Kit: A Chicago Blaze Hockey Romance

by Brenda Rothert

  “I might, if I can get credentialed.”

  “Molly.” I give her a serious look. “I thought we were done with that shit. You have a spot in the friends and family box, as my girlfriend.”

  Her lips part with surprise. “Your girlfriend?”

  I get out of bed and grab my jeans from the floor, pulling them on. “I’m not one for playing games. You’re the only woman I want, and if there’s any other man you want, I’ll take him out so I’m the only one you want.” I grin to show her I’m kidding. “I want you to be my girlfriend.”

  She sits up, covering her breasts with the sheet. “Not yet. I submitted your story, but it hasn’t been published yet. The special section will be out within a couple weeks. We need to keep things low key until then.”

  “Low key can still mean exclusive,” I say, running a hand through my hair. “Because any guy who tries to take my girl is gonna wish he wouldn’t have.”

  She smiles, her cheeks turning pink. “I think being exclusive will be harder for you than me, Kit.”

  “No, it won’t.”

  Her expression turns somber. “You haven’t had a relationship in a long time.”

  “And you want to know why.”

  She shrugs. “You don’t have to tell me why, but I do wonder why you want one now.”

  I sit down on the edge of the bed, looking at her sleep-tousled hair and smudged eye makeup. “It’s not about wanting a relationship now, it’s about wanting you.”

  She nods, putting her palm on my thigh. I tense and slide my hand into hers, getting up and tugging on her hand.

  “Let’s go drink that champagne and make omelets.”

  She laughs and steps out of bed. “Oh no, we never ate that dinner last night! And it looked so good.”

  “What I had was way better.” I pull her into my arms and kiss her, cupping her round, bare ass.

  “I really do have to take Gram to the store,” she says, probably in response to my erection poking her in the stomach.

  “First we eat,” I say, picking up my Blaze T-shirt and passing it to her. “Then I’ll take you home. But you’re gonna have to put this on or we won’t ever leave this bedroom.”

  I watch as she slides the shirt down over her curvy, beautiful body, feeling my flicker of hope grow stronger. She knows how controlling I am in the bedroom, and she’s still here. I was worried that a woman as strong and independent as Molly wouldn’t want to surrender in that way.

  She did, though, and she enjoyed it. Maybe I’ve been wrong to avoid relationships for so long. Because if this is what it’s like, I want everything Molly is willing to give me.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Molly

  * * *

  “There’s something different about you,” my co-worker Jen says, narrowing her eyes as she studies me. “Did you have work done?”

  I laugh as I take my cardboard tray of lasagna out of the ancient microwave in the newsroom kitchen. “Um, no. The only work I could afford on a reporter’s salary is the back alley kind. I’d rather just stick with my actual face.”

  “You just look…fresher or something. Are you using a new moisturizer?”

  I shake my head, playing dumb. Jen flops into the chair across from me at one of the tables in the kitchen.

  “I can’t even stand to be in the sports department right now,” she says, scowling. “Kent is eating leftover fish curry and Troy has really potent gas. Between the two, I need a fucking gas mask.”

  “Come work at the empty desk in metro,” I suggest.

  “I might.” She cocks her head, studying me as I eat my lasagna. “It is your hair? Did you get it colored?”

  “Nope, same old hair.”

  “Hmm.” She opens her bag of pretzels and eats one. “Hey, I saw your story about Kit Carter in Layout earlier. It looks great. I went back to my desk and pulled it up and read it, and you did a nice job.”

  “Thanks, that means a lot coming from a sports writer.”

  “I liked the focus on his brother having leukemia as a kid and how it affected Kit. I had no idea.”

  “I wanted to do something unique. Plus, I’m just not good at writing about sports, so I had to do something different.”

  Jen smiles. “But I saw that you went to a game. Hockey’s exciting to watch, isn’t it?”

  “Yeah, and the energy in the arena was just crazy. Those fans are really into the game.”

  “Did writing the story turn you into a fan?”

  I try to play it cool. “Maybe.”

  “Why are you blushing?” Jen laughs and answers her own question. “Is it because Kit’s so easy on the eyes?”

  I scoop the last bite of sauce into my mouth and get up, tossing my garbage. “I have to get back to writing.”

  “Go ask Paul in layout to show you how the story looks,” Jen says, still grinning. “Your boy is on the cover of the special section and he is looking damn good.”

  “He’s not my boy,” I say, frowning.

  Jen winks, still munching on her pretzels. I roll my eyes and walk out of the room. Even though I don’t think my bosses would have much to say about me dating Kit, I’m not ready for them to know.

  I still can’t believe I woke up in Kit’s bed yesterday. I’ve been replaying our first date in my head, unable to keep the smile off my face. It’s there on the walk back to my desk, and it stays with me as I sit down and sign on to my computer.

  Even though I’ve read books with epic-sounding sex, I figured it was just a fantasy. I thought the quick, perfunctory sex Zach and I had was just reality. But now I’ve experienced mind-blowing, all-consuming sex. Kit shredded all my inhibitions, showing me just how amazing it can be.

  I want more. The voice of doubt in the back of my mind has been quiet since our date. I’m not second-guessing myself or wondering if he really likes me. Kit erased all the doubt. He made sure I know how much he burns for me, and I feel the same for him.

  This is what it’s like to date a real man, I guess. He doesn’t play games. He tells me how he feels. He’s not keeping his options open. I thought dating was complicated, but actually, it’s not. I just had an immature, sad excuse for a man in Zach.

  “Lynch!” Lou barks as he walks past my desk. “In my office, now.”

  Grabbing my notebook and pen in case he’s about to give me a new assignment, I follow Lou all the way to his office. He’s out of breath when he sits down behind his desk and says, “Close the door.”

  “What’s up?” I ask, sitting down.

  “Maybe you should tell me,” he says, giving me a pointed look.

  “I’m not sure what you mean.”

  “I just came from a meeting in Deb’s office. John Powers was there, too. And also Ted Lamont.”

  I furrow my brow, wondering why the Gazette publisher, executive editor and Lou would be meeting with the disgraced alderman I wrote about.

  “And?” I say, impatient.

  “And that smug bastard Lamont told us you’ve been spending a lot of time with a certain Chicago Blaze player. The one you wrote about for the special section.”

  My head spins and my cheeks warm as I think about that conversation. How the hell does Lamont know about me and Kit?

  “How would Lamont know any of this?” I ask Lou. “And how does he know I’m writing about Kit?”

  “He doesn’t. He’s assuming that some associates of Olivier Durand, the Blaze owner, must have tipped you off to the story. He’s bitching and moaning about conflict of interest.”

  I’m mortified. I’ve never been in trouble at work. Not once have I ever been late, missed a big story or bent the rules. I pride myself on being a good employee. This feeling of being called to the principal’s office for an ass chewing is crushing.

  “Am I in trouble?” I ask, steeling myself for his answer.

  “For what, having a boyfriend?” Lou scoffs. “I’d love it if you’d just work for the Gazette around the clock, Lynch, but I know that’s not feasible.”<
br />
  “I got an anonymous tip on that story, and I verified it myself. Those records someone sent me came from inside City Hall.”

  “I know that. Lamont’s just hell-bent on revenge because he’s in trouble with the city and his wife left him. But no, you’re not in trouble. I’m just saying a heads-up would’ve been nice, Lynch.”

  “Since when do I tell you when I’m dating someone?”

  “Don’t play dumbfounded millennial with me. If it’s someone you just wrote a fucking story about, you should’ve told me.”

  “You’re right,” I say softly. “I’m sorry.”

  “Fuck it; it’s over now. And Deb let him know the Gazette will take legal action if he doesn’t leave you alone. Watch your back, though. I think Lamont had a private eye following you. He may still have someone on you. Deb said we’ll provide you with a security escort to get you to and from work for the next couple weeks.”

  “I don’t think that’s necessary. I carry pepper spray and there are always lots of people around when I’m walking to and from the office.”

  “Yeah, I got the impression this was Lamont’s last-ditch effort.” Lou leans back in his chair, hands clasped behind his head. “He still has his job, so I don’t see him doing anything criminal that would jeopardize that.”

  “Okay. Is there anything else?” I ask, glancing at the clock.

  “What, you’ve got a date with your hockey player?” he quips.

  “No, I have two stories to file and I’d like to get home before nine tonight.”

  He waves at the door. “Get the hell out of here, then.”

  I get up to leave, my hand on the doorknob when Lou says, “Hey, Lynch.”

  “What?” I turn to look at him.

  “Be careful.”

  “Don’t worry about me. If Lamont messes with me, I’ll call the police.”

  His expression is gruff. “I’m not talking about Lamont. I mean with this guy, the hockey player.”

  I’m puzzled as I look at Lou, trying to figure out what he means. He grunts with impatience.

  “You’re a nice girl, that’s all. I don’t want you getting hurt.”

  I just stand there, a little stunned. Does my grouchy editor actually…care about me? He does a great job of making it look like he can barely stand my presence.

  “Thanks,” I finally manage to say. “I will.”

  “Go on, get the hell out of my office, Lynch,” he barks, back to his usual demeanor.

  I smile as I close the door and walk back to my desk. Lou’s actually a softie. Who knew?

  Chapter Eighteen

  Kit

  * * *

  “I guess he must’ve had me followed,” Molly says, shrugging.

  I look at her in silence for a second, too shocked to respond. Once I steady myself, though, I’m ready for a fight with Alderman Ted Lamont.

  “That fucker took it too far,” I say. “I’m done playing his games.”

  “I’m not sure what that means?” Molly gives me a confused look.

  “It means I’ll be showing up at his office, house or whatever bar he frequents, and introducing myself.”

  Molly’s sitting on a stool at my kitchen island and I’m standing across from her, my arms braced on the counter. She came over for our second date and hit me with the news that her bosses know we’re seeing each other because Ted Lamont told them.

  “You can’t do that,” she says, her eyes wide.

  “The fuck I can’t. He’s not getting away with this shit.”

  The thought of Molly walking home from the Gazette at night in the dark, some shitbag guy following her to get dirt for Lamont, makes me want to put my fist through a wall. If I don’t shut him down now, who knows what he could do to her next?

  “My bosses told him to stand down.”

  I’ve been so busy thinking about Molly’s safety that I forgot about Lamont’s goal—to get her in trouble at work.

  “Are your bosses pissed about it? Since the story hasn’t come out?”

  She sighs heavily and shakes her head. “You aren’t a regular source for me. Feature stories are different. I’m not in trouble.”

  “Good.”

  “But.” Her tone is serious. “It definitely won’t help me land the promotion I’m working toward.”

  “It shouldn’t have anything to do with it. It should just be about your job performance.”

  “I know, but Lou is…Lou. He doesn’t like it when his bosses have to get involved in anything to do with the newsroom, and Lamont tried to tattle on me to one of Lou’s bosses. So Lou’s been putting out this fire.”

  “Molly, that’s his job. You shouldn’t feel bad about him having to do his job.”

  She rubs her temple, that little worry wrinkle appearing between her brows. I take a bottle of water from the fridge and pass it to her.

  Her shoulders slump as she unscrews the cap and has a sip. I don’t like her defeated expression.

  “Are you having regrets?” I ask. “About us?”

  “No. I just really want the city hall beat. It doesn’t open up much, and the most senior reporters usually snatch it up when it does.”

  “Don’t give up on it.” I sit down on the stool next to hers.

  Molly leans on my arm, resting her head on my shoulder. I put my arm around her and pull her close.

  “It’s good to see you,” she says.

  “You too.” I kiss the top of her head. “Are you gonna let me eat before you take advantage of me tonight?”

  “If that’s what you want.”

  I laugh and grab a handful of mixed nuts from the bowl my housekeeper put out on the island.

  “I’ll just have these for dinner,” I say, dumping them from my hand into my mouth. “Gimme like thirty seconds and I’m all yours.”

  I chew as fast as possible, my blood heating as Molly lifts her head and gives me a sexy grin, sliding her hand up my thigh.

  Taking her hand, I stand up and slide my free arm around her waist. She tips her chin up and our eyes meet, the heat swirling in hers making my cock hard.

  When I kiss her, there’s a faint taste of sweet tea, her drink of choice. Her lips are soft and her mouth is warm, her slight moan making me wish I could take her right here on my kitchen island.

  She pulls back slightly, smiling against my lips. “I love the taste of your nuts.”

  Oh, hell. She said that. It makes me crazy with desire to hear those words from her prim and proper mouth.

  “Do you now?” I slide my hands around her hips and squeeze her ass, eliciting a hot little squeal.

  “So good,” she murmurs against my mouth. “I want more.”

  I’m thinking of bending her over and fucking her right here when I feel her fingers on the button of my jeans, pulling it open.

  “Whoa,” I say, taking her hands and moving them to my shoulders. “I’ve got other plans for you, sexy girl.”

  Giggling, she slides her hands back down my chest. “Uh-uh. It’s my turn to taste you. I want you to sit down and just enjoy it.”

  I take her hands and put them around my neck, then wrap my arms around her waist.

  “We’ll never do anything that’s just for me,” I say, leaning my forehead against hers. “Every time we’re together, it’s either for both of us or just you.”

  “Buy why?” she asks. “You don’t like getting blow jobs?”

  “It’s not about what I don’t like. It’s about what I do like.” I kiss her earlobe, then her jaw. “And what I like is pleasing you, every time.”

  “I like pleasing you, too, though.” She runs a hand over my hair. “At least, I would if you’d let me.”

  “Outside of sex, you can make all the decisions. Whether we go out or stay in, what we get for dinner…anything. But when it comes to sex, I want to do things my way. And I promise you’ll love it.”

  Molly leans her face back a couple inches, looking into my eyes. “What’s your way?”

  “Like I said
, it’s about pleasing you. The way I did the other night.”

  “So…oral for me but not for you?”

  I grin. “I get off on fucking you. That’s all I want for myself.”

  “Would you like it if I were on top?”

  My smile fades. I was hoping to just show her what I meant, not have a serious conversation.

  “No,” I say. “I like being in control.”

  “Like you were the other night, when you held my hands.”

  “Right. And that was really fucking good for both of us, wasn’t it?”

  A smile plays on her lips, but then she frowns. “Yes. But when you say you like to be in control, what does that mean? Are you working up to tying me to the bed with a ball gag in my mouth?”

  I shrug. “I wasn’t planning on it, but if you want me to—”

  “No.” She furrows her brow. “But I don’t understand why you’re turning down a blow job. Is it because you don’t think I’ll be good at it?”

  “Not at all, Molly. I’ve always been this way.”

  Her expression is incredulous. “But you have gotten blow jobs before, right?”

  I press my lips into a thin line. “What is this? Why are you interrogating me? Are you going to tell me everything you’ve done with past partners?”

  “If you ask me questions, then yes, I’ll answer them,” she says softly. “And there’s only been one other man.”

  “Your ex?”

  She nods.

  “Look, can we not overthink this?” I ask, aggravated. “The other night, when we just let things happen, it was amazing, right?”

  “Yes.”

  I cup her face in my hands. “Then let’s keep doing that.”

  “I thought that’s what I was doing.”

  She looks uncomfortable, and I silently curse myself for being the way I am. It probably feels like I’m shutting down her advances, and that’s not what any of this is about.

  “Molly,” I say softly. “I really like you. A lot. I want us to do this right. I want sex to be about what’s comfortable for both of us, not what you feel like you’re supposed to do to reciprocate what I do for you. Can’t we just throw the rule book out the window and make our own?”