by Lily Harlem
“I think so. I just need to confirm it.” My train tickets were booked and so was my hotel room. My bag was half packed and there was a big red circle marking the day on my calendar.
He set down his knife and fork and reached for his napkin. He wiped the corners of his mouth then leaned toward me. “I hope you do,” he said quietly, his gaze capturing mine. “Because if all goes as planned, we’ll be well past our first date by then.”
The lust in his eyes hit me like a cannonball. I thought I was in control but suddenly I had doubts as to whether I’d be able to keep him harnessed. Whether I’d be able to keep my own carnal desires harnessed. I took another mouthful of wine. I was getting hot—hot and flustered.
“How did you like the recording studio?” I asked to change the subject. We’d all gone in individually, all eighteen of us Florida athletes, to record our parts of the Promises and Dreams song. No one had actually met until the morning for the promotional photo, unless of course they were already teammates or friends.
Brick groaned. “I’m no singer,” he said. “That much is obvious by the fact they’ve only given me one solo line in the whole song.”
“I only have two,” I said with a smile.
“Yeah, but you sound sweet. I sound like a troll who’s been kicked in the nuts.”
I laughed. I’d heard his solo and a troll kicked in the nuts wasn’t a bad description. I guess he couldn’t be completely perfect, so if I had to take something I’d happily settle for a bad singing voice.
He laughed, too. “So I’d better not give up the day job for a career on Broadway then, eh?”
“I think the day job is suiting you very well.”
“Yeah, it is a dream career,” he said with a smile. “And pretty lucrative.”
He placed down his cutlery and his face fell serious. “I’ve been poor and now I’m rich. But it’s doing a job I love and having good people around me that makes me happy. Not cash. Not stuff. Sure, money takes away worries, but I’d rather be poor and have something I feel passionate about and people to love than be rich and alone with nothing to make me feel alive.”
I set down my own knife and fork. The need to touch him was overpowering as a sudden feeling of tenderness washed over me. Sure, he was big, tough, gorgeous and the stuff of all my erotic fantasies, but I now realized he was also a gentle soul who needed and wanted the same things everyone did. Love, passion, companionship, a reason to get out of bed in the morning. I reached forward and placed my hand over his. My fingers were so small in comparison to his big knuckles and wide bones. “I’ve never been poor and I’ve never been rich,” I said quietly. “But I agree. I’ve always valued people—my parents and my coach above all others.”
“You must have sacrificed a lot to get to the Olympics.” He turned his hand over and trapped mine within it. “All that training and traveling.”
“Sure,” I said. “I’ve very few friends other than the cyclists I see on the competition circuit and let’s face it, they’re…well, they’re competition. I guess friends are what I sacrificed to reach my goal.” I felt a fizz of sensation snake up my arm as his thumb caressed the underside of my wrist.
With my free hand, I reached for my wine. “But I’m very close to my parents.”
“Did you always know cycling was what you wanted to do?”
“I was good at it. Like, really good at it. So I wanted to prove I was the best.”
He smiled. “You always so determined?”
“Once I decide I want something I go for it,” I said, taking a slug of wine.
He tipped his head and narrowed his eyes. “Do you want me?”
Oh, hell. Now I need a cool answer.
“What do you think?”
His lips curled into a dirty smile. “I think you do but you just don’t know it yet, honey.”
I pulled my hand away and reached once more for my knife and fork. “Well, I’ll be sure to let you know if and when I do.” I popped in a cherry tomato. Let it roll around my mouth, filling my cheeks before I bit it in half.
He bobbed his head. “Yeah, you do that. I wouldn’t want to miss it.”
I reached for my wine. Went to drink but the glass was dry.
“You want another one?” He gestured to the drained glass with his fork.
“No, no, really I’m good.” I reached for my water. No wonder I was feeling lightheaded and rolling tomatoes around my cheeks. I’d downed a huge glass of wine in minutes. “And this salmon is amazing,” I added in an attempt to dampen down the conversation and the heat on my face.
“Good,” he said, “I’m glad you’re enjoying it.”
As we finished lunch, I made a point of keeping the conversation light. I tried my best to ignore his cheeky flirting but it was possibly the hardest thing I’d ever done. I wanted to flirt back like crazy. Offer every innuendo and suggestive remark I could think of. Leave him in no doubt where he could end up and in exactly what position if he wanted to.
But I stayed calm and relaxed. Drank my water and thanked Benita for a wonderful meal on the way out.
We drove back to my condo and once again I relished being so close to him. It was a nice habit to have slipped into so quickly and I pressed against the angle of his shoulder blade and hung on for the ride.
When we pulled up outside my building I dismounted and fluffed my hair. He climbed off, lifted his shades to his forehead and balanced our helmets on the seat.
“Thanks for lunch,” I said.
“My pleasure. Come on, I’ll walk you to your door.” He glanced up and down the quiet street.
“But it’s just there.”
“So, I’ll walk you. Make sure you get home okay.” He shrugged.
“Its broad daylight and this really is a very nice area.” I smiled and frowned at the same time.
“So, it’s a date. I have rules. I want to make sure you get home safely.”
I wasn’t sure how safe I was with him around. My body didn’t feel as if it was under control. Sin and a craving for dirty deeds were only a whisper away. The date had been exciting and charged with sexual tension and the fact he’d talked so freely about his emotional needs had only added a new, deeper layer to my admiration of him.
He pressed a hand into the small of my back and urged me to the entrance of my building. I keyed in the code and stepped into the shaded cool of the small communal lobby.
I turned to Brick. The door clicked shut.
He pressed the palm of his right hand to my cheek. “Thanks for coming to lunch,” he said quietly. “I had a real nice time.”
“Me, too.” I leaned my cheek into his hand even though I knew I should say something tempting and suggestive then walk away. That was my plan. Not leaning into his calloused palm and staring up into his eyes. Definitely not swaying toward him as blood pounded to every erogenous zone I possessed. That was not what I was supposed to be doing. No way.
He stepped closer and his big body loomed over mine. His shoulders were impossibly wide in my peripheral vision. “Carly,” he murmured.
“Yes.” I studied the shadows slicing across his profile and a haze of fair stubble dusting his jaw and chin.
“Am I allowed to kiss you on a first date?” He lowered his head and heat from his sweet breath washed over my cheek.
I looked deeper into his eyes, sparkling from beneath hooded lids. They were the color of the forest floor gilded with late-afternoon sunlight. I’d dreamed of this moment. Looked at his eyes in magazines and on TV and wondered what it would be like to have them really there, hovering over me and brimming with desire.
Now I knew.
Now I knew it was wonderful. It felt like the moment I’d pushed my front pedal through the finish line in first position and heard the crowd lift the roof of the velodrome.
“You’re taking a long time to decide,” he whispered as his other hand came up and circled the back of my neck. He tucked his fingers into my long hair and cradled the base of my skull.
/> I caught my breath. The possessiveness of the touch knotted my stomach. The way he was holding my head was so dominant, so utterly masculine. “Yes,” I said quietly as darts of sensitivity snaked across my scalp. “Kissing is allowed.”
He gave the tiniest of smiles, then his lips were on mine. Soft and gentle but also confident and determined. His tongue probed, I opened up and the tip slid into my mouth and met mine. I released a small moan of pleasure.
He continued to hold my head firm but the hand on my cheek dropped to my shoulder. His fingertips pressed into my flesh and stopped me falling into him and molding my body with his.
“You taste so good,” he said onto my mouth before dipping back in for another sample. This time it was hotter, more urgent. Soon it was a full, open-mouthed kiss that made my head spin and my heart ricochet off my chest wall. He was devouring me and I was taking what I could from him.
I pressed my hands to the front of his chest and curled my fingers over his collarbones. The raw power beneath my palms was intoxicating, edgy. I wanted more. I wanted that power driving into me. I wanted him naked and at my mercy. I wanted to own him, pleasure him. I wanted to drag him upstairs and forget my crazy plan. I had basic needs demanding to be met. Now.
He broke the kiss. “I have to go,” he said breathlessly.
“What?”
He released me, took a step back, and reached for the door. “I’m sorry, Carly, but I have to go.”
My arms fell to my sides and I faltered to regain my balance. I wasn’t sure how my watery legs were managing to support me. And my spine, my spine had turned to dust.
“I’ll call you.” His lips were moist. His jaw set like stone.
“Sure,” I said in a hoarse voice.
He pulled open the door and heat from outside blasted in. “I’ll call you tomorrow, from Seattle.”
And then he was gone.
The door slammed shut on its heavy spring.
I pressed my fingertips to my lips, tingling from the pressure of his kiss. I could taste his tongue on mine and still feel his hand in my hair. What the hell had happened? I was just about to throw all my plans in the air and get naked and primitive and he’d walked away.
I turned and stabbed at the elevator button. Broke a nail. The doors opened immediately and I stomped in and hit two.
He’d wanted me. I had no doubts about that. I’d seen it in his eyes. Felt it in his kiss. I could even smell desire in the air, his and mine. It was thick and vital, another presence.
I stomped out of the elevator and let myself into my condo. Dashed straight to the balcony doors and peered out. He was climbing onto his bike. I watched as he adjusted his position on the seat and roared the engine awake.
He turned and looked up.
I ducked behind the curtain.
The bike bellowed then screamed up the gears as he charged off. A loud, rude noise in the quiet street. So much for being inconspicuous. So much for my cool, calm plan.
Chapter Three
I settled on the sofa, bowl of nachos at my side and the remote ready. The Orlando Vipers were playing the Seattle Stars and it promised to be an awesome battle on ice.
Brick skated out fourth in line, side by side with the new Dallas transfer, Wolf. Just seeing Brick on the screen knotted my stomach and hitched my breath. Now I knew what he was like to touch, to hang on to, the sensation of longing was so much more powerful. Suddenly he bumped shoulders with a Seattle forward, hard and powerful, an aggressive taunt. Half the crowd cheered while the other half booed and hissed. The Seattle forward slammed his stick against the ice and squared his shoulders, reminding me of a bull ready to charge.
“And the puck hasn’t even dropped and there’s trouble,” the commentator shouted excitedly. “This is going to be one heck of a game, folks. Watch out for flying fists and teeth.”
And they were off.
*****
They’d only been beaten by one point but Ramrod looked as though it was the end of the world when he was stopped in the tunnel by a reporter. His face was red and his dark hair clung to his sweaty scalp. He was still catching his breath and stood with his hands on his hips as he ranted about unfair penalties and gave his opinion on how Wolf had slotted into the team.
There was something about Ramrod that was very appealing. He had nothing on Brick of course, but as captain he held a certain air of authority. Plus, the hugeness of his shoulders and his colossal height couldn’t help but make a girl wonder about the size of other parts of his anatomy. The average-sized reporter looked like a waif of a man in comparison.
Ramrod finished speaking and the channel switched to commercials. I flicked it off and stood, took my glass and bowl into the kitchen, washed, dried and put them away. I double-checked the lock on the front door, brushed my teeth, and climbed into bed wearing an old t-shirt.
Brick hadn’t called and I couldn’t deny I was disappointed. Perhaps he hadn’t liked kissing me. Doubts niggled their way into my mind. Maybe there was something about me he found unappealing. I couldn’t think what. He’d seemed as into the whole kissing moment as me until he’d suddenly backed up and disappeared.
I sighed. At least I knew where he was and what he’d been doing. Plus, I’d see him again on Monday in New York. He’d have to speak to me when we were interviewed on Ray’s couch.
I flicked on my table lamp and picked up a book. A Booker Prize winner I knew I should read but was struggling with. My mind kept wandering to a certain hockey player every few paragraphs.
I’d done half a chapter when the cell on my bedside table rang. “Hello.”
“Hi, honey.”
“Brick?”
“Who else calls you honey?” His voice was deep and slow and so very sexy.
I closed my eyes and sent up a prayer of thanks. “No one.” I smiled into the phone.
“Good, I like it that way.” There was a pause. “Did you watch the game?”
“Sort of, it was on in the background. You deserved to win. I’m sorry you didn’t.”
“We could have done with the points. But they’re a good team and we’re still missing Raven.”
“How’s his leg?”
“Hey, you are a Vipers fan,” he said in a voice that told me he was smiling, too.
“Isn’t everyone in Orlando?” I could hardly tell him if he switched teams so would I.
He chuckled down the line and the delicious noise rumbled through my body. “He’s getting on just fine, he’s back in training and not far off playing again.” I heard him shifting and a click, a light switch perhaps. “So what you been doing today?”
“I’ve been to see Mom and Dad, helped Mom out with her garden. They’re going away soon and she wants it tidy, then I did fifty on my bike.” I rested back into the soft pillows and stretched my legs on top of the duvet.
“Fifty miles.”
“Yes, that’s my weekend thing. It was really hot today though and the traffic was heavy even on the outer roads.”
“Why don’t you train indoors?” His voice sounded stern. “Cooler and much, much safer.”
“It’s way too boring. Not to mention they won’t give me the track to myself for that long unless my coach books it. So she only does that when there’s something major I’m going for.”
“So there’s nothing coming up competition-wise for you.”
“No, not for several months, that’s why I agreed to this charity work with the Promises Foundation.”
“Yeah, it’s a good cause, I’m glad I got picked for it.” He paused. “Especially now.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, ’cause I got to meet you, honey.” He gave a little snort as if he knew he was being cheesy.
There was a moment of silence and my mind went back to the kiss he’d given me when I last saw him. I touched my fingertips to my lips.
“I’m sorry I didn’t call you earlier,” he said in a softer voice. “It’s been a crazy day.”
“It’
s okay.” I tried to sound nonchalant, as if I hadn’t been looking at the phone every ten minutes to check for signal and missed calls.
“We had an early flight and then Coach had us trying out a new formation, which didn’t work so we switched back and it all got…” he trailed off. “You don’t want to hear about hockey.”
“I like hockey.”
“I like you,” he said quickly as if the words had tumbled from his mouth.
My heart did a little flip of excitement. “So where are you now?”
“In my hotel room.”
“Why aren’t you out commiserating?” I wriggled down in the bed so I was lying flat. I could listen to his voice all night, it washed over me like nectar and poured into me like fine wine.
“I wanted to talk to you. I reckoned if I didn’t I might blow my chances forever.” I heard him swallow.
“Yeah, you might have.” I paused. “You got a drink?”
“Yeah, just a beer from the minibar, a nightcap.”
“Are you in bed?” I asked.
“Are you?”
“Yes, it’s late.”
“I’m on the bed but not in bed, if you know what I mean.” A silence fell between us and I could hear his breaths down the line. “I’m sorry I ran out on you yesterday,” he said eventually.
I was quiet. He seemed to have a lot to apologize for.
“You still there?”
“Mmm, I’m here. So why did you dash off?”
He cleared his throat and when he spoke again his voice was lower, huskier. “If I hadn’t left when I did, you’d have found yourself slammed up against the wall and me burying myself inside you.”
My skin flushed at his erotic words. Hard and fast against the wall would have been so fucking horny. So damn hot. “Sounds public and presumptuous,” I said as I squeezed my thighs together. A buzz radiated from my clit right through my pelvis and up to my breasts. I squirmed in pleasure.
“You said it wasn’t what you wanted to happen on a first date and so there was no way it was going to.” I heard him take another slug of his beer. He swallowed, a deep gulp of a sound and I could imagine him licking his lips with the tip of his tongue. Capturing the small, white froth left behind.