Blocker (Seattle Sharks Book 5)

by Samantha Whiskey

  I headed to the locker room, where I sat on the bench. Who did that to their kid? Was it really his job forcing him to go, or did he no longer know how to connect with his daughters? Either way, it was fucked up. She had to be a wreck.

  Knowing it was too early to get dressed in my gear, I strode out of the locker room, only to nearly mow Pepper over in my exit.

  “Whoa!” I grasped her shoulders to keep her upright and caught us before we hit the opposing wall. “We have to stop meeting like this,” I teased, hoping the call-back to the night we met might make her smile.

  She looked at me with streaked cheeks, her eyes made even bluer by her tears, and I knew that no measure of teasing could make this right. I looked up and down the hallway, making sure no one was present to see what I was sure she would find embarrassing later. She was never one for the public eye.

  Seeing the coast was clear, I pulled her back through the doorway into the locker room, so we could have some privacy.

  Once the door swung shut behind us, I took her face in my hands.

  “Want to tell me about it?” I asked. It was the closest I could come to implying that I hadn’t heard what happened without lying to her.

  She nodded, sending a flurry of tears down her cheeks.

  “My dad. He promised that if we came home to Seattle after college, we’d spend more time together as a family. Those first years when he coached the Sharks, he was always so busy. Too busy for us, at least. Not that he didn’t love us.” She nodded again as if she had to make her point. “I know he loved us. He loves us. But when our mom died...I don’t think he knew how to handle two little girls who didn’t play hockey.”

  My thumbs swept the tears away, wishing taking the pain out of her eyes could be just as easy. “The scouting trip over Thanksgiving?”

  She pulled her face from my hands and walked toward the bench in front of my locker, sitting where I usually did to put on my pads.

  “Yeah. I guess you know what I look like when I go nuclear now, huh?” She twisted her hands and looked anywhere but my eyes. “This is so embarrassing.”

  Well, shit. I took the seat next to her, sliding close enough that our shoulders touched. “If that’s what you call going nuclear, I think I can handle it. You have every right to be hurt, and mad, and whatever else you want to feel.”

  She rested her head on my shoulder, more like at my shoulder seeing as she was so short. I gently moved her, looping my arm around her so she could lay her head against my chest.

  She sniffled, somehow making something I usually thought was gross into incredible cuteness. Cuteness? Just grow a vagina while you’re at it.

  What was it about her that made me softer? Well, she didn’t make everything softer.

  “It’s okay,” she assured me. “Ivy wanted to go home with Crosby for Thanksgiving, anyway. Now she can. Not that dad can know.”

  I’d better see that girl at my Thanksgiving table. My mother’s words came back to me, louder than a siren through my brain.

  “Come home with me,” I offered. “My parents have a farm in Montana. It might not be what you’re used to, but it’s family.”

  She leaned back and met my gaze. “But that’s your family, your private life.”

  I tried not to react, to take that as a rejection.

  “You are part of my private life, Pepper. Hell, you’re pretty much my entire private life. I want you there. Honestly, I don’t want to go five days without seeing you.” I brushed back a strand of her hair, savoring the silky feel of it between my fingers before I tucked it behind her ear. “Besides, friends can go home with friends for Thanksgiving.”

  She chuckled softly and smiled up at me. “We do make pretty good friends.”

  “Yeah, we do.” Maybe I was wrong. Maybe she hadn’t felt that instant, primal connection I had while kissing her. Maybe I really was just a friend.

  My dick almost cried at the possibility. The last thing I wanted to do was be relegated to the friend zone of the hottest woman I’d ever met. Not when everything within me was screaming to touch her, kiss her, fuck her senseless until she could see what we could be together.

  But what could we be together? Her father was a guillotine hanging above our heads.

  “And you’re right,” she said, her attention slipping to my lips. “Friends do go home with friends.”

  “True. It’s all very… friendly.” I shifted slightly, until the arm that had been around her shoulder now swept up her back, my fingers tangling in the hair at the base of her head.

  “Friendly,” she whispered, her fingers trailing down my spine. “Right, because we’re friends. Just friends.”

  “Just friends,” I repeated, but my thoughts were anything but. Her lips parted as if they couldn’t support the weight of my gaze upon them. Memories assaulted me, filled me with her taste, the feel of her skin under my hands. “No chemistry, remember?”

  “No chemistry,” she repeated. “Definitely no sizzle.”

  My fingers tightened in her hair and her neck arched, bringing her lips that much closer to mine. “No ache.”

  “No desperate need to feel your weight on top of me.” Her voice dropped to the softest whisper.

  Fuck, I was rock hard and ready to go, and I hadn’t even touched her. Some kind of friendship.

  “No raging demand to find out what you sound like when you come.”

  “Right. Because friends don’t think like that.”

  We stared at each other for what felt like an eternity, charged with the intensity of a thousand power plants pumping electricity into the space between us.

  “No, they don’t.”

  I didn’t know who moved first, and it didn’t matter. A second later, my mouth was on hers, her lips parting beneath mine as I thrust my tongue inside. Home. She tasted like home.

  She let out a sweet moan, her nails scratching through my thin T-shirt as she fisted the fabric.

  Friends, my ass.

  I took her back to the bench, thankful it was made wide enough to accommodate NHL players. Hell, the padding almost made it perfect for this purpose. Shifting so that I knelt between her thighs, she hooked her ankles just above my ass and rocked her hips up into me, wordlessly telling me what she needed.

  Bracing most of my weight on my elbows, I let myself settle between her thighs and groaned at the way she fit me perfectly. I kissed her again and again, trying to take my fill, somehow knowing it would never be enough. I could never kiss her enough to be satisfied, never get used to the feel of my hands skimming her curves, as I let one do just that. Fuck, her waist was tiny, at odds with the generous size of her breasts.

  I wanted her naked, needed to see what I already knew would be perfect. My mouth moved to her jaw until I trailed open-mouthed kisses down her neck, pausing at the patches of skin that made her gasp, learning what she liked.

  She squirmed beneath me and whimpered when my hand gripped her hip and squeezed lightly.

  “Eric,” she pled as I lightly sucked on her collarbone.

  “Pepper,” I answered, my voice slipping to a near-growl. I pulled her tighter against me, letting her feel just how much I wanted her. Driving myself crazy with the knowledge that just a few thin layers of clothing separated me from her pussy.

  I rocked against her, letting my cock push against her clit through the stretchy fabric of her yoga pants.

  She moaned and rocked up for another, and another, until I gave up all thoughts besides kissing her mouth, and thrusting against her.

  Fuck, she was responsive. I was willing to bet my NHL contract that she was wetter than the ocean, and damn, was I going to find out.

  She writhed against me, pushing my control until it was razor thin and crumbling. One of her hands slid under my shirt, grazing my waist until her thumb caressed the edge of each of my abdominal muscles. Any lower—

  “Fuck,” I hissed, as she gripped me through the fabric of my warm-up pants.

  “I want this,” she whispered, raki

ng her teeth along my earlobe as she squeezed my dick for emphasis. “I want you.”

  “You have me. God, do you have me.” She could’ve asked me for anything in that moment, and I would’ve given it to her willingly and without reservation.

  She tightened her hand around me, her fist sliding down my length and back up again until I knew that if she kept it up, I’d come in my pants like a freshman.

  I gripped her wrist and moved it above her head, where I held it captive with my other hand.

  “You’re killing me.”

  She gyrated her hips in answer, using her pussy to do what I’d just denied her hand. Damn, I could feel how hot she was.

  I kissed her deep, thrusting my tongue and my cock in the same rhythm, until her moans turned to rhythmic whimpers, and her thighs tensed around me.

  There was zero chance in hell I was going to fuck her in the locker room, but at least one of us could reach satisfaction.

  “Please,” she cried softly as my fingers dipped beneath the waistline of her yoga pants. The stretchy material gave easily, making room for my hand as I explored lower.

  I reached the scrap of lace that served as her panties, and then—sweet Jesus—my fingers found her wet, swollen, and hotter than the sun.

  “Fuck. Pepper, baby, you’re so wet.” If I thought my control had been weak before, it was downright see-through now. My dick throbbed, aching to be inside her, to pump us both to release.

  Instead, I trailed my thumb from her slick opening up to her clit, and began to swirl, giving her the friction she needed and the pressure she craved.

  Her cries were breathy but soft, and I pulled up just enough to watch her face. I wanted to remember every single second of this moment.

  “That’s it, baby,” I urged, moving my thumb faster, still rocking against her as if I were inside of her.

  “Eric, oh God,” she keened, her muscles locking, going tense beneath me. She was close, and I’d never seen a more beautiful sight. Her lips were swollen from my kisses, her eyes bright, fevered, and the blush that stained her skin pink brought my arousal to a whole other level.

  I’d never been so turned on without having sex in my life.

  “Yes, Pepper. God, you’re beautiful.”

  Her eyes flared at my words, and her mouth opened in a silent cry as I pressed down on her clit, wishing it was my tongue instead of my thumb.

  “Come for me,” I growled, and slipped one finger inside her. Holy shit, she was tight, small, and slick with wanting me. I pressed up on the spot I knew would get her there, and she flew apart, crying out my name as she came.

  I quickly kissed her, taking the sound into my own body.

  Then I eased her down with soft strokes, and a light rub of her clit that sent her into a second, softer orgasm. Damn, I could watch her do that all day.

  I slipped my hand free as she blinked up at me, with an almost stunned look on her face. Then I licked my finger clean, needing to know if I was right.

  I was. Her pussy was as sweet as she was.

  Her breath left in the stuttered sigh. “Eric—”

  “Don’t worry the guys are just on their way in right now,” I heard Bentley’s voice a millisecond before the locker room doors opened. “Just come in with me. It’ll only take a second to grab it out of my locker.”

  “Fuck,” I swore, tucking Pepper’s head against my chest like I could shield her from what was about to happen. How could I have been so fucking stupid?

  “Holy shit,” Bentley snapped. “Gentry, tell me that isn’t who I think it is under you.”

  There was no getting her out of this.

  “Gentry wouldn’t be that...” Chloe, his wife, paused her retort.

  I looked over to see them staring at us, but it was just them.

  “Hey Pepper,” Chloe said softly.

  Pepper waved awkwardly, and I sat up, bringing her with me.

  “Hi, guys! How’s it going?” she asked as if we hadn’t just gotten caught nearly fucking.

  “Uh-huh.” Bentley glanced from Pepper to me, no doubt taking in her disheveled hair and flushed cheeks.

  “Okay, that’s enough awkwardness for two lifetimes,” Chloe muttered. “Pepper, the guys are coming in behind us, let’s get you out of here.”

  “They can’t see her.” Fuck if I was going to let any of those assholes say shit about her.

  “Oh, now you think about that?” Bentley questioned.

  “There’s a back door,” Chloe said. “Come on, Pepper.”

  Right on cue, I heard some of the guys in the hallway.

  “Yes to Thanksgiving.” Pepper kissed my cheek and raced out with Chloe just as Warren and Gage walked in.

  “Not a fucking word,” I warned Bentley.

  He glanced down at where my dick was still standing at attention and shook his head before walking to his locker.

  I quickly turned toward my gear and thought about the most un-sexy things I could until my cock got the memo that he wasn’t getting any.

  Then I smiled.

  She said yes.

  I had five whole days with her, no hiding needed.

  Next week couldn’t come soon enough.

  Chapter 8

  Pepper

  “There’s my baby boy!” A petite redhead opened the door before we’d even reached the gorgeous wraparound porch. Her arms were around Eric’s neck the second he stopped at the bottom step.

  I bit back a laugh, never once picturing Eric as anyone’s baby boy.

  Not with how enormous he was.

  I clenched my eyes shut against a mental fantasy of just how enormous he was. I’d felt but hadn’t seen, and we so couldn’t go down that road.

  Didn’t say that in the locker room, did I?

  Another wave of heat hit me despite the snow lightly falling around us.

  I’d never, not once, had a man make me fly apart like Eric had. It was like my body obeyed whatever command he gave it. And I liked it…almost lo—

  “And this must be Pepper Harris,” she said, releasing Eric as I timidly walked up behind him. She shifted the white cup towel hanging over her shoulder, her soft green eyes sharp as a razor as they trailed me up and down. “Well,” she said. “It’s a good thing he brought you,” she said.

  My eyes widened, completely at a loss on what to make of Eric’s spitfire of a mom.

  She lightly smacked my hip with the end of the towel. “You look like you don’t get enough home-cooked meals,” she said. “We’ll be sure and fill you up here.”

  I chuckled, the tight air in my lungs releasing.

  Eric smiled, the grin so much softer, somehow warmer than I’d ever seen it before—and he ran hot most of the time.

  “Come on in now before you two freeze to death,” she said, waving us inside. “Eric, you get those bags upstairs, and then your Daddy will want to see you. He’s in the barn.”

  “Of course, Ma,” he said, slinging both our bags over his shoulder like it was nothing.

  “I can’t thank you enough for inviting me to your home for Thanksgiving, Miss Gentry,” I said, finally finding my voice.

  “Marie,” she corrected me, her hand on my back guiding me through the house as Eric bounded up the stairs like he owned the place. “And naturally we couldn’t have you spending the holiday all by yourself. Besides,” she said, inching closer and lowering her voice. “You must be something special.”

  I snorted, showing just how un-special I was. Ivy was always the one who was considered…special. Sparkly. Shiny.

  Not me.

  “Don’t deny it,” she said before I could respond. “He’s never, not once, brought a girl home.”

  “We’re just really good friends,” I said, though the words tasted bad on my tongue.

  Weren’t we?

  Really good friends who wanted to claw each other’s clothes off.

  But we couldn’t be anything else.

  She flashed me a knowing look and then waved off my assuring gaze. “Come now. We’ll have some hot apple cider and chat. My daughter Faith doesn’t come home enough, so I’m constantly surrounded by men. It’ll be so refreshing to get a bit of gossip in.

  I laughed. “Don’t know how good I’ll be at that but I’ll certainly try.”

  She led me through the house, which was rich with farmhouse details that made it more than cozy. It made it a home. Warm, wooden floors with plenty of natural wear from raising a growing boy and girl, white-washed walls decorated with framed family photos, and wide snow-dusted windows all displaying the exquisite view of their farmland. The crisp snow sparkled across the distance and hugged the red barn a few hundred yards away.

  Enough to steal my breath—the view, the home, the family that lived here. I’d only been here five minutes and already my heart had grown two sizes.

  “I can’t imagine growing up in a place as amazing as this,” I said as she urged me to sit down at a breakfast-nook table that was tucked near a kitchen window. It had a perfect view of the barn.

  “We are truly blessed,” she said, sliding a steaming mug of cider in front of me and taking a seat across from me. “I thank God twice a day and three times on Sunday for my children, my husband, my life. It hasn’t all been easy, but it sure has been good to me.” She shifted in her seat. “Speaking of good to me.” She smiled and looked over my shoulder.

  I didn’t need to check to know Eric was standing in the kitchen entryway. I could practically feel him there. Like he cast out this kind of crazy, hot, pulsing energy whenever he was within five feet of me.

  “Is dad working on the combine again?” he asked, stepping fully into the kitchen to stand at his mother’s side.

  She shook her head, her short red curls bouncing around her face. “Heaven’s no. You took care of that,” she said. “I’m sure he’s in there tinkering with something, though. You better go check on him.”

  “You got it,” Eric said and bent down to kiss his mother on the forehead. “Missed you, Ma. You have to fly out to Seattle more.”

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