The Crease: A Rochester Riot Sports Romance

by Colleen Charles

  As they ate dessert, a wonderfully simple combination of ice cream and cake which Kylie thought couldn’t be more Fourth of July, Natasha took over the conversation.

  “So are you originally from Rochester, Kylie?” she asked.

  Kylie took a moment to chew and swallow her cake before answering. For most people, it was a straightforward question. For Kylie, it was an unknown. She clamped her knees together to keep them from trembling underneath the table.

  “Yes,” she said. “I went to college there, then took my job at the Riot.” All true. Whether she was born there was a different question.

  “Ah. U of M? Minneapolis or Duluth?” Natasha continued, toying with the ice cream in her dish. “Duluth has a wonderful hockey program, does it not? I remember Boston playing them a time or two throughout Sheldon’s collegiate career.”

  “Um, no. Rochester Community and Technical College,” Kylie said with a nod.

  Natasha displayed her complacent smile again. The one laced with underlying disapproval and censure. Kylie didn’t measure up to whatever yardstick was used to vet Shredder’s dates. He probably only brought home supermodels and Ivy League educated geniuses. Kylie Rose had given Natasha Politski a maternal coronary.

  “Oh. Well, that’s something. University is expensive,” she conceded smugly. “Good for you for even graduating.”

  “Damn straight about the costs involved,” Emil agreed. “Sheldon’s education certainly set us back. But Boston College happily accepted our ten million donation,” he said with a smile. Kylie nearly choked on a mouthful of vanilla cake.

  “Dad,” Shredder warned. In spite of the darkness creeping in, Kylie could see a flush of red creep up his cheeks to land on his bald head.

  “And what is it you do for the team?” Natasha asked.

  “I’m a personal assistant to the Director of Communications and Community Relations,” Kylie said, her nerves starting to jangle under the woman’s scrutiny. “I handle a lot of the team’s scheduling, public appearances, and events. I specialize in social media.”

  “Administrative work, then?”

  “Yes.”

  “I see. Is your family also in Rochester? What line of business are they engaged in? Rose, you say.” She touched Emil’s arm. “Don’t we know a Rose family in the Midwest? In the dairy industry, aren’t they?”

  It didn’t have to be a warm night for Kylie to sweat. Mrs. Politski seemed to be turning up the heat in her own special way. She hadn’t expected to undergo a background check this evening. Another reason to be irritated at Shredder for the lack of a heads up. Normally, she’d prepare herself for these types of questions depending on the audience.

  “My parents…passed away,” Kylie said, tilting her head in a gesture of regret. There. That ought to stop the interrogation in its tracks. Shredder looked her way sharply.

  “Oh, I’m so sorry for your loss, my dear,” Natasha backpedaled. “Have you brothers or sisters? I do hope you’re all well provided for by your parent’s estate.”

  “Estate?” she gasped.

  “Mom, that’s a bit personal,” Shredder interrupted.

  Natasha regarded both Kylie and her son in the same glance, her green eyes rallying between them. “Do forgive me. I’m just very interested in your new friend, Sheldon. I want to get to know her better. I apologize if I’ve overstepped.”

  Emil cleared his throat. “Yes. My wife has always been overly inquisitive,” he said, attempting to apply a balm to the situation. “Especially when it comes to her only child. You’ll have plenty of time to get to know each other, I’m sure.”

  Shredder reached for Kylie’s hand under the table. She flashed him a quick look, then faced Natasha again. An unwelcome and unexpected feeling of anger strangled her. How dare this woman interrogate her in this way and make her feel so cheap and worthless? Mother or no mother, Kylie would not stand down from her. Bolstered by the alcohol, she plastered her most dazzling smile on her face and looked Natasha straight in her patronizing eyes.

  “It’s quite alright. I’m an only child, like your Sheldon. In fact, I consider myself an orphan. I make my own living. It’s hard, so it’s gratifying to know that when Sheldon and I have children, they’ll be well provided for.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  The widening of Natasha Politski’s eyes to saucer-like dimensions coincided with the first burst of fireworks over the waterfront. She could feel Shredder’s hand practically crushing hers beneath the tabletop.

  “Ooh, Fireworks! I love fireworks,” Kylie cried, a look of exaggerated delight on her face. Her hands began a violent clapping as she twisted her body to get a better look at the pyrotechnics, when Shredder stood and pulled her to her feet along with him. Together they ran toward the beach, the sizzle and shriek of roman candles flying overhead.

  When they slowed their steps, Shredder’s body shook. When she turned to face him, he’d dissolved into fits of boisterous laughter. He pulled her to him then scooped her up off the ground and did a spin.

  “You are certifiably crazy, Kylie Rose. And I love it. People would pay money to see that look on my mom’s face. I know it’s hard to believe, but she’s been known to rub some people the wrong way. But her heart’s in the right place. She just adores her only child.”

  “You’re not mad?” she said. “My humor doesn’t always strike everyone as funny.”

  “I’m not mad, but you are. Mad, daft, looney tunes.”

  He set her down and kissed her beneath the flares and missiles exploding in the air above. They matched the sensations in her heart, each shot bursting with newer, brighter colors than the one before.

  He released her lips but held her face in his wide hands. She saw the starbursts reflected in his dark eyes and marveled at the depth of character and emotion she sensed from them. She wanted this man more than anything. It didn’t feel like she could wait another second to know the feeling of being claimed by him. Body and soul.

  “Can we go to your room, now? I’m pretty sure that’s where your mother would have told you to go after hearing remarks like that.”

  “I thought you’d never ask,” he said.

  Shredder led her around the back, out of sight of the watchful eyes of Natasha. They ran hand in hand up the side of the long lawn to avoid being seen by the revelers. Soon they were in the safety of the mansion and shot up the back stairs to the private haven of his bedroom. As soon as they were alone, Kylie felt frantic. As if she didn’t get naked fast enough he’d disappear, or she’d turn into a pumpkin. Wasn’t that the way the fairytale went? Hell, she couldn’t remember and didn’t want to keep trying when the most incredible flesh and blood man stood opposite her. He shucked his jacket and shoes, then went to work on her chiffon-stiffened skirt, pulling it up over her head.

  “Get the zipper,” she mumbled from behind the layers of fabric.

  His fingers found the tab and pulled, freeing the garment from her body. The light summer frock with its spaghetti straps precluded wearing a bra, and her nude breasts tumbled out unfettered. His ample hands went to them, cupping their weight in his palms while his thumbs roved over her nipples.

  It was actually happening. The fantasy she’d harbored from the first time she’d noticed the size of his goalie hands had come true. She shut her eyes against the flood of sensation and the implications. The pleasure was even better than she’d ever imagined it could be.

  Kylie moaned, and he gazed down at her wordlessly, admiring the view. He bent his head and nuzzled her neck, his lips tracing the line of her throat up to her ear. He squeezed her breasts and sucked her earlobe into his mouth, rolling her nipples between his fingers until they were tight nobs of rioting sensations. Her body went molten, and her fingers worked quickly down the row of buttons on his shirt. She pushed the material aside and touched the delicious hard ridges of his torso, fanning upward over the curves of his sculpted pecs. His habit of shaving extended to his chest and she felt the barely-there stubble left behind by
his razor beneath her fingertips.

  Shredder released her earlobe and lowered his arms to let his shirt slide off. Her palms slid upward over his wonderfully muscled expanse of chest and well-formed trapezius. She stood on tiptoes to wrap her arms around his bull-like neck and plant a row of soft but urgent kisses along his cheek, working her way to his lips. His mouth captured hers in a searing kiss while his hands went around her waist then followed the rounded curve of her hips, hooking the waistband of her thong on the way. He pushed it downward over her silky skin until it fell free. She stepped out of the ring of fabric around her ankles as his giant hands grasped the underside of her thighs and lifted her to him.

  Her legs wrapped around him as he moved toward the king-sized bed and laid her down on it. The soft down-filled bulk of the comforter billowed around them as they landed. Shredder reared back and stared at her. Kylie’s heart skipped a beat at the expression in his eyes. Passion. Want. But something else lingered. Something she couldn’t recognize because she’d never seen it before. Something like fear.

  “Kylie Rose,” he whispered, his voice hoarse. Searching. “I want you. Do you want me?”

  His eyes, brimming with need, seemed to comb hers for an absolute truth with no disguises, no adornments. His long lashes cast feathery shadows across his eyelids in the muted light of the luxurious room. Kylie felt precious and needed, exalted even amid the tableau of wealth and luxury that surrounded them. She understood now, why he’d hidden it all. He desperately needed someone to want him for who he was inside, not the illusion of what his money could provide. Well, he’d spilled on the right girl. And with that action, she already felt marked as his.

  “Yes,” she nodded slowly and deliberately. “Shredder Politski, I’d want you whether we were sleeping in this bed or in a cardboard box on the streets of Rochester. I want you, no matter the surroundings.”

  Tears pricked her eyes as a faraway twinge of mental pain reminded her how close to the truth living in a cardboard box had been for her. She shoved it aside and her hands slipped to his belt, helping to undress him the rest of the way. Her hands itched to touch him everywhere. All the places she’d seen with her eyes but hadn’t felt with her fingers. Skin to skin and heart to heart.

  He smiled and joined her in losing his pants and underwear. Her hands trailed the delicious bumps and curves of his powerful legs, stroking upwards until they settled on the throbbing hardness of his cock. She curled her fingers around it. He groaned and cupped his hand over hers, encouraging her. She obliged and applied pressure, stroking its fleshy firmness from root to tip. He closed his eyes and stilled her hand, then rolled her onto her back. She raised her arms above her head to nestle in the soft depths of the pillows above.

  He bowed his head and took her breast into his mouth, alternately licking, nipping, sucking. She arched into him, the sensations he ignited in her catching into full flame. Her nipples ached with sweet pain, her crotch pulsed and clenched, moisture collecting in anticipation of Shredder taking possession of her in every possible way. His long fingers found the spot where she ached, sliding between the short thatch of pink hair to part her swollen labia. Her clit throbbed and begged for his touch. Kylie arched her back into his seeking hand.

  Her woman’s core was not disappointed as his broad fingertips met her bud, stroking it with gentle care, awash in the moisture that had pooled there. Breath exhaled her parted lips on little pants of pleasure. Her legs spread of their own accord to allow greater access for his touch. A tiny gasp escaped as his long finger entered her, thrusting slowly in and out, eased by her slickness.

  “I want you inside me, Shredder, please…” Her voice trembled with insatiable need. She hissed in a breath before continuing her frantic demands. “I can’t wait one second longer. It feels like I’ve been waiting forever.”

  “Not yet,” he answered, his breath caressing the mounds of her breasts that were thoroughly wetted by the ministrations of his mouth. She shivered in sweet agony. “I want to make you come, feel you come, watch you come apart because of me. I’ve been dreaming of it ever since hot yoga. Kylie, you can’t even imagine what that did to me. You really know how to slay a man. With your body. With your mind. With everything.”

  His words shot her arousal off the scale, her pelvic muscles convulsing, tightening around his fingers firmly lodged inside her. He continued his motions, shifting his body lower until she saw the top of his shiny head between her thighs. When his tongue ventured out and met with her aching pink bud, she detonated in a firestorm of pleasure, more spectacular than all of the rockets exploding on the lawn outside.

  “Shred,” she cried, her hips bucking, pushing into him for more. He rode out her waves of blinding ecstasy with his tongue before lifting his body and spearing her, parting her folds with his thick member. The hardness of his straining cock tested the limits of her inner walls as he pushed to full penetration.

  She rocked in rhythm with his thrusts as they accelerated, her fingers digging into the skin of his ridged and rippling back muscles. His breathing escalated to lusty gasps as he worked toward his release.

  “Shredder, let go for me,” she whispered, afraid of the look on his face. That fleeting expression that something was wrong when everything was so damn right. With a low growl, he let everything go, the force of his orgasm shaking them both.

  She could feel the warmth of him pulsing into her, the thudding of his powerful, steady heart against her own. She felt sweet, paralyzing joy overtake her, unable to recall a time when she felt such happiness, such fulfillment. She kissed his sweaty neck and bulging deltoids, her hands stroking the round firmness of his sculpted buns as he stilled and recovered from his exertion. As she reveled in their closeness, the heat of their skin upon each other and his thickness filling her, she felt his body start to shudder.

  She rubbed his back, hoping to calm his sudden twitching when he withdrew from her and pushed away. He rolled to the side, throwing an arm over his face. Kylie felt like something precious and rare had been ripped from her. She’d tried to pour her feminine salve over his demons even though she didn’t yet know the face of their enemy. She’d failed.

  Failed Shredder. Failed herself.

  “Shred,” she said, reaching for him. “Are you okay?”

  He nodded but kept his face hidden beneath his forearm. Worry crept into her brain. She wasn’t good enough for him…she could feel it. The most spectacular lovemaking of her life had turned sour. Didn’t he agree? Had she done something wrong? She had, and now he was sorry he’d brought her here, a commoner into his realm of privilege. And she’d had the nerve to joke around in front of his parents. What was she thinking? She didn’t belong here. He’d satisfied his needs and now regret nipped at his Italian loafer-clad heels. Joy collapsed into smoking ruins in the space of a heartbeat.

  She shook his arm. “Shredder…say something.”

  He lowered his arm but pinched the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger, as if thwarting a headache. “Sorry,” he said, then dropped his hand and stared at the ceiling for a moment. When he finally turned to her, Kylie’s heart wrenched at the look of pain on his face, his beautiful brown eyes glistening with moisture.

  “Oh, Shred, what is it?” she coaxed. This must be bad. Goalies don’t cry…they’re the toughest guys around. “Are you in pain? Oh my God, I hurt you. I hurt you. Please, tell me where it hurts so I can fix it.”

  He rolled toward her again and put a gentle arm across her body, bringing his chin to her shoulder and kissing her moist skin that blushed with the afterglow of their lovemaking.

  “Not the physical kind,” he murmured, his lips brushing against her. “Although my back is hurting. That’s normal for me. I have a spinal condition, was born with it. I’ve had surgeries, and medications, and physio all my life. I’m going to have a laser procedure done soon.”

  “How have you managed to play hockey all these years? It must be excruciating,” she said, her fears of inadequac
y temporarily allayed but replaced with new ones over his health. All she wanted to do, no, needed to do was protect this man and envelop him in the warmth and radiance of her feelings toward him. “And the rock climbing? That can’t be good for you.”

  “All that I can deal with,” he said. “I keep it quiet from the team trainers. That’s not what’s bothering me.”

  “Tell me,” she said, reaching up to stroke the smooth surface of his head, memorizing the unique shape and bumpy nuances of his skull. It felt intimate in a way she couldn’t describe. And if something went wrong, she wanted every nuance of his skin imprinted on her brain forever.

  “I’ve asked to be traded from the Riot,” he said quietly. “I’m so sorry, Kylie. I know I should have told you before now. I’ve been so selfish, I know that.”

  “What?” she gasped, her head swimming with the implications of losing him. And not even losing him to his disapproving mother but losing him to the NHL. “Why? I thought you loved the team, your friends. Cole especially. I don’t understand.”

  He swallowed hard. “It’s not my teammates. It’s…Griffiths. Coach Griff, as I knew him years ago. I can’t be around him.”

  Kylie blinked as all of her initial gut reactions to Bernie Griffiths came rushing back to her. She’d known it all along, and so had Barbara. Even though they didn’t have proof or anything concrete. Something wasn’t right there.

  “Coach? He’s the Operations chief…he wouldn’t be involved with the coaching staff. I know he’s an odd duck, I didn’t really care for him when I met him, but–”

  “He’s a sociopath. A sick, manipulative degenerate that ruined young lives. I saw it happen.” His chest rose and fell with shallow breaths, and all she wanted to do was take his pain away. He stared at the ceiling as if looking at her would steal his confessions before they could see the light. “It happened to me.”