Van

by Sawyer Bennett

  Without giving two fucks who may come upon us, I'm on her. In the dimly lit parking lot, I press her into the driver's door of my SUV and kiss the fuck out of her. Her hands dive into my hair, grip tight, and she tries to yank me closer.

  My hands drop to her ass, feeling mostly skin, and I squeeze her hard as I draw her up against my erection.

  "Yes," she moans into my mouth.

  No. It should be no, no, no.

  Given my past...what I could become...

  It should be no.

  But I've got no ability to reason through the terrible consequences of my actions. I only want to feel her mouth working against mine.

  My entire body jerks when Simone drops a hand, works it between us, and palms my cock through my jeans. In turn, my fingers dive under the back of her shorts to brush against the damp crotch of her thong.

  Her hips buck and I press a single finger against the wet silk to rub her.

  Simone tears her mouth free from mine and pushes her face into my neck. "More," she groans, stroking me through the denim.

  "Christ," I mutter back. "We need to stop."

  "No," she cries out, now rotating her hips to create friction against my finger.

  "We're in a fucking parking lot, Simone," I say with exasperation, and yet my finger finds the elastic seam of her panties and inches under.

  Just a tiny touch...to see how wet she is from that kiss.

  Headlights sweep over us and a car engine cuts through the haze. Simone doesn't notice or doesn't care, but it brings me to my senses. I pull my hand out from between her legs and step back slowly from her. She looks up at me with eyes so fevered I almost say fuck the risk of getting caught and figure I could toss her into the back of my car to fuck.

  I shake my head hard, getting rid of those insane thoughts.

  Thoughts that scare the living shit out of me if I were to act on them.

  "Van," Simone whispers.

  "Just don't," I snap at her, scrubbing my hand through my hair. "This is fucking nuts. What were you thinking?"

  Heat flashes in Simone's eyes, and it's not the sensual type. "What the fuck was I thinking? What the fuck were you doing? You were just fingering me and now you're stopping?"

  "If I was fingering you, little girl," I say in a low, rumbling voice I barely recognize, "You'd know it. You'd be coming all over my finger."

  "Oh God," she almost whines in exasperation. "Why do you have to say stuff like that?"

  I feel as helpless as she sounds. And I don't know why I'm torturing either one of us with such things. I just know this is a bad fucking idea, no matter how much I want to feel her pussy wrapped around my cock.

  Taking a different tack, I let out a breath and say, "Simone...I can't do this with you."

  "Why not?" she whispers.

  Why not?

  God, if she knew the reasons why not, she'd be running from me faster than she's ever run before. But I can't tell her those things. I can't tell her because I don't want to tell her. I'll never share those things with anyone. Not even my sweet Aunt Etta, although I think she has some suspicions why I don't date.

  So without any other recourse, I come up with the best reason that I know she'll accept.

  "Because you are my teammates' sister, and I don't mess around like that," I tell her with what I hope is an adequately solemn voice. "It's sort of an unwritten rule."

  "Bullshit," she calls me out.

  "It's not," I maintain.

  "It's so bullshit," she snaps at me, but then her gaze turns calculating. "But I'd be willing to keep it a secret if you wanted."

  I close my eyes, and not for the first time in my life, I pray for some type of peace. Because having just a tiny taste of Simone and knowing I can't have more is indeed misery.

  "I'm sorry," I say as I take her by the shoulders and gently move her away from my door. I open it and climb in. She watches me with a guarded expression, but before I can pull the door closed, she calls my name.

  I hesitate and just stare at her.

  "Don't you dare tell my brothers I'm working here," she says.

  I grit my teeth, because I had planned on doing exactly that. No way would Lucas let her continue here if he knew.

  But then I realize I have leverage now. So I lean back out and look her dead in the eye. "I'll keep my mouth shut if you agree to leave me alone. No more flirting, no more come-ons. Just stop it all and you've got my word."

  She doesn't answer me right away, but finally I see her shoulders sag slightly and she nods. "Fine."

  Then she turns on her heel and saunters back across the parking lot toward the restaurant. Her hips sway provocatively, not because I think she thinks I'm watching, but because she knows the men in that restaurant will as she approaches.

  That knowledge causes my stomach to burn with fury, but I push it down.

  She's not my problem to worry about.

  Chapter 6

  Simone

  I know it only makes me a glutton for punishment, but I can't seem to stop scanning the crowd here in Hoolihan's looking for Van. I have no clue if he'll come over from the arena with the rest of the team to celebrate tonight's win. The Cold Fury took game two of the second round, up 2-0 against the Pittsburgh Titans. I drove Jules to the game tonight in my brand-new used beat-up car that Lucas helped me buy. Well, he bought it so I could have job transportation and I'm paying him back. I'm going to hand Jules off to Max when he gets here.

  "Here you go," Jules says as she approaches me with two beers.

  "Thanks," I say, making another sweep of the crowded bar. It's packed shoulder to shoulder with fans in the excited throes of play-off hockey. Many of the Cold Fury players come here after a win to celebrate with the local crowd.

  True to my word, I've left Van alone over this past week. I was so sure that night he caught me at Lulu's that he was finally going to take what I offered, and give me what I wanted. It's totally bullshit he's blaming this on my brothers, and I know it's not due to a lack of attraction, because his hard-on tells me different. Fuck if I can figure it out, but sadly, I'm going to have to give him the space he's asked for, because I cannot afford to have Max or Lucas find out where I'm working. I flat-out lied to them and told them I got a job working third shift in a customer call center over in Research Triangle Park.

  If they knew, they'd go ballistic. There is no way they'd want their baby sister flaunting her goods like that. What really sucks is that even though the tips are fairly decent, they aren't enough to let me pay my living expenses, pay Lucas for the car, and start to pay my parents back for the wasted Dartmouth education. This was something that they insisted I start with right away and I can't blame them. Only problem is, waitressing at Lulu's doesn't give me enough to do all that, so I've actually thought about stripping. It's not something I'd prefer to do, but I sure as hell will do what I need to do to start making this up to my parents. One of my coworkers at Lulu's dances just a few days a week at an upscale place here in Raleigh, and she can make upward of a thousand dollars. I have to give that some serious consideration.

  Not sure how my life got so far off track, but I think it started the day that I told my father I wanted to be a doctor like him. I think I was thirteen, and since then, it was just assumed by everyone--me included--that is what I'd be.

  But at the start of my junior year I realized it was not what I wanted. I had no passion for medicine, despite the fact I excelled in all my math and science classes. I kept telling myself I just needed to tell my parents, but then I'd put it off. Days turned into weeks, which turned into months, which turned into another year of college under my belt. I had been so driven and focused on stacking up on undergrad courses that would look good to the best med schools that I'd pigeonholed myself. Add to that, I just wasn't enjoying college, because I knew that for every course I completed, I was one step closer to entering a career I didn't want. And truthfully, I didn't want to disappoint my parents.

  So yes, it was absolutely
foolish to just drop out before the last semester of my senior year started. It was positively stupid not to tell my parents about it. I knew it was wrong, and eventually I fessed up to Lucas, who made me tell my parents and Max.

  Let's just say I'm lucky they're still speaking to me.

  It was only my promise to immediately get a job and start sending them money for the thousands and thousands of dollars they'd spent that I think I was allowed back into the fold.

  My parents are great, though. They love me unconditionally and I'm not stupid...they still hold out hope I'll go back and finish. I really wish that were true, although I just don't know what I want to major in now.

  Turning to Jules, I nudge her as she sips her beer and looks around the crowd for Max. "Let me ask you something."

  "What's that?" she asks with a smile.

  "What do you think I should do with my life?"

  Jules blinks at me a few times and then gives a tiny, helpless shrug. "I can't answer that for you, honey. You know that."

  "Yeah, I know," I say in defeat. I take a sip of my beer, let my eyes sweep the crowd again so I can torture myself by looking at Van but not touching.

  That is, if he decides to come.

  "Do you truly have no idea of what you want to do?" Jules asks, and my eyes slice back to her. I want to do Van, but that's not exactly what she's asking.

  "Jules," I say with a small amount of shame. "I have no experience in life. I've never worked anything outside of waitressing or bartending, and I went into college thinking the only thing I'd ever be was a doctor. That means I didn't bother checking out other career paths."

  "Maybe the thing to do is go back and take some courses that might interest you," Jules suggests.

  "Yeah, not sure my parents are going to be that willing to let me go back to college just to 'find myself,' " I mutter, and then take a bigger sip of beer.

  "You never know unless you ask," she says, but I barely hear those last words as I'm unable to swallow.

  Van just walked in with Lucas, Max, and Reed Olson, a right winger the Cold Fury picked up two years ago. I met him about a month back at Garrett's birthday party. That was the night I first met Stephanie, and I remember being so happy because Lucas looked deliriously happy.

  He doesn't look that way now. For a man who just helped his team win game two of the second round of the play-offs, he looks like he just lost his puppy.

  Or his pregnant girlfriend.

  I think those outside of our family wouldn't notice much different about him. But I can tell by the flat line of a mouth that's usually always smiling and the deadness in his eyes that he's hurting terribly. And while he hasn't gotten drunk like he did a week ago when I had to clean lasagna off the walls and nearly got crushed by our fridge, he's been drinking a lot. That's not like Lucas either.

  Max sees Jules and me and gives a shoulder bump to Lucas, who also looks our way. Van and Reed peel off for the bar, and that's fine by me. I'd actually rather focus on my brothers heading this way, because they're both awesome. Max is wearing a loose, casual grin, but his eyes are pinned on Jules, and I'm sure he's not thinking of the win but of his fiancee. Lucas gives me a wan smile, but there's still no spark in his eyes. It's clear he's operating on autopilot at this point.

  Max bends to brush his mouth over Jules's in quiet greeting, and I can't help but swoon a little inside. I might be all about the pure chemical attraction with Van right now, but if he ever kissed me like that, I'd probably just melt into a puddle of goo.

  "Great game, bro," I tell Lucas, and give him a soft elbow in his ribs. I get another smile, this one slightly more emotive than the last, but still no true happiness.

  There's nothing else I can say, so I just slip my arm around his waist and snuggle into his side. He has no choice but to wrap his arm around me, and I'm rewarded with a hard squeeze. It's his silent way of thanking me for my support.

  I hold my beer up and ask him, "Want a sip?"

  He shakes his head. "Van and Reed are getting us some beers."

  I tamp down the slight tingle at just hearing Van's name. Not going there. Can't go there. It's more important to keep my brother's peace of mind than to pursue Van at this time.

  "Well, here," I say as I push my pint glass into his hand and pull away from him. "You finish mine. I'm going to head home anyway."

  "Why are you going home?" Max says, and that tells me he was keenly listening in and not just playing kissy face with Jules.

  "I'm beat," I tell him truthfully. The late-night hours at Lulu's have been kicking my butt. I took tonight off to go to the game, but the thought of actually going to bed before midnight is appealing to me, very much.

  Besides, I've decided I'd like to escape before Van joins us. It's just easier that way.

  "How's your job going?" Max asks. I haven't been big on the details, and I most certainly didn't tell them the name of where I worked. I've been able to get away with just a vague reference to a call center job that I was able to snag, but I was looking for something better. This seemed to have satisfied both of my brothers.

  "It's fine," I say with a shrug, then I redirect. "But I'm applying to some day jobs. Third shift really sucks."

  That definitely works. Max and Jules both smile at me, and Lucas doesn't, but that's okay. He's already checked out.

  "That would be awesome," Jules says to me. "I remember the days of working those late hours and it was so hard."

  "Well, you were raising three kids," Max remarks, not to denigrate me, but to just remind Jules that she had far more than just "hard" work going on in her life.

  Laughing, I lean over and give Jules a hug. "Yes. I have no right to complain about anything. You are a true role model."

  She blushes over my compliment and I stand on tiptoes to kiss Max's cheek. "Great game. Proud of you."

  "Love you, twerp," Max says.

  I place my hand on Lucas's chest and just give him a soft pat. He responds with a quiet, "Catch ya later."

  Hitching my purse up over my shoulder, I start making my way to the bathroom so I can pee before I head out. There's actually a line coming out of the women's bathroom, but not the men's. I think that's because there are actually more women here tonight than men. This isn't a broad statement about women maybe wanting to hook up with some of the players, because I know there are plenty who want that, but I've just found over the years that hockey draws some seriously fanatical female fans, which is awesome.

  I decide to ditch the bathroom. I'll probably make it home before I can pee here. As I turn to head for the door, I run into a solid wall of muscle and freshly showered man.

  Lifting my head back, I see Reed standing there, holding his pint glass a little out from him as it sloshes to the rim.

  He grins widely and teases, "Watch it there, little Fournier. There is no bulldozing over hockey players today."

  I grin back. "Sorry. Wasn't watching where I was going. You played amazing tonight, Reed."

  "Thanks," he says affably. "Can I buy you a celebratory beer?"

  "Awww, that's sweet, but I'm actually headed out."

  To my surprise, I see genuine disappointment in Reed's eyes. "Well that sucks. I've been hoping to hang out with the prettiest Cold Fury fan for a while."

  My body jolts a little in surprise. When I'd met Reed four weeks ago, we spoke for maybe five minutes and I haven't seen him since. I hadn't gotten any vibe off him, but yeah...he's actually being genuine here.

  Before I can even think of what to say, he continues. "But I totally understand. Maybe after the play-offs are over I could entice you out to a nice dinner?"

  And God, that's so sweet.

  And tempting. Especially given my utterly complete failure in snagging the actual man I do want.

  Reed is a yes in all ways but one. Gorgeous and sweet. Genuinely a good guy by all appearances. An awesome hockey player and a Cold Fury to boot.

  But he's not Van.

  Before I can even open my mouth to po
litely decline, though, I'm completely stunned when Van appears at my side and takes my elbow.

  "I need to talk to you," he says, and then to my complete astonishment he looks back to Reed. "She's not interested by the way."

  Reed's lips curl up in amusement. "And you know this how?"

  "Because I room with her brother," Van says blandly. "And let me rephrase...he wouldn't want you to be interested in his sister."

  Reed chuckles but nods in acknowledgment. "I get it. And Lucas has enough shit on his plate to worry about."

  I give an audible sigh of appreciation of Reed's genuine care for my brother. His eyes come down to mine and he winks. "Maybe we'll talk after the play-offs."

  I'm not one to genuinely lead men on, but I can't pass up the opportunity to dig the knife into Van's back a little.

  Giving Reed a flirty smile I tell him, "Yeah...let's plan on doing that."

  I swear I can feel the rumble of a growl flowing from Van's body, down through his arm, into his hand locked on to my elbow and into me. He tugs me away from Reed and I offer a tiny wave goodbye.

  Van pulls me only a few feet, then releases his hold on me. My first instinct is to use the opportunity to flirt, perhaps joke about the way he pulled me away from a teammate in that fabulous display of jealousy. But I keep to my word and just tilt my head at him in question.

  "I'm worried about your brother," Van says in a low voice, and well...damn. The concern in his voice--from a man who seems to avoid personal relationships--causes my insides to melt. That's as swoony to me as the way Max just kissed Jules.

  "I am too," I admit.

  "He's drinking way too much," Van continues. "I think you should talk to him."

  "I have," I say glumly. "After the infamous lasagna incident. He assured me he was fine."

  "And you accept that?" Van asks a little aggressively.

  "Do I look like the type of woman who would accept the first words out of a man's mouth?" I retort, giving a little jab of a reminder that I'm not so easily persuaded about some things.

  "Fair point," he mutters. "What are you going to do?"

  "Keep an eye on him," I say with worry as I look past Van's shoulder to where Lucas is standing quietly with a group of teammates, a liquor drink in his hand.

  "Were you leaving?" he asks, and my eyes come back to him.

  "Yeah. Was going to take advantage of an early night to bed, but I'll stay with him. That's more important."