Dirty Score, A Rough Riders Hockey Novel

by Skye Jordan

  He glanced down—something he’d been trying not to do. Her breasts swelled into the sheered fabric crisscrossing the bodice, her skin smooth and glowing. Swells and skin he wanted in his hands, his mouth. He wanted her so bad, every cell of his body ached with the need.

  Swallowing against a dry throat, he asked, “Is this another one of yours?”

  “Yes.” Her answer was smooth and soft and leading. “Do you like it?”

  He wasn’t going there. “You’ve really broken out, baby. Your designs are sophisticated and bold and beautiful.” He pried his gaze from the length of her smooth thigh stretching from beneath the short hem. “Yet you can whip out fun, stylish jersey designs on the spur of the moment and produce them in a matter of days. I don’t have to be fluent in design to know that’s an incredibly valuable asset. The fact that Hollywood snapped you up is confirmation.”

  He lifted his hand to her face and tilted it up to his. Her lips were parted and just inches away. He needed to taste her. Needed it.

  “Just talk to him. If it’s not for you, fine. If the opportunity presents itself and you want to explore it, great. But don’t close the door before you even check it out. You’re so ready to take this step.”

  Her eyes searched his, and a soft smile turned her mouth, one that pulled him back in time. “Sometimes I still see that kid you used to be. A smile, a look, and you drag me back to those Colorado summers.”

  Rafe might not have noticed her when he’d been sixteen and she’d been fourteen, but when she’d turned sixteen and he’d been eighteen, that changed—in a big way. She hadn’t just blossomed into a woman, she’d exploded. Rafe remembered it as an overnight transformation from the skinny, leggy fifteen-year-old tomboy challenging him and Tate to springtime figure skating competitions on the local pond, into the curvy, eye-popping, sixteen-year-old lifeguarding at the local pool.

  “It was a good thing I got swept away by the Eagles,” he said, mentioning the farm team he’d joined that summer. “Otherwise, my hormones would have overridden my brain and there would have been hell to pay with Tate.”

  Which would have ended his relationship with Joe. And those two men were the reason Rafe was where he was today. The main reason Rafe had all he had.

  She smiled. “I miss those days.” She pulled her hand from under Rafe’s and stroked it across his belly, stirring heat. “And I still prefer that old truck of yours to this ride. Those greasy burgers at the café on the corner to whatever five-star restaurant we’re going to tonight. If you lost everything now…” She lifted a shoulder, and her lips curved in the slightest smile. “I’d still hang with you.”

  Rafe laughed. His heart softened. And yearned. She was everything he couldn’t find in any other woman. All she’d been to him in the past. All she’d stayed to him over the years. All she’d become to him as he’d risen to the top of his profession. She knew him. Understood him. And loved him anyway.

  “I know you probably prefer those silly puck bunnies I see you with in the media.” She kept stroking her hand back and forth over his dress shirt, but her fingers got lower with every pass. “So I guess I can pretend to be one of those for now, go meet this important person, play the superficial socialite.”

  With her eyes holding his, she lowered her hand to his belt and hooked one leg over his thigh. Then her fingers went to work on his buckle. Excitement fired through Rafe’s veins. He circled her wrists and darted a look at the driver. But the glass was in place, and the man behind the wheel was singing along to whatever was on the radio.

  Rafe looked back at her and found her eyes heavy and hungry. She pulled his belt open.

  “You wanted to get away from me a couple days ago,” he told her. “What changed?”

  She twisted her arm from his hand, draped her leg all the way across both his thighs, and slid right onto his lap. Rafe’s heart rate spiked. His lungs shrank. And his cock throbbed.

  “Someone suggested I enjoy the people in my life while I have them close.” Both her hands worked his button open and his zipper down. Her biceps crowded her breasts, deepening the cleavage there and making Rafe moan. “The way I feel about you hasn’t changed for fifteen years. It’s not going to change now. Leaving you will be the hardest thing I’ve ever done, no matter what happens between us.”

  Rafe’s heart skipped, opened, and ached. He laid his head back against the seat and cupped her face. “Mia.”

  Then her hand slipped beneath his boxers and stroked down his shaft.

  Pleasure rolled through his lower body. Excitement sparked all along his spine. Rafe gritted his teeth around “God, Mia.”

  And while she continued to stroke him, she used her other hand to cover his, now clutching her jaw, and pulled it under her dress and between her legs.

  She was naked. No panties. Just perfectly soft, perfectly sweet, perfectly Mia.

  “And I really,” she said softly, leaning in to tease his lips with a kiss, “want to enjoy you, Rafe.”

  The sensual tone of her voice tightened his gut. She covered his mouth with hers, tugging his lips between her own one at a time, sinking her teeth in just to the edge of pain, then licking and sucking and stroking her tongue into his mouth. Twirling it with his until her pussy wet Rafe’s fingers. The she pulled back and looked into his eyes as she lowered onto his cock.

  Slow, slow, slowly, until Rafe was grinding his teeth. Until her knees stretched wide. Until she took all of him.

  Her eyes slid closed, her brow tightened, her lips parted, and she moaned, “So… good.”

  Rafe’s control slipped. Her body was so…fucking…perfectly wrapped around him, sweat broke out on his forehead. “Mia.” Her name came out of him like a guttural growl. “Mia, Mia, Mia…”

  He pushed her skirt out of the way, dug his fingers into her hips, and rocked her on his cock.

  “Oh my God,” she moaned.

  He loved knowing what she liked. Loved knowing exactly how to please her. He lifted her, just as slowly, watching his cock slide from her pussy, engorged and glistening. Bare. Skin on skin. The pleasure of it—both physically and emotionally—was blistering hot.

  Before he was ready, she lowered her hips and plunged him deep. Pleasure ripped through his pelvis and teased his spine. Stars lit off behind his eyes.

  Mia braced her hands on his shoulders, and with her eyes half-closed, her teeth scraping over her bottom lip, she held his gaze as she set a rhythm. A hypnotic, mind-bending rhythm.

  “Mmmm,” she moaned, her voice tight. “Missed this.”

  Then she kissed him, her mouth just as hot and hungry as her pussy. Her hips quickened, and she lifted her lips to whisper, “God…I love the way you feel…inside me.”

  The statement thrilled him. Lust surged. Emotions tangled. “You’re so sexy.” He pulled her mouth back to his tasting her, connecting with her, loving her. “Mia, baby, Mia…”

  He loved saying her name. It reminded him this was reality, not a dream. Not a fantasy. He was loving Mia—his Mia—the way he’d always dreamed of loving her. She was a fantasy come true. Knowing she was slipping away like sand through his fingers made his need even more urgent. More intense. And when she climaxed, it was way too soon for Rafe.

  He pulled her mouth against his shoulder to muffle her cries, but the triumph, the satisfaction, the love that swelled inside him made him even more ravenous. He rested a moment while Mia shivered in his arms. She turned her head, and her hot breaths bathed his neck. He ran a hand through her hair and realized her clip had fallen out. The silky strands between his fingers brought back memories of their first night. Of the way he’d skimmed his fingers through her hair while she slept. Tears burned his eyes out of nowhere.

  “We can make this work.” His rasp came as barely more than a whisper. He hadn’t even fully thought the words before they touched his own ears. And he immediately knew they were a wish, not a fact. “I want to make this work, Mia.”

  “Shhh.” She took his face in both hands and br
ought her lips to his again. “Don’t. Just enjoy what we have while we have it.” And when she kissed him again, Rafe released the restraint on his passion. He gripped the back of her neck and held her head to his own, lifting his hips to drive into her.

  Mia turned her head, pressed her mouth to his hair, and murmured a frantic stream of “Rafe, oh God Rafe. Yes, yes, yes…”

  Until she broke again. Until her pussy squeezed his cock and spilled her juice and Rafe let go. His orgasm surged through him like liquid fire, searing pleasure through his body from his pelvis out. He tipped his head and pressed his mouth to Mia’s neck to smother his groan.

  But when the pleasure receded to a low, pleasant burn, his throat thickened with emotion. As if the orgasm had cleared his brain, he could see all too clearly that he was going to lose her. And not just to California. He was going to lose her entirely. She was going to move on with her life, grow and change and experience things, and Rafe would be too far away and too busy with his own demanding career to share them with her. Then she’d find someone else, someone closer who appreciated her like he did.

  God, he felt like she was already gone, and he was still inside her.

  Mia melted against him, boneless, her cheek on his shoulder. Rafe went lax into the seat beneath him, closed his eyes, and tried like hell to absorb the absolute perfection of the moment. He would give up everything in his bank accounts right now to be able to hold on to this, hold on to Mia, and still keep his best friend and Joe.

  “So,” Mia said, voice languid and soft, “when I act like a zombie in this meeting, I can blame it on you, right?”

  He smiled. “Uh, no. Who climbed on top of who?”

  She exhaled. “Ah, right.” Mia pushed back, gave him a tired, lazy smile, and stroked his face. Her gaze lowered to his mouth and went distant, her expression a little melancholy. “And here I always thought those divas were clamoring to hang on your arm for your looks and your heart. Little did I know…” She laughed softly and shook her head, more stupid me than humor. She sighed and brightened her smile. “I guess I’d better get myself back together.”

  Rafe cupped her face in both hands and pulled her in for another kiss. He wanted to tell her she was wrong, but she wasn’t. Women did come to him for a good time, which included sex. All kinds of sex. All but the real kind. The kind that involved emotion. The kind he had with Mia.

  He leaned back with the wild urge to tell her that she was different. That she’d always been different. That he wanted so much more than they had. Having Mia within reach suddenly made picking up a different woman every other night a chore. He was tired of wondering where Mia was, what she was doing, and who she was doing it with. Tired of worrying about her and wondering whether she was happy or hurting. Damn sick and tired of missing her. But most of all, he was tired of hiding his feelings from everyone—including himself. It was exhausting.

  He reached for the strap of her dress that had fallen off her shoulder and put it back into place, searching for the words to open that subject, while knowing there was no point.

  She lifted herself off him just as the car slowed. Rafe glanced out the window for the first time, where a row of upscale shops and restaurants lined the street. Her gaze strayed the same direction as she grabbed some napkins from the bar and tossed him a few.

  “Someone lined up a very haute couture sort of evening,” she said with a sassy little smile. But Rafe wasn’t feeling sassy or happy. “And with Tate and Joe on the other side of the table, I’d better put myself back into that pretty little box they expect.”

  As they cleaned up, disappointment knotted in the pit of Rafe’s stomach. Once he had himself put back together, he said, “Mia…”

  She pulled skimpy red lace panties from her purse and slipped them over her heels and under her skirt. That did make him smile. It also made him forget what he was going to say. Probably something they’d already talked about. Probably something their situation rendered moot.

  She grinned in return and lifted her hands to her hair, shaking her the dark strands. Rafe unknotted his tie, rolled it around his hand, then slid it into his pocket while Mia collect her shiny clip again and expertly refasten her hair into a pretty bun. After a quick look in a small mirror and a dab of lip gloss, she leaned in to straighten Rafe’s collar and tame his hair.

  The driver rounded the back of the car and stood at the rear door.

  Rafe cupped her face. “Hey, don’t be nervous. Silver’s a really nice guy.”

  Mia grinned with a flash of white teeth and a sparkle in her eyes. “I’m not nervous.” She patted his chest pocket, his side pockets, then opened her purse and dug around. “I’ve been to hundreds of these meetings over the last few years.” She clipped her purse closed and slid a pen into his front breast pocket. “I can’t believe you and Tate still leave the house without a pen when you know at least a dozen people will want autographs.” With one more look over him, she exhaled and smiled. “Okay, you’re set.”

  Then she pushed the door open, and the driver took her hand, helping her to the curb.

  Rafe hesitated a moment, trying to figure out the uncomfortable buzz in his gut. He felt vaguely…serviced.

  Screwed. Straightened. Handed a pen for signatures.

  Just as he grabbed the doorframe to step out, someone bent to look inside. Rafe leaned back and focused on the face and found Tate. Grinning.

  “What the hell are you doing in here, dude?”

  Rafe lifted a brow at him. “Dude?”

  “We’re in California.”

  Rafe laughed, planted a hand on top of Tate’s head, and pushed. “Get out.”

  Damn, he wished he didn’t love this idiot so much. Or wished he loved Tate’s sister less.

  When Rafe stood, he found Mia near the door to the restaurant, talking with Joe. She still took his breath away. And he wasn’t the only guy who noticed how gorgeous she looked. A group of three businessmen waiting for a cab were all staring at her. Mia either didn’t know or didn’t care. She had her arm linked with Joe’s, her smiling face turned up to his as he talked about something.

  Rafe pulled his wallet from his pocket and drew out cash for the driver’s tip. He tuned in to Mia’s sweet laugh and Joe telling her some funny story about his Metro ride.

  “I just talked to Tierney,” Tate said as Rafe handed the money to the driver and thanked him.

  “Yeah?” he asked absently, stuffing his wallet away. He took a step toward Mia and Joe, but Tate put a hand on Rafe’s arm.

  “The Hardys are in town for the playoffs.”

  Rafe quickly associated the name with the liquor company, a large Rough Riders sponsor. “And?”

  “And they’re hosting a concierge floor at the Marquis.” Tate’s voice rang with excitement. The Marquis was Anaheim’s version of the Four Seasons. “A floor, dude, not a suite.”

  “Cool. Have fun. I’m not bailing on Mia after setting up this meeting.”

  Tate stopped Rafe’s forward momentum again, and Mia glanced toward them.

  “It’s not optional. Everyone is somewhere tonight.” Tate rattled off a dozen other names of team members doing their part to schmooze sponsors. “We just happened to luck out and scored the best gig. Hendrix and Tierney are already there, and the sponsors are expecting you and me to show up sometime tonight. Tierney’s been texting me pictures. The chicks are smokin’ hot.”

  Rafe raised his brows at Tate. His friend had—as far as Rafe knew—been celibate since his shitty wife had bailed. “You talk as if you’re actually going to do something with one of them.”

  Tate smacked Rafe in the chest. “Shut the hell up. We’re going. And maybe I will.”

  “Fine.” He took another couple of steps. “When this meeting is over, I’ll catch up—”

  “No, man.” Tate stopped him again. “The party’s been going for an hour. You wait until the meeting with Silver’s over and everyone who matters is going to be so hammered, they aren’t going to even remember
you were there.”

  “Then it’s not worth going at all, is it?”

  “I told you, this isn’t optional—”

  “It’s okay.” Mia’s voice pulled Rafe’s attention. She wore a cardboard smile and fluttered a hand toward them. “Go do your thing. Have fun. I’ll make your excuses.”

  His stomach dropped to his feet. “Mia—”

  “Silver knows all about sponsors,” she said. “He’ll understand, but you should go before he comes. Otherwise, he’ll trap you in conversation and all the hottest girls will be snapped up. I’m going to turn in early, so kick ass tomorrow, guys.”

  That phrase hammered Rafe in the gut. The same phrase she’d left on the dresser when she’d bailed on him in the hotel their first night.

  “And Rafe?” This time her smile was authentic. She tipped her head in that sweet way that made his stomach ache, and gestured toward the restaurant. “Thanks for this.”

  Then she disappeared inside with Joe.

  And all Rafe could do was clench his teeth, stuff his fisted hands into the pockets of his blazer, and rail silently.

  Fuck, fuck, fuck.

  13

  Now that the meeting with Silver was behind her, Mia could focus on her future.

  She watched the taxi ease toward her at the hotel’s entrance, trying to keep her mind off Rafe by worrying about her attire. She smoothed the fabric of her long, wrap-around skirt, muttering, “God I hoped I’m not underdressed.”

  Aaron had said California casual. But for someone who’d never even been to the state, California casual meant nothing. Now, standing at the curb, she was worried the halter top with lace from the A-line to her navel was too revealing. And the clingy fabric of her skirt with sandals might be pushing it, even for a California beachside bar. She was going to be meeting her future coworkers, and first impressions were important.