Covered By A Kiss

by Lisa B. Kamps

  TR rarely abides by the rules, not when there's something she needs—and right now, she needs Mac. She enlists his help for one night, thinking she can simply walk away when it's over. But that one night is just the beginning, thrusting both of them into a dangerous web of scandal and cover-up with roots that run deeper than either of them expects.

  When TR becomes an unwitting pawn in a game of deception and revenge, Mac will do anything to protect her—even if it means risking his own heart.

  Turn the page for a sneak peek of THE PROTECTOR: MAC, the launch title in this explosive new series releasing February 27 and now available for pre-order!

  The kiss caught her by surprise. Soft, hesitant at first. Learning. Tasting. Teasing. But it wasn't enough. It could never be enough.

  She pressed herself closer, a whisper of need escaping her. He cupped her face between his rough palms and deepened the kiss. Drinking her in. Unleashing fires of need kept banked for too long.

  Scorching. Cleansing. Deep and intense. God, so intense. All she wanted to do was crawl on top of Mac, crawl inside him, be consumed by him, the crowd be damned. He was everything she wanted—needed. Hot. Hard.

  And his mouth. God, his mouth. So deceptively soft. Gentle. And hot. So hot—

  Cold.

  So painfully cold, a hundred thousand needles pricking her skin. Under her skin, down to bone and marrow. Shredding. Tearing. Ripping.

  Consciousness returned slowly. Disoriented, sluggish, confused. Something was wrong, she shouldn't be this cold. Where was Mac? He was gone, his heat replaced by the shocking iciness surrounding her. She needed him, needed his heat—

  Water pooled around her feet, her legs, her hips. She was entrenched in a dreamlike state. There was no sound other than the oddly hollow gurgle of water as it washed around her. No illumination other than the pale ghostly hue of the dashboard lights wavering through the watery darkness surrounding her. And cold, so bitterly cold. Freezing. Numbing.

  She watched, detached, as her hands floated near the deflated bag hanging from the steering wheel. Struggled to make sense of everything, knowing something was wrong.

  Something—

  Full consciousness returned and with it, fear. Raw, consuming. Terrifying. Panic ripped through her as she struggled with the seatbelt, her numb fingers useless. The water was higher now, to her chest, coming in faster as the car descended deeper into murky blackness.

  She needed to get out. Now. But she was trapped by the seatbelt, couldn't get it to release. Couldn't open the door—

  Oh God, no.

  No!

  The sound of her harsh breathing echoed around her, sharp and terrified. Shallow. Fast. Too fast, she was hyperventilating, on the verge of passing out.

  On the verge of drowning.

  The water climbed even higher. Past her chest. Her shoulders. Biting cold, sapping what little strength she had, increasing the panic and desperation clawing at her. She struggled with the seatbelt, fought to control her breathing, fought to get free—

  But it was too late.

  One breath. One more, dark water rushing over her face, into her mouth, her nose.

  Too late—

  Mac—

  GAME MISCONDUCT

  The Baltimore Banners Book 11

  Corbin Gauthier never expected to play with the Baltimore Banners again, not when he’d been traded away in the league expansion eight years ago. Yet here he was, three teams and a lifetime later, back where he started as the hockey team’s goalie. And back to the one woman he’s never been able to forget—the one woman who is completely off-limits.

  Lori Evans isn’t the same young girl she’d been all those years ago when she first met the shy goalie. She’s older now, more mature and confident, with her feet planted firmly on the ground. Or so she thinks until Corbin shows back up. He’s not the same young man she’s dreamt of all these years: a little harder, more jaded, more cynical…and more tempting than ever. And he’s just as off-limits as before, maybe even more since her uncle is now the head coach for the Baltimore Banners.

  At least, he’s supposed to be off-limits. Lori has other ideas—and she knows exactly what she wants and isn’t afraid to go after it. All she has to do is convince the straight-laced goalie that some things are worth drawing a penalty for—even if it means risking a chance of getting ejected from the biggest game of all.

  Turn the page for a preview of GAME MISCONDUCT, the newest title in the bestselling Baltimore Banners series, now available.

  The memory hit him from out of nowhere, the pain as sharp and biting as taking a puck to the throat. He struggled to draw breath, raised his hand and clawed at the flesh of his neck as a dozen fragmented curses fell from his lips.

  The woman standing several feet away blinked then slowly, carefully, raised her sculpted brows. In amusement? In silent question? He didn't know, didn't care, not when he was in danger of passing out from lack of oxygen.

  Lori Evans. Was he imagining her? Was she nothing more than a hazy vision brought about from the sudden memory? No, it was her, the same girl he remembered from all those years ago.

  The same, yet different. Not a girl—a woman. Her hair was a little longer now, the deep shades of honey blonde accented with lighter streaks that framed her smooth face. Her curves were a little fuller, a little softer where there had been dangerously lean muscle before. Gone were the scuffed leather boots he had always teased her about, replaced with shiny black heels that made her look taller than he remembered. Her mouth was the same, soft and full, the color a little darker thanks to the lipstick she wore. And her eyes...

  She'd always had beautiful eyes, an unusual shade of amber that saw everything but could hide nothing. All emotion, all thought, had always been reflected in those deep eyes framed in sinfully long lashes. Those amber eyes watched him now—but he could no longer tell what she was thinking. Had she finally learned to hide her thoughts? Or was it simply because he hadn't seen her in so long? Because he no longer knew her?

  Just as she no longer knew him.

  He'd been dreading this moment for the last several weeks, ever since he'd been traded back to the Banners. Dreading it...yet anticipating it at the same time. What kind of masochist did that make him? What did that say about his character, about the man he'd become?

  Familiar amber eyes slowly raked him, from the top of his head down to the tips of his expensive black shoes, then back up again. Her gaze finally met his and he thought he saw a flash of regret in their depths. A flash of pain and betrayal. But then she blinked and the emotion was gone, maybe it had never been there, maybe it was nothing more than his imagination or his guilty conscience—

  He finally sucked air into his starving lungs, a strangled grunt of relief falling from his lips in the process. Heat filled his face and he wanted to look away, wanted to turn around and dive headfirst into the elevator that would take him back upstairs.

  But the doors were already closing behind him, the quiet hiss echoing off the concrete of the floor and ceiling of the parking garage. He cursed again, in French, then bit his tongue as her brows shot up once more.

  Had she understood him? No, she couldn't have. He'd always had to translate for her, and even then—even knowing she didn't understand—he'd always been careful not to swear around her.

  But that was eight years ago. A lot of things happened in eight years. A lot of things changed. People changed. Just because she hadn't understood the words and phrases back then didn't mean she didn't understand them now.

  An apology hovered on the tip of his tongue, quickly dying as she moved toward him. Her eyes never left his as one hand reached out, reaching for him—

  No, not him. The elevator. Her finger pressed the button then her arm dropped to her side as she took a step back. Still close enough that he could smell the faintest hint of her perfume, something light that reminded him of fresh air and bright sun. Close enough that he could feel the heat of her body through the tailored pantsuit she wor
e.

  Corbin swallowed, his gaze dropping to the fit of the jacket and the way it accented her rounded chest and trim waist. More heat filled his face when he noticed her necklace, a simple silver chain with a four-leaf clover pendant resting oh-so-temptingly in the hint of cleavage peeking out from the bright blue blouse.

  Corbin yanked his gaze away and swallowed again, tried to work up enough spit to loosen his tongue from the roof of his mouth. He needed to do something, say something, anything—

  The elevator doors hissed open behind him. Lori hesitated, one sculpted brow darting up just a fraction of an inch as she watched him. Disappointment flared in her eyes and she shook her head, stepping around him to enter the elevator.

  He should let her go. He hadn't wanted to see her, he wasn't ready, not yet. He'd been doing his best to make sure he didn't run into her—which should have been easy enough, considering she worked in one of the many offices in the building that housed the Banners' practice rink. How many people worked in that building? Sixty? A hundred? Maybe more, he didn't know. And he never saw any of them, none of the players did.

  And he had never expected to run into her here, at the arena after a game.

  In the parking garage of the arena.

  If he was smart, he'd let her go. Let her walk away, the same way he'd done that humid morning eight years ago on the sidewalk of his old condo.

  The doors started their silent slide closed. Another second, maybe two, and she'd be gone, back on her way upstairs to the arena. Gone, just like that morning—

  He spun around and grabbed the door with his hand, pushed it back open with a flick of his wrist then stepped into the elevator. Lori's eyes widened for a fraction of a second then quickly narrowed as she watched him.

  "Forget something?"

  "I—" He swallowed, heat filling his face once more under her narrowed gaze. He cleared his throat and looked away, shaking his head. "No."

  She didn't say anything for a few long seconds that felt like a lifetime. Was that a small chuckle he heard? He wasn't sure, was afraid to face her to find out, afraid that maybe she was laughing at him. He waited for her to push one of the buttons but she didn't. The doors closed...but the elevator didn't move.

  Silence wrapped around them, suffocating him in the small space. His lungs seized again, threatening to stop working altogether as the space grew even smaller. Was he suddenly claustrophobic? Small spaces had never bothered him before, so why now?

  Because he'd never been trapped with Lori before.

  Trapped? No, he wasn't trapped—he'd followed her on here of his own free will. But why? What did he hope to accomplish? They hadn't seen each other for eight years, hadn't even talked in all that time. Yes, there had been a few brief calls when he first moved to Vegas, but they were awkward, strained, filling him with remorse until he simply stopped answering.

  Coward.

  A fitting word, describing what he'd done. How he'd acted. It was easier to let the friendship die, easier to let his heart shrivel up instead of maintaining long-distance communication when he knew nothing would ever come of it.

  When he knew nothing would ever come of them. There was no them—there could never be a them. Not all those years ago.

  And not now, not after the things he'd done. Not after how he had treated her. He was a different man now—and not one the woman beside him would want to know.

  "How's your leg?"

  Her quiet question caught him off-guard, pulled him from the suffocating grip of a hundred different regrets. He darted a quick look at her, then glanced down at his leg. "My leg? It's fine. Why—"

  "Must have been a quick recovery then." One corner of her mouth quirked in a quick smile before she schooled her face into a carefully blank mask.

  Corbin frowned then shook his head. "Recovery? I wasn't hurt—"

  He snapped his mouth closed with an audible click, remembering too late. How could he forget? The game had ended less than sixty minutes ago—the game where he had feigned an injury to his leg so their unusual EBUG—emergency back-up goalie—could play. The ruse had worked—even if Coach Donovan had given him a look that clearly said he wasn't buying the act for a second.

  It didn't matter because Shannon Wiley—the goalie for the Chesapeake Blades—had been put in during the third period. She had stopped all nine shots that Pittsburgh had sent her way while the Banners added two more to the scoreboard, winning the game four-to-one. But he couldn't admit what he'd done to anyone, especially not to the woman standing so close next to him.

  He forced a grimace and reached down to rub his left thigh. "I'll be fine. Just a minor pull—"

  "It was your other leg." She didn't hide her smile this time as she pointed to his right leg. "Nice try, though. And I'm impressed. By what you did, I mean."

  Corbin straightened with a sigh, his gaze not quite meeting hers. "I did nothing. It was just a pull, eh? Nothing more—"

  "We both know you're lying so don't deny it. What you did—" She tilted her head to the side, her thick hair falling over her shoulder with the movement. "That was really sweet of you. Honorable."

  Corbin stiffened, her words slicing through him and leaving him chilled. He looked away, each word clipped when he spoke. "There is nothing sweet or honorable about me."

  To his surprise, she laughed. Not a full laugh, just a whisper of a chuckle, but her amusement was clear. "Believing your own bad press, I see."

  His head snapped to the side, his brows lowered in a frown as he stared at her. Why did a smile play around the corners of her mouth? Why did the same amusement he heard in her voice dance in the depths of those beautiful amber eyes? He shook his head, ready to deny whatever she thought she knew, ready to tell her she needed to look closer.

  He wasn't the same man he'd been all those years ago. Not man—boy. Twenty-two, yes, but still a boy. Filled with hopes and dreams. Still too innocent. Still wanting to believe—

  He shook his head again and reached for the control panel to his left. His finger jammed a button near the bottom. Once, twice, the air growing thicker, suffocating him until the door finally eased open. He shoved his hand through the small space and pushed against the metal panel, forcing it to open faster until he finally stumbled out. Dank air, tinged with the mingled odors of must and gasoline, filled his lungs. He pulled in a deep breath and held it, then quickly turned to face Lori.

  Corbin ignored the surprise on her face, ignored the flash of emotion in her eyes as she stared at him, her full lips slightly parted. He shook his head a final time, the movement sharp, adamant, filled with denial. "There's nothing sweet about me, ma cocotte. You'd do well to remember that. I'm not the same person I was all those years ago."

  He spun on his heel, barely resisting the urge to run, to escape, to never look back. Her muted gasp stopped him and he turned around just as the elevator doors started sliding closed, their soft hiss nearly drowning out her words.

  "Neither am I."

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Lisa B. Kamps is a USA Today Bestselling Author who loves cheering loudly for her favorite hockey team, the Washington Capitals. She came about the fandom honestly as she lives in Maryland with her husband and two sons (who are mostly sorta-kinda out of the house), one very spoiled Border Collie, two cats with major attitude, several head of cattle, and entirely too many chickens to count.

  While Lisa writes a lot of hockey - one such series, The Baltimore Banners, features "…hard-hitting, heart-melting hockey players…" [USA Today], on and off the ice - she also delves deep *ahem* into the heat with a series of hot and heroic firefighters who put more than their lives on the line in the Firehouse Fourteen series. She's recently introduced a whole new team of hot hockey players who play hard and love even harder in her Banners' spin-off series, The York Bombers. The Chesapeake Blades--a romance series featuring women's hockey--also recently launched with WINNING HARD. Her newest series, Cover Six Security, will launch in early 2019.

  Interested in
reaching out to Lisa? She'd love to hear from you:

  Website: www.LisaBKamps.com

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  Email: LisaBKamps@gmail.com

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  Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/LBKamps

  Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/lbkamps/

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  Amazon Author Page: http://www.amazon.com/author/lisabkamps

  Other titles by this author:

  COVER SIX SECURITY

  Covered By A Kiss, A CSS Novella, Book 0

  The Protector: MAC, Book 1

  The Guardian: DARYL, Book 2

  The Defender: RYDER, Book 3

  THE BALTIMORE BANNERS

  Crossing the Line, Book 1

  Game Over, Book 2

  Blue Ribbon Summer, Book 3

  Body Check, Book 4

  Break Away, Book 5

  Playmaker, A Baltimore Banners Intermission Novella

  Delay of Game, Book 6

  Shoot Out, Book 7

  The Baltimore Banners: 1st Period Trilogy

  Books 1-3 Boxed set

  The Baltimore Banners: 2nd Period Trilogy

  Books 4-6 Boxed set

  On Thin Ice, Book 8

  Coach's Challenge, A Baltimore Banners Intermission Novella

  One-Timer, Book 9

  Face Off, Book 10

  First Shot At Love, A Baltimore Banners Short Story