Game Misconduct_A Baltimore Banners Hockey Romance

by Lisa B. Kamps

But he had to. They were in a parking lot. In the middle of the night. In February.

  He bit back a curse and stepped away, yanked the key fob from his back pocket and slapped it into the palm of her hand. Her fingers closed around it, something like desperation in her eyes as she hit the remote and unlocked the doors.

  "My place okay?"

  "Yeah. Perfect." He yanked open the door and dropped into the passenger seat, pulled his seatbelt around him and waited for Lori to do the same. Then he closed his eyes and rested his head against the buttery softness of the leather seat, smiling as the powerful engine roared to life under him, dreaming of things to come.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Lori tilted her head, listening. Had that been movement she heard coming from upstairs? She stepped out of the kitchen, listening more closely. Her house was quiet, the only noise coming from the coffee machine behind her.

  She tossed the dish towel over her shoulder then returned to the tray she was assembling. Toast, unbuttered—check. Glass of orange juice—check. Coffee, strong and black—almost ready. Ibuprofen, extra strength— she uncapped the bottle, started to shake out two then changed her mind and just placed the entire bottle on the tray. There, everything was ready. Now all she had to do was take it upstairs to her guest.

  And make sure he was still alive.

  A grin played around her mouth. This wasn't exactly how she had planned to spend the morning after bringing Corbin home with her. Especially after that toe-curling kiss he'd planted on her in the parking lot. But maybe it was better this way. They'd have a chance to talk without sex getting in the way.

  Not that she thought Corbin's mind would be on sex right now. His head was probably pounding too much from all the drinking he'd done last night. Danny would have a lot to answer for when she saw him at work on Monday. What had he been thinking, buying as many rounds as he had and practically force-feeding them to Corbin? Not that Corbin had needed any extra encouragement tossing them back. At first, Lori thought he was trying to prove something, that maybe he wasn't quite as comfortable with Danny as he pretended to be—which would have broken her heart. But that wasn't it. In fact, she got the feeling the opposite was true—that he was so comfortable, he was actually able to relax enough that he didn't have to worry about anything.

  She just wished he hadn't fallen asleep in the car the way he had.

  She paused at the open door to her room, her eyes drinking in the sight of the man sleeping in her bed. Yes, she had a guest room. She could have just as easily put him in there last night. But he told her no, he wanted to be with her—then promptly fell face-first in the middle of her bed, fully clothed.

  He wasn't fully clothed now. She had managed to get off his shoes and socks, had managed to tug off his pants—which may have taken her a bit longer because she'd been enjoying it a little too much. The dark blue boxer briefs stayed safely in place, though. She did have some scruples—although it had been a close call.

  The sweater had been more difficult, because she had to actually move him to get it off. The man was solid, nothing but pure muscle and hot flesh—and almost impossible to move when he was nothing but dead weight. That's why she had left the white undershirt on—she couldn't manage to go through the motions again to get it off.

  He must have taken it off at some point in the middle of the night, though, because his arm had been wrapped around her waist, her back pressed against his bare chest when she woke up this morning.

  Not that she was complaining.

  He had taken over most of the bed as soon as she got out of it, though, and it didn't look like he had moved since then. One arm was stretched out to the side, his hand loosely curled. The other arm was curled over his eyes, so she could only see the tip of his nose and his full mouth, relaxed in sleep. Stubble covered his jaw, a few shades darker than the hair on his head, thicker than she remembered it being the morning after she'd spent the night at his place.

  The sheets were a tangled mess around his waist, the pale-yellow cotton even lighter against his skin. One bare leg, covered in hair the same dark blonde as the stubble on his chin, poked out from the sheets, his foot dangling over the edge of the bed.

  She could stand here all day and simply watch him. Catalog the changes in his body from when she had seen him last. Not that she had seen this much of him back then, not even close. But she had seen enough—had been so acutely aware of him, even then—that it was easy to see the changes. His shoulders were broader, his arms thicker. His chest had filled out, his stomach was more defined. And his legs. God, his legs defied description. Long, with thick thighs and calves from all those years spent on the ice. Strong. Powerful. And the way they felt between hers, as he was sliding—

  Lori gave herself a shake and forced herself to look at the wall. She did not need to be staring at Corbin like this, remembering how his body felt next to hers. In hers. Not now, not when she needed to wake him up. The Banners didn't have practice today, she knew that much. But she had no idea if he had somewhere else he had to be, something else he had to do. It was already past nine in the morning, definitely time to stop wasting time.

  Lori placed the tray on the nightstand then lowered herself to the edge of the bed. Should she tap him on the shoulder? Gently shake him? Or maybe just leaning forward and calling his name would be enough to wake him.

  She reached out, hesitating for just a second, then placed her hand against his shoulder. His skin was hot and firm, begging for a touch. A kiss.

  Lori rolled her eyes and pushed against his shoulder. "Hey, Sleepyhead. Time to get up."

  He groaned, the sound garbled and throaty, then shook his head. She nudged him again, a little harder this time.

  "Corbin, time to wake up."

  "Mm-hmm."

  One more time, leaning a little closer. "Corbin—oomph!" She landed flat on her back in the middle of the bed, his warm weight resting on top of her. Sleepy brown eyes stared down at her, holding her in place even as her heart threatened to take off without her.

  Lori waited for her heart to settle, waited for her breathing to slow down. Waited for Corbin to blink the haze of sleep from his eyes and finally recognize her. Only when she looked into his eyes, she realized he did recognize her—and he hadn't been asleep, not if the crooked smile on his face meant anything.

  "You're not funny."

  "I wasn't trying to be."

  "Your coffee is getting cold."

  He dipped his head, brushed his lips against her ear. "Don't care."

  "I brought aspirin—"

  "Don't need it."

  "You're not hungover?"

  "Non." His lips trailed a hot path along her neck, behind her ear, across her cheek. She closed her eyes, her body already reaching toward him. Warm breath fanned across her mouth, sweet and minty.

  Her eyes shot open and she stared at him. "You brushed your teeth."

  "Yes."

  "That's cheating."

  He pulled back, surprise etched on his face. "How is that cheating?"

  "Because now I can't use morning breath as an excuse."

  He chuckled, the sound deliciously warm and sexy, his mouth dangerously close to hers. She turned her head to the side and pushed against his bare chest. "We need to talk."

  He froze, muttered something in French, then rolled off her with a sigh. She pushed up on her elbows, thought about simply scooting back and leaning against the headboard, then thought better of it. That would put her too close to Corbin, with his bare chest and sleep-sexy eyes and—she glanced down at where the sheet had been covering him, saw the rigid outline of his thick erection straining against the cotton of his briefs.

  She made a small sound, an odd cross between a groan and a whimper, then slid across the bed and sat on the edge—away from the temptation that was Corbin. Then she noticed him watching her, noticed the crooked grin curling his full mouth and the gleam of mischief in his eyes. She rolled her eyes then slid closer to the end of the bed.

&nbs
p; Just in case.

  "How can you not be hungover?"

  He took a long gulp of the coffee, watching her over the rim of the mug. He closed his eyes, an expression of pure joy crossing his face as he swallowed. Then he looked back at her, that crooked smile still in place. "I'm one of the lucky ones, I guess. Good thing, after those years in Vegas, eh?"

  "All those years in Vegas?" She snorted. "Could have fooled me, with the way you crashed last night."

  A small blush raced across his face. He looked away, shrugged, toyed with the edge of the mug. "I did not plan on that, no. But I'm more than willing to make up for it—"

  "Did you love her?" The question came out of nowhere, shocking her as much as it obviously shocked him. Or maybe shocked was the wrong word. The blush on his face disappeared as quickly as it had appeared. His lips pulled tight, their color fading to a chalky white.

  Lori looked away, her gaze focused on the frayed hole in the knee of her jeans. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have asked. It's none of my business—"

  "Non." He cleared his throat, spoke again, his voice louder. "No, I did not love her."

  Lori nodded, not even sure if he was looking at her. She wanted to ask more questions—questions she had no right to ask. Why had he married? Why had he divorced? Had he called his wife cute little pet names as well, the way he called her ma cocotte?

  No, she couldn't ask him that. Ever. She didn't want to know, couldn't bear the thought of him using her pet name with another woman.

  The bed shifted under her. She watched from the corner of her eye as he stood up, reached for the trousers she had carefully folded and placed across the small chair next to the bed. He stepped into them, pulled them up and snapped them with short, precise movements before turning toward her.

  "Is that what you wanted to talk about?"

  Lori twisted to the side, quickly looked away at the intensity in his eyes. "No, it wasn't. I'm sorry, I shouldn't have—"

  "Then what did you want to talk about?" His voice was level, the accent that had been present moments ago gone.

  "I just—you never told me why you came to see me last night."

  His shoulders relaxed as the tension left him. He ran a hand across his jaw, the rasp of stubble against his palm a whisper in the surrounding silence. Then he sighed and sat on the edge of the bed, his leg so close, she could feel the heat of it against hers.

  "I met with my attorney yesterday. He thinks an agreement has been reached and that I can put everything behind me."

  "That fast?"

  "That is what he said, yes."

  "So, now what? You write her a check and that's it?"

  Corbin nodded, his gaze not quite meeting hers. She wanted to ask how much. How much was a man's reputation worth? How much was the payout for setting him up? Because she was certain, now more than ever, that it had been some kind of set-up.

  But she didn't dare ask. It wasn't her business. And she was very much afraid of what she'd do to her neighbor if she ever found out.

  "Well, I'm glad. Not that you have to pay her—there's nothing right about that. But I'm glad you can put this behind you." She offered him a smile that she didn't quite feel and stood up, moving toward the tray on the nightstand. "And I'm glad we were able to help you celebrate last night, even if we didn't know it at the time."

  Corbin reached for her hand, stopping her mid-step. She glanced down, watching as his thumb rubbed small circles against the back of her hand, felt the corresponding warmth of his touch spreading along her arm. Then she looked up, her gaze locking with his. Deep brown, warm, serious.

  "That was why I came here last night, ma cocotte. To ask you out. On a proper date. And to see..." He cleared his throat and stood up, suddenly towering over her. Making her feel small and dainty.

  And protected. Always protected.

  He cupped the back of her head, his eyes never leaving hers. "And to see if maybe we can pick up where we left the last time I was here."

  Chapter Nineteen

  Bare trees lined the side of the road, their naked branches dark shadows in the gray sky heavy with the promise of snow. Patchy snow, dirty with exhaust from traffic, littered grass still brown from winter's cold. The snowy patches became more frequent, thicker and heavier and not quite so dirty, the further north they drove up I83. The landscape changed as well, office buildings and flat land giving way to farmhouses and rolling hills.

  How long had it been since he'd been up this way? Nine years? Almost ten? Not since that March afternoon when he'd given the necklace to Lori, in the shadows of the big barn.

  He had never expected to return. Certainly not today.

  Corbin pushed the sunglasses to the top of his head and shifted in the passenger seat. Lori leaned against the back of the driver's seat, her mouth curved in a small smile, her left hand curled around the steering wheel.

  Her right hand curled around his.

  That was unexpected, too—how easy it had been to reach over and grab her hand. How natural it felt. How normal, for her fingers to be threaded with his. How many times had he ached to do that, all those years ago? Something as simple, as innocent, as holding her hand. But he'd never been able to, not even on those few occasions when she had tried. Silly, how something as innocent as holding hands had felt so forbidden to him back then.

  But it didn't feel forbidden now. Now, it felt...right.

  Even Lori driving, instead of him, felt right for some reason. He had argued at first—not because he had anything against Lori driving, but because a small piece of him had been eager to show off for her. To impress her—and whoever they might run into at her parents' house—with the flashy sportscar. Ridiculous. Shallow. Vain. Yes, to all of those things. But he had still wanted to do it.

  Until Lori reminded him how bumpy the driveway to the barn was. Until she playfully told him she had no problem with him driving his expensive, flashy sports car—as long as he didn't mind bottoming-out as soon as he turned into the driveway.

  So they were headed north, with Lori driving her practical car while the knots in his stomach tightened. They passed the exit for Mt. Carmel Road, then Middletown Road. How much further? He couldn't remember. Two exits? Three? And with each passing minute, the knots grew in size.

  "And Coach Donovan, he won't be there, eh?"

  "No. I told you that. He took Aunt Kayli away for the weekend. The coast is clear." She squeezed his hand, but he didn't feel quite so reassured.

  "I feel like I did all those years ago, when you brought me to see the calf."

  Lori glanced over at him. "And how's that? Curious? Excited?"

  "Non. Petrified of getting caught."

  Sudden laughter filled the car, light and musical. Corbin smiled at the sound, at the way it made him feel inside. Light. Free—freer than he'd felt in a long time. He raised their clasped hands to his mouth and pressed a kiss against her knuckles, smiling when Lori's fingers involuntarily tightened around his.

  Later, he promised. Later, when they returned to her place, he would cook her dinner. They would sit on the sofa, curled together as they talked. And then he would make love to her. Slow. Complete. Over and over, the way he had always wanted to.

  "You were really that worried? I think you're exaggerating."

  "I'm not exaggerating. Your uncle was very clear about killing me if he ever saw us together. And I had no doubt that he meant every word."

  Lori's fingers tightened around his. She pulled her gaze from the road, not bothering to hide her shock. "Seriously?"

  " Franchement. Yes, very."

  "Uncle Ian actually threatened to kill you? I can't believe he did that! Just wait until I see him—"

  "Non, ma cocotte. Let it go. That was a long time ago."

  She turned her attention to the road, not speaking again until she slowed for the exit to Old York Road. "He hasn't said anything recently? Since you've been back?"

  Corbin swallowed against the growing lump of nerves in his throat and shook hi
s. "No. The subject hasn't yet been brought up."

  But it would be, of that he was certain. As soon as Coach Donovan heard the first hint that Corbin was seeing Lori, there would be hell to pay. He didn't care, not anymore. Let Coach threaten him. Corbin was older now, had been through too much the last eight years to be so easily intimidated. Had learned too much of what he really wanted these last four weeks.

  That didn't mean he was foolish enough to ignore the nerves twisting his gut. And it certainly didn't mean he was looking forward to it.

  Lori slowed the car to a stop then made a left turn onto the road dividing Maryland and Pennsylvania. The road twisted and turned, becoming a little narrower with each passing mile. Up one hill and down another, and another and another until she slowed the car and turned into a rutted, gravel drive. The car bounced hard enough that his teeth rattled together and he looked over, noticing her mischievous smile.

  "You did that on purpose."

  She looked over at him and grinned, giving him a glimpse of the young woman she had been. The woman who had stolen his heart all those years ago. Spirited. Carefree. Independent.

  The woman she still was.

  "Maybe." She eased the car to a stop near the old stone barn and turned off the ignition. "Well, here we are. What do you think? Is it like you remembered?"

  "Non. It's better." Could she hear the change in his voice? Feel the heat in his words? He didn't know, didn't care, because she turned her head toward him, her mouth slightly parted in surprise. He leaned toward her, cupped the back of her head in his hand, and captured her mouth with his.

  This wasn't a gentle kiss, or a kiss meant to coax or reassure. There was power in this kiss. Hunger. Fire. Desire and demand.

  He thrust his tongue into her open mouth, tasted heat and passion. She sighed, the sound mixing with his own, and leaned into him. The fingers of her right hand twisted in the soft material of his sweatshirt. The fingers of her left skimmed his jaw, his cheek, teased the short strands of hair at the back of his neck.

  He struggled to get closer, cursing the seatbelt that held him in place. He needed to feel her, to hold her. To be with her. Here. Now. Always.