like I need protecting?”

  “No. But you have to give him credit for trying.”

  “Yeah, I know.” And she did. On some very basic level she didn’t even want to acknowledge, she understood what he was trying to do. That didn’t mean she had to agree with it. And it certainly didn’t mean she had to like it. She said as much to Danny.

  “Like I said: give him time.”

  “Danny, the last time I gave him time, he was gone for eight years. I can’t wait that long again.”

  “Then don’t.”

  “I don’t have a choice. It’s not like I can force him to change his mind.”

  “Maybe you can.”

  Hope flickered somewhere deep inside, hope she didn’t want to acknowledge. “How?”

  “I’m not sure. I’m still thinking.”

  “Yeah, you’re really full of help today, aren’t you?” She pushed off the sofa and moved toward the door. “I’m bringing my laptop in. We can start scheduling some of the posts for tonight, at least for when the Blades are on the ice for the intermission.”

  “They’re going to be there for the first intermission?”

  “Yeah. But tonight’s going to be a little different—they’re going to be working with one of the Mites team from the Hopewell League that the Banners help sponsor. I want to get the background posts ready for those now.” She yanked open the door then stopped, swearing under her breath.

  “What is it? More snow?” Danny appeared by her side, peering out the door, frowning when clear skies greeted him.

  “No, not snow. It’s my neighbor.”

  “The one who—”

  “Yeah. Her.” Lori clenched her jaw, ignoring the woman’s wave as she climbed out of a brand-new sports car that cost close to six figures. “She made a point of telling me she just bought a new car and that she was planning on moving.”

  “She actually told you that?”

  “Yeah, she did. And she laughed about it. She sees nothing wrong with what she did.” Lori’s hand tightened around the doorknob. “I would give anything to be able to teach her a lesson.”

  “Maybe you can.” Danny’s voice was quiet, thoughtful. She turned around, frowning at the speculation on his face.

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Do you think you can manage to get her cell phone?”

  “What? No, not even close. Are you crazy? Why would she give me her cell phone? And why would I even need it?”

  “I just have a feeling they’re might be some interesting videos on it, that’s all.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Just a hunch.”

  “Well, hunch all you want. There’s no way she’d give me her cell phone.”

  “Then maybe we should make our own video.”

  “Danny, what are you talking about? You’re not making any sense. At all.”

  He grinned, the biggest grin she’d ever seen on him before, one filled with enough cold calculation that she actually took a step back. He pulled the phone from his pocket and tossed it in the air. Caught it in his palm and tossed it again before finally folding his fingers around it.

  “How good are you at pushing buttons?”

  She tilted her head to the side, trying to figure out what he was up to. “What kind of buttons?”

  “Oh, you know. The blackmail kind.”

  “You mean—”

  “I’m thinking maybe she needs a taste of her own medicine. What do you think?”

  Lori glanced at the phone in Danny’s hand—the one tied to all of the team’s social media. Then she looked over at her neighbor, who was busy pulling shopping bags emblazoned with names of designer stores from the trunk of the new car.

  She turned back, not bothering to hide her anger. “I think I can manage to push some pretty big buttons.”

  He nodded, then gave her a meaningful look. “We’ll probably get fired.”

  “You think?”

  “Pretty good chance, yeah.”

  Lori pretended to think about it then finally shrugged, as if she didn’t care in the least. “I was getting tired of that cramped cubicle anyway.”

  “Yeah, me too.”

  “And I could always move back home if I needed to.”

  “I suppose.”

  “Or we could just become roommates, save some money that way.”

  “There is that.”

  Lori nodded one last time, still not sure what they were going to do, but knowing she needed to do something. “Okay then. Let’s do it.”

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Caleb Johnson burst into the locker room, practically running in his skates. He tossed down his stick and helmet, his eyes frantic as he looked around the room. “Holy shit, I need a phone. Somebody hand me their phone.”

  Conversation paused as everyone stared at him, then just as quickly resumed when they ignored him.

  “I’m fucking serious. I need a phone. Now.”

  “Dude, calm the fuck down. You know we aren’t allowed to have phones in here.”

  “Can it, Jaxon. I know that. Just like I know at least one of you assholes has one squirreled away somewhere.” Caleb glanced around the phone, finally zeroing in on Brendan. “Hayes, give it up. I know you have one.”

  “No way. I know better—”

  “Bullshit. Just give me the damn phone.”

  Corbin turned away from the commotion, ready to move down the hall. His focus was off, had been off since warm-ups. He knew why, knew the only thing that would help was time.

  But he didn’t have time, not for the game. So he was heading back to the end of the hall, away from everyone else. Back to where it was quiet, where he could be by himself and work on his focus. Bounce a few balls off the concrete wall, center himself as he followed their movement—

  A hand nabbed the sleeve of his jersey, stopping him, “Whoa, hang on, Gauthier. You can’t go anywhere.”

  “I need to—”

  “You don’t need to do anything but see this.” Caleb was tapping the screen of the phone in his hand, frowning as he searched for…something.

  Corbin tried to pull his arm free once more but the other man refused to release it. He made a small sound of triumph, then held the phone closer to Corbin.

  Closer to the knot of players who gathered around, pulled in by curiosity and Caleb’s strange behavior.

  He looked around, addressing no one in particular. “Shannon gave me the heads-up before they hit the ice. There’s something big going down.” His eyes shifted to Corbin. “And it’s about you.”

  Dread filled him, cold and immediate. What? What could possibly be happening now? He hadn’t done anything. Hadn’t been anywhere for anything to happen. Unless…did it have something to do with the incident? The settlement? Had something else happened that he wasn’t aware of? He hadn’t heard anything from his lawyer, but his phone had been off for the last two days. It had been easier to leave it off, so he couldn’t call Lori. Couldn’t text her. Couldn’t tell her what a fool he’d been…and still was.

  Had he missed something else because of that? Was he about to be blindsided by something even worse?

  “Listen up. Here it is.” Caleb pointed to the screen, too small for everyone to clearly see it. But Corbin could see it. How could he not, when the other man was practically standing on top of him, shoving the phone in his face?

  It was a live feed, on one of the many social media outlets. And it was being broadcast from right here at the arena, in the middle of the concourse upstairs. The camera zoomed in on a woman in her twenties, with pale eyes and thick, dark hair, wearing an oversized sweatshirt that swallowed her small frame. She was talking to a small group of people, showing them something on the tablet in her hands. Then she looked over at the camera and smiled, acting as if she’d been caught by surprise.

  “Oh, hey guys. TR Meyers here—”

/>   Caleb looked around, addressing them as a group. “She’s the one who’s been working on a story about Shannon and the rest of the Blades. She has this video thing she does every week—”

  “Shut up, we can’t hear.”

  Caleb muttered something and adjusted the volume, but it still wasn’t loud enough—which only meant that everyone gathered around them was unnaturally quiet.

  “—So thanks for humoring me for a little bit. You can still get the information about the Hopewell League and the wonderful work they’re doing by checking out their website, along with the Banners’ website.

  “But right now, I want to talk about something else. Something that’s just as important. And if you guys will just bear with me for a second—” The camera followed the woman as she approached another group of fans. “Would you guys mind if I showed you something and asked your opinion about it?”

  There was some good-natured mumbling and laughter, followed by agreements from all five people—three men and two women. Corbin frowned, glanced around and saw similar expressions of confusion on his teammates’ faces when the woman—TR—played something on her tablet for the small group.

  Cries of astonishment echoed around the group. One guy laughed, shaking his head in disbelief. “Whoa. She really nailed her, didn’t she?”

  TR leaned closer. “So would you consider that assault?”

  The group nodded in unison, one of the men speaking for all of them. “Oh yeah, absolutely. No doubt. Guilty.”

  “How about this? Would you call this assault?” TR tapped the tablet, turning it back to the group once more. Whatever they were being shown drew mixed reactions this time.

  Corbin’s stomach knotted. He broke out in a cold sweat as waves of nausea rolled over him. He knew, without even seeing, what video the woman was showing the group. Knew it with a certainty that sickened him. He needed to leave, to get out of here, to run—but Caleb held him in place.

  “No, just watch. It’s not what you think. I know it isn’t.” But even Caleb didn’t sound certain.

  Corbin’s gaze moved back to the screen, watching as the group struggled to reach a consensus. The two women agreed it was assault, while two men disagreed. The third man wasn’t sure.