Hot on Ice: A Hockey Romance Anthology

by Avery Flynn

  “So, you’re here for a week, huh?” Chip said, grabbing Stryker’s arm before he could pass. Stryker raised a brow and then looked from the guy he had sweating just a moment ago to the hand he’d placed on his arm. Stryker didn’t need to say a word, the threat was clear. Chip released him and stepped back, holding both hands up.

  Stryker stepped closer. “Trish Reynolds is off limits, man. Leave her alone.”

  Chip nodded, took another step back, almost running into the cameraman, and then, once he thought he had some backup, he gave Stryker a dirty look. The guy probably had a dick the size of a peanut.

  Stryker dismissed him and turned toward the women. Damn, talk about being outnumbered.

  Karma was the first to notice him, she straightened, pushed the rim of her cowboy hat up, and shot him a cheeky smile. “You deserve a beer for not decking the reporter.”

  Stryker sat beside Trish and wrapped his arm around her. “I thought I was here to talk hockey. Neither of those yahoos asked one question about The Cup, the series, the team, nothing.”

  Jessie shook her head, “Yeah, well, don’t worry. We’ll cover all that in the real interview—mine. Go ahead and have a beer. You look like you could use one.”

  Karma looked over her shoulder. “Kevin, bring a pitcher, a ginger ale, and pretzels, please? Trish is on the wagon for today at least. She still looks a little green around the gills if you ask me.”

  Trish shot Karma a scathing look. “I don’t believe anyone asked you anything, Karma. I’m perfectly capable of ordering my own drinks, thank you.”

  Stryker smiled and slid closer. “Are you going for a dirty martini? It’s gotta be five o’clock somewhere.”

  “God no, but Karma has no room to talk, no less tell everyone I’m on the wagon.”

  “Are you feeling okay? You do look a little pale.”

  “I’m fine. How about you? This should be over soon and you’ll have the rest of the day free.”

  “You mean we’ll have the rest of the day free.” He leaned closer to whisper, “We are not finished with the discussion we started in the office—not by a long shot. That particular discussion could take hours.”

  Trish swallowed hard, he saw the muscles in her neck working and the change in her breathing. “I have a business to run, so my time is never really free. I should get over to the shop and at least take care of the deposits and banking. Then there’s the inventory—”

  Karma shoved a glass of ginger ale into Trish’s hand. “I just got off the phone with Mary Claire, the books are done, the deposit’s been made, and she’s working on the inventory now. We’re all up to date at the shop. Your only job for the week is to make sure Stryker is well taken care of.”

  Trish choked on her ginger ale.

  Karma reached over, gave her a smack on the back, and waggled her eyebrows at Stryker. It was obvious that Karma had his back when it came to his interest in Trish—he just wasn’t sure if that was a good or very, very bad thing.

  Jessie James did the interview, and after about a minute, Stryker realized she was as good as her word. The woman was all sports all the time and knew stats about him of which even he’d been unaware. He sat back and enjoyed discussing the games, the other players, and what he hoped for next season. Before he knew it, Jessie was thanking him for the interview and signing off. He pulled the mic off his shirt and stood to leave.

  Jessie took his mic and hers and handed it to her associate before blocking the door to the penalty box. “Now that we’re finished with the interview and I’ve kept my word, I hope you’ll admit that not all reporters are setting you up and will trust me enough to give me more than your usual talking points the next time I’m covering one of your games.”

  “Sure, no problem, but you can’t blame me for being skeptical. Look at the other two interviewers, they’re so used to digging for dirt, they might as well work at a cemetery.”

  Jessie dug in her briefcase and passed him a card. “If things ever go sideways and you need to get the truth out, or just need some advice, give me a call. I’ll play it straight with you.”

  He looked at the card, stuffed it in his wallet, before resting his arm on the top of the Plexiglas enclosure. “Thanks, I hope I never have to use it.”

  She laughed at that. “Yeah, you and me both. Oh, and one more thing,” she leaned forward as if to whisper and put her hand on his shoulder. “If you do anything to hurt Trish, I’ll kick your ass so badly, it will make that fight that landed you in the hospital look like child’s play. Do I make myself clear?” She squeezed his shoulder—hit some kind of pressure point and then let up instantly. If she hadn’t, he would have been on his knees in under a second. Damn, how’d she do that?

  “I’m a fifth-degree black belt and I fight dirty. You’ll never see me coming.”

  He rubbed his shoulder and looked at her through new eyes. “I’m glad you have Trish’s back, but I’m not the enemy here. I’d never do anything to hurt her—not intentionally anyway. Plus, we’re just dating, and it was all I could do to talk her into that.” He looked over and Trish was in a heated discussion with Karma—something he didn’t think was an unusual occurrence. “But do me a favor. Keep your eye on that guy, Chip Fontaine.”

  Jessie grinned. “You don’t have anything to worry about. He might have looked at her like a starving man looks at an all-you-can-eat buffet, but Trish didn’t notice he was alive.”

  “Yeah, I know. It’s just that guys like him—well, they’re all about winning, and they don’t much care how they do it. I told him to leave her alone.”

  “Possessive much?”

  He rubbed his neck. “Maybe, I don’t know, I just have a bad feeling about the dude.”

  Jessie looked him in the eye. “Okay, I’ll tell the Kincaid crew to keep an eye out. I’ll also make some calls. I really don’t know him, but I know a few people who work with him. Boise’s a pretty small town.”

  “Thanks. Trish doesn’t seem to realize how —” he stumbled, what was he supposed to say, fuckin’ hot she is?

  “Incredible she is?” Jessie laughed, “Yeah, it always amazed me too. She’s completely clueless when it comes to her attractiveness. There has to be a story behind that.”

  Jessie patted him on the shoulder and he jumped—just a little. His shoulder was still sore. She grinned. “Trish is pretty forgiving. Me, not so much. Be good to her and we won’t have a problem.”

  “Right.” Stryker had never before been afraid of a woman, but he had to admit, he’d rather have Jessie as a friend than an enemy. “Consider me warned.”

  “Jessie Kincaid, you’re not threatening Stryker, are you?”

  Shit, Trish had snuck up on them. Stryker couldn’t tell if she was angry or doing her best not to laugh.

  Jessie jumped, spun around, and then seemed to re-think her guilty reaction. “Of course I’m threatening him. That’s what best friends do.”

  Trish rolled her eyes at Stryker and pulled Jessie out of the penalty box. “Don’t pay her any mind. Jessie never had girlfriends before Karma, Mary Claire, and me. She’s new to the girlfriend code of conduct. We’re working with her, but it’s slow going.”

  Jessie looked completely affronted and Stryker couldn’t help but laugh.

  “Go ahead, laugh now.” Jessie sputtered. “Just know, I don’t give a shit about any girlfriend code.”

  As if Trish didn’t have enough to be embarrassed about, now she had her friends threatening to beat Stryker up if he hurt her. It was pretty funny that Stryker had no problem taking Jessie’s threat seriously, but then, knowing Jessie, she probably was serious.

  Trish had gathered her things, and said her goodbyes as quickly as humanly possible. She stepped out onto Main Street and was finally able to take a deep breath. Stryker was almost as eager to get out of there as she was.

  She didn’t know which of them had a worse time today—Stryker with his interviews and Jessie’s threat, or her own embarrassment over the office incident and
the later interrogation inflicted by her supposed best friends. All told, she and Stryker had probably been equally tortured.

  “Whoa, where’s the fire?” Stryker wrapped his arm around her and drew her to his side, slowing her down, and turned into the alley before pulling her into his arms.

  She fit perfectly against him, her head pillowed against his chest. He threaded his fingers through her hair sending tingles through her system and reawakening the parts of her body he’d so deftly manipulated just an hour and a half ago, parts that had lain dormant for a very long time.

  “You look like you need this almost as much as I need you.” He hugged her close, the words rumbled around her and she breathed him in, melting a little more. “Let’s head to the apartment, it’s closest.”

  “True, but Mary Claire is in the shop below it. It’s bad enough that half of Boise knows how we act in public, I don’t need speculation about what we do in private.”

  His hand tightened in her hair, tugging her head back to receive a hard kiss, his erection pressing against her stomach, and his other hand teasing the side of her breast. He broke away, breathing heavily. “Let’s go.” He grabbed her hand and tugged her toward the car. When they got there, he tucked her into the passenger seat and was adjusting the driver’s seat before she even had her seatbelt on. He took off without uttering a word, his hand never leaving her thigh where he traced lazy circles, getting closer and closer to her very damp panties. She stilled his hand with hers. “Please, you’re not playing fair.”

  He laughed, but it sounded almost pained. “I’m not playing fair?” He lifted her hand and pressed it against the bulge in his shorts with a groan. “Does this feel fair?” His voice came out like a deep growl as his dick jumped beneath her hand.

  Trish wrapped her fingers around his girth through his shorts, watching him. His jaw locked in concentration, his lips revealed a pained scowl. She gave him a tentative squeeze and he groaned and shuddered.

  “Dammit Trish.”

  She did her best to quash her smile, she’d never felt so powerful in her entire life. She tugged on the button of his shorts and it popped open, the zipper sliding down as if by magic. One pull on the elastic of his boxer briefs and then, oh my—there it was. Standing tall in all its glory. She’d never thought that the male member was a thing of beauty. She’d always thought that they were odd looking at best, but Stryker’s was definitely the exception. The man could be a penis model—if there were such things. They could make a mold of it and make a mint selling it as the perfect dildo. She wrapped her hand around it, gave it a tentative squeeze, and stared as a drop of liquid appeared and balanced on the top of his slit. She had the urge to lick it off—a first for her, but then everything with Stryker was like a first, wasn’t it?

  He turned sharply into her driveway and she pressed the garage door opener on the visor before taking the first swipe with her tongue.

  “Fuck!”

  She closed her eyes and slipped her mouth over the head, her tongue sliding around the sensitive rim, tracing the ridge of the crown. The car stopped on a groan and when she opened her eyes, they were in the darkened garage, the engine was cut, the garage door engaged, and he’d gathered her hair in one hand while the other slid beneath the elastic of her panties and into her heat. She moaned, the taste of him, the feel of him between her lips, the girth of him pulsing in her hand, and the way his fingers stroked in and out of her in time with her movements was almost too much.

  “God, Trish, if you don’t stop, I’m not gonna be able to—”

  He hit a spot deep within her and she swore she saw stars. She groaned and did her best to swallow him whole, changing the angle, taking him deeper until he hit the back of her throat. Her eyes watered and she relaxed her throat before trying something she’d only read about. Heck, she never gone down on a guy for more than a slide of her hand and a lick. She’d never done anything even close to this, and there was something about it that was so erotic, she couldn’t get enough.

  She slid her hand deeper into his shorts and the hold on her hair tightened, almost painfully, adding to her pleasure. She hummed around him as a storm within her gathered, swirling, gaining in strength, overwhelming her. She cradled his balls, pressing on the tight skin just beneath them.

  His palm came down hard on her clit, while he pressed that spot within her, setting off an orgasm the likes of which she’d never experienced. She screamed around him just as he lost his battle with control and groaned out his release.

  She drank him in, not letting up until he tugged on her hair, pulling her off him. She saw the look of wonder on his face right before he kissed her.

  9

  There was nothing that could have prepared Stryker for Trish. He cradled her face in his hands, kissing her like his life depended on it, at that moment, he wasn’t sure it didn’t. When he’d pressed her little hand against his straining erection, he thought she’d be content to wait until they got out of the damn car. Live and learn.

  Trish Reynolds was such a dichotomy—one minute looking all sweet and embarrassed like she couldn’t believe she’d come all over his hand in Karma’s office, and the next going down on him like a freakin’ porn star before he even pulled into her garage. She’d blown his mind, literally and figuratively.

  Her eyes sparkled, her mouth wet and swollen, and her hair falling around her, all shiny and tangled from his hands. All he could think of was getting her inside and peeling that deceptively sweet dress right off her, but instead, he sat there not moving because he wasn’t sure his legs would hold him.

  He went to reach for the keys, and then remembered that there weren’t any—at least not attached to the car. “I just need a minute, Cher. I know there’s something I should say, but for the life of me, I can’t think of anything but maybe wow.” Or holy shit.

  His heartbeat slowed to a pace below the red zone, his breathing became more regulated, and the blood stopped rushing through his ears until all he heard was the ticking of the cooling car. He took a deep breath and got out, happy his body had recovered enough to walk. He arranged his junk and zipped and buttoned his shorts on his way to her door.

  Trish was already on the move, her legs out of the car door, her skirt riding high, probably from when he pulled it up earlier. She took his hand to stand, and then did a little shimmy, smoothing down the skirt.

  Damn, he’d just had the best blow job of his entire life, came so hard, he might have blacked out, and he couldn’t wait to get her naked and have those legs wrapped around him again.

  Trish’s gaze met his. His thoughts must have been written all over his face, because her mouth dropped open, her gaze flicked to his fly, and then back to his face.

  He just shrugged and pulled her in for another kiss. He normally wasn’t a big fan of kissing, but everything with Trish was different. He couldn’t get enough of her very talented mouth. “Come on, I need you naked for what I want to do.” He tugged her along behind him and headed straight to her bedroom.

  “But we just… I mean, you just… Is that normal?”

  He turned down the hall to her room, holding tight onto her hand. “I stopped wondering if my reaction to you was normal at the airport before I even knew who you were.”

  She stood in her bedroom looking completely flustered. He stepped closer and slid his cheek against hers. Her breath hitched and the pulse in her neck, the one he slid his lips over, sped up. “Do we need to unbutton this dress or can we pull it over your head?”

  “I can get it.” She didn’t move, except to tip her head to the side, giving him a longer expanse of neck to kiss.

  “Yeah,” he nibbled, “but I want to.”

  “Why?”

  “Because, it’s like Christmas in July. I want to unwrap you and—” he slid one hand down, gathering the skirt of her dress in one hand, pulling it higher, his fingers skimming the back of her thigh. “I’ve been wondering what you’re wearing beneath it ever since you stepped out of your bedroom th
is morning. I’m thinking matching yellow panties and I can’t wait to see if I’m right.”

  “You don’t know?”

  “I never got a look, I was too busy holding you against the door wishing it was my mouth you came all over instead of my hand. I had a hard time concentrating on the interviews because the question of what color your panties were kept popping into my head. So?” He worked his way to kissing just below her collarbone.

  “Pull it off, but—”

  He’d latched onto a hard nipple that showed through her bra and dress, and she let out a throaty moan.

  “God…” She pulled his shirt up with one hand, and tugged the button on his shorts with the other.

  He tossed his wallet on the bed, he’d need the condoms right after he got his fill of Trish. He wanted to lick and kiss and nip every square inch of her body. He’d have much better control if he kept his shorts on though. Then he felt them drop. So much for that idea.

  He pulled her dress off, and stepped out of his shorts and her reach, to take a good long look at what he’d uncovered. “God, you’re beautiful.” And she was, he could stand there and do nothing but look and be pretty damn happy. She wore a yellow lace bra and tiny matching lace boy shorts that peekabooed her bottom. He moved closer, tossing her dress onto a nearby chair. She was curved in all the right places with an ass he wanted to grab hold of and never let go. Full breasts, yeah, he’d caught a glimpse of those last night, but he hadn’t taken the time to savor the sight. He was making up for lost time now. He loved the way she was all smooth curves with no protruding bones, she was built like a woman, not an anorexic kid. He stepped closer and traced the edge of her panties with shaking fingers. “You’re perfect.”

  Trish opened her mouth to say something, but he kissed her again, swallowing her thoughts, and backing her to the bed.