Kissing Micky (Washington Guardians Hockey Book 1)

by Ellen Devlin

  He finally looked up at her, and she smiled. He looked bewildered, and sleepy, and adorable. His voice was gravelly and rough.

  “I don’t even know what to say.”

  “Good or bad?”

  “Good. Very, very good. I-need-to-sleep-on-your-floor good.”

  “My bed is more comfortable.”

  He smiled that smile and looked at Liz through half-lidded eyes. “Your bed seems really far away right now.”

  Chapter Nine

  August passed by too quickly. Paige had to start worrying about school starting again at the end of August, and Chris and Tom both began thinking about training camp that would be starting in September.

  Liz wanted to freeze time. She and Tom definitely enjoyed each other when they had the opportunity be alone, and there were a few more fun evenings with Chris and Paige, as well. She knew that as soon as training camp started, things would change; she figured she’d be lucky to see him once a month, if that.

  A week before training camp started, Tom knocked on Liz’s door one Friday evening to meet her—they had no serious plans, maybe a movie, maybe just time together. Hell, maybe just sex. The relationship was casual and still very secretive, so they didn’t tend to go out much alone together, especially not where Tom might see teammates.

  He wasn’t sure why he was still keeping the fact that they were more than friends a secret. It had started that way, and he didn’t feel like changing it. Liz didn’t particularly seem to mind. It was definitely easier. No pressure or questions from friends or family about how things were going, what his plans were, when was he going to let them meet her.

  He wouldn’t have to deal with any specific shit in the locker room about his dating life, just the general shit about why he couldn’t get laid. Which wouldn’t bother him, because hey, what did they know, right? And he had to admit there was something intrinsically fun and sexy about a clandestine affair, especially seeing how much he could get away with when Chris and Paige were in the next room or even across the table at a restaurant.

  He had a gut check when he thought too much about it—she deserved to be treated better than this, and he knew it—but then he figured she probably had her reasons for continuing the secrecy too. Liz did not strike him as the kind of person who let herself get walked over.

  He heard her laughing and talking as she unbolted the door and opened it to let him in. She was talking on the phone—mostly listening and laughing, actually—and gave him a one-armed hug and quick kiss on the cheek as he came in the door. She walked to the fridge and grabbed him a beer and gestured to the couch, and they both sat down. Tom watched her and smiled. There was something about her that was lit from within and made her truly beautiful.

  Finding a break in her conversation, she said, “Hey, sweetie, I’ve got to go. You’ll have to tell me more, though. I can’t wait to hear it. So glad you’re back in town! Yes, definitely. Okay, Sunday at three for coffee. See you then, Zee!” She hung up the phone, her face flushed with laughter, and turned to Tom. “Hey, handsome!” And then, “What’s wrong?”

  Tom’s expression had changed into what now could only be described as a scowl. “That was Zee? What did he want?”

  “He just got back in town from staying in Alberta for most of August. He always calls to tell me the dumb things he did with his brothers. They’re all completely insane.” She smiled, and then it faded somewhat. “Are you all right?”

  The logical part of his brain was telling Tom that the way he was feeling was completely unreasonable.

  The rest was full of jealousy and a level of possessiveness that was surprising even him.

  “Apparently I’m not in the best of moods tonight. Maybe I should just head back out.” He stood up.

  Liz was so taken aback it took her a few seconds to process. She stood up. “Tom? Tom! Stop.” She put a hand on his arm. He turned to look at her. She said, “Is this about the call from Zee?” He didn’t respond. “We have been friends for years. You knew that the day I met you. There isn’t anything else between us.”

  Tom’s look softened a little bit, and he said, “I know.” He still looked, well…off. And angry.

  Liz sat back down on the couch and looked up at him. “Okay,” she sighed. “I don’t know what has happened. You’re clearly upset and want to leave. If it’s possible to change your mind on that, I would very much like for you to stay.” She smiled. “I have been looking forward to seeing you. I know you’ve got training camp starting soon, and I figure everything is going to change once the season starts.” She looked startled for a moment, then said, “Oh, shit. Is that what this is about?”

  Tom sat back down on the couch. The conversation had taken an unexpected turn, and he didn’t know where this was going.

  Liz smiled, but there was a sadness to it. “I figured this was a temporary deal. But even if we lose the ‘benefits’ part, I would really very much hate to lose the friendship. Are you okay with that?”

  Now Tom just stared at her. She stared back.

  He said, “I’m trying to figure out what the hell you’re talking about.”

  She tilted her head, looking at him curiously. “Friends? With benefits? You and I?”

  He slowly shook his head like he still didn’t understand.

  “Seriously?” She threw up her hands and said, “What the fuck? I feel like I’m in The Twilight Zone.” She took a deep breath and looked directly at him and said, very pointedly, “Tom. If you are ending the sex part of our relationship, I would still like to be friends.” She added, “Please,” afterward, with a smile.

  Tom sat back on the couch, his angry look replaced by bewilderment. “Holy shit. I have never met someone I understand less than you.” He sat up, leaned toward her, looking at her eyes. “You’re completely serious.”

  “Yes. Although I’m starting to think this is what it feels like to go insane.”

  “It is.” He moved, pulling her over to have her straddle his lap. “Why the hell would I ever give up sex with you, Liz? My God, woman, that idea is completely insane.” He kissed her hard, trying to exorcise some of the personal demons lurking around in his brain, and held her close.

  “I’m sorry about my mood. On my good days in the locker room Becks calls me a ‘spiky bastard.’ I must be starting early.” He pushed her gently back and looked at her. “I don’t want to miss out on time with you before the season starts.”

  Her heart was beating much too hard, and Liz could feel tears pricking her eyes.

  Shit. I’m already in way too deep. This is going to hurt like hell when it ends. She leaned in and kissed him, feeling every part of him, immersing herself in his taste, his smell, his feel. Totally worth it.

  ***

  The first two games of the season were home games, and Liz thoroughly enjoyed watching Tom play with the team on TV. She always watched games—if for some reason she couldn’t watch, she listened to the play-by-play on the radio—but it was even more fun now that Number Forty was playing.

  He was a hard-hitting defenseman, and she had always enjoyed the physicality of the game. A lot. There was something about the intensity of the play. That was the part of football she enjoyed too, but hockey had a much faster pace and required so much more finesse and skill, in her opinion. And there was no denying that there was something inherently enthralling when the guys dropped the mitts and got into it. It wasn’t just that they were fighting—she had zero interest in boxing or MMA, although she could appreciate the skill required there too.

  It was the passion. Hockey had a pressure valve that allowed an outlet of testosterone-fueled game passion. She could pretend she didn’t enjoy that part of it, but then her fantasy guy wouldn’t specifically be an enforcer.

  There weren’t fights in every game, and there shouldn’t be. That wasn’t hockey, either. Sometimes the fights were strategic—she didn’t understand all the nuances of the game in that way and didn’t care to. It was just a damn fun game to watch. And it did
n’t hurt that Tom looked unbelievably hot in his uniform. Like, holy-shit-I-still-can’t-believe-I’m-sleeping-with-him hot.

  The next games were on the road, so Tom made sure to make time for some pre-road trip sex. He had smiled at her with that insanely charming smile, saying, “This has to last me for at least five days, Liz,” as he undressed her. Their good-bye kiss lingered even longer than usual.

  When he got back, he had a five-day growth of beard. Liz rasped her hand over his face, saying, “Mmm, very sexy. But I thought you guys did playoff beards or ‘Mo-vember’ mustaches. What’s with the scruff?”

  “The very first road trip I took when I was actually old enough to need to shave, I forgot my razor. So I grew a beard that season.” He chuffed. “If you could call it a beard at that point. Although I guess for sixteen, it was pretty respectable. It just became a thing for me. First roadie of the season, I stop shaving. At the end of the season, the beard comes off.” He looked directly at her. “Do you like it? I wasn’t sure what you’d think.”

  “I love a nice beard.” She ran her hands over his face. “I’ll love it even more when it’s long enough not to be scratchy. However,” she added, “if you’re looking for my input, I personally love a beard that’s long enough to lie flat but still well trimmed. The ZZ Top look isn’t my thing.” He laughed, and she rubbed her cheek against his. “And until this comes in a little more, there will need to be adjustments as to certain…activities.”

  Tom’s eyes got dark and sexy as he looked at her. “And now that you’ve said that, there is nothing in the world I want to do more than that certain…activity.”

  “Hey, I’m serious, you!” She laughed and pushed him away as he started to try to unbutton her jeans. “That’s some formidable scratchiness on your face.”

  His smile was wicked, and he started unbuttoning her shirt, saying, “I’ll tell you what. I will start at your neck.” He breathed on her neck, kissing it very lightly, and ran the tip of his tongue from the skin behind her ear down to her shoulder.

  She closed her eyes and shivered.

  “And I will move down your body.” Tom pushed her shirt away from her shoulder, trailing the tip of his tongue along her collarbone, breathing kisses on her skin, coming back across to the hollow of her throat. Her head was back, and she was breathing deeply, cheeks flushed.

  Tom unhooked her front-clasped bra, pushing it off her shoulders along with her shirt, and then gently drew his hands up her sides.

  “You can stop me any time you feel scratched.” He trailed his tongue down toward her right breast, and she gasped and then moaned as he reached her nipple and gently pulled it into his mouth, swirling his tongue softly around her peak.

  “If you don’t feel any scratching…” he trailed his tongue across to her other breast, “…then I won’t stop.”

  He flicked his tongue over her nipple, and she jumped.

  He chuckled. “And I get to do whatever I want when I get there.” He took her nipple in his mouth and swirled around with his tongue, sucking gently, enjoying her moans. “Deal?” He came back up to her face, looked into her eyes—pupils wide, softly unfocused. He whispered in her ear, “Do we have a deal, Liz?” as he stroked her nipples with his thumbs.

  She turned to him, put her arms around his neck, and said, “Yes.”

  Chapter Ten

  The season was well underway, and things had fallen into a kind of rhythm. To Liz, it felt oddly as if very little had changed, except for the addition of Tom. She and Paige spent some time together when the guys were away on road trips; that had always been true when it was just Chris traveling. Or Liz took that time to travel to see friends who were within a few hours’ drive. When the team was in town, Paige spent most of her time with Chris, of course. Liz had never spent much time together with them as a couple during the season. Paige always invited her more often, but she didn’t want to intrude on their time alone together when it was limited.

  She saw Tom almost as much as if they were actually dating. Except they weren’t. She hardly ever talked to him on the phone when they were away on road trips, because there was always a chance of being overheard by a teammate. She talked with Zee as much as she always did, but that wasn’t necessarily something that made Tom happy, either. Not that she was willing to give up any of her friends for a relationship.

  She knew this arrangement wouldn’t last forever—at the very least, she knew very well it wasn’t going to be healthy for her to stay in something like this over the long term. But she wasn’t quite ready to give it up. Not yet.

  She couldn’t even put a name to the reasons she had for not telling, of all people, her best friend. Maybe just to have something that was only hers, just for a little while. Something utterly fantastical, even if it was ultimately impossible. A little bit of a secret fantasy to live in, for however long it lasted.

  Sometimes reality was a little too much to bear, and right now with Tom, there was no need to deal with anyone else’s expectations of what kind of relationship she “should” have. She didn’t have to answer any questions: how much she liked him, did she think they were serious, had she met his family yet.

  Tom’s spiky moods were evident, especially after losses. He sometimes seemed to be waiting for her to either critique his game or artificially try to cheer him up by telling him he played well when he didn’t. She would remind him she was a fan, not a coach or a player, and she had no place telling him how to play or how he had played. And that he should stop trying to pick a fight.

  After one of these exchanges, she finally said, “Look, buddy, this is the only way I know how to cheer you up. And to shut you up, for that matter.” She had grabbed him behind the neck with one hand to pull him down for a kiss and had drawn her other hand up between his legs to cup him until he hardened in her hand and forgot his anger entirely, along with everything else.

  They had managed to navigate birthdays (his in September, hers in November) and the holidays without too much hassle. Birthdays were spent with Chris and Paige—no gifts, just dinner out paid for by the other three. Thanksgiving was with Chris and Paige, and Tom flew home to spend Christmas in Minnesota with his family.

  Liz suggested it would be better to do something fun rather than exchange gifts, and Tom agreed, so they bought tickets to a local Cirque du Soleil show. That had been a fun evening out. It was almost possible to pretend they were really dating.

  Liz smiled to herself, thinking about her impossible fantasy man. She was on her way to meet him at Chris and Paige’s house, and the four of them were going to go out for dinner. It would be fun—they hadn’t had a chance in a while for the four of them to spend time together. The team was on a three-game home stand, with two days in between games.

  When Liz arrived, Tom and Chris were talking in the living room, and Tom was scowling. Chris was looking as exasperated as Tom was looking irritated.

  “What’s going on over there?” she asked Paige.

  “I actually don’t know,” said Paige. “Some team stuff. As usual.”

  “Hey, Liz, come here for a second,” Chris called, and she headed toward them.

  “This is stupid, Becks. She’ll hate this. She even has a job where she’s negotiated being able to wear jeans every day.” Tom’s scowl had deepened. There was a formal charity event, and he was being “asked” to attend with a few other players, including Chris, on behalf of the team. He detested these events. Anything to do with hockey—fan events, autograph signings, clinics—no problem, but these fancy dress things made his skin crawl. He didn’t even know why.

  “Just shut up for a minute, Micky, would you?” Chris said as Liz approached.

  “Hi, guys, what’s up?”

  “I have a hypothetical question for you. Would you have any possible interest in going to a fancy charity ball with dinner and dancing?” Chris was looking at Liz and making a “shut the fuck up” motion to Tom with one hand.

  Liz looked at Chris suspiciously. “This feels l
ike a trick, Beckman. What’s the catch?”

  “No catch.”

  “Will I know anyone at this hypothetical event?” Liz was probing for the downside.

  “Yes. At this hypothetical event, Paige and I would be there, along with this asshole.” He gestured to Tom.

  She folded her arms and squinted at him. “Do I get stuck being the bartender? Or picking up the tab for the booze?”

  “Nope.”

  “Is there a downside I’m missing?”

  Chris thought for a second. “There would be a few boring speeches.”

  “Do I have to listen to them? Will there be a quiz afterward?”

  Chris laughed. “No, no quiz.”

  “Okay, let me get this straight.” Liz started to tick off the points to make sure she understood this hypothetical situation. “You are asking me if I would enjoy getting all dressed up to go out to dinner and dancing, with some of my very best friends, where I would have no responsibilities except to have fun and not disrupt some speeches. Seriously, am I missing something? Why would I not sign up for this immediately? This sounds like all the best parts of a really fun wedding without any old ladies telling me, ‘Oh, you’re so pretty, I’m sure you’ll find someone soon, come over here and meet my sister’s nephew, Wentworth, I’m sure he would date you.’”

  Tom just stared. Chris laughed, as much at Tom’s reaction as at her description.

  “So is this just a hypothetical? Or is this a real thing, and the actual prank is that I’m not really invited? That would be just mean, Beckman. But I don’t put it past you.”

  Chris laughed even harder. “It is a real thing. Actually, the one real downside is that you would have to go with this grouchy bastard.” He clapped his hand on Tom’s shoulder. “He hates these things.” He walked off to get another beer and left the two of them alone.