HOT ICE: Complete Sporting Romance Series

by Lily Harlem

  I swallowed. We’d both been wrong, I could see that now. I’d hurt him, too.

  I was softening because when I was with Logan I was happy. It was as if my soul was complete, when I wasn’t with Logan I was miserable, I could barely function. I missed his kisses and caresses, but I also missed his smell, his taste and the way he tried so hard not to curse when I was within earshot. I missed the way his gaze followed me as I walked around a room and the sound of hockey on the TV. I missed knowing he was there if I stood on another anemone and needed carrying home.

  “Brooke.” He reached forward and with the crook of his index finger tilted my chin. His gaze bored into mine and his eyebrows lowered. “I love you so much, more than anyone else could every love you,” he said quietly. “Please, give us another chance to get it right.”

  A sob erupted from my chest and gurgled up to my throat. I stood and leaned over the table. I reached out and my heart swelled as he came toward me and we met over the table. The peak of his cap bumped my head, our lips meshed and I clung to his shoulders as though I was clinging to life itself.

  He threaded his fingers into my hair and dipped his tongue into my mouth. His stubbled chin scratched my flesh and his hot, malty taste took me back to the villa. “I love you too,” I managed against his mouth.

  He responded with a kiss so passionate I thought he might pull me over the table and strip me naked right there and then.

  “Brooke, what the hell do you think I’m paying you good dollars for?” Max’s voice suddenly boomed in my ear.

  Our kiss broke.

  I turned to Max, who was beet faced and hopping on the spot next to our table.

  “While you’re making out with lover boy here there’s tables to serve,” Max bellowed at me. “A stack of drinks to be poured and the kitchen needs…” His gaze swung from me to Logan. His mouth stilled then hung open like a goldfish. “Oh…I…er, Mr. Phoenix.” His eyes widened and his body froze, except for his hands, which wrung around the cloth he was holding faster than a spin dryer.

  Logan curled his fingers with mine and stepped out of the booth, tugging me with him. I was aware of the din of the restaurant softening as people turned to look at us, their attention caught at first by Max’s outburst and now by the famous hockey player standing in their midst.

  “I’m sorry, Mister…?” Logan asked, holding out his hand.

  Max tipped his neck back. “Mr. Crowther. Max Crowther. Proprietor of The Grill.” He took Logan’s hand.

  “Pleased to meet you, sir,” Logan said, shaking his hand. “Great place.”

  Max stared up at him. “Thanks, thanks a lot. Have you eaten yet? You want our special? On the house, of course, gotta keep your strength up for the big game Saturday.”

  “Very kind of you,” Logan said. “Another time perhaps. I’ve already got what I came for today.” He looked down at me. “Brooke is going to be taking some time off.”

  “But she’s one of my best waitresses,” Max said, visibly shocked. “Reliable, considerate…”

  “Exactly, which is why she’s wasted serving up burgers and beers.” Logan took off his Vipers cap and dropped it onto Max’s head. Then he stooped, tucked one hand behind my knees, the other around my waist and swung me into his arms the way he had on the beach.

  “Logan,” I gasped, curling my arms around his neck. “I can’t just leave.”

  “Sure you can.”

  “But…” My gaze swung around the full tables and the wide eyes directed at us.

  “You can manage just fine, can’t you, Mr. Crowther?” Logan asked, looking down at Max.

  “Er…well.” Max touched the cap on his head as though it was treasure.

  “Can’t you?” Logan said, quieter but with a distinct tone of menace.

  “Absolutely, whatever you say, Phoenix. We can manage just fine.” Max grinned and he bobbed his head so much his jowls wobbled like a bulldog’s. “Off you go, Brooke, see you soon.”

  Logan pressed a quick kiss to my lips then strode toward the door.

  “Just make sure you hit the back of the net again this week,” Max shouted after us.

  “I will, now that my aura’s gonna be well and truly cleansed,” Logan said quietly.

  I giggled, burying my head into his neck and pulling in the divine scent of his skin. Shirley opened the door and as we passed through it the whole place erupted into a riot of applause.

  Logan paced across the lot toward a huge, shiny black truck with tinted windows. He tugged open the passenger door and slid me in. Within a minute of leaving the restaurant he’d fired the engine, shoved it into drive and we were pulling onto the highway.

  I looked across at his profile as the air-conditioning blew to life. He had a white-knuckle death grip on the steering wheel, his mouth was set hard and tight and he was staring straight ahead, barely blinking.

  “Logan, what’s the matter?” I asked.

  “This time of day it’s forty minutes to my place,” he said, squinting and gritting his teeth.

  “That’s okay,” I said, loosening my seat belt and moving along the bench so I was pressed against his side.

  “No, it’s not.” I spotted the little muscle in his jaw flexing at supersonic speed.

  “Why, what’s the matter?” I leaned against him and absorbed his heat, stroked the dark hairs on his thick forearm.

  “Because.” He shifted on the seat. “All I can think about is getting you naked, getting inside you, holding you, kissing you, never letting you go again, and driving is not enough of a distraction, not by a long shot.”

  I glanced down at the impressive bulge in his jeans. “Mmm,” I said. “Want me to help you out with that dilemma?” I licked my lips.

  “Not a good an idea on the interstate,” he said in a strained voice as he stared at my mouth as if he actually wanted to eat it.

  I reached for the bottom of his t-shirt and lifted it to expose his fly buttons. “So pull off somewhere if you can’t wait.” I touched his belly and the muscles tensed. I tickled from his navel to his waistband and popped the top button as I nuzzled into his neck and kissed and licked his warm skin. He tasted divine, like cinnamon sticks floating in mulled wine, toffee at a bonfire.

  He let out a groan and stared at the road.

  I undid the next button and let the back of my hand brush his steely erection through the denim.

  “Ah, shit,” he said then looked at me. “Sorry.”

  The next thing I knew, the truck took a hard right off the interstate. I clung to his biceps to stop from sliding down the long bench seat.

  “Where are we going?” I glanced out of the window at a quiet back lane. I could just make out a sparkling stretch of water in the distance.

  “Detour.”

  “A good detour?” I resumed undoing his fly.

  “Hell yeah.”

  I wriggled down the bench, dropped my head into his lap and freed his cock into my palm. It jutted forward from his tangle of dark pubic hair and I wrapped my fist around the thick circumference and gave a firm squeeze.

  He snatched in a breath and his thighs tensed to marble. “Be careful with that, sweetie, it’s had a few weeks just thinking about you, could go off anytime.”

  “Perfect,” I muttered. My mouth was watering, saliva had pooled in my cheeks, waiting to lubricate his shaft. I stretched open my jaw and in one deep mouthful took him to the back of my throat.

  “Ah, yes,” he hissed above me.

  The truck motored on. When we went over a bump, he thrust his hips upward and the head of his cock butted even harder against my throat. Greedily, I sucked in his flavor, musky and spiced with a hint of salt. He tasted so good, even better than I remembered. I slid back up, swirled my tongue around the ridge of the head and grasped his shaft in my fist once again. I dipped into his slit and delighted in the creamy drop I was able to capture on the tip of my tongue.

  “Shit, I can’t drive while you’re doing this to me,” he grunted.

&nb
sp; I heard the crunch of gravel and my body pressed against the back of the seat as the truck skidded to a halt.

  The next thing I knew, my seat belt was off and I was on my back. Logan loomed over me.

  “What the hell,” he said. “There’s no one else in this old parking lot and I’ve got tinted windows.” He kissed me, hard and desperate. His hands were everywhere, as if he didn’t know which bit of me to touch first. He ripped at my blouse, sending buttons pinging around the dash. Dragged at the cotton and buried his face in my cleavage, dipping his fingers into the lace edge of my bra. “I’ve missed being here,” he muttered, pulling my nipple into his mouth through the thin silk of my bra cup.

  I ran my hands through his tousled hair and arched into his suckling, shifting my thighs so he could settle between them. I let out a groan as his hard cock jutted at my mound through my clothes.

  He roamed his hands down my thighs then yanked up my skirt, lifting his weight for a second to push it right up around my belly in a ruck of material. I heard ripping, and without looking knew another pair of panties had met their final day.

  “You’re gonna have to start replacing my underwear,” I said breathlessly.

  “It’s not worth wearing when I’m around,” he growled. He reached for the glove box, dropped it open and pulled out a plus-sized box of condoms.

  “You were feeling lucky,” I said as he flipped the lid and pulled one out.

  He looked down at me with heavy-lidded eyes. “I hoped I’d get lucky. But for a moment back there I thought I’d blown it.” His lips hovered over mine. “I thought I’d never have this with you again and that thought was just too damn painful to imagine.”

  He sat and rolled the condom down his shaft. My heart was bursting with love and my soul ached to be joined with his. He positioned his erection at my entrance and I squirmed impatiently, desperate for the action to start.

  He dropped over me and our mouths devoured one another as his hips curled under. He penetrated me until his balls were riding up against my butt cheeks.

  I moaned into his mouth as he moaned into mine. The sound was abandoned, wild and extended. Even though he was as high as he could go he kept on rocking his pelvis into me, rubbing over my clit.

  “Logan, oh, Logan,” I cried as he tore his lips from mine and kissed my eyelids, my cheeks, a sensitive spot below my left ear. I managed to get my legs around his waist within the confines of the truck and arched toward him as he rocked up against me harder and faster. “I’ve missed you so much. You feel so good,” I panted, feeling the first tug of orgasm. What he was doing with his hips was wicked, unfair. I had no chance of waiting for him.

  “So do you, sweetie. So hot, so wet and so damn soft,” he whispered into my ear. “I want to stay here forever, it’s where I belong.”

  “Yes, yes,” I said. As I exploded into a swirling mass of ecstasy Logan erupted too. His cock went so hard and rammed so high I felt beyond full. My internal muscles contracted wildly around him, squeezing and spasming, pulsing and throbbing.

  He continued with his powerful rocking, eking out our pleasure. Feelings so much more than physical washed through me. Yang had found yin, karmic balance had been restored, and our auras had been well and truly cleansed. Logan “Phoenix” Taylor was everything I needed in my life and then so much more. Thank goodness destiny had hired me for the job of loving him.

  THE END

  Cross-Checked

  Hot Ice #2

  By Lily Harlem

  CROSS-CHECKED. Back Cover Information

  When a sexy, bad-boy hockey player sets his sights on you, it’s gonna get real good!

  Okay, I’ll admit it, I have a crazy, lust-infused crush. Brick, the sexy right-winger of the Orlando Vipers, is the star of all my erotic fantasies. Just a glimpse of him has me panting. So when the chance to actually work with this hot hockey player comes along, of course I say yes!

  Being a world-class athlete myself, I have a strategic plan to have him all tied up with lust and desperate for me, too. The thing is, plans never go smoothly. Especially when my heart pedals right into the vulnerable game of love again—completely unprotected.

  Luckily this sinfully delicious superstar is just as hooked on me—phone sex, bondage, anal sex and rude piercings abound. Despite my tactical errors, Brick catches me when I fall, holds me when I cry and pleases me when I need it most. He’s hard on the outside, soft on the inside, and plays one hell of determined game when it comes to finding the ultimate satisfaction.

  CROSS-CHECKED. Chapter One

  I’d admired him from afar for over two years now. Ever since he’d been taken on as right-winger for the Orlando Vipers, I’d been having decidedly dirty thoughts about his delectable body. Okay, so maybe I was a little star struck, but there was just something about him that captured not just my fancy but also my fantasies. Tall, broad and handsome, with the look of the devil in his eye, he was trouble on the ice and sexy as hell off it and I, for one, wanted a piece of the action.

  Maybe my crush had something to do with the fact that it had been a while since I’d hooked up with a guy. But it was time for that to change and if it was going to be anyone, I sincerely hoped it would be Brick. I reckoned he was just what my poor neglected body and my recently repaired heart could do with.

  But today, seeing him in real life rather than on TV or the glossy pages of a magazine, was enough to crack even my calm, cool exterior. Strange things had happened to my usually perfectly controlled body. My stomach fluttered as though filled with butterflies, a delicious heat pooled in my pelvis and my nipples strained against my tight Lycra top.

  I tried to concentrate on the photographer’s instructions. But it was near impossible with every nerve in my body homed in on the hot hockey player several steps to my right.

  “Move closer,” the photographer snapped at the group. “Move closer. You with the oars, shuffle one in front of the other. We need you tighter, people, so much tighter. If you all want to be in the shot, squeeze up and look friendly.”

  There was much shuffling of feet and apologizing as shoulders jostled. A balding swimmer dressed in a Speedo pressed in behind me. He’d clearly eased up on his training, and heat from his generous belly radiated on to the hollow of my back. I suppressed a shudder and glanced to my right. The need to study the object of my desire was as strong as two opposing magnets being drawn together. I simply couldn’t help myself.

  From beneath his hockey helmet, Brick’s piercing green eyes sparkled my way. My breath hitched and my heart thumped but I refused to let it show. Instead I caught his gaze and calmly held it.

  The right side of his mouth curled in a dirty, bad-boy grin and I tipped my eyebrows just a fraction in reply. I wanted to show interest but not seem overeager. If I’d caught his eye, which it seemed I had, then I wasn’t going to be an easy conquest for the infamous Brick. That would get me nothing but a one-night stand and I refused to be just another rink-bunny notch on his no doubt filled bedpost.

  I wanted to be more than that.

  So much more.

  “People, people, concentrate, please.” The photographer mopped at his brow with a red-dotted handkerchief as he ducked to his lens. “No, no, no. This isn’t going to work at all.” He flapped his arms in despair. “This is dull, boring. Who wants to look at a bunch of people just hanging around? We need something more.” He paused, then his whole face lit up. “You’ll have to go up if you can’t go out.” He raised his hands in the air. “Gymnast,” he barked. “Stand on, on, what’s his name, the runner, stand on his shoulders and pose.”

  The waiflike gymnast, shivering in her red-white-and-blue-starred leotard, nodded then shimmied up the tall, thin Olympic runner at her side as if she were a mountain goat. She stretched her arms to the roof, lifted one leg into the air and pointed her toes. The runner gripped her ankle and grinned.

  “Excellent, excellent.” The photographer beamed. “And you, you with the…” He pointed straight at my chest an
d for one horrifying moment I thought he was going to identify me by my protruding nipples. “You with the long black hair and the, er…tight black outfit,” he said, fluttering his hand in my direction. “You’re light, you can go upward, too.” His gaze swung around the assortment of athletes as he gnawed on his bottom lip with his teeth. “Viper players, yes, perfect, lift her up, sideways, above your heads, like she’s lying down but way up high.”

  My eyes widened and my mouth dropped open. Get lifted up by three giants—was he crazy? I could do most things but I hated heights. I hated heights the way most people hated the idea of burning in Hell. Heat I could take.

  “Come on, come on, we haven’t got all day.” He snapped his fingers and the sound echoed around the studio.

  The two rowers and the swimmer stepped away and the bright overhead lights disappeared as three enormous shadows engulfed me. I looked up, my heart beating wildly and my knees dissolving. Three big hockey players, easily the hugest objects in the room, loomed over me. With their red-and-white jerseys and their enormous shoulder pads, they were intimidating and gorgeous all at the same time.

  Ramrod, captain of the Orlando Vipers, grinned down at me. “Don’t look so worried,” he said with a quick wink. “We won’t drop you.”

  “As long as you don’t wriggle,” Brick added.

  Oh my God. His deep, drawling voice was even sexier in real life than on TV.

  “’Cause if you got plans on wriggling, then you should seriously consider being worried.” His gaze fell to my nipples straining even harder against my top. “’Cause then we’ll have to hold you real tight so you can’t get away.” He poked out his tongue and swept it across his bottom lip.