Hot Puck (A Rough Riders Hockey Novel Book 2)

by Skye Jordan

  She positioned her body over him and eased back, pushing the head of his cock into her heat. Beckett opened his eyes and found her gaze on him as she took him deeper. He clenched his teeth around a groan. His hands slid down her body, and he gripped her hips, pushing her slowly, steadily onto his cock.

  Eden’s eyes rolled back before they closed on “God.”

  A little negotiation with their bodies, and he was imbedded deep inside her, surrounded by tight, wet heat that made his breath come fast and his heart hammer. And tonight, something that had been growing between them spilled over for Beckett.

  All his life, sex had been sex. Sex had been inserting tab A into slot B, repeatedly. Sure, some women turned him on more than others. Some women were more playful or more creative or nastier than others. But in the end, sex was still sex.

  Until now. Because as Eden straightened over him, with her hair falling around her face and the moonlight and city glow cast across her beautiful body, Beckett knew this was different. Eden was different. And something Grant said when he’d returned from the Christmas break last year with Faith beside him returned to Beckett now.

  “Sex is just sex until you have sex with someone you love. Then you’re talking a whole different hockey game. Then you’re talking the Stanley Cup of sex.”

  And as Eden rocked her beautiful body to pump him in and out of her succulent heat, the emotions swirling inside him jacked his physical excitement, pushing him toward orgasm at an exponential rate.

  He pulled himself into a sit-up, wrapped one arm around her, cupped her neck with the other hand, and kissed her. Deeply. Tenderly.

  “God, Eden…”

  “Mmm.” Her hips quickened. She pressed her face against his neck. “Beckett,” she whispered. “So good.”

  This was crazy. Nothing pushed him over the edge this fast. Nothing but the feel of Eden’s pussy clenching around his cock. The bite of her nails at his shoulders. The vibrations of her pleasure against the skin of his neck.

  She must have felt it too, because she rose fast. Her hips quickened, her moans deepened. And within minutes, she squeezed his cock.

  Beckett’s climax slammed through him like a bomb in his pelvis. It exploded deep in his body, streaked up his spine, through his cock, down his legs. The pleasure shattered his brain into tiny pieces that glowed bright white and drenched his body in carbonation until every inch of his skin tingled.

  Eden kept one arm clasped around his neck, her breath hot and quick against his skin. She was quiet, and Beckett felt something shift between them. A seriousness that seemed to weight the air.

  He’d never been in love before, but somehow he knew this was that feeling that made the guys around him do stupid, crazy things. ’Cause, yeah, he could envision himself doing stupid, crazy things for Eden to hold on to this. To hold on to her.

  Only his life wasn’t his own to wield anymore. He had Lily to think about.

  So instead of letting the words roll out like he wanted, Beckett eased back, cupped her face in his hands, and kissed her, then whispered, “You are so amazing, you humble me.”

  And she smiled. The simple sight swamped him with emotion.

  Oh, hell yes. He was most definitely in love.

  20

  Eden and Tori were pulling out of the hospital parking lot when their pagers sounded again.

  Eden, filling out reports in the passenger’s seat, closed her eyes on a groan. Tori swore.

  “You’ve become a total jinx,” Tori said. “We all agree. Every shift from hell has one common denominator: you.”

  “Wow, you’re giving me a lot of credit.” Eden covered the iPad and pulled out her phone for directions to the call. “And while I deeply appreciate the confidence, if I had that kind of power, I’d use it to have the universe orchestrate my life in a whole different way.”

  She picked up the radio to tell the dispatcher they were en route to the call of yet another woman down. Then told Tori, “Nothing like going straight from the hood to the Ritz.” With a few quick clicks on her phone, Eden pulled up photos of the house. And in between Siri’s directions, Eden said, “It’s a huge brick colonial surrounded by a white picket fence. Middle of the block on the right.”

  Tori wove through the streets of downtown DC, picking up their earlier topic of discussion: Beckett. “So when are you two going out again?”

  “Tomorrow night,” she said, smiling at the thought. She’d woken and showered with Beckett early that morning, leaving for work before Lily had stirred. “He’s got a game tonight, then home to Lily. He’s off tomorrow. We’re meeting a few other guys on the team and their girlfriends and wives for dinner.”

  “I’m so happy for you,” Tori said, entering the affluent Spring Valley neighborhood of Washington, DC.

  “I’m…cautiously optimistic. I’m having to force myself not to jump in with both feet. It’s hard. He’s tempting in so many different ways. But this whole thing still scares me.”

  “I think that’s normal. And smart too.”

  Eden gave her a smile before they pulled into the home’s driveway and bailed from the rig to grab equipment from the back. But she knew she was all talk. She was already head over heels for Beckett, which scared the living shit out of her. Yet holding her feelings back was like trying to get an IV in a guy on PCP.

  They loaded equipment on a gurney and approached the sidewalk. The house’s interior lights glowed golden in the night, and the lights from the ambulance shot strobes of red and blue across the brick. Eden slowed as they reached the gate. “Hold on.”

  After a quick glance around the neighborhood, she scanned the home’s lush front yard encompassed by the fence again. Huge rhododendrons and hydrangea plants were scattered among various trees and shrubs. In the dark, she couldn’t tell if the backyard was also open to the front, but she didn’t see a fence separating the two.

  Shifting the oxygen tank into one hand, she used the other to shake the fence gate, rattling the hardware as she watched the shadows for movement.

  “What are you doing?” Tori asked.

  “Checking the dog’s friendly meter.”

  “What dog?”

  “Look at the other houses. Only one other fence I can see. If there’s a fence, there’s usually a reason.” Eden did it again, adding a whistle. No dog appeared. But no one stepped out of the house either. And Eden’s trouble meter flared orange.

  She unlatched the gate and pushed it open. “Stay here a minute,” she told Tori. “And keep this exit clear.”

  Eden was at the stairs, about to take the first step toward the front door, when she heard a low growl from her right. Her trouble meter jumped to full-blown red. Fear skittered down her neck and flooded her chest. She turned toward the sound and caught sight of the dog jumping from around the corner of the house.

  Eden stumbled back a step, holding the oxygen tank out in front of her. The dog was big and dark. But it was his ferocious bark that pounded down her spine and lifted the hair on her arms.

  He lunged, teeth bared in a snarl. Eden shoved the tank at him, hitting the dog and knocking him back. But he was on his feet in seconds, meaner than ever.

  “Shit.” She sidestepped back toward Tori with the metal tank keeping the dog at bay until she’d slipped through the gate again. Tori slammed it behind her, and Eden stumbled into the street, panting, shaking, her heart pounding in her ears.

  The dog jumped at the fence, barking and snarling. It was a Rottweiler, and his teeth glowed white in the night. Eden’s adrenaline felt like octane in her bloodstream when a man stepped out of the house and yelled, “What are you doing out here? My wife needs medical attention.”

  He was middle-aged and arrogant. Eden could hear the you-work-for-me attitude in his voice. And after almost getting mauled by his dog, yeah, that irritated her.

  “Get your dog out of the front yard so we can pass, sir.”

  “Don’t be stupid. There isn’t anything wrong with the dog. Just come in.”
>
  Stupid? Eden’s ire mounted. “Secure your dog. We’re not entering the property while he’s loose.”

  Before she could instruct Tori, her partner got on the radio to dispatch and requested law enforcement backup.

  “What’s your name, sir?” Eden asked.

  “What difference does that make?”

  Great, a rich arrogant prick. More concerned with being in control than the state of his wife. All too familiar to Eden.

  “Sir,” Eden said, searching for patience, “please come get your dog and put him in the backyard so we can take care of your wife.”

  “Excuse me.” Another man’s voice at Eden’s right drew her attention from the house. He was in his early fifties with graying hair and a friendly face. “Hi. I live right next door. Butcher knows me. I feed him when they’re on vacation. I can put him in the backyard.”

  “That would be great,” Eden said.

  “Darrel’s a real asshole,” the man said, voice lowered, “but his wife is a really good person and a dear friend of my wife’s. Please take care of her.”

  And with that, he turned to the fence, talked to the dog, and managed to grab his collar before opening the gate, then led the dog toward the side yard.

  Eden glanced at Tori. “Let’s go.”

  “Do you want me to cancel backup?”

  “No.” Eden had a bad feeling about this.

  As they approached the stairs again, the man reentered the house with a muttered “About fucking time.”

  Eden stepped through the front door, and the opulence of the home’s interior registered instantly. Dark hardwood, light furniture, everything in its place. A showroom. Her tension mounted.

  “Where’s your wife, sir?”

  “Kitchen.” He jerked a hand somewhere toward the back of the house, then pulled out his phone and dialed. Then paced the living room instead of leading them to his wife.

  Eden darted a look at Tori, and they shared thoughts without words.

  They found his wife easily enough, laid out on the kitchen floor, twisted to lie half on her side, half on her back.

  “Ma’am?” Eden dropped to a crouch and pressed her fingers to the woman’s neck, relieved to find a pulse. “Can you hear me?” She glanced at Tori. “Pulse is weak.”

  Tori crouched at the woman’s head and turned her ear to the woman’s mouth. “Breathing.” She grabbed the C-collar and glanced at Eden. “Did you see his hand?”

  Eden nodded, flashing back to Darrel’s raw knuckles and the blood spatter on the sleeve of his dress shirt. She pulled the penlight from her pocket as Tori lowered the backboard to the floor.

  “Ma’am, can you hear me?” Leaning over the woman, Eden scanned her face where a cut bled over her left cheek, one from the corner of her mouth. Injuries Eden knew too well. She snapped on her penlight, lifted the patient’s eyelids to check her pupils, and found them unequal and nonreactive. Bad, bad news. “Head injury. Let’s move.”

  Tori clicked the C-collar into place, and together, they carefully rolled the woman onto the backboard.

  Eden collected their jump bag as Tori secured the woman to the board.

  “What was law enforcement’s ETA?” Eden asked.

  Tori’s head came up, her gaze swinging toward the front door. “I think they’re here.”

  “Thank God.” She grabbed one end of the board, Tori took the other, and they lifted the woman to the gurney. “Let’s go.”

  On the way out, they found one police officer talking to the husband, who barely glanced at his wife on the stretcher. At the ambulance, another cop approached as they loaded her inside and handed Eden a piece of paper with notes on it.

  “What’s this?”

  “Her info. Name’s Margaret Baxter. Thirty-two.” His face was grim. “We’ve been here a number of times. Her husband won’t give you any information, and he makes sure she won’t wake up for a while. By the time this hits the DA’s desk, Baxter’ll have it all smoothed over with a handshake and a smile.”

  Eden’s stomach plummeted, and her head filled with flashbacks of John and her father.

  The cop shook his head. “I’m just waiting for the day I find the medical examiner’s rig in the drive instead of an ambulance.”

  “We’re doing our part to make sure that’s not today.” Tori slammed one of the back doors. “You do yours to make sure that’s not tomorrow.” Then she cut off the view of the cop by slamming the other.

  Eden’s mind fragmented a little. Tori hopped into the driver’s seat, turned over the engine, and flipped on the sirens.

  That cleared Eden’s head. She picked up her radio mic with one hand and kept her fingers on the pulse at Margaret’s neck with the other. Monitoring Margaret’s breaths, Eden contacted the local hospital’s emergency room. “Capital to base.”

  “Base. Go ahead, Capital.”

  “We’ve got a thirty-two-year-old Caucasian female found unconscious at the scene.” She repositioned her fingers on Margaret’s neck to get a better heartbeat with dread sinking in her gut. “Initial exam showed lacerations and bruising to the face. Pupils uneven and nonreactive. Heart rate fifty-two and weak. Respirations ten and—”

  Margaret’s chest stopped moving, and Eden broke off, waiting. After a second that felt like a minute, Eden grasped her arm hard and gave her a shake. “Margaret.”

  No breathing. And the heartbeat beneath her fingers faded to nothing.

  Eden dropped her radio and told Tori, “She’s coding.”

  She pulled her shears from the holster on her waist and cut Margaret’s blouse up the middle, catching her bra on the way. She spread the fabric wide and found a series of bruises marring Margaret’s skin, some old, some new.

  Tori picked up the radio from the driver’s seat and continued communications as she drove. “Capital to base, patient is coding. Administering AED.”

  Muscle memory had Eden reaching for equipment without thought. She threw open the defibrillator’s case, hit the power button, and slapped leads on Margaret. Placing the paddles diagonally across the heart, Eden hammered the pulse button.

  Zzzzap.

  Margaret’s chest rose a fraction of an inch. Eden moved one hand to the woman’s carotid. “Come on, Margaret.”

  The slightest thump tapped her fingers, and relief sagged Eden’s shoulders. “I’ve got a pulse. Still no respiration. Starting rescue breathing.”

  Tori relayed the information while Eden covered Margaret’s mouth and nose with a mask and breathed for the woman. She checked for a pulse in between breaths.

  “Almost there.” Tori’s words still hung in the air when too many milliseconds passed between beats in Margaret’s neck.

  Frustration sang through Eden’s body. “She fucking coded again.”

  “I’m pulling into the parking lot.”

  “You’re going to have to take me with her.” No time for the defibrillator. Eden pushed to her feet, bent over Margaret, piled her hands on top of each other, and leaned her weight into the pump.

  One, two, three… She counted silently to herself, more to keep focused, to keep her mind compartmentalized so she could function, than to keep track. Now, it was about keeping the blood flowing through Margaret’s heart, body, and brain until the docs could pull out the big guns.

  “Come on, Margaret…” she told the woman as Tori came to a stop. Eden climbed onto the gurney, straddling Margaret with her knees while continuing compressions. “Don’t let him win.”

  Eighteen, nineteen, twenty.

  By the time Tori opened the back doors, Eden’s arms burned, her shoulders ached, and sweat collected on her back.

  “Comin’ out,” Tori warned.

  Thirty-one, thirty-two, thirty-three.

  Eden used her tired thigh muscles to balance as Tori pulled the stretcher from the rig, then jogged toward the ER.

  Four nurses and two doctors met them at the doors and swept them into the nearest trauma bay. A nurse lowered one arm of the gurney. Another s
lapped more leads on Margaret’s chest. One of the doctors prepared the defibrillator paddles.

  Sixty-five, sixty-six, sixty-seven.

  “Tell me when,” Eden said.

  The doctor nodded. “Go.”

  She sat back and rolled off the gurney. Tori was there to stop her momentum.

  “Clear,” the doctor called before placing the paddles the same way Eden had.

  Pu-chunk.

  Then silence as everyone watched the monitor.

  Nothing.

  Eden’s hands fisted. Every muscle in her body was strung wire tight.

  Fight, Margaret.

  “Again,” the doctor said. “Clear.”

  Pu-chunk.

  Silence as everyone watched the monitor.

  Beep.

  Beep…beep…beep.

  Eden’s muscles went weak. She bent at the waist and pressed her palms to her knees. Which was when she realized she was shaking from fatigue. Panting from exertion. Nauseous with relief.

  “Good job, ladies,” one of the doctors told Eden and Tori.

  They nodded and exited the trauma bay, sharing a subdued high five.

  “Take a breather, grab some water,” Tori said. “I’ll get things put back together.”

  “Thanks.”

  In the restroom, Eden splashed water on her face. She pulled out her bun and collected the hair that had fallen out, winding it into a knot on the back of her head again.

  When she looked in the mirror, Eden found her own familiar face staring back, cheeks flushed, skin glowing from the workout. Yet she didn’t quite recognize herself. She felt like she was looking at a stranger. Yet not. More like a familiar stranger.

  What the hell was a familiar stranger?

  She shook her head and let her gaze roam to her uniform while her mind drifted over the last twenty minutes, and emotions bubbled to the surface. Emotions she couldn’t identify. This tangled mess and out-of-body sensation came sometimes after intense situations like the one she’d just experienced. They came when she faced dangerous people or when she’d narrowly escaped a dangerous situation or when someone died and she brought them back. Or when they just died.