Hot Puck (A Rough Riders Hockey Novel Book 2)

by Skye Jordan

  Beckett picked up a fork and mirrored her position. He collected cake on the tip of the fork, dipped the dark chocolate in whipped cream, and brought it to her lips. “Open for me, Eden.”

  A slow, sensual smile turned her lips, and she opened. He slid the cake into her mouth and watched those full lips he wanted in so many ways purse around the fork. Her lids grew heavy with pleasure, and his cock throbbed at the sight.

  Oh yeah. This woman had seriously great pussy potential. If the way he craved her right now was any indication of how sex between them would be, he’d take a leap and predict it would be explosive.

  “I don’t think I got a chance to tell you how absolutely gorgeous you look tonight.” He took in the way her dress outlined her toned upper arms and shoulders, curved over her full breasts, and lay flat against her abdomen. “That dress is making me crazy.”

  “Thank you.” She glanced down. “It’s one of my favorites, but I wasn’t sure…”

  “It’s perfect. Except that it makes me want to run my hands all over you.”

  She met his eyes again with a little laugh. “Then you’re right. It is perfect. Tell me about the suits.” Her gaze slid over him. “This is the last thing I expected to see a bunch of hockey players wearing after a game.”

  “It’s partly tradition,” he told her. “Something all kids do from the very start—shirts and ties in and out of the rink on game day. Those become suits in high school and the leagues. It’s a show of respect—for the game, for your team, for yourself. A symbol you take your job on the ice seriously.”

  “Interesting.” She lifted her finger to his lip, rubbing away some chocolate. Beckett closed his hand over hers and took her finger between his lips, sucking the chocolate off the tip. Her lids went heavy, her eyes dark, and her tongue touched the corner of her mouth.

  “Mmm,” she murmured, watching his lips as he kissed a path over her palm.

  Then he took her hand between both of his as he worked on a let’s get out of here suggestion that sounded at least a little smoother. As something relatively respectable came to mind, he reached up to push a honeyed curl off her forehead.

  But before he even touched her skin, she flinched.

  The movement was so quick, so subtle—the soft jerk of her head, the quick flicker of lashes, the slight intake of breath—Beckett almost sensed the recoil more than experienced it. He froze, fingers millimeters from her face. His eyes cut to hers. Any doubt over her reaction vanished at the sight of her averted gaze, the way her lashes hid her pretty eyes.

  A cold sensation seeped through the warmth inside him like tendrils. He passed a featherlight touch along her forehead with one finger as he’d initially planned. And when she exhaled and relaxed, his tension eased a little too.

  “Sorry,” she murmured, almost a whisper.

  Beckett put that let’s get out of here on hold.

  “Hey,” he said softly, then waited until she met his gaze again. When she did, the woman he’d met in the Rough Riders’ locker room was somewhere way, way in the background. “Don’t apologize for…”

  He sucked back words that came out sounding like a reprimand and reeled in all his thoughts, searching for a new starting point. In that instant, he saw a distinct correlation between his attempt at diplomacy now and all Lily had taught him about patience and compassion and humility since she’d come into his life.

  “Okay,” he said, “Let’s get real for a minute.”

  She leaned back with an oh-great-here-we-go expression. “Look, I should probably just—”

  “Don’t do that.” He slid his hand over hers. “We’ve gotten this far. I’m willing to talk a little to see if we can get past this blip. I think you’re worth it.”

  “You don’t know me well enough—”

  “I know the woman who had the guts to shove around an angry hockey player for his own good. I know the woman who took control of that situation in a professional and, ultimately, compassionate way, then managed to make a friend of that bitchy hockey player by the time you dropped him off at the hospital.”

  She laughed at the last part.

  “And now,” he continued, “I know the woman who, despite something less than pleasant in her past, is here taking a chance on connecting again. So, I may not know the little things about you, like what your favorite color is or what you prefer to do on a Saturday night, but I know you’ve got character. The kind I admire.”

  “You know my tough side. That’s not really who I am.”

  “You know my tough side too, and you don’t even like it, but you’re still here, giving me a chance. Which means, like me, you believe there’s more than one side to a person. Unless, of course, you’re so hot for my body, you’re willing to forget everything you hate for a couple of hours to experience my godlike sexual prowess.”

  Eden broke into laughter. A relieved smile lifted Beckett’s mouth, and his shoulders relaxed.

  “I love your laugh.” He stroked his hand up her arm, over her shoulder. “Let’s make tonight all about you. What we do, what we don’t do, how fast or slow we go or don’t go is completely up to you. Like I said, you’ve already met your required contribution to the night by showing up.”

  Her grin was soft. She lowered her chin into her hand again. “You’re a lot sweeter than I expected.”

  “If you were expecting the asshole in the locker room, why’d you come?”

  “I…” She held his gaze for a moment, searching his eyes as if he had the answer. “I guess I was ready to take a chance. And I guess I was hoping there was more to you than what I heard on the news.”

  “The news.” He let his gaze drift to her high cheekbone and brushed his knuckles across her skin, pleased when she didn’t flinch or shy away. But his mind was searching the latest newscasts for negativity that might have been thrown his way. “I haven’t committed any felonies lately, at least none that I know of. What were they saying about me now?”

  She gave a little shake of her head as if blowing it off as no big deal. “The sportscaster was as impressed with your hit count this season as your teammates were with your hits in the game tonight. In fact, he and the news anchor marveled at your lack of injuries over the length of your career.”

  The dots were definitely connecting. He proceeded with honesty but caution. “I’m careful, and I’m good. I’ve spent all my life practicing to be careful and good. And I have to stay careful and good because my performance as a defenseman determines my salary, my future contracts, and the longevity of my career. And while I may have been more zealous when I was younger, my dad always kept me in check. I was never one of those guys who slammed players without a purpose.”

  Thoughts churned behind her eyes. “Your dad?”

  “Yeah. He coached for decades. Was my coach for most of my life up until I went pro. Even coached me in the minor leagues. He put me on skates at two years old and stayed with me until I got drafted. I was accountable to him for every hit after every game. If I fucked up, I had to look him in the eye and tell him I fucked up and why. I lost control of my speed, I made a bad judgment call, my timing was off, my blade caught on the ice—whatever it was, I had to own up to it.”

  He laughed, thinking back. “God, it was awful. At the dinner table, we used to argue over what was or wasn’t necessary. The rest of our family would—literally—put in earplugs so we could all get through dinner together. No joke. There was this plastic box of foam earplugs on the kitchen counter. Once, my mom and my sister tried to double them up and put two in each ear.”

  That made her smile deepen, and the darkness gave way to the woman Beckett was so drawn to.

  “Anyway,” he said, “if you’re wondering if there’s more to me than the number of my hits—”

  “I think you’ve answered that question in a lot of different ways.” And apparently she liked the answer, because she picked up another piece of the cake between her fingers, leaned close, and brought it to his lips. And as she let him lick ch
ocolate off her fingers and watched every move of his lips, she said, “Where does your family live? Is it just you and your sister? Are you as close to your mom and your sister as you are to your dad?”

  He was licking her thumb when her questions plucked a strange chord inside him. No woman ever wanted to know about his family. For that matter, no woman ever wanted to hear about Beckett’s early playing days either. They wanted to know about his present and his future. They wanted to know about his teammates and their girlfriends and wives. They wanted to know about his salary, his signing bonuses, the big events he attended, what famous people he’d met, where he’d been, and what he did with his money.

  Family-smamily.

  Beckett lifted his gaze to hers. Those light blue-green eyes were heavy lidded and hot but soft. As soon as he pulled her thumb from between his lips, she leaned in and pressed hers in their place, then sighed as if she’d been waiting forever to rest her mouth against his.

  A wild little sliver of desire snaked down his spine. Beckett closed his eyes, slipped a hand around the back of her neck, and opened to her. She responded like she’d been reading his mind. Her tongue slid right into place against his. The rhythm of their kiss was instantaneous and hungry and took Beckett’s already interested cock to half-mast. He leaned into her, losing himself in the sweet, erotic taste of heat and woman. The slick, smooth stroke of her tongue. The supple suction of her lips. And, God, the little purr in the back of her throat made Beckett want so much more.

  She pulled out of the kiss and pressed her cheek to his, leaving Beckett dizzy. “You sure can make a girl forget her own name.” Her nails scraped gently along the back of his neck, and she rolled her head to press kisses to his jaw. “What were we talking about? Your family…right. Where do they live?”

  “Wow,” he breathed, “that was so not where my mind was.” He had to force himself to refocus. “They’re all in and around the DC Metro area.”

  “They’re so close.” She leaned away just enough to smile up at him, a new light in her eyes. She scraped her wet bottom lip between her teeth, then moved even closer and draped one thigh over his. Do they come to your games? And where was your mind?”

  He automatically covered her thigh with his hand. Her soft dress felt sinfully delicious. “When they can. They have busy lives too.” He couldn’t keep his hand still and found her thigh toned and supple and warm beneath the soft fabric. “Eden, I’m having a really hard time thinking about anything other than you right now.”

  “I’m having the same problem.” She pressed a flat hand to his tie and slid it slowly down his abdomen. “But at least I’m trying.”

  He took a gooey chunk off the cake with his free hand and braced his elbow on the table as he lifted the chocolate to her lips. “Trying to what? Think about nothing but me? Because I would support that decision two hundred percent.”

  She was laughing when her lips parted to take the chocolate, but the humor faded as soon as her mouth closed. Her warmth tingled through his hand, and then the gentle suction of her lips tugged on his fingers.

  “Damn, you are so beautiful.” He listed forward, leaning his head against hers. Watching her lick and suck his fingers clean made his cock flinch and throb, begging for the same attention. Not only had it been a long damn time since he’d had decent sex, but it had been fucking forever since he’d had a woman give him this sort of focused attention. Only now, when the promise of that kind of pleasure glittered on the horizon, did he realize how badly he needed it.

  “Fuck, you’re good with your mouth.” His other hand flexed and released on her thigh. He turned his head and put his lips at her ear whispering, “Will you tell me what you have on under your dress tonight?”

  She licked the tip of his thumb. “I could, but that would ruin the surprise.”

  His heart did a three-sixty. He was probably pushing the envelope, but he really didn’t know how else to live. It was what he did. It was who he was. “What if I felt it? That wouldn’t be looking.”

  He bent his head and pressed a path of kisses along her jaw. Her fingers curled into the front of his shirt. He tasted the sensitive hollow behind her ear, and Eden tipped her head toward him and sighed.

  “God, you are sweet.” He lifted an arm over the back of the booth and brushed the hair off her neck, kissing her there. Then he slipped his other hand beneath the edge of her skirt, opening his hand over the soft suede of her boot top before spanning the inner thigh of her leg draped over his own.

  His palm hit the warm, bare skin of her thigh, and the shock of intimacy traveled through his body like lightning. “Fuck.” In this cold weather, he wasn’t prepared for skin-on-skin contact. He pressed his forehead to her neck and let his fingers sink into the supple muscle. “Baby, I think your sexy just blew my circuit.”

  Her laugh started as a giggle and grew until it shook her whole body. Her happiness added to Beckett’s joy until he couldn’t stop smiling. And he knew this short time with Eden would count as one of the best dates of his life, even if they never got any further than this.

  Then she went and blew another fuse by whispering, “Go ahead. Touch me.”

  7

  Eden hadn’t felt this playful or free with a guy since she’d been in high school. High school, when nothing mattered but self-discovery and figuring out what life was all about. And as Beckett’s dark eyes latched on to hers while his hand slid up her inner thigh, Eden realized that was really what this stage of her life was about—discovering who she was now, after everything that had happened, after how far she’d come.

  The fiery look in Beckett’s eyes told Eden she was still attractive, still sexy, still desirable. And she hadn’t felt wanted, or even worthy of being wanted, in so long, she’d forgotten what it felt like. Beckett was damn good at reminding her it felt downright intoxicating.

  His touch left a wake of tingles along her thigh, and by the time his fingers neared her panties, she was swollen and damp and throbbing. Her sex clenched, preparing for a heavy hand. But Beckett’s fingers barely touched her as they brushed past and traced the lace band low on her belly.

  “Put your arm around me.” His murmur drew Eden’s gaze from his mouth to his eyes. “It’ll give us more privacy.”

  Her awareness instantly widened to the dim space around them, to the other customers in the bar, to the waitresses wandering between tables. It was crowded and dark, and everyone was in their own world. The waitresses were working too hard to take time to notice them. And she and Beckett weren’t the only couple cuddling up in dark corners.

  Eden leaned closer, reached across his body, fisted her hand in the fabric of his jacket, and brushed a kiss across his lips.

  He met the touch just as gently, eyes heavy lidded and staring into hers while his fingers explored the fabric of her panties without taking or grabbing. “Lace and satin?” His words sounded like a heavy purr. “What color?”

  The throb between her legs intensified to an uncomfortable ache. “Guess.”

  The corner of his mouth tipped up in a smile. “I think it would depend on your mood.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “The night I met you, I think you’d have been wearing black—kick-ass-and-take-names, all business. Tonight, you seem like more of a hot-pink type of woman.”

  She grinned and pulled his lower lip between hers for a moment. “Which do you prefer?”

  “Both.”

  “Are you really that easy to please?”

  “Not usually, but you seem to be able to please me in all sorts of unexpected ways.” He leaned his forehead against hers, then tilted his head and kissed her temple. “Does your bra match?”

  His whisper feathered warmth over her skin and made her eyes flutter closed. She moaned softly, lifting her hips. “What do you think?”

  “I think it does. You know what else I think?”

  “Hmm?”

  “I think you’re wet.”

  A flicker of embarrassment heated her
face, and she let out a soft laugh. She was really glad she’d had those drinks now. She wouldn’t have been able to battle her anxiety over taking this step on her own, and she’d really needed to take this step. Really needed to feel beautiful and wanted again.

  “Are you wet for me, Eden?” he asked, his voice a rough, sexy whisper that made her throat tight.

  Her pussy surged at his words. “I’m so wet, I ache.”

  He kissed her beneath her ear. “Do you want me to slide my hand between your legs and feel how wet you are?”

  “Yes.” The word whispered from her lips, and panic immediately followed. She opened her eyes to check their surroundings again and found his hot gaze staring back at her.

  “It’s all right,” he murmured. “No one’s paying any attention to us.”

  He held her gaze as his fingertips slipped beneath the edge of her panties, and his hand—his big, warm, and rough hand—ever so gently pressed between her thighs. Deep between her thighs. Until his palm rested over her mound and his long fingers slid over her opening.

  Beckett let out a long, quiet moan, and his eyes fluttered closed with an expression of such bliss, he pulled Eden that direction too. Her body tingled with anticipation. Her lips parted, but her throat tightened, and no sound emerged.

  The feel of a man’s hand on her, this man’s hand on her, in the middle of a crowded bar, yet in secret, was so many things at once, she couldn’t define them all. Naughty. Decadent. Thrilling. And the way he opened his eyes and held her gaze added an intensely intimate element that made her feel both exposed and safe at the same time.

  “Fuck…” he whispered. “You’re so soft.” Then his fingers stroked, and she gasped at the erotic sensation. A low laugh rolled through his throat, the sound more wicked than humorous. “And so wet.”

  Her breath whooshed out on a shaky sound.

  “Do you like me touching you?” he asked.

  “God, yes.”

  “I haven’t been able to stop thinking about this since we met. And it’s even better than I imagined. Have you thought of me, Eden?”