Body Check

by Lisa B. Kamps

  "Do you want me to stop?"

  No. Yes. No.

  How could she answer his hoarse question? She couldn't, not when his mouth worked its magic on her neck, not with his fingers teasing her so lightly, making her want, making her burn. She shook her head as her hips tilted forward again, seeking, begging as he slowly slid one finger along her folds, spreading her wetness. His finger slipped inside her, teasing, testing, and she suddenly needed more.

  Randy spun her around, so suddenly she nearly stumbled, would have stumbled if not for his arms coming around her. His mouth crashed against hers, hot and hungry, demanding. She opened for him, surrendering to his heady taste. Her hands slid across his back, hard muscle bunching under her touch. She grabbed at his shirt, pulling it, yanking it up and moaning in frustration when it caught between them.

  He stepped back and reached down, pulled it over his head in one quick move.

  She had never seen anyone built quite like him. Golden skin stretched tight over the hard muscle of his broad chest, down over gloriously defined abs. His body could have been sculpted by a master, all sharp angles and hard planes.

  And suddenly she felt inadequate. Too round, too soft. She stepped back, bumped against the counter and stopped, looking up at him.

  His hazel eyes had darkened, glazed with desire as he watched her. He reached out and traced her lips with one finger, awakening nerve endings she didn't know existed.

  Then his mouth was on hers again, gentle at first, coaxing, then more demanding. And she forgot about feeling inadequate, wanted only to feel more of him.

  His hands closed around her waist and he lifted her, sitting her on the island as he tugged her shorts all the way from her legs. He smiled, a wicked grin, then spread her thighs apart and dipped his head.

  Her head fell back and a moan escaped her, her breathing already coming in short gasps as he licked her, tasted her, teased her. His tongue was hot and wet against her clit, swirling and sucking. Sensation built low in her stomach, tightening, drawing all feeling inward, tighter still until everything exploded, spiraling outward, tearing her apart as his name was ripped from her swollen lips.

  Yet he wouldn't stop, kept kissing and licking, each dip of his tongue sending new sensation tearing through her, until she thought she'd pass out. He kissed the sensitive skin of her inner thigh, chasing the kisses with the tip of his finger as he worked his way up. Teeth grazed her hip, her belly, as he pushed her shirt up and over her head. His mouth closed over one nipple, moved to the other, each touch another onslaught.

  Then she was in his arms, her head against his chest as he carried her out of the kitchen and into her bedroom. He gently laid her on the bed, his eyes burning with need as he kicked off his shoes and tore at his jeans. His erection sprung free, hard, long, thick. Alyssa's body trembled in anticipation and she reached for him, tugging at his hand as he rolled a condom down his length.

  Then he was on top of her, his mouth claiming hers, wet and hungry. His hands roamed over her, touching every inch of her as he settled between her thighs. She closed her legs around his waist and tilted her hips to his. A cry escaped her as he thrust deep inside her, filling, stretching.

  He said her name, over and over, his voice ragged as his hips pumped, his rhythm fast, hard. Muscles clenched, holding him, matching his rhythm. Alyssa's head fell back as sensation coiled, tighter this time, clearer, more vibrant. Colors exploded around her and she dug her fingers into his shoulder, called his name.

  His mouth crashed against hers, swallowing her cries. He thrust again, harder, faster, until he reached his own climax, pulling her over the edge once more.

  Alyssa felt herself falling, felt strong arms close around her, catching her. Her breathing slowed as darkness gently closed over her, her limbs tangled with his.

  And she slept.

  Chapter Seven

  Footsteps echoed like shots in the empty hallway, lonely, desolate almost. It always surprised Randy how quickly someplace that had been so full of life and excitement mere hours ago could feel so abandoned so quickly.

  Their last game of the playoffs had ended hours ago, with a disappointing loss that kept them from moving on. Randy swung his bag over his shoulder and tried not to think about it, tried to tell himself that next year would be different. He wanted to hoist Lord Stanley's cup over his head just one more time.

  One more.

  And he didn't want to think that next year might be his last chance. It couldn't be, he refused to accept it.

  "So where are you off to now?" JP's slightly accented voice broke into his thoughts. Randy turned to look at his friend, then pushed through the doors leading into the reserved section of the parking garage.

  "Home, to shave. After that, no idea."

  "You should come with me, then. We can go to your sister's restaurant, maybe enjoy the sights, eh?"

  Randy clenched his jaw and shook his head, just the briefest movement. "No, I think I'll pass on that one."

  He hadn't been to The Maypole in a month, not since their opening night. The night he had spent at Alyssa's.

  Not because he didn't want to see her again. He did. But he had been told, very bluntly by his sister, that he was a distraction she didn't want. Since Alyssa hadn't answered any of his calls, or returned any of his messages, he could only imagine that Val was speaking for her friend. His sister certainly didn't think any of his teammates were a distraction.

  Randy would have never imagined, ever, that her oddly themed sports bar would become such a success. True, it was still early, there were still a lot of things that could go wrong. But so far, it had been a hit. Women frequented it because of the fun atmosphere, tailored more to them than men. And surprisingly—or maybe not—men frequented it because of the women. More often than not, his own teammates could now be found there. Randy wondered if that would change, now that their season was over.

  He unlocked the car door and tossed his bag on the passenger seat, not surprised that JP was still right behind him. His friend watched him with a curious gaze, his mouth curved in a knowing smile.

  "It's because of your little chef, no?"

  "It has nothing to do with her." The lie came naturally, without even a wince or flinch of conscience. JP laughed, and Randy knew his friend didn't buy it.

  "Then you should come. We can drink to forget, maybe find a few ladies to help."

  "JP—"

  "No, no arguing. Meet us there in two hours, or I'll come get you." JP walked away, leaving before Randy could argue.

  He lowered himself into the car and started the engine, intent on driving home, shaving the weeks-old growth from his jaw, and watching television. He didn't care what JP said, didn't care about the threat of coming to pick him up. He was staying home. Or, if he decided to go out, he'd go someplace else.

  He was still telling himself that two hours later when he walked through the door of The Maypole and pushed his way to the bar. JP looked down at his watch, then up at Randy.

  "I was giving you five more minutes."

  "Yeah, sure." Randy nodded at the glass in JP's hand. "How long have you been here?"

  "About twenty minutes. Mathias and Ian should be here soon. What did you want to drink? My treat."

  "Beer's fine."

  Randy squeezed in next to JP, moving close enough to the bar so he could rest his elbow on the edge, then looked around. Two guys were hustling behind the bar, dressed in tight jeans and open vests—and nothing else. The waiters were dressed the same way, weaving through the crowds with smiles as they brought out food or took away empty plates. And the crowd was, as anticipated, mostly women.

  Randy ignored the smiles he and JP were receiving and kept looking around, wondering where Val was. Where Alyssa was.

  No, he knew where Alyssa was. Back in the kitchen, doing whatever it was she did. His glance slid to the swinging double doors and he thought about going back there. Just walking back and surprising her. What would she do? Smile at him? Pretend
she didn't know him?

  Probably throw a frying pan at his head.

  He clenched his jaw so hard his back teeth ground together. Why wouldn't she talk to him? Why the silent treatment? No, it was worse than a silent treatment—she was acting like she didn't even know him.

  Did she really regret that night? He sure as hell didn't. And he had hoped for more. So what the hell happened?

  He glanced back at the swinging doors again, telling himself he should just leave it alone. Her message had been received, loud and clear. Why should he go looking for more punishment?

  Because he wanted to know why, dammit. What the hell had he done wrong? He actually pushed himself away from the bar, ready to storm back into the kitchen and confront Alyssa. A hand closed over his wrist, the grip strong. Randy looked over, ready to tell whoever it was to get lost, and met his sister's eyes.

  "What are you doing here?" There was a smile on her face but it was forced, just for show as she hissed the words at him. He pulled his arm from her grip and reached for the bottle JP held out to him.

  "I'm having a drink. Why? Am I not allowed?" There was just enough challenge in his voice to make Val step back. She looked around them, no doubt to make sure nobody was paying them any attention. She smiled and nodded at the people looking their way, then stepped closer to him and lowered her voice.

  "Randy, please. Can't you just go somewhere else?"

  "Why, Val? What's the big deal? The other guys come in here all the time now and you don't ask them to leave. Why me?"

  "You know why."

  "No, I really don't. And to be honest, I'm just a little tired of being treated like I did something wrong. So tell me. Why?"

  Something close to a growl escaped through her clenched teeth. She grabbed his wrist again and pulled him through the crowd, toward another door just off to the side. Her office, or what passed for it. The room was little more than a closet, barely large enough for her small desk. She pushed him into it then closed the door behind her before squeezing past him.

  "You being here makes Alyssa uncomfortable."

  "Yeah? Tough shit. I didn't do anything wrong."

  "How can you even say that? Randy, you slept with her!"

  Heat quickly spread across his face, from embarrassment, from discomfort. Val was his sister, for crying out loud. This wasn't a conversation guys had with their sisters. He lifted the bottle to his mouth and took a long swallow. Well, the conversation had obviously come up between Val and Alyssa. There wasn't anything he could do about that now.

  Val sat on the edge of her desk, her arms folded in front of her, fire in her eyes. What the hell was she pissed off about? She had practically encouraged him to ask Alyssa out.

  "Excuse me, but I don't think that's really any of your business. Not to mention, you even suggested asking her out."

  "Ask her out. For a date, Randy, not a one-night stand!"

  Randy choked on the beer, spilling some of it on his shirt as he coughed. He ignored the spill, his eyes fixed on Val in unfeigned shock. "What the hell are you talking about? What one-night stand?"

  "From, well," Val waved her hands in the air but wouldn't look at him. "Our opening night, when you went over there. Randy, Alyssa's not like that. She's not into one-night stands. And if I had thought that's what you were planning, I would have never told you where she lived."

  Anger, hot and fierce, seared him. He tightened his grip on the bottle, surprised the glass didn't break in his hand, as he worked to loosen his jaw. His voice was low, hard and dangerous when he finally spoke. "Is that what you really think of me?"

  "What? No, I—not really, no, but Alyssa said..." Val trailed off and pushed away from the desk, quickly walking behind it, no doubt realizing he wanted to throttle her. The urge to do so was almost as strong as it had been all those years ago, when she was a headstrong tomboy who thrived on annoying him. And while the childhood urge was strong, Randy never gave into it. But right now, he really wouldn't mind slamming his fist through the wall, just to make his point.

  That didn't mean he wasn't above using her sudden discomfort to his advantage, though. He slammed the bottle on the edge of her desk, ignoring the splash of beer, and leaned over, deliberately crowding her.

  "What did Alyssa say?"

  Val swallowed, the gulp loud in the sudden heavy silence. Her eyes darted away, moving around the room, not meeting his. "She said that, uh, you know. You two...and that was it, that you were gone in the morning."

  Randy clenched his fists, pushing them into the scarred surface of the desk. "Did she tell you I left note?"

  "A note? Wow, smooth move. No, she was probably too embarrassed—"

  "The note explaining I had to leave for practice. The note asking if she wanted to meet later."

  "Oh. Um, no she didn't—"

  "How about all the times I called her but she wouldn't answer the phone. Or all the messages I left that she never bothered to return. Did she tell you about those?"

  "Um, no, she didn't—"

  "Then dammit, Val, don't you dare accuse me of doing something before you know the whole story!" His shout echoed off the walls and bounced around the small room. Val jumped at the sound, but he was beyond caring.

  For the last month, he had been kicking himself in the ass, asking himself what it was he had done wrong. And all this time, that woman had told everyone it was a one-night-stand. Had let everyone think that he had used her for one night only.

  And his own sister had believed it.

  He was beyond furious. Part of him wanted to do nothing more than rip the door from the hinges and storm out of the restaurant, toppling tables in his wake. But no, he wouldn't. Something like that would just create a scene, give his agent something else to warn him about. And he wasn't going to leave. Dammit, he had given his sister a huge chunk of money to open this place. He'd be damned if he'd let them run him out. If he wanted to hang here with his teammates, then he would. Hell, if he wanted to sleep on the bar, they'd damn well better let him.

  "Randy, I'm sorry, I just thought—"

  "I don't want to hear it, Val. In fact, I don't even want to look at you right now, I'm so pissed. So if you don't mind, I'm just going to go out there and hang with my friends, and try to have some fun."

  He didn't even bother looking at his sister, just stormed out. And if he slammed the door just a little too hard, so what? It was better than ripping it off the hinges, like he wanted.

  Chapter Eight

  "Alyssa, I need to see you a minute."

  Alyssa glanced over her shoulder to see Val standing a few feet behind her. She turned back around and finished arranging plates, making sure the orders were correct before stepping to the side so the waiters could grab them.

  "Val, we're pretty busy and I'm expediting right now. Can't this wait?"

  "No. Let someone else do it, I really need to talk to you." Val's complexion was paler than usual, almost pasty. Her hands were clenched tightly in front of her, and Alyssa's stomach did a slow little roll. Val was upset. More than upset. Val didn't get upset, she was the most level-headed person Alyssa knew.

  Which meant something must be really wrong.

  A hundred different possibilities went through Alyssa's mind, each one worse than the one before it, as she grabbed Lou and gave him some quick guidelines. Lou was more than capable¸ so she wasn't worried about leaving. She just hated not being there, felt like she was shirking her responsibilities if she wasn't there.

  Val followed her into the cramped office just off the kitchen, then sank down into the chair as Alyssa closed the door.

  "What is it? What happened?"

  "Alyssa, Randy's out front."

  Her stomach did another roll and she leaned against the desk, her knees suddenly weak. But she forced a smile on her face, not wanting Val to see how just hearing his name affected her.

  "And that upsets you?"

  "Alyssa, he hasn't been here since opening night because I told him not to com
e in! And when I saw him tonight, I asked him to leave."

  "Val, he's your brother. Why would you do that?"

  "Because I thought he used you for a one-night-stand!"

  "What? Oh my God, Val. Why would you think that?" Alyssa reached up and pulled the chef's toque off, crumpling it in her hands and twisting. She suddenly felt as bad as Val looked.

  "Because you said that you two, you know...And when you said you hadn't seen him since then, or talked to him, I just thought—"

  "Oh my God. Val, no."

  "I mean, I know he's not really like that and I couldn't figure out why he would do that, and I got so angry with him."

  Alyssa wanted to cry, could actually feel her eyes burning with humiliation. Why had she ever said anything to her friend? This was all her fault, she should have never said anything about that night, should have just pretended it never happened.

  "Alyssa, why didn't you tell me he called?"

  "How do you know he called?"

  "Didn't he? Because that's what he just told me, that he called you but you never called him back."

  Alyssa covered her face with the toque, not knowing what to say, or what to do. She should have known Val would stick up for her, would do whatever it took to defend her friend. If she had known what Val had been thinking, she would have corrected her, let her know that it hadn't been a one-night encounter, at least not on her brother's part.

  This was all her fault, for saying anything in the first place.

  "Did you tell him I told you it was a one-night stand?" Alyssa's voice was muffled behind the cloth but she didn't care. She refused to lower it away from her face, couldn't bear to let Val see her.

  "No but that's what he thinks. He was so mad he stormed out of my office before I could say anything."

  "Oh my God. No. This can't be happening."

  "Alyssa, I don't get it. I thought you liked him. And I know he liked you. Why wouldn't you answer his calls or call him back?"