by Elise Faber
She kept trying to get back to Blane but was being pulled in a million directions at once.
And he kept waving her off when she popped over to apologize.
“Go,” he said. “Finish what you need to. I’ll wait.”
But she didn’t want to wait.
She’d spent the last twenty-four hours stuck in her own head, replaying their night together, going through the memories of their interactions from the last few years.
Searching for a red flag, for an excuse to not jump.
She hadn’t found one.
Yes, he was an NHL player like her dad had been, but that was the only thing they had in common. Blane was kind and thoughtful, well-liked by his teammates. He wasn’t an alcoholic misogynist like her father had been.
Brit—female, shattering barriers left and right—was his best friend, for fuck’s sake.
So she either needed to cut this off at its head or to just jump in and go for it.
And since this was the first time in her life Mandy had struggled to keep up her walls with a man, she was taking it as a sign that things with Blane were different, that he was different.
By the time the Gold had hit the ice that evening, she’d mentally shored up her spine and decided she was going to do this.
Fingers crossed it didn’t blow up in her face.
After a few more words, she sent the strength and conditioning coach on his way and started for Blane, only to be stopped two steps later by Coach Bernard.
Her eyes met Blane’s and he shrugged as if to say, “What can you do?”
Bernard only kept her for a couple of minutes, but as much as she wanted to break away from the conversation and go jump Blane, she was also thrilled by what she was hearing.
The board had voted to fund her request for new equipment and another trainer.
They were supportive of her plans—to prevent injuries before they even happened—and were backing her.
The pieces of her life were finally falling into place.
And it was because she’d pushed aside her fear and leaped into something new.
There was a lesson there.
But she was too busy making eyes with Blane to focus on it fully.
“Hey,” she said, finally at his side.
A brush of his fingers along her cheek. “Hey, sweetheart.”
The spot tingled, and she just stared at him for a long moment before clearing her throat and moving to check the flexibility and muscles on his neck.
“Turn to the left. Now the right,” she said after he complied. “Okay, reach your ear to each shoulder.” Hmm. There wasn’t a digression. In fact, the sides had balanced out even more. “Any pain?” she asked, fingers on his spine as she palpated.
Blane’s palm came up to cover her hand. “No.” He tugged her forward. “Are you okay?”
Her lips flattened. “I’m fine. Why did Gabe—?”
One brow lifted.
Oh.
She’d been had.
Mandy crossed her arms and glared at him.
Blane put his hands up in surrender. “Not my idea. Doc was just throwing me a bone since you’ve been avoiding me.”
“What?” Mandy began cleaning up the stations, throwing away the trash and organizing the supplies back into their proper positions. “I haven’t been avoiding you.”
There that brow went again.
“Stop.” She reached up and nudged it back down. “I’m not lying.”
He began ticking off fingers. “Okay, but one, I texted you and you didn’t reply. We had breakfast and nothing. Two, you weren’t here when I came in this morning. Three, you didn’t examine me after the game. Four—”
“Because I was worried if I touched you, I wouldn’t be able to stop.”
Blane’s fingers curled into a fist. “What?”
Her lips curved into a rueful smile. “I want you. I want us. I was just worried that if I said something with the room full that I might do something stupid and jump your bones.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah,” she said. “Oh. Also, I wasn’t here this morning because I was giving a presentation to the board and asking for new equipment, which they approved, by the way—”
“That’s great.” His eyes lit up before going a little mischievous. “Maybe another hot tub?”
She rolled her eyes. “Considering you all refer to the current one as Ball Soup, I don’t think we’ll be investing in that.”
He chuckled and grabbed her hand. “Seriously, though, that’s great.” A squeeze. “I’m proud of you.”
Tears filled her eyes. For absolutely no reason.
Except maybe, that no one had ever said those words to her.
“It’s for new equipment and another trainer,” she said, dropping his hand and her gaze to the drawer and straightening the already straightened supplies.
Fingers came to her jaw, tilted her face back up. “That’s good news. So why are you crying?”
She shook her head. “I’m not crying.” Except, she kind of was. She’d lost her battle with the blasted moisture and teardrops were leaking out of the corners of her eyes.
“Did I do something—”
“No.” She sniffed. “Fuck. This hasn’t been about—this isn’t about you.”
He dropped his hand, straightened. “I’m—”
Shit. Mandy grabbed it back, holding his palm between both of hers. “I didn’t mean it like that.”
Here it came. Here came the secret. The shit that had her so knotted up and closed down inside. Here was the shame, even though she logically knew that none of it was her fault.
“It’s not—I didn’t mean to hurt you. I just . . . I’m really good at keeping my distance from people.” Her laugh sounded broken, even to her own ears. “I’ve never had many friends. Hell, I only tolerated Gabe in medical school because he took really good notes.”
And he hadn’t left her alone.
“Then I came here and met Brit, and I felt like we were kind of kindred spirits. We hit it off.”
“Not a lot of women around here.”
Mandy nodded. “Yeah, but also, she’s just really fucking cool. And then I realized you two were friends and that you were in love with her”—he opened his mouth, but she dropped his hand and placed her finger over his lips—“It’s okay. I understand now. Hell, I’m half in love with her myself. She’s Brit.”
He kissed her finger then tugged it free. “Yeah. And I do love her, but after she met Stefan, I finally understood that it never would have worked between us.”
She smiled. “They are pretty perfect.”
“Sickeningly perfect.”
They laughed.
“But you being Brit’s friend was a good thing. It made you seem ‘safe’ and somehow you slipped in under my defenses.”
“Well, that,” he teased, playing with the end of her ponytail, “and the fact that I’m the sexiest man you’ve ever seen.”
“Just call you Chris Evans?” she teased back.
“Ouch.” He slapped a hand across his heart. “I’m wounded.”
A snort. “Not hardly. But six months ago, things shifted for me.”
“Probably because that’s the time I started having wet dreams about you.”
“Blane!”
He tugged her down next to him on the table. “You’re beautiful, sweetheart. You breathe and I’m hard. I want to bend you over—”
She stood up again, gaze flicking to his lap and then back up. “You’ve done it now.”
“I don’t need to do anything,” he murmured. “That’s all you.”
Her breath caught. “Oh.”
Eyes darkening, he stood. “You know how I feel about that sound.”
“I didn’t mean to.”
“Mmm.” He rose to his feet, slipped a hand behind her neck—
The door slammed open. “Post-game workout in five,” the conditioning coach, Joe, shouted, before letting it crash back closed.
“Fuck,
” Blane muttered, lowering his forehead to hers. “Sorry.”
“We both need to finish up,” she said. “It’s the job.”
“Will you come to my house when you’re done?”
She nodded.
He kissed the top of her head. “Thank you.” Halfway to the door, he stopped. “So to be clear, you haven’t been avoiding me?”
Mandy rolled her eyes. “No.”
“And you want to be my girlfriend?”
Her heart skipped a beat, but she brazened on. “Will you give me your letterman jacket?”
“Don’t have one, but if I did, it would be yours.” A smoldering grin that had her catching her breath. “I can get you a jersey with my name on it though.”
“Sold.” She lifted a hand as he slipped out of the PT suite. “See you later.”
“I’m counting down the seconds.”
Then he was gone and Mandy found herself with a hockey-player boyfriend.
Life was really weird sometimes.
Eighteen
Blane
* * *
Blane made it through the post-game workout and shower in record time then popped back into the PT suite afterward. The space was empty and dark, so he hurried out to where Mandy usually parked her car.
Also empty.
He was about to go back into the arena when his phone buzzed.
Sorry I didn’t text you back.
I was scared.
Frowning, he replied.
I don’t want to scare you.
The “. . .” signaling she was typing something began almost immediately after he’d sent his text.
Was. I WAS scared. But I’m not anymore.
Tension he hadn’t even realized he had leached out of him. That was good, really good.
His phone buzzed again.
Also, look up, Super Star.
Blane looked up . . . and saw she was standing next to his driver’s side door.
Wanna carpool?
He grinned, shoved his phone into his pocket, and strode over to her. “Save on that toll lane?”
“You know it.”
“Hi,” he murmured.
One half of her mouth turned up. “Hi, yourself.”
While he really wanted to kiss her senseless, Blane hit the button to unlock the car and helped her around and into the passenger seat. Then, because he couldn’t have stopped himself if he’d tried, he reached over and buckled her seat belt, brushing all of the parts he’d gotten so familiar with the night before along the way.
“Blane.”
He closed her door and walked around to his own.
“Let me get that for you,” she said when he went to clip in his restraint.
She grabbed the buckle from him and—
Snapped it in place.
But it was her other hand that was the cause of his trouble.
“I can’t find it,” she teased, fingers running up his thigh.
He snorted. “It’s not that small.”
She cupped him, squeezing tight. “It’s not small at all.”
“Mandy,” he breathed. “You’re killing me.”
“Mmm.” She squeezed him one more time then sat back into her own seat. “I hope you have condoms at your house.”
The drive back to his place took an eternity.
Mandy sitting next to him, slanting heated glances in his direction, smelling so fucking incredible, just existing in the same realm as him, and the twenty-five minutes seemed like twenty-five hours.
Finally, he pulled into his garage and shut the door behind them.
Then he shoved his seat all the way back, unbuckled his seat belt and hers, and tugged her onto his lap.
“Bl—”
He kissed her.
Blane slid one hand in her hair and the other down her back to cup his most favorite ass of all time, pulling her hips so she was pressed tightly against him.
She tore her mouth from his on a moan. “Mmm. Baby,” she panted. “I . . .”
He kissed her again, encouraged her to move against his cock.
Fuck that felt incredible.
Her hands dropped to his seat, gripping the headrest as she rode him. He slipped his fingers under her shirt and up, slipping beneath her bra to her breasts.
“Fuck,” she hissed when he pinched one nipple between his thumb and forefinger. “I—that feels—I need—”
He twisted, shoving the material out of the way as he sucked her neglected nipple into his mouth. Her hips bucked, thrusting against him hard enough to make him moan, and he shifted forward wanting—
The horn blared, making them both jump.
Her hazy eyes flashed to his. “What—?”
“Shh,” he said. “I got you.”
He popped the door open and stepped out with her in his arms.
“Wait—” she began.
“My neck is fine,” he said, nipping at her jaw.
“No.” She hissed when he sucked hard on the spot. “I need my purse. It has the condoms—”
Blane set her on the hood of the car. “I have one,” he said. “Don’t worry. I would never not use one until we—” He shook his head, cheeks creasing into a smile. “I’ve got this, okay? Let me take care of you . . . at least for a little while.”
She froze, head dropping forward as she sucked in a huge breath. “You don’t know what you’re asking.”
A finger under her chin, deep chocolate eyes locked on hers. “I know, sweetheart.”
She swallowed hard. “Okay.”
“Okay?”
When she nodded again, he kissed her gently, pouring every bit of tenderness he was feeling for this woman into the press of his lips, the stroke of his tongue, the way he held her carefully against him. He scooped her up from the hood, knowing that she needed more than a quick fuck against his car, that she needed him steady and present, that she needed slow and stable and permanent.
They’d just revisit the car later.
Because the image of her naked and restless on top of it, him on his knees, between her thighs . . . yeah, that was something he needed to tick off his mental checklist.
Carefully, he made his way to his room and set Mandy on the bed.
His heart skipped a beat, seeing her there, on the mattress, in his home, in his life. He hadn’t really recognized how much he’d wanted this, wanted her, until this moment.
Last night had been hot, don’t get him wrong.
But that moment had felt as though it had an expiration date.
This? This felt like the beginning.
He’d played in the finals, had pushed through moments of pressure, had stepped up to sink home a clutch goal in the final seconds of a game. He worked hard and pushed and pushed and pushed.
But never with women.
Oh, he’d had his share, especially when he’d been young and on the road and lonely and bored.
Those had been easy, quick expenditures for mutual satisfaction.
Last night had been more than that, but it hadn’t been this. The need to make it perfect so that she would see, so that she would stay—
His stomach knotted hard enough for him to lose his breath.
This was important because he loved her.
The feeling had been growing over months, fueling the desperation to batter down her defenses and make her see . . . him.
And now she was there.
She was in his bed, and he had to hope to fuck that he didn’t screw this up.
Mandy deserved—
“Hey, Super Star?” she asked quietly, her expression concerned. “Why is there smoke coming out of your ears?”
He froze, realized he’d been staring at her for a good minute. “I’m so—”
“Don’t apologize,” she said. “Just tell me what’s going on.”
“This isn’t—it’s not easy.”
She grabbed his hand, reclining back on the bed and tugging him along on top of her. “I know.”
“It’s not simple.”
Her palm came up to press above his heart, which was pounding like the beat to one of the rap songs that Max was obsessed with. “I know.”
“I’m afraid I’m going to screw it up.”
Mandy’s hand twitched, fingers digging into his chest before smoothing out. “Why do you think I ran for so long?”
He snorted. “Not that long.”
“I’ve wanted you in my bed for an eternity, Blane. I was just too scared to go for it.”
“So why now?”
“You know all of those things you just mentioned? All of that . . . this isn’t simple or easy, the worrying about fucking it all up stuff?” He nodded. “I realized that I could either stand by and be scared for the rest of my life—pretending to let people in but not actually allowing them to know the real me, not permitting anyone to see who I am deep inside, to give them the chance to judge me and find me lacking. Or—”
“Or?” he asked when she didn’t go on.
Her expression softened alongside her voice. “Or I could take a chance on the only man who’s ever made me want to take off my armor and show him every single part of me.”
His throat went tight. “Fuck, sweetheart.”
She bit her lip. “I know.” A pause. “So puck’s on your stick, Super Star. What are you going to do about it?”
Nineteen
Mandy
* * *
To say that Blane simply kissed her would have been the understatement of the century. He consumed her, filled her veins with fire, with desire, until she threatened to burn from the inside out.
Okay, she was being dramatic.
But with just the press of his mouth against hers, his body, his chest, his cock hard where she was soft, she was more turned on than she’d ever been.
He slipped his hand under her head, not breaking the kiss as he rolled onto his back and took her with him. One second she was flat against the mattress and the next, she was straddling his hips, his erection cradled between her thighs.