Without me having to ask, Noelle brings me a fresh beer, taking the lukewarm one from in front of me. After dumping it out, she returns to stand across from me, the wooden bar top separating us.
“So, why so sad? You didn’t get enough goals in tonight? Wanted a hat trick to kick off the season?”
Again, I chuckle. “No, I’m pretty happy with the two I got.”
“You should be.” Her smile widens and her voice lowers. “For the record, you looked totally fuckable out there on the ice.”
Anyone else would’ve taken Noelle’s outrageous comments as flirting. I know better. She’s that way with everyone, and not once have I ever seen her actually hit on a hockey player. She talks a good game, sure. But I’ve watched her, and behind the radiant smile, there is never anything to back it up reflected in her eyes.
Oh, sure, I’ve heard Ellie say that Noelle will one day settle down with a hockey player should the right opportunity arise, but she doesn’t seem to be in any hurry.
“What about you?” I ask, turning the topic to her. “Things go all right tonight?”
Noelle nods, glancing over at the clock. “Twenty minutes left and the place is still standing. I’d say that’s a win.”
For a brief moment, I’m caught up in Noelle’s glittering blue eyes. She is a truly stunning woman. Petite, blond, with an ass that would be heaven to hold on to while I’m sliding deep inside her.
No.
Shit.
I shouldn’t be thinking like that.
I have no idea what’s come over me, nor do I know why I’m suddenly mesmerized by her, but I am. Perhaps it’s due to the fact that she’s a friend, one who I’ve come to rely on for shit like this. I know I can stop by the bar and she’ll be welcoming and sweet, just as she is to everyone else. She’ll listen if I want to talk. Most importantly, she’s safe.
So why I’m feeling a tightening in my groin right now, I have no idea. But I am.
Noelle seems lost in the moment, too, but she quickly breaks the eye contact, grabs a rag, and starts wiping down the bar.
I turn my attention back to my beer, which I don’t even want. I came down here because I couldn’t stand sitting at home alone. After calling Ellie and letting her know I would get her car to her tonight—which until right this second I had completely forgotten about—I decided the silence was too much for me to bear.
“Anything else before we close it down?” Noelle asks as she comes back over. “I’m sure Tyler’ll make you a burger if you ask nicely.”
I notice that whatever we’d shared a few seconds ago is now conspicuously absent. It must’ve been a figment of my wildly oversexed imagination.
“You could ride with me back to the arena to get Ellie’s car so I can get it to her.”
Noelle grins, her straight white teeth gleaming back at me. “I heard she had to make a break for it. Yeah, sure. Let me get things closed down here, and you can follow me back to my apartment and I’ll go with you.”
“Thanks.”
“No problem, but you have to promise to smile. Otherwise, you’re on your own.”
Of course, I smile. It’s hard not to when it comes to Noelle.
Noelle
I KNOW I SHOULD’VE LET Spencer figure out another way to get Ellie’s car back to her tonight. Hell, there were half a dozen hockey players who would’ve gladly gone with him, but no, I had to go and be nice.
Nice. Ha!
I don’t think this has anything to do with nice. I think it’s because I felt bad for him.
After such an overwhelming win, he should’ve been riding high on life, but the absence of a smile told me otherwise.
Now, I’m no fool. I know that the reappearance of his ex in his life has fucked him up. How could it not? I remember when Spencer and Amber broke up. It was shortly after he’d gone off to college. Amber had been a senior that year and Ellie and I were juniors. Let me tell you, it wasn’t easy not punching her for hurting him back then. Every time I tried to convince Ellie to let me do it, she somehow talked me off the ledge.
But now Amber North is back and Spencer looks like he’s seen better days. I’m not sure if that’s because he has feelings for her or simply because he’s having to relive that shit from the past. Either way, he’s my friend, and I definitely want to lend him an ear if he needs to talk.
Not that I’m delusional or anything. Men don’t talk. Most of the time anyway. Every now and then we’ll get some sap who wants to drink his woes away, and during that he’ll sit at the bar and boohoo to me or Ellie or sometimes both of us. I don’t usually mind, but I know Spencer. He’s not the boohooing type.
As usual, I was right in my assessment. From the moment we set out to get Ellie’s car until now, as he’s pulling up to my apartment, the man hasn’t said anything that I didn’t have to work to pry out of him. And they say Kingston is the quiet one.
Sheesh.
Now, as he parks in the empty spot beside my car, I feel a little awkward about leaving him. After he followed me home from the Penalty Box, I hopped in his truck, we went to the arena, got Ellie’s car, and I drove it back to her place. I locked the keys inside since I know she has an extra set, then I got back in Spencer’s truck, and here we are. It took all of an hour to do it, and not once during that time did Spencer take the opportunity to chat.
“You good?” I ask, turning slightly toward him. I should get out of the truck and be on my merry way, but I really hate to leave him like this.
He puts the truck in park, then shifts slightly to look at me.
There isn’t anything about this man I’ve known for going on twenty-five years that I should find ridiculously attractive. Yes, he’s good-looking. Yes, he can turn heads when he walks into a room. But me? I’ve probably looked at him a billion times over the years I’ve known him, and I should not be thinking how freaking cute he is right now.
Well, maybe a little more than cute, even that sounds like a cop-out to me, but still. Yes, I’ve admitted to my fair share of fantasies about him over the years. Who wouldn’t? But we’re talking three or four, max. Certainly not an ongoing thing. The guy’s got a rocking body and when he smiles … honestly, those are the times when I find myself in awe of him.
Except now, as those intense eyes turn on me, I feel something. It’s a strange clenching down deep, a strong, almost magnetic pull that seems to be powered by some sort of electrical current. For the record, Spencer has never looked at me the way he’s looking at me tonight. Back at the bar, I felt it, too. And now…
I remind myself that his ex-girlfriend just showed up out of the blue, and I’m sure he’s projecting some sort of attraction that’s not normal. Like most men, he’s probably looking for a distraction, something to take his mind off of his pain.
“Do you want to talk about Amber?” I inquire, wanting to find a way to unplug this strange attraction before it goes somewhere it shouldn’t.
Spencer’s dark eyebrows angle low. “Why would I want to do that?”
I shrug. “Don’t know. You seem upset.”
“I’m not, I promise you.”
Yeah, I’m not so sure about that. “Well, if you do want to talk…” I leave it at that because nothing else really needs to be said.
“Thanks for going with me,” he says softly, his eyes roaming over my face.
He’s not touching me, not even close, but I feel his gaze like a physical caress. My blood is humming directly beneath my skin, warming me with every second that passes. This is not a good state to be in around this man. Especially not right now.
“Anytime.” I force a bright smile as I lean over and gently punch him in the arm. “That’s what friends are for.”
Before I know what’s happening, Spencer has his hand wrapped around my wrist and he’s pulling me closer to him. Worst part, I’m leaning in and I know what’s about to ha
ppen, yet I’m not sure I can stop it.
I know I should.
This is Spencer Kaufman. My best friend’s brother. I’ve known him since I was a freaking kid. If I superimpose this man with the one I knew back then, no way would I be dangerously close to kissing him.
Only, this guy is not the same guy from back then. Hell, he may not even be the same guy from yesterday. This Spencer is different. More intense. More intoxicating.
“Noelle.” The way he breathes my name makes my insides tingle. A hot throb starts between my thighs.
In my defense, I haven’t had sex in a really, really long time. I know that’s the reason I’m so turned on. The strength in his fingers as they curl around my wrist, the heat I glimpse in his brown eyes… I’m definitely losing it.
Before he can lean in all the way, I come to my senses.
“Don’t do this,” I whisper. It sounds almost like a plea. I’m just not sure whether I’m pleading for him to listen or to ignore me. This has never happened to me before. Whatever crazy connection we’ve got going on here, it’s new and … really freaking awkward.
Spencer’s eyes bounce back and forth between mine, and I know he’s thinking; I simply don’t know what about. I hope he’s coming to his senses because…
Oh, God.
A desperate moan escapes me when Spencer crushes his mouth to mine. It’s so unexpected, the air rushes from my lungs, and I can do nothing except succumb to the onslaught. His lips are smooth and warm and oh, so soft. Softer than I expected. His tongue works past my lips and I open to let him in.
The kiss is gentle yet firm. Eager yet controlled. Searching yet fleeting. As though he’s hesitant but attempting to stake a claim at the same time.
My brain is obliterated by pleasure, a whirlpool of sensation occurring deep within me. I have to stop this because it’s absurd. We shouldn’t be doing this, but still, I can’t seem to pull away. I let his tongue tease mine for several minutes while I burrow my fingers into his hair. It’s so soft, so silky. Smooth like satin.
I’m vaguely aware of his hand as it moves to my breast, cupping me roughly. Oh, damn. I like that. A lot. If the growl that rumbles in his throat is anything to go by, he knows how he affects me. He’s not hurting me, but it’s clear he knows what he wants. My nipples are painfully tight, and my pussy is clenching around the emptiness that he could resolve if we took this inside. However, I know I can’t, because this man is my friend. I don’t want to hurt him and I don’t want to be hurt by him. The former is probably not even possible, but the latter … definitely in the stars.
Whatever he’s going through, he’s using me, and I can only allow that to go so far.
Something breaks the spell and Spencer pulls away. He looks shocked and maybe a little … disappointed.
I don’t know how I’m supposed to react, so I sit here, staring at him.
“Fuck.” He turns to stare out the front windshield. “Noelle … I’m so goddamn sorry.”
Yep, just as I thought. The regret in his tone is like ice water, chilling me to the bone.
“Nothing to be sorry about.” I make sure to insert an abundance of cheerfulness into my tone, although I feel anything but. “I’ll talk to you tomorrow. And if I don’t … well, good luck on your next game.”
Without waiting for him to say anything, I hop out of his truck and race up to my front door.
Once I’m inside and safely secure, I lean against the door and try to catch my breath.
I have no idea what just happened back there, but…
Holy. Crap.
10
Spencer
WHEN NOELLE BOLTS FROM MY truck, I call out after her, but she slams the door too quickly to hear me. I watch as she steps inside her first-floor apartment. I know I should leave, but something keeps me there, staring after her, wishing like hell she’d come back. Not that I can blame her for hauling ass. Seriously. I just kissed the woman and…
Damn.
I’m not sure what this is between us, but honestly, I’m not sure I’ve ever had a woman kiss me like that. Hell, ten minutes later, it’s the only thing I can think of. Like I’m a fucking fifteen-year-old boy, not a thirty-six-year-old man who’s kissed and been kissed a few million times.
I slam my hands on the steering wheel, gripping it until my knuckles are white. A rough growl comes from my throat. I need to go home. I need to put as much space between me and this innocent woman before I do something we’ll both regret.
Staring at her apartment door, I continue clutching the steering wheel. My dick is rock fucking hard, pressing intently against my zipper as though sheer force of will could make my jeans disappear.
Bad idea, Kaufman.
Really fucking bad idea.
I exhale sharply.
“Go home,” I mutter. As though that’s going to help.
A sane man would’ve left five minutes ago.
I’m still here.
“Fuck,” I roar, reaching up and turning off the engine.
I slam my back against the seat, my palms against the steering wheel. I’m angry at myself for even thinking about getting out of this goddamn truck. This is Noelle. My sister’s best fucking friend. If I go up to that door…
I can’t do this.
Apparently the message doesn’t make it to my feet, because the next thing I know, I’m standing in front of Noelle’s door. I tell myself that it’s because I can’t leave like this. I really need to apologize. In a way that she understands. I should tell her that I didn’t mean to kiss her, only I did. Mean to.
And God help me, but I want more.
I knock on Noelle’s door and wait patiently for her to answer. I can hear her moving on the other side. She’s probably hoping I’ll go away. I lean forward and rest my forehead against the wood, feeling slightly pathetic and even more desperate. I want her with a force I haven’t known before.
“Noelle. Please.”
Please what? I don’t even know what I’m begging her for. I simply don’t want to go home. Don’t want to get in my truck without seeing her again.
A few seconds later, I hear the lock disengage. I step back, waiting.
No. No, no. Don’t unlock the door, Noelle. Fuck.
And then there she is, so fucking beautiful, so fucking sweet, so fucking … fuckable.
I am in so much trouble here.
She doesn’t speak as she stands there, her wary eyes boring into me. I don’t even know what to say other than, “Can I come in?”
Noelle steps back out of the way. I can feel her eyes on me as I move past her. Once the door is closed, I don’t turn to face her yet, my brain scrambling to find the right words.
I’ve never been to her place. Not inside anyway. I came by once to drop something off for Ellie.
The apartment is small, but it feels like Noelle in here. The overall color is neutral. Cream sofa, cream carpet, cream walls, cream curtains on the window. Soothing almost.
But that’s as muted as it gets, and very unlike the Noelle I know. However, the multicolored neon pillows on the couch, a vivid turquoise throw blanket lying across the chair, and some strange psychedelic print on the wall are exactly her. Wild, exuberant. Knickknacks galore line the shelves on the walls as well as the fireplace mantel. Snow globes, lava lamps, and other trinkets, picture frames and brightly colored rocks.
God. What the hell am I doing?
I turn to look at Noelle. “I…”
Her big blue eyes are wide, as though she can’t believe I’m standing here. Yeah, you and me both, sweetheart. Quite frankly, I can’t believe I’m here, either. Yet I can’t think of anywhere I’d rather be.
“You should go,” Noelle whispers, her voice so soft I barely hear her. There isn’t an ounce of conviction behind her words, but there’s definitely an uncertain gleam in her sparkling blue ey
es.
She’s right. I really should go, except I won’t. I know myself too well. If Noelle gives me the slightest opening, I’m going to take it. It’s what I do. Maybe by morning I’ll have come to my senses. If I’m lucky, maybe I’ll fuck her right out of my system.
But she told me to go and I should do as she suggested. “Is that what you want?”
Noelle shakes her head, but I can see in her eyes she wants to say yes.
I take a step toward her. She backs up.
Another step, she moves again.
When she’s against the front door, only a few scant inches between us, I place my palm on the wood above her head, my other hand curling beneath her chin, tilting her head back so she has to look at me. I’m at a loss for words.
She’s so small. I probably outweigh her by a hundred pounds. There’s at least a foot difference in our heights; my hand would likely span the entire width of her abdomen. I’m not an incredibly big man, but being this close to her, I feel like a giant.
A stupid giant.
I’m not a man prone to regret. I don’t do things I don’t want to do. I never wake up in the morning wishing I’d done things differently. It is what it is and I accept that I’m not perfect. I get the feeling tomorrow’s going to be a new day.
“Noelle,” I whisper, leaning closer, inhaling the undertone of oranges. It has to be her shampoo or something. She always smells good, fresh. Sweet.
Christ.
My heart slams hard against my chest as I inch closer, brushing my lips against hers.
A soft, sexy whimper escapes her, her breath fanning across my mouth seconds before I’m kissing her. I do my damnedest to keep the miniscule space between us, but it doesn’t work. I want to touch her, to feel her entire body against mine. My hands itch to caress every inch of her.
I register the fact that she doesn’t kiss me back. Not at first. My tongue pushes past her lips. She’s not initiating this, but she’s not rejecting me, either. Her lips are soft, smooth. So fucking warm. I can’t resist this woman, can’t stop myself from crushing my mouth to hers, thrusting my tongue into her mouth, inhaling her.
Kaufman: The Season (Austin Arrows Book 2) Page 9
