Icing the Puck (New York Empires Book 2)

by Isabo Kelly

  Brody walked her to her building door after treating her to a scrumptious Indian meal and this time she felt no awkwardness or hesitance before he kissed her. She fell into his arms, hungry for a sense that this could work, that they could share the passion she wanted with him without disaster. She savored his taste, the feel of his strong arms wrapped around her, the hard press of his big body against hers. Her stomach danced with needy anticipation and without meaning to, she ground herself against him, wanting to feel every inch of him.

  The tell-tale twitch in his pants proved he was as affected by their kiss as she was, but it was a warning she forced herself to heed. Reluctantly, she eased back, not out of his arms, but far enough she could look up at him.

  “Thanks for such a wonderful day,” she murmured.

  “It doesn’t have to end.”

  He cupped her cheek in his big hand, his leather glove feeling deliciously erotic against her skin. She swallowed hard. Oh how she wanted to invite him in. But she just didn’t dare yet.

  “I… I need more time,” she said.

  She braced herself for his disappointment, or his arguments. She fully expected him to push the issue because most men had with her in the past. She was prepared with excuses, things she hoped would be reasonable enough he wouldn’t dump her.

  If he did, she knew they weren’t meant to be. A man who couldn’t wait on sex wasn’t worth her time. But it would hurt with this man.

  To her relief, he didn’t do any of the things she dreaded. He just nodded, with that very slight, sexy smile tugging at his lips, and he kissed her again. Her pulse thumped hard at the seductive sweep of his tongue and delicious pressure of his lips against hers. She was panting by the time he straightened away, and afraid she’d throw caution to the wind and invite him up anyway.

  Before she could, he brushed her cheek with one gloved finger then wished her a quiet goodnight.

  She watched him walk away, standing just inside the lobby while she made sure he got a taxi, then she closed the door. Her relief was tempered by a surprising amount of disappointment—not at his respecting her wishes but at her own inability to do what she so desperately wanted to do with him.

  Closing her eyes, she knocked her head gently against the wooden door, then turned up the stairs. She’d never wanted to be normal so badly in her entire life.

  Chapter Eleven

  Brody watched the swirling crowds of formally dressed party goers as he hunted for Ann and pretended to sip at his flute of Champaign. The exhibition game supporting the Special Olympics had gone really well that day, and despite his brutal hangover, he’d thoroughly enjoyed himself.

  He really shouldn’t have gotten involved in a drinking contest with his Nordic and Russian teammates. But they’d laid down a challenge, and some of the American and Canadian players had risen to the fight. He’d expected to do better—given his size he usually handled alcohol well—but the Russians brought out the vodka, and he’d been a goner. His only consolation was that he’d lasted longer than the Canadians.

  But even with a dodgy stomach and a fuzzy head, he’d had a fantastic time during the exhibition. Now he was very much looking forward to seeing Ann all dressed up for the party. He was wearing the requisite tux—one Connor had helped him get when he’d first moved to New York—now all he needed was the beautiful woman on his arm. And only one woman would do.

  When he finally spotted her, he felt his mouth drop open. Stunned was understating his reaction.

  She was gorgeous in her dark blue dress, the cut modest, but the silk material skimmed her curves in a sinful seduction. She’d pulled her hair up into a loose bun on top of her head, making her neck look long and incredibly kissable. And her mouth, that gorgeous, sexy mouth of hers… She smiled when she saw him and the look went right to his cock. He had to swallow to wet his suddenly dry throat.

  Had any woman ever looked so beautiful?

  He handed off his mostly full glass to a passing waiter and went to join her, meeting her halfway because she was like a magnet he couldn’t resist. For a long moment, he couldn’t even find words to greet her he was so overwhelmed by her.

  Finally, he blinked and made an effort to untie his tongue. “You look gorgeous,” he said.

  Her cheeks turned a charming shade of pink. “Thank you. You do too. You clean up well.”

  He straightened his lapels and made a show of preening at her compliment—only partly pretending at his pleasure.

  “How did the exhibition game go?”

  “It was great. Everyone enjoyed themselves. Thanks to my hangover, a kid half my size dropped me on my ass with a very clever check.”

  “Were you OK?” she asked through a grin.

  “Only hurt my pride. But he was so pleased with himself, it was worth it. He’ll be talking about that for years.”

  “You’re a good man, Brody Evans.”

  He barked out a laugh that made a clump of his teammates frown at him. He ignored them because he was too thrilled with Ann.

  “I wondered if you’d be hungover today,” she said.

  He winced as he led her across the room to get her a glass of wine. “Yeah. Sorry about that.”

  The challenge with his teammates had been a spontaneous thing and on a night when he and Ann hadn’t had any plans to talk. Which apparently hadn’t stopped him from drunk dialing her. Twice.

  She chuckled as he handed her a glass. “Do you have any idea what you said to me?”

  “No.” He cringed. “Do I want to know?”

  She laughed outright then. He loved the sound enough to face his own embarrassment.

  “You were very cute. Kept telling me how much you like me and how pretty I am. There was a lot of ribbing from other men going on in the background, from what I could hear.”

  He closed his eyes. “Damn.”

  “I didn’t mind. Even if you did wake me up at three in the morning with the second call.”

  “Ah, hell.” He scrubbed a hand over his face.

  “I would have preferred your teammates didn’t hear how much you like my ass, though.”

  His groaned. “I didn’t.”

  “You did.”

  “Fuck. That’ll teach me to go drinking with the Russians.”

  She laughed again, which made all the humiliation worthwhile.

  She rose on her toes, bracing one hand on his chest, and kissed his cheek. “It’s OK. I like that you like my ass.”

  His heart rate tripled. The feel of her warm palm against his chest was like a brand. Her scent filled his head. She’d added a very faint perfume to her already delicious spicy scent and the combination was more intoxicating than the vodka had been last night. He wanted to bury his face against her skin and hunt out all the soft, warm spots where she’d applied that perfume.

  He stared at her as she eased down and his hands twitched with the need to cup the aforementioned beautiful ass. Her expression turned serious. Her breathing increased, drawing his gaze to her breasts, so nicely framed in silk. His imagination filled with images of slipping that silk down, tasting all the pale skin he exposed, drawing her nipple into his mouth… He blinked and forced his gaze up to her face. In time to see her wet her lips with a quick flick of her tongue. His control almost broke.

  “We should probably talk about something else,” she said, her voice husky.

  “Yes.” He swallowed hard. “And we should walk.”

  She nodded and bit her bottom lip. He closed his eyes briefly and tried now to growl out loud.

  They fell into step next to each other, not quite touching, as they circled the room, chatting with some of his teammates and a few of the VIPs. When music started, he talked her into a dance. Her silk dress shifted over her skin as he held her close, the sensation erotic as hell.

  He wasn’t really surprised he’d called her last night. His thoughts were full of her. He managed to focus on training, on the games, but off the ice, his world had become Ann.

  Despite vowing
to himself he’d give her all the time she needed, he was having a very hard time trying not to seduce her. He didn’t just want sex with Ann, he wanted more. Much more. His feelings went a lot deeper than lust. So he wanted to do this right.

  But his willpower was waning. He’d become too well acquainted with cold showers and his own hand over the last few weeks. Every nerve in his body lit up when she was near, like a constant spark of lightning. And it was all he could do not to drag her away to a dark closet so he could explore the glorious curves beneath her silk dress.

  Even the thought of it left him edgy with need, and in danger of giving this posh crowd a show with his raging hard-on.

  In an attempt to distract himself, again, from thoughts of fucking Ann, he brought up a topic he’d been avoiding. “So, we have a home game this weekend, and I have an extra ticket.”

  She narrowed her eyes.

  He pressed on. “Would you like to come to the game? Watch me play live?”

  Given her reaction to the first game she’d seen him in—and as far as he knew, the only hockey game she’d watched since—he hadn’t invited her to a home game before this. She’d been eager to learn about hockey, but had shown no signs of actually wanting to watch the sport, or see him in action.

  Her continued hesitance bothered him. Hockey was a huge part of his life. He wanted Ann to be a huge part of his life, too. But if she couldn’t accept him for who he was on the ice as well as off…he wasn’t sure what kind of future they had.

  “You don’t have to come if you don’t want to,” he found himself saying to fill the silence, then wanted to smack himself because he sounded like a child, pouty and insecure. Very sexy, Evans, he growled at himself.

  She stroked her hand up his back as they swayed around the dance floor, and the gesture distracted him. He loved having her hands on him. She was always so damned warm. His imagination jumped immediately to how her warm hands might feel on his cock, and he had to force the thought down or risk embarrassing them both.

  After what felt like a very long time, she said, “I think I’d like to see a live game. Will… Is it safe in the audience?”

  He tried not to grin like a fool so he wouldn’t scare her off. “You’ll be safe. The home crowd is enthusiastic but not violent. All that stays on the ice.”

  “Will you be hitting someone again?”

  “Probably.” He wanted her to be prepared. “But remember, it’s just part of the game. Remember I told you about checking?”

  “Yes. But fighting is something else.”

  “It’s actually part of the strategy. As much a part of hockey as a puck and stick.”

  “I know.” She looked over his shoulder, her gaze turned inward for a moment, then she nodded. “OK, I can do this.” She meet his gaze again. “I’d love to go.”

  He worked not to cheer, but he hugged her closer, hopeful and anxious all at the same time.

  “Have I mentioned how beautiful you are tonight?” he asked, unable to resist.

  “Yes. Thank you.”

  Her blushed charmed him.

  She opened her mouth to say something else, then shook her head.

  “What?” he asked.

  “Nothing.” She smiled. “Thanks for inviting me tonight. I’m enjoying this.”

  “Me, too.”

  He danced her off the floor and they wandered around the room some more, chatting with his teammates and their dates, some of the sponsors, he introduced her to the coach. All of it felt right. Having Ann with him, being with her felt right.

  He just wished he knew if she felt the same.

  Chapter Twelve

  Ann entered the Brooklyn Banking Center with the crowds of supporters, all dressed in the Empires’ colors, sporting the teams’ logo on hats and jerseys, some of them with their faces painted. The noise level was deafening, but all of it was enthusiastic, with several chants going up for the Empires even before she’d passed through the doors and into the stadium.

  Her seat was an excellent one, just behind and a few rows back from one of the benches where the teams sat. Unfortunately, she was in the middle of a row, which meant she’d have to step over people to leave.

  That didn’t help her anxiety levels. She was already nervous about this game. She wasn’t sure she could take the sheer emotion and not lose control. But she’d been working hard with Nathalie and Mr. Mendez. This was the test. If she could get through this game, be surrounded by and swept up in all this enthusiasm and energy, without losing control, then she might, just might, be able to finally take Brody to her bed.

  She was getting a little more than desperate now. She wanted him so much she ached from it. But until very recently, every time she’d allowed herself to imagine him making love to her, her body got entirely too hot—in a bad way—and her hands flickered with flames.

  Nathalie urged her to be patient, but given her feelings for Brody, patience was difficult.

  She was much more comfortable with her control than she’d been two months ago. Over the last week, she’d been able to fantasize a little about Brody without actually lighting up. So she was hopeful.

  She didn’t want to consider what might happen if she failed tonight’s test.

  The players hit the ice for warm ups and the crowd erupted around her. She didn’t stand until the anthem was played, despite the two men on her left spending the entire warm up on their feet and the group to her right jumping up and down.

  Brody was easy to spot on the ice. He was huge, even compared to the other players. He glanced up once into the stands and raised a hand to her. She grinned and waved back, trying to be discreet, but the gestures still drew the attention of the men and women surrounding her. She ducked her head under their stares and concentrated on her breathing.

  She could do this. She could.

  Brody didn’t look up at her again, at least not that she could tell. As the game started, he was all focus and attention to the rink.

  The game was fast and rougher than the first one she’d watched. There was a lot of bumping and swinging and knocking other players hard enough against the glass to sound very painful. She tried to keep up with the play, but despite all Brody’s lessons, things still moved too fast for her to follow. The line changes in particular made no sense to her. Even without understanding everything going on, she still enjoyed the first period a lot.

  By the second period, she was cheering with the crowd every time the Empires got close to the goal. She forgot about her breathing exercises and her fire for the entire period, and when the break came, she realized she was excited, having fun, and wasn’t heating up.

  The thrill of that made her stomach dance with another kind of excitement—the kind that had everything to do with seeing Brody after the game. As the players hit the ice for the third period, she grinned, anticipation thrumming through her blood even as her hands stayed comfortably cool.

  Things started out well for the Empires, but within moments of Brody’s line hitting the ice, everything changed. One of the Empires got hit—taken out completely by someone from the other team. The poor man hadn’t even seen the hit coming. For a heartbeat, the crowd was almost quiet in anticipation of him standing. But he didn’t.

  The game stopped. Everyone on the ice crowded around the downed player. The referees ensured the opposing teams stayed separated. The medical staff was called out.

  The people around her talked about the penalty that would have to be given, arguing between a major penalty or a match penalty. She didn’t know the difference, but from what she’d seen, there was no question there would be some kind of penalty.

  By the time the medical staff carried the still unconscious man off the ice, the two men next to her were outlining strategies for the upcoming power play.

  And then—no penalty. Nothing. The referee just resumed the game.

  Chaos erupted in the stands. Shouts and screams, roars of outrage. Everyone was on their feet, fists waving, howling at the refs, screaming obs
cenities.

  The emotional impact battered Ann because she was just as outraged as the crowd. How could they do nothing?

  She hunted for Brody and found he was still on the ice. He wasn’t watching the play at all, though. His focus seemed to be entirely on the man who’d taken out his teammate. Her heart started thumping hard. Oh no. He was going to fight.

  Panic tightened in her stomach. Not for the impending fisticuffs. She’d only had to see him fight once to know he could handle himself. But she could feel her body temperature rising. The emotions of the crowd, knowing Brody was about to do something vicious, all combined to throw off her control.

  She concentrated on slowing her breathing, ignoring the crowd’s continued catcalls. But she couldn’t look away from Brody.

  When he struck, it was as vicious and merciless as she’d feared—and hoped. He hammered the guilty player, dropping his mitts and pummeling the man’s face like it was a punching bag. The other player attempted to hit back, but his swings were weak and ineffectual, bouncing off Brody like pillows.

  The crowd erupted again, this time in cheers, urging Brody on to more violence. When blood sprayed out from the other man’s nose, Ann grabbed the chair armrest with one hand.

  The feel of the armrest giving way under her grip pulled her attention from the fight. The metal had melted in her hand. She released her hold like she’d been the one burnt. She could clearly see finger dents in the metal. Panic pulsed through her again. She stood and tried to edge past the line of standing, still shouting fans. Their words made no sense to her now. All she could hear was the blood pounding in her ears as fear swept through her.

  But all the wild gesturing and excitement meant a man bumped into her as she attempted to ease past. Without thinking, she gripped his arm. He howled, looking down at her with narrowed eyes, and she realized she’d managed to burn him even through his thick winter coat. Almost too terrified now to speak, she breathed out an apology and nudged her way out to the aisle.