by RJ Scott
The first test of this thing they had going on was Kat’s birthday. Last year she’d been on shift, and she and Loki had celebrated the weekend after. That had given Ryan the perfect excuse to avoid her by claiming he had the weekend booked away.
So what exactly was he doing this year?
He’d held a torch for Kat for so long, from protective friend to—what? A friend with benefits? Lover?
Whatever he was, Ryan was determined to see her on her birthday, and even though she had the whole going-out-with-Loki thing, he was convinced that waiting around at her place would at least let him have a few hours with her. Loki was on the mend; he’d even had some skating today with the conditioning coach and was looking a decent prospect for when the season started in mid-October with their first game against the Senators.
Ryan parked his car up the road from Kat’s place, like some creepy stalker, and it was ten o’clock before he saw Loki pull up. The two of them hugged out the birthday, and then Loki drove off as soon as she shut the front door.
Ryan had told Loki he’d be out all night. He’d suffered through the chirping about his new girlfriend, and now he had the wrapped gifts in his hand.
He still worried the gifts were stupid, but what did you buy the woman who wasn’t your girlfriend, but who was the friend you had sex with, who you loved, but who you couldn’t say those three words to yet?
He waited a few more moments and then pulled up on her drive, shutting off the engine and stopping for a few seconds. Kat was expecting him; she’d said so in the text exchange they’d had earlier today, and he just wanted to get inside and kiss her.
She opened the door even as he reached it, and he had her up against the wall, a thigh between her legs, giving her everything to have her flying apart in his hold before they’d even had a chance to say hello.
They kissed as she came down the other side.
“Wow,” she murmured, “that was some hello.”
“Happy birthday.” He kissed her again.
He relaxed his hold and her hand immediately went to his fly. “No,” he said firmly, even though he was hard and wanted nothing more than her hands on him. But this was her birthday, and he bent down to pick up the bag he’d remembered to place on the floor before pushing her against the wall.
“Presents!” She reached for the bag.
On instinct he held the bag high, out of her reach. Hell, how many times had he done that over the years?
Give me the ball. Give me the cookie! Nicky, your friend is an asshole. Tell him to give me the remote.
But he dropped his arm instantly when she cupped his balls with a threatening look. She’d never been able to do that before, and something flooded him—desire, love, the need to laugh.
“You got me,” he said, and handed her the bag.
She placed it on the table in the small living room and peered inside, laughing as she pulled out another jersey, this time a thin woman’s top, with his name and number on it.
“Did you buy this?” she asked suspiciously, looking for labels.
“I did,” he said, feigning hurt.
She slipped off her shirt, and he had to try very hard not to put his hands on her but simply to watch as she pulled it over her head and smoothed it in place. This style wasn’t the bagginess of the jersey she’d had before, and the dragon logo stretched a little across her chest.
“Gorgeous,” he said, staring right there at the logo.
“Eyes up here, skater,” she said with a laugh.
He looked up and was lost in her laugh, and the way her eyes had lit with happiness. He’d seen that before when Loki signed his contract with the Dragons and when they were drafted to the NHL teams. But this time the happiness was just for him and him alone.
“What else is in there?” She rummaged inside, pulling out something that not even the best wrapper of presents could have disguised. “A puck.” She slipped it from the shiny paper and peered at the front. “You can’t give me that. This was the puck from your first NHL goal.”
“I know.”
“Against the Leafs.”
“It was a lucky shot.”
She smiled at him. “No it wasn’t. You forget who my brother is. He was watching it and kept texting me, wouldn’t stop talking about it.”
“I want you to have it,” he said, “because I want this birthday to be special.”
She cupped his cheek. “It already is special.”
“There’s one more thing in the bag.” He pressed his face into her touch.
She released him and pulled out the final gift box, pulling the paper off and opening it up.
The necklace lay on a bed of velvet, and he waited anxiously for her comment. He’d wanted to add a personal touch, his number or something, so that she would have him on her skin. But he’d settled for the intricate dragon with tiny ruby eyes.
“It’s beautiful.”
He helped her put it on. It fell just at her throat, and for a second he was the happiest man on earth.
She’d done that, given him the gift of herself, and he wanted to give her everything back. “You can wear that and just tell people a girlfriend gave it to you or something,” he said.
“I won’t do that to you. You’re my friend, and it’s a dragon. It fits.”
She didn’t hesitate when he led her by the hand to the bedroom, removing his shirt and helping her off with hers. Her bra, her jeans, his jeans… each layer removed slowly with great care. He kissed every small part of her skin as he exposed it, and he ended up bracketing her on the bed.
“If we do this…,” she murmured against his lips, “it means something. Right?”
The words were on the tip of his tongue, but was too soon to say he loved her; she wouldn’t want to hear it. How could he say it when he wasn’t brave enough to say he wanted to tell Loki, that they should tell Loki together?
She stole his thoughts before they became too much in his head, pulling him down for more kissing, widening her legs until he could settle between them. She was perfect, her breasts just the right size, nipples pink and perfect in his mouth. The sounds she made had him on edge, and when she closed a hand around him and said he was beautiful, it was almost game over.
“You have to stop,” he said, thinking of anything but the woman spread out for him. When his thoughts included bad hits in the rink, he knew he was losing the grip.
“Condoms,” she said and waved in the general direction of the drawer next to her bed.
Jealousy hit him out of the blue. Were the condoms there from when she was with Evan? Stupid brain.
He pushed the thoughts to one side, a woman was entitled to do what she wanted to do with her sex life, just as he had, and Evan was gone now.
Kat helped him, rolling the condom down his length; he hissed at the contact of her fingers on his cock.
And then he was sinking inside her, his lips on hers, kissing her and moving slow. It was stunning, and she twisted her hands in his hair.
“Am I hurting you?” He was aware he was twice her weight, big and bulky where she was slim, and the last thing he wanted to do was hurt her.
“Harder” was all she said in return, arching up into his touch.
Just that single word had him on the edge, but he wanted her to go over with him. “Touch yourself,” he said, kissing her.
She pressed a hand between them, her fingers brushing his cock where their bodies joined.
Seconds later, minutes, hours—Ryan didn’t know, he’d lost track of everything—she moaned low in her throat and arched violently, and he let himself go, rolling onto his back and taking her with him, still fully inside.
When he softened a little, he removed the condom, dropped it to the can by the bed, and held her close.
“Happy birthday to me,” she muttered into his sweat-slick skin.
“And me,” Ryan added with a happy sigh.
CHAPTER 13
Kat wriggled back against Ryan; he held her close. She’d wo
ken to a new day where everything made sense to her. Sleeping with Ryan was right. Perfect.
“Why did we wait this long?” she murmured, although he was still sleeping, so still.
“I don’t know,” Ryan said, sounding clearly wide awake. “But I’m regretting every moment we weren’t doing this.” And he cupped her breast.
She closed her eyes, the sex had been good—actually way past good and all the way to amazing—and she couldn’t wait for more, but the tone of his voice was telling. He’d gone straight to the sex. Of course he had, he was a guy who liked sex, and if last night was anything to go by, he was experienced. The way he’d picked her up, held up, gone down on her with fierce concentration, pulled orgasms out of nowhere, and the way his thumb teased her nipple now. That was all sex.
Disappointment poked at her. At some point last night, something had changed for her, a single moment when she hesitated, wanting to tell him how she really felt. How she wanted hugs, and being held, and the teasing and talking, as well as the sex.
“You’re so fucking perfect,” he murmured against her nape, kissing her there, nuzzling into her hair.
“You’re not bad yourself,” she whispered back.
He tugged on her nipple and a flood of desire made her warm, but it felt wrong somehow, and she made a show of wriggling away, wishing she could pull the sheet around her, suddenly feeling incredibly naked outside and in. His hand trailed over her hip as she moved, and she slid off the bed and headed for the bathroom.
“Hurry back,” he said.
She couldn’t even look back.
Sex was all well and good, but what about when he’d had enough sex? What about when the next bunny wanted to join in, or take him off on some wild sexual adventure?
She sat on the side of the bath, pulling a towel with her and laying it over her lap. Was it significant that she wanted to hide in here? She wanted sex with Ryan; she’d wanted him since she was old enough to know what sex really meant.
But she wanted more. She craved the teasing and the arguing, and the times they sat there and talked about nothing of any importance. Now they’d taken the final step, would they ever go back to being just friends? Could they ever do that?”
And having sex, not just the kissing and the blow jobs, but the connection?
“What’s wrong?” Ryan asked from the door. He was leaning on the jamb, nude, his arms crossed over his chest, and he was so gloriously sexy and male.
He was everything she wanted forever.
“We fucked up,” she said. No point in beating around the bush. “I need to tell Nicky.”
“What?” Ryan straightened and then sat next to her on the edge of the bath. “Now?”
She elbowed him and he let out a soft oomph.
“No. But he’ll know if we’re weird, so we need to tell him what we did.”
“Not all of it,” Ryan said immediately, his tone serious.
“What?” That hurt her a little. Ryan didn’t want to tell Nicky they’d ended up in bed?
“Not everything,” Ryan repeated. He looked confused.
“So, it’s okay to tell him we kissed, but not that we fucked? Is that your definition of ‘everything’?” She stood up, the towel caught up below Ryan’s thigh and she tugged at it until he moved and the lack of an anchor had her stumbling back.
He stood up immediately. “We didn’t fuck,” he snapped. “And what the hell are you talking about? I’m not telling Loki what we do in bed.”
“He’ll know.”
“Wait,” Ryan held up a hand. “I don’t give a shit what Loki thinks about us. I mean, I do. Of course I care.” He twisted his hands in his hair and made it stand up wildly. In fact, his wild expression matched his sticky-up hair to a T.
“Ryan—”
“Stop talking,” he interrupted. “I came in here to brush my teeth so that I could kiss you properly. And you’re in here, and you look like your world has ended, and suddenly we’re talking about Loki knowing the details of our sex life?”
“Not the details, just the fact that we had sex.”
“He’ll know the details, then. He’ll guess.”
“Not unless we tell him.”
“He’ll know as soon as I tell him we’re together,” he said, exasperated, and looked as confused as the whole conversation had become.
All the fight left her in an instant. “It’s what you do,” she whispered, “You fuck women and you tell Nicky, and then you’re done.”
“But this is different.”
“How? How is what we have any different?”
“Because I love you!” Ryan shouted at her, and then he stood, towering over her, stepping back as if he couldn’t bring himself to be next to her.
“Ryan?” She couldn’t believe what she’d just heard.
“I do,” he said, a little miserably, as though he’d just shared a secret he wasn’t supposed to. “I love you. And when I tell Nicky, he’ll be pissed, but then he’ll remember I’m a good guy and he’ll get over it. And he’ll be my best man at the wedding, although I guess you’d want him to give you away? I don’t know…. I’ll ask Simba, maybe.”
She looked up at him, at his gorgeous hazel eyes, focused on her. “What?” That was all she could get out.
“I love you,” he repeated. “And I know I’m this idiot of a guy who beats up people for a living, and I know I have anger issues, but only on the ice, and I would never hurt you.”
She held out a hand and he took it, still frowning, with his huge puppy-dog eyes entreating her to listen.
“I’m not having this conversation in the bathroom,” she murmured, and led him out. He followed her, and she dropped the towel as they reached the bed, shoving at him and smiling when he allowed himself to be pushed back onto the mattress.
She straddled him immediately and pinned his hands. It was for show: he was twice her size, strong and determined, but somehow she had control here. Why didn’t he see what he did for her? Why did he dismiss himself as the enforcer all the time? She leaned over and pressed a kiss to the Dragon tattoo on his arm, and then to a scar just below it.
“How did you get this scar?” she asked.
He frowned as if he couldn’t believe what she was talking about.
“Loki got in a fight. I think we were seventeen. Things got heated with the baseball team, and they fancied their chances, eight on two.”
“I remember you getting this one?” She traced the inch-long mark that was right on the edge of his ribcage, “I remember you hitting the boards and the glass cracking.” She’d only watched it once, had seen him brushing the glass from his hair and grinning, even as blood began to stain the white of his away jersey. Heroic idiot.
Then she touched another, “This one?”
“Skate,” he said.
“Yep. You’d scored and the other team didn’t like that, you remember?”
“That was a lucky shot.”
“Their D-man shoved you into the boards so hard you fell, and his skate caught you. I remember the blood, and you didn’t even flinch.”
“Adrenaline. Hockey focus.” He said it as if she should already know that.
“You have a lot of these scars.”
He wriggled a little and wouldn’t look at her. “I know. It’s not pretty.”
She tapped the skate scar. “What did you learn with this one?”
“What?”
“The lesson you take from this?”
“That the other team’s blue liners will target anyone who shoots,” he said, and he smiled. “Also, skates are sharp.”
She loved that smile, wanted to see it back on his face all the time. “And the small scar you got in the fight?”
“Oh, that one’s easy: baseball players fight dirty.” He smiled again.
“Your body”— she kissed him as she spoke, a path of kisses from one blemish to the next— “is like a map of lessons. Of being the one to get in the way to stop other people getting hurt. Of controlling the
fire inside you until you can be icy and focused. Of getting the job done.”
He stopped her kissing and cradled her face. “What are you doing?”
“You don’t scare me.”
He chuckled and then looked serious, as though the enormity of her words was just sinking in. “That’s good to know.” He was teasing her now.
“And we should tell Nicky before this goes any further.” She climbed off him. “I’m brushing my teeth.”
He followed her, and they knocked elbows at the sink. And when they were back in bed, she took control, straddling him again. He didn’t even move, just watched her steadily.
She said, “We’ll get him over for dinner Friday, okay?”
“It needs to be done. I can’t keep it from him for much longer.”
“You know that makes it real, right?” She asked him that because she didn’t want any confusion.
“Very real.”
“And I think I’d want Nicky to give me away,” she added. “In any future wedding I may or may not be a part of.”
“Okay.” This time his tone was more cautious.
“And”— with a soft kiss— “I love you too, Number Seventeen.”
He relaxed and let out a soft exhalation of relief. Then he scooped her, twisted, and pinned her to the bed. “Thank fuck for that.”
CHAPTER 14
The intrasquad scrimmage was the last big event before the new season began, a way of assessing the prospects. But it wasn’t seeing the young guys coming up; it was the meeting he’d been called to that was stressing Ryan.
He couldn’t help how he felt, and he placed the blame for it squarely on the fact that, for some weird reason, Loki was avoiding him.
Not in a bad way, not vanishing through doors as soon as Ryan appeared, but enough for him to notice. Loki was serious. At first, Ryan put that down to the fact Loki had been out in the scrimmage and must be worried about reinjuring his knee. Ryan just didn’t want to ask. They had an unwritten rule between them not to sweat the injuries but to focus on the positives.
It was as if Loki knew that Ryan had told Kat he loved her; as if he maybe knew that they’d made love. But then, this would be way more heated, wouldn’t it? Not this weird thing where Loki wouldn’t meet his gaze. Thirteen years of friendship, and Ryan knew Loki pretty damn well.
