Blocker (Seattle Sharks Book 5)

by Samantha Whiskey

  Every muscle in my body locked as the prospects all gave him the good ‘ol boy shoulder nudge. Had Pepper said something to him about getting back together?

  No way. Sure, they’d been together in high school, loved by the press, but he’d walked away from her. She’d never go back to him.

  “Can’t blame you, she’s hot,” Number Three added.

  I finished dressing, trying my damnedest to ignore them.

  “Fuck yeah, she is.”

  I didn’t even look to see who that one was.

  Bentley nudged Lukas out of the way and sat next to me.

  “Don’t let them get to you,” he whispered, bracing his elbows on his knees.

  “Kind of hard not to,” I admitted through clenched teeth, tying my shoes.

  “Yeah, I get that; but, the minute you let on that Pepper means more to you than a friend, Hall will smell it from a mile away.”

  “She always been that good-looking?” One of the prospects asked.

  I saw Hall shrug out of the corner of my eye. “She’s always been pretty, but man the last four and a half years have been good to her, and that’s not even counting what’s going on under her clothes.”

  My fists clenched. Pepper was mine. Not his. And she sure as hell wasn’t fodder for some cock-measuring convo in the damned locker room.

  “Gentry,” Bentley warned.

  “Why don’t you shut the fuck up, Hall?” I snapped.

  “And here we go,” Bentley muttered, sitting to his full height.

  “Whoa, look who’s a little touchy about Pepper.” Hall smirked, then looked around the locker room to see who else was watching. “Look, I know Dad—I mean, Coach Harris, of course—assigned you as her unofficial cockblocker, and I appreciate that. Really, I do—”

  Ahh, so he wanted to be the big man in the locker room. I’ve got you pegged, asshole.

  “—even though you didn’t quite succeed, given the pictures I saw of her and Crosby.”

  Wait. What?

  “First,” I started, leaning toward him. “You’re not a Shark, so let me fill you in. We don’t talk about women we care about in the locker room. Second, you’re sure it was Pepper in that picture?”

  He scoffed, and rage coiled in my muscles. Lethal. Ready.

  “Okay, well, first, I’ve pretty much got my spot on lockdown. Sorry boys,” he said to the other prospects before looking back at me. “And second, hell yes, I know that’s my woman in that picture. I’d know those tits any—”

  One second I was seething on the bench.

  The next, I was on top of Hall, sending us both careening into the wide lockers.

  “Holy shit!” I vaguely heard the commotion behind us but gave zero fucks as I pushed my forearm against the base of Hall’s throat.

  His eyes flared wide with fear and surprise.

  “You don’t talk about your teammates that way, jackass. And that’s what Pepper is. She’s our statistician. She’s not up for discussion. Not now. Not ever. She’s a Shark. You’re not.” I pressed a little further, making sure he got my point.

  When his face turned a shade of purple, I let up, standing slowly and stepping back over the bench.

  Hall stumbled to his feet, rubbing his throat.

  “Gentry,” Gage rumbled behind me, loud enough only for me to hear.

  “For fuck’s sake!” Hall barked. “When Coach hears about this—”

  Gage stepped to my left, parallel with me. “He’ll do exactly nothing. Because I don’t care who your dad is, kid, or who you slept with in high school; there are hundreds of defensemen who can fill that position. There’s only one Gentry.”

  But what Gage didn’t know was that it had jack and shit to do with me.

  There was only one Pepper.

  Slam.

  Slam.

  Slam.

  I sent my fist into the punching bag again and again. Growing up, I’d handled my anger through physical activity, knowing that no good came of leaving that kind of energy to fester. I’d had the punching bag installed in my guest room a month after moving in, seeing as Seattle had a shortage of barns in need of repair.

  “Eric?” Pepper’s voice stopped me in my tracks.

  I gripped the bag to halt its slight motion, and the shadows from the late afternoon sun stilled on the hardwood.

  “Hey,” I said over my shoulder, taking off my gloves.

  “Want to tell me what happened in the locker room?” she asked, walking past me to lean against the wall. She had on jeans and a long-sleeved baseball tee with Deadpool on the front.

  Damn, my girl made it look good...if she was actually my girl.

  “Want to tell me how you know what happened in the locker room?” I ran my fingers over my beard.

  She arched an eyebrow and raised her chin. God, I loved that she was so much smaller than I was but fucking fearless.

  “Chloe. Bentley told her, and she told me.”

  “He thinks I show my hand every time I get defensive of you.”

  “Do you?”

  “Yes,” I answered truthfully. “I couldn’t stand there and listen to the prodigal son talk about how he’s next in line for the defensive throne and getting you back.”

  Her lips parted. “I didn’t know...about the last part.”

  “Is it true?”

  “Which?” She brushed her hair back behind her ears. This time the tips were dyed teal.

  “Did you tell him you wanted to get back together with him?” I folded my arms across my chest, bracing for her answer.

  “Why the hell would you even think something like that?” she fired back.

  “Oh, I don’t know. Because you two are hockey royalty with a history? Because that was the first question the press asked when he came back to Seattle? Because he fucking said you did?”

  “And you believed him?”

  “I don’t know.”

  Her head jerked as if I’d struck her. “Are you serious?”

  “Pepper, I have everything on the line. Everything. And you’re worth it. I am crazy about you, and I can’t even tell the guys in the locker room that you’re mine. Then this guy shows up, shouts to the world that you’re getting back with him, and I should have to listen to it? We’re complicated. I know that. I know it would be easier for you to go back to Hall, rather than be with someone you have to sneak around with, but that asshole can’t even tell you apart from Ivy in that picture!”

  A slow smile spread across her face until she was flat-out grinning at me.

  “What?”

  “You’re jealous.”

  I blinked. I’d never had anyone to be jealous over before. No one I cared about walking out. But just the thought of Pepper leaving me created a black hole of nausea in my stomach.

  “I’m jealous,” I admitted.

  “You want to claim me, you said?” Her eyes sparkled with mischief.

  “Hell yes, I do.”

  “Then claim me.”

  I was across the room in a heartbeat. My tongue in her mouth, her hands on my ass, her back against the wall as I rocked against her. The kiss was primal, more dominant than any I’d ever given her.

  She tilted her head, and I kissed her deeper, stroking my tongue against hers until she was breathless, panting against my lips.

  “Iron Man,” she said, pulling back with her hands on my cheeks.

  “Pepper?”

  She looked me in the eyes, and I swear my soul fell into hers.

  “I choose you. I will never choose Mason. Never. I’m not getting back together with him, and I would sure as hell never leave you for him. I. Choose. You.”

  Relief rushed through my veins, nearly as strong as the lust that was overtaking my brain.

  “Good. Because I choose you, too.”

  Chapter 15

  Pepper

  Eric’s words rocked through my soul before he crushed his mouth on mine.

  His lips were hungry yet gentle.

  Electric yet soothing.r />
  This wasn’t our first time, but it felt different. Significant, somehow.

  His fingertips grazed the skin of my ribs as he gently pulled my shirt up and up until he tossed it on the floor. I shoved his up, needing his help because he was so damn tall, and he tugged it over his head and threw it to join mine.

  We stood there, quiet except for our breathing. I traced the lines of his feathered tattoos, following the ink everywhere it touched, before replacing my finger with my lips.

  The muscles underneath the smooth skin were rock hard, and I pushed against his broad chest until his spine hit the wall. He moved for me, his strength ten times the amount I possessed, and yet, he let me control the momentum.

  I kissed my way to the band of his jeans, unbuttoning them in a flash, dropping them just as quickly. I remained on my knees before him, and his sleek black briefs couldn’t hide his considerable length as I teased him over the fabric.

  Eric hissed as my warm breath coated him, as I trailed my tongue along the edge of those briefs, over his insanely sexy v-lines. Heart racing, fueled by the power and control this man granted me, I hooked my fingers into the band of his briefs and tugged, smiling as he sprang free.

  Grabbing on to his glorious ass, I wasted no time in taking him into my mouth.

  “Shit,” he hissed and arched his head back against the wall, his fingers tangled in my hair.

  His taste filled my mouth as I flicked my tongue over his silky tip.

  Warmth and lightning soared through my blood.

  Hunger churned in my core and an ache wrenched between my thighs as I devoured him. His groans and sighs wound me up so much I was a taut string ready to snap.

  “Pepper,” Eric growled, and I gently grazed the edge of my teeth along his hard length, glancing up and up at him, a slight smirk with him still in my mouth.

  That unleashed something inside him because one second I was there, on my knees, consuming him, and the next he’d hooked his arms under my shoulders and hauled me to my feet.

  Fire churned in those green eyes as he rid me of my pants and scrap of lace.

  Pure strength radiated from every inch of him as he spun me, gently pressing my spine against the wall which was still warm from his skin.

  Slowly, agonizingly, he palmed my breasts, laying soft kisses over the mounds until they were heavy and tight. He took a pert nipple into his mouth, flicking his tongue over and back until I arched against him.

  One hand trailed lower, smoothing lazy circles down my stomach, to the apex of my thighs. Slow, like we had all the time in the world. Like I wasn’t on fire for him.

  Eric kissed his way up to my neck, the line of my jaw, and finally my lips, all while those damn fingers teased every spot near the area where I needed him. Soft, easy strokes that may as well have been match strikes with each pass.

  I arched and moved and widened, begging him with my body to touch me.

  He grinned against my lips, his tongue sliding out to tease mine at the same moment he slid a finger straight down the center of me.

  Slick. Easy. Slow.

  I was liquid for the man, and he growled from how ready I was for him.

  His muscles flexed as he took his time, stroking me, teasing me, slipping one finger in and out only to tease me more.

  “Eric,” I said, sighing as I bit his sculpted chest.

  He shifted, kneeling slightly so we could be eye to eye, and then he mercifully slipped a finger inside me. Then two. I arched against his hand, moving on him.

  “Yes,” I moaned as he pumped in time with my movements.

  His lips covered mine like he could devour the sounds he plucked from me.

  Heat coiled, tightening and clenching until my entire body felt like a livewire.

  “Fuck, Pepper,” he said, lightly nipping at my bottom lip. “I can feel you there.”

  I sucked his tongue into my mouth, unable to speak, to comprehend anything beyond the sensations swarming my body. I whimpered when he slid his fingers out of me, leaving me a hot, pulsing mess on the brink of explosion.

  But then he hooked his massive arms behind my knees and hefted me up. I locked my ankles around his hips, my fingers digging into the muscles of his shoulders.

  “Eric, fuck!” I couldn’t contain my scream as he plunged into me.

  So thick, so deep.

  His massive body pinned me to the wall, his bulging biceps holding me up without strain, and his beautiful cock stilling inside me, giving me time to adjust to the size of him.

  It didn’t take long.

  He pumped and kissed.

  I bucked and moaned, tracing my hands over every inch of his chest as I lost control.

  Eric filled me in every possible way.

  Stole my breath like it was his.

  Hit every single spot I possessed.

  Those long, sweet strokes.

  The fast and hard thrusts.

  Each was a brand on my body, on my heart.

  The tightness inside me twisted and ached.

  My blood seared as he held me in that delicious agony. That perfect moment of torture before I’d fly into orbit.

  And when those green eyes locked with mine and I saw a mirror of every facet of emotion I was feeling.

  He owned me entirely.

  I sank down on him as he thrust up, my back smacking into the wall, and I exploded. My body loosened so quickly I was dizzy, a thousand tiny sparks shocking my skin. And just when I thought I couldn’t take an ounce more pleasure, Eric found his own release inside me, and I came undone all over again. So hard and so long, I was draped over his shoulder by the end of it, panting, limp.

  He carried me ever so gently to his bedroom, laying us down on his mattress, our bodies slick with sweat.

  There were no words.

  Nothing I could say that could possibly explain how much this man meant to me. How much that had just meant to me.

  Eric was quiet too, content to run his fingers through my tangled hair, down my bare shoulder, over my hip, and back up again. Smooth, sweet strokes that somehow made the moment a thousand times more intimate.

  Just like that, I was ready for him again.

  The delicious soreness between my thighs ached for more.

  And I realized as I lay there, staring into those green eyes, that I wouldn’t mind spending the rest of my time on this earth doing just that.

  “Pepper,” Dad said my name with all the authority of my father and my boss. “My office. Now.”

  I cringed, following him through the empty locker room and into his office.

  The time to let him stew and believe I was the one in the picture was over.

  He’d avoided me like the plague since that first initial call, and then after, too, when he’d lost his shit on Crosby. Like Dad knew if we spoke too soon he’d say something he’d regret.

  Still, from his tone, and that vein throbbing in his forehead, he wasn’t here to make peace.

  “Dad—”

  He smacked a stack of tabloids down on his desk, cutting me off.

  One was the issue that featured “me” and Crosby, the other two featured shots of Connor, and then the last…Rory?

  “You are smarter than this, Pepper Harris,” Dad chided, pointing to the one of “me”.

  I sank into the chair before his desk, my stomach churning. Connor was free to see and be seen with whoever he wanted—well, as long as it wasn’t me or Ivy—but Rory? Last time I checked, he was happily married and almost disgustingly blissful.

  Adrenaline shot through my veins. I knew Rory. He…he’d changed when he’d met Paige.

  Or I’d thought.

  Maybe there really aren’t any good players.

  “What are you thinking?” Dad snapped me out of my sticky thoughts. “You’ve always stayed away from players. After Mason—” he raked his hands through his salt and pepper hair. “Is this a punishment? Some way to get back at me because I’m always working?” he sighed. “Because that isn’t fair, Peppe
r. I expected better from you.”

  I ground my teeth.

  This is why I’d asked Ivy to tell him.

  Because I always got it worse.

  Because he held me to a standard that was so much stricter than Ivy.

  Because where she’d dreamed of being a reporter, wild and free, I’d been grounded. Always working toward ending up in the same career field as Dad.

  “You have busted your ass to get here,” he continued, oblivious to my anger. “And still people question your position. I hate that for you. But this?” He smacked his palm against the picture. “This makes it look worse. Makes it look like you’re only here to fraternize—”

  “It’s Ivy!” I snapped, unable to bite my tongue for a second longer. Guilt ate at my insides, knowing Ivy didn’t want him to know, but I couldn’t sit here and take this.

  Despite the fact that I can still taste Eric.

  A constant craving.

  Aching.

  Double damn. I’m such a hypocrite.

  Dad jerked back like I’d slapped him. His eyes darted from me to the photo before he scooped up the tabloid and held it closer to his face.

  I folded my arms across my chest.

  “You never could tell us apart.” My words were quiet, cold, defeated.

  “I—”

  “I can’t believe you think I’d be so careless,” I cut him off, the accusation stinging all the way down. Eric and I were careful, sure, but honestly, I was no different than Ivy. Except I’d picked a winner.

  Or, at least, he’d picked me.

  That photo of Rory stared up at me. A blonde—not a redhead—had her arms flung around his neck.

  Acid rolled my stomach.

  Was there ever any getting away from the spotlight. From the constant line of women just waiting for the second the man would slip?

  Dad set the tabloid down and sank into his chair, rubbing his forehead.

  “I’m sorry, Pepper,” he said, finally looking me in the eye.