Skating the Line (San Francisco Strikers Book 2)

by Stephanie Kay

  He broke the kiss. “Fuck. I’ve wanted this for so long.”

  She gasped against his mouth, trailing a finger across his sculpted jaw. Damn. And then that dimple peeked out and she moaned. She was going to trace that—along with every inch of him—with her tongue tonight. She gripped his hair, her nails scraping his scalp, and pulled him back into the kiss, nibbling on his lower lip, and sweeping her tongue into his mouth. She could do this all night.

  Well. Not just this. She ached for more. She rubbed her breasts against his chest. Her nipples pebbled with need, and she wanted her bare skin touching his.

  He groaned, deepening the kiss and she held on tight, before finally pulling away. “Couch, now,” she ordered. She wanted him inside her right now, and the bedroom was so far away.

  “Not the bedroom?” he muttered against her lips, she could feel his grin.

  “Too far. And don’t you dare laugh at me.”

  “I would never,” he said, pressing a hard kiss to her lips before turning her from the door.

  He carried her across the room. With each step, heat blossomed deeper within her, if that was possible. Her fingers anchored in his hair and she wanted nothing more than to reach down and grab his delectable ass. But that would have to wait, as he sat down on the couch, her legs straddling his, and he deepened the kiss.

  She squeezed her thighs, pressing against him, feeling his desire for her against her belly. She ended the kiss just fast enough to pull his loosened tie over his head, tossing it over her shoulder. Her fingers trailed along his collar bone, his pulse rapid under her touch.

  “Fuck, I want you,” he growled, and a shiver rocked through her. She was going to combust right here on his lap.

  His hands gripped her waist, before slowly moving north, his thumbs grazing the undersides of her breasts, and she moaned in his ear. She locked her lips with his again, her tongue darting into his mouth as his fingers dipped in her bra, his blunt nails raking across her nipples.

  She gasped in his mouth, breaking the kiss.

  “Oh, Ben,” she whispered against his lips. She was done waiting for him to instigate skin on skin contact. She popped open the buttons down the front of his shirt, biting back her disappointment at the thin undershirt barrier. Stupid clothes.

  Her fingers inched under the hem of his undershirt, skating along the hard abs that her tongue would later trace.

  Hockey did a body good.

  And then a voice cut through her desire-filled fog.

  “Maybe this is a bad time.”

  Amanda bit back the oh fuck that bubbled to the surface and broke the kiss, her forehead dropping to Ben’s chest as she took in a deep breath before she turned to face her mother.

  What the fuck was she doing here? Shit. Her mother looked sad. That only meant one thing.

  Amanda was getting a roommate.

  “Mom, what are you doing here? It’s the middle of the night.” Amanda said, slowly sliding off of Ben’s lap, straightening her shirt along the way.

  Ben shifted, looking as uncomfortable as she felt, and pulled the jacket that she’d tossed aside at some point, over his lap.

  Amanda bit back her laugh. This was so not funny, but she knew exactly why he’d grabbed his jacket, and she felt pain—for both of them.

  “Umm, mom? I was guessing sister,” Ben said, and Amanda glared at him.

  So not the right time for that. Sure, Grace Pearsall looked young, having had Amanda when she’d just turned twenty. Her mother kept in shape, as evidenced by the expensive-looking, curve-hugging, deep blue dress. They had the same pin-straight black hair, her mother’s was curled tonight, her makeup flawless, aside from the mascara tracks on her cheeks. Why tonight? Why?

  “Sorry,” he said, gripping her hand and squeezing. It was a small comfort. Not that she was comfortable about anything right now. What the actual fuck.

  “Sister, huh,” her mom said, tears gone, and a twinkle that Amanda had been accused of also having, in her eyes. “Let’s keep him around.”

  Amanda fought back the urge to curl up in the fetal position. She wanted one night with Ben—okay, she wanted more than one night, but she’d start with one—and her mother standing in the doorway at two in the morning was not going to get Amanda what she wanted. Dammit, what was it going to take to finally get him in her bed, or his bed, or a bed? Away games, her job, her mother, she couldn’t freaking win.

  “Mom, what happened?” she asked, taking in a deep breath and waiting for the bomb to drop.

  “Dante and I got in a fight. He kicked me out, can you believe it? He kicked me out,” her mother cried, her hands raised.

  “Dante?”

  “Yes, we’ve been living together for months, almost six, I think. I remember our first date eight months ago. He took me to this little Italian bistro. The gelato was amazing, and so was he, if you get what I mean.”

  Yep, that fetal position was looking pretty good right about now. Especially as she felt Ben squirm next to her.

  Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

  “Yeah, I get what you mean, Mom. Only an idiot wouldn’t get what you mean.”

  “There’s no need to be rude about it, Mandy,” her mother admonished.

  “Can we not do this right now?” Amanda pleaded. She hated that nickname.

  “Oh, sure honey. I’m just going to head to my room. We can talk more in the morning,” she said. “Ben, right? Do you like pancakes or French toast?”

  Seriously?

  “Umm. I’m more of an omelet guy, but I should probably get going,” he said, and fury rose in Amanda’s chest. What the hell did a girl have to do to get laid?

  “Don’t leave on my account. I’ll be asleep in no time. Won’t hear a single thing.” And then she winked. Fucking winked. “If you know what I mean.”

  “Mom, just go,” Amanda groaned. “We’ll talk in the morning.”

  “I make the fluffiest omelets. Hope to see you then, Ben,” her mother said, and then headed down the hall to her old bedroom.

  “So, umm, your mother,” Ben started.

  “Yeah, if you need me, I’ll be searching for a black hole to swallow me up,” she muttered.

  Ben laughed. “What’s a guy got to do to get some around here?”

  “Oh god, you’re joking at a time like this?” Not that she hadn’t just had the exact same thought.

  “I’m not joking,” he said, tilting her head up to force her to meet his eyes, which she’d successfully avoided since she’d climbed off his lap when her mother had walked in on them. Fuck, she was too old for her mother to be walking in on her. Who the hell still had to deal with that at twenty-eight?

  “I’m so sorry about this,” she said. He lowered his head to hers, his lips brushing lightly across hers, then pulled back.

  “It’s fine. It happens. I mean, not usually, but yeah, I guess it happens. I’m going to go, let you deal with your mom.”

  “Dammit. This is not how tonight was supposed to go,” she groaned.

  “No kidding. But we’ll figure it out,” he said, standing up from the couch and pulling her with him.

  He tugged her into his arms and finally kissed her. It wasn’t enough to wipe away the memory of their intruder, but it was damn close. She sunk into his embrace, her hands curling into his dress shirt.

  After an endless moment, he pulled away, his breath as short at hers.

  “I’m just going to grab a quick shower. Still not hearing anything,” her mother called out. Amanda dropped her forehead to Ben’s chest as he chuckled.

  “What the ever-loving…”

  “Yeah, we’ll do this again. I mean, not with the mother part, but you know,” he said.

  She gave him a pained smile. “I’m so sorry about this.”

  He brushed a quick kiss over her lips. “We’ll figure everything out next time. I promise.”

  “I’m holding you to that,” she said, leading him toward the door.

  “Have a good night,” he said, as he opene
d her door.

  “I’m sure yours will be better.”

  “Don’t count on it,” he said, kissing her one last time, and then walked down the front steps to his car.

  She shut the door, turning and pressing her back to it.

  “Oh, did he leave? He didn’t have to. You know I can’t hear anything after I go to sleep,” her mother called out.

  “I know. You’ve mentioned that—repeatedly,” she muttered.

  “What was that?”

  “Don’t you have a shower to take?” she bit back. If she murdered her mother right now, would it be considered self-defense?

  “Rough night?” Finn asked the next afternoon as they finished up practice and headed to the weight room.

  “You don’t know the half of it,” Ben muttered, swinging a towel around his neck.

  “Things looked pretty cozy with you and Amanda at the bar and then you guys bailed,” Harty said from behind him.

  “I really don’t want to talk about it,” Ben said, setting the weight he wanted on the bar and dropping down on the bench for presses.

  “That bad, huh?” Finn asked.

  “Her mother showed up,” he gritted out.

  “I’m sorry. Her mother?” Harty asked.

  “Yes. And I don’t know why I’m telling you this. Please don’t mention it to Penny.”

  “Oh, hell. Her mother, really? And I won’t say anything to her. Pretty sure she’s getting the scoop since Amanda called an emergency dinner tonight with Penny and Lexi,” Harty said.

  “To be a fly on the wall for that,” he muttered. He had a pretty good idea what they’d be talking about.

  “That sucks, man. Nothing like getting caught by the parents. Although at your age, that shouldn’t still be an issue. Unless you’re Baz and dating college girls who probably have a curfew,” Finn said with a chuckle.

  “Did I hear my name?” Baz called out as the gym door shut behind him.

  For fuck’s sake.

  “Nope,” Ben said, not wanting to drag the head gossiper into the conversation.

  “Pretty sure I did.” Baz never missed a thing.

  “Just talking about how you like dating girls with curfews,” Finn said.

  “Hey, they are all over eighteen. I’m hoping their college knowledge will rub off on me while I’m rubbing all over them.”

  “That’s just so wrong, man,” Harty said, shaking his head.

  “I’m still not sure how you get women with lines like that,” Ben said.

  “I’m not telling them that. I think they like the dumb jock thing. Or maybe it’s the elite athlete thing. Whatever. Doesn’t matter. We have our fun and part ways when it’s no longer fun.”

  Joke was on them since Ben knew that Baz had a bachelor’s degree and was working on his master’s.

  “Now, as much as I know you guys love talking about me, I know my skills with the ladies didn’t start this conversation, so fess up,” Baz continued.

  “It’s nothing. I was thinking of taking some college courses. Thought I could ask one of your dates the next time we’re out,” Finn said.

  Baz barked out a laugh. “I don’t believe you for a second. But keep your secrets. And Cheese, you’d think for someone who should’ve gotten laid last night, you wouldn’t be such a grump today,” he said, and then spun on his heel and headed for the treadmill while the rest of them gaped.

  “It’s freaky as hell,” Harty muttered.

  “How does he know?” Finn asked, softly.

  “I don’t know, but thanks for not telling him what was going on. I’m not in the mood for his teasing. Yours is more than enough. And I don’t need the rest of the team to know,” Ben said, shaking his head as he stared at Baz, who was just running along at a good clip, like he hadn’t dropped that little bomb. The guy always knew when something was up.

  “Hey, I’m heading out to that new club tonight. The one off Market Street that used to be a theatre, if you guys want to come. I think Sully’s coming. And Boosh,” Baz called out across the gym. “Probably head out at ten since we don’t have practice or a game tomorrow.”

  “Thanks, but as soon as Penny gets home from her dinner, we aren’t leaving the house,” Harty called back.

  “I’ll let you know,” Finn said.

  “Cheese. You should come, blow off some steam,” Baz said.

  “I’ll think about it.” Not that there was anything to think about. Going out to a club was never his thing. Grinding against some stranger wasn’t his idea of a good time. Which was probably why his social life consisted of sparingly random hookups and hanging out with the AARP crowd at the blues bar.

  “Great,” Baz said, focusing back on his workout.

  “So, have you talked to her since?” Harty asked, sitting down on the weight bench across from Ben.

  “Ahh, not really. Just a few texts earlier today,” he said. She’d seemed pissed when they’d been interrupted last night, and not just because they’d been interrupted, but more so for the fact that it was her mom who had done it. He didn’t have all the details—or any details, really—but he’d told her to contact him when she could because they were not done.

  He was frustrated as hell that something—or someone—continually got in the way of them finishing what they’d started. It was becoming a joke, and he was not laughing.

  “You could crash her dinner tonight,” Finn said, as he used a few of the free weights.

  “Probably not the best of ideas. Not that I even know where she will be. I’d be an ass to just show up.”

  “They’re going to Lanzi’s, and she’d probably see it as you making an effort, not crashing,” Harty said.

  “Have you met Amanda? She plays by her own rules. If she wanted to get together, all she had to do was ask.”

  “Take the initiative, man.”

  “You just want me to break up dinner early so you can take Penny home,” Ben said with a laugh, and Harty shrugged.

  “No. I’m just looking out for your best interests.”

  Finn laughed. “Sure you are. But I’m up for Lanzi’s. We can just say Harty forgot they were having dinner there.”

  “They will not buy it,” Ben said.

  “I’m guessing they won’t give a shit about our excuse,” Harty said. “And I haven’t been there in ages. I miss their chicken Florentine. They’re meeting at six, so we could show up at seven. Gives Amanda plenty of time to give them the gory details of her mom walking in on you—,”

  “Could you not remind me?” Ben shuddered. “Thank God we still had our clothes on.”

  “Anyway, we show up at seven, grab some food and then whisk them away. Finn can tag along so we aren’t completely obvious,” Harty said.

  “Right. Because showing up isn’t obvious enough,” Ben muttered, but he didn’t shoot them down. It was probably a bad idea, but he wanted to see her again, sooner rather than later, and ambushing her might be the best way to finally get her in his bed.

  Hell, that sounded mercenary.

  “Fine. But when it backfires, you’re taking the hit,” he said. “Now, let’s finish our workout. Yesterday’s game was awesome…”

  “Yeah, it was,” Baz called out.

  Ben looked up. When the fuck had the guy moved to the elliptical? And how much had he heard? Dammit.

  “Yeah. A hattie for the captain. Amazing game. Now we need a repeat,” Baz said. “The playoffs are calling, and I’m ready to fucking answer.”

  Baz finished with a fist pump, and Ben couldn’t hold in his chuckle. It’s what they all wanted. What they all worked so hard for. What Ben needed to focus on. And maybe he could focus more if he finally got Amanda where he wanted her, under him and in his arms. Not that sex was going to cure his scattered thoughts, but it didn’t hurt to try. And try. And try.

  And she was definitely on board. They just needed to change the location.

  “Damn straight,” Finn chimed in.

  “I’m heading to the showers. Better see
some of you tonight. Well, at least Finn. Harty’s out, of course. And I have a good feeling that Cheesy’s going to be busy tonight,” Baz said with a chuckle as he swung a towel around his neck and headed out of the gym.

  “Maybe he bugged the room and that’s what he was listening to in his earbuds,” Finn said, with slight awe in his voice.

  Harty chuckled. “No. He would’ve tormented the shit out of Ben if he knew her mom walked in last night. I’m heading out too. I’ll see you both at Lanzi’s at seven.”

  “Yes. See you both at seven. You coming, Finn?” Ben asked.

  “Sure.”

  “Great. It’ll look better with you there. Won’t look like Cheesy and I decided to crash their dinner,” Harty said.

  Ben laughed. “That’s exactly what it’s going to look like.”

  “Shut up, Cheesy. We’re doing this for you. Be a little grateful,” Harty said.

  “Sure. Sure. See you at seven. Should we meet around the corner so we can go in together?” Ben asked.

  “Wow. Cheesy is actually teasing us, isn’t he?” Harty asked Finn.

  “I think he is. Write down the date,” Finn said.

  “Funny guys. And I was going to offer to buy dinner, but not for a bunch of jackasses,” he said.

  “Nah, it’s on me. After all, you did get a hattie last night,” Harty said.

  “If you insist,” Ben said as they headed to the showers. He ignored the bundle of nerves in his stomach. Would she be pissed when he showed up tonight? And how long would he have to pretend he was interested in the food when what he really wanted to do was whisk her away before the menus were set down? Good thing they were getting there an hour after the women. She was going to need the carbs for what he had planned.

  Chapter 13

  Museums, a castle, and Prosecco, sign me up. Italy continues and I’m exploring the small town of Conegliano. Take the wine road and enjoy the bubbles.