Breakaway (The Rule Book Collection)

by A. M. Johnson

  I heard the tell-tale sound of a condom wrapper being torn open and my stomach dropped. This was happening. This was really freaking happening. It was absurd that I felt like I was losing my virginity for the first time all over again. Mark reappeared from the bathroom with an opened foil packet in his fingers. I had an IUD, but I didn’t feel like breaking the mood any more than necessary by discussing bloodwork and birth control.

  He knelt in front of me on the bed. His tattoos danced under the light of the sun, the warm buttered yellow glow creating even deeper shadows on his defined abs. I had the urge to run my fingers along the ink, trail them down to the etched V of his hips, and as if he could tell what I was thinking, he lifted my hand.

  The room was quiet as I moved to my knees and placed my hand on his chest. I could feel the drum of his heart under my palm, and he closed his eyes as I ran the tips of my fingers down to the sequence of numbers, the coordinates for Manchester. My heart squeezed as I remembered its significance. Mark was becoming more than just the physical fire I’d needed all this time. I really liked him, and this weekend, I was taking a risk, putting myself out there, and as his eyes opened, Mark allowed his steadfast confidence to slip. Vulnerability reflected inside the amber of his irises. I wasn’t the only one risking their heart. My stomach danced as he kissed me. His free hand palming the back of my head. Tender lips found their way to my cheek, to my jaw, completing his usual circuit until his mouth was on mine again. His kisses were slow as he teased me with feather light fingertips along my stomach, hips, and thighs. He groaned as I wrapped my hand around his length. He was heavy and hard, and his gentle kisses morphed into deliciously brutal bites and growls. I wanted the aggression. I wanted the Mark who fought his way across the ice. The Mark who came into this hotel room and practically cave-manned me onto the bed.

  He grabbed my hips, his hands gliding to the backs of my thighs, kneading the muscle until the limbs around his neck went weak. In one swift movement, he lifted me, and I fell backward into the pillows. I watched without shame, in the bright midafternoon sun, as he rolled the condom over the thick head of his dick. My tongue darted over my bottom lip, and I found myself opening my legs for him. I’d spent too much time in the doll house, the sleepy recesses, allowing myself to think I wasn’t worth the effort, worth the heat and flames. But as Mark’s lips tipped into a crooked smile, his eyes appraising my body like it was a gift, I remembered what it was like to really feel free.

  Mark placed his hands on my knees as he spread my thighs farther apart. His gaze kissed my skin, my breast, his regard scorching every surface as he leaned toward me. Our mouths met as he aligned our bodies. His tongue dipped into my mouth as he pushed the tip of his dick inside me. My fingers gripped his hips and I sucked in a breath.

  His lips found my ear as he whispered, “Like this?”

  He pushed hard and fast and I cried out as he filled me completely. He groaned and grit his teeth, his jaw pulsing as his eyes locked on mine. I was overflowing. He slid his body slowly from mine, repeating the hard thrust. My thighs ached as he continued his slow assault again and again. I felt every decadent inch of him, and when my eyes closed of their own accord, a flash of heat spilled over my body.

  His hot breath was against my ear. “Want me to fuck you like this?” Mark tilted his hips and pushed himself even deeper inside me. “Christ, you feel… too good.”

  My eyes opened and were met with his desire-addled gaze. His movements came quicker, harder. His rhythm no longer under his control, but driven by the way my body made him feel. Empowered… by the way his eyes begged mine, my legs curled around his hips, my heels digging into the flesh of his ass. He gripped the pillows on either side of my head, the tendons in his neck stretching as the sound of my moans, his grunts, saturated the air. A sheen of perspiration coated our skin as I met each of his strokes with a rock of my hips. His tongue plunged past my lips as we found a disjointed beat. My heart spun as he kissed me once and then again, his head falling to my shoulder, his whispers incoherent as he found his way to the ledge.

  Mark’s body stilled and he grasped my waist, rolling our bodies as one. I was dizzy and my legs were shaking as I straddled him. For a flash of a second, insecurity cooled my pulse. My belly was on full display, every dimple, every…

  “Fuck, babe, don’t stop.” Mark’s voice was desperate as he wrapped a strong hand around my hip, urging me to move with a less-than-delicate touch. His eyes devoured me as he murmured, “So perfect.” I tilted forward once and then back again. He groaned, “Shit… just like that.”

  My hips started to rock and his free hand gently folded around my neck before it slid to my breast. His thumb dusted across the sensitive skin sending a jolt all the way down my body. He lowered his hand, his thumb circling, teasing me between my legs, and when he finally brushed against the right spot, I came undone. My hands fell to his chest, the full feeling inside me—overwhelming as I rode my climax. Mark sat up and kissed me as if he had no other choice, as if I owned his last breath. His hips jerked and he pulled our bodies together by gripping my calves and wrapping my legs around his waist.

  My breasts were pressed against his chest, my belly against his stomach as he growled into my mouth. My hands were in his hair, there wasn’t an inch separating us when he came. Mark sucked in two erratic breaths, his voice gravel as he groaned, “Stevie...” His fingers pressed roughly into the rounded curve of my backside as he panted curses against my lips, guiding my body, working me against him, he pulled my bottom lip through his teeth. A shuddered pulse of electricity spread through my arms and legs. My lips were trembling when he pulled away. His forehead was creased, his eyes glossed over as he found my gaze. The pad of his thumb traced my upper lip and he kissed the imaginary line he’d drawn with eyes wide open. His kiss soothed the frantic butterflies in my stomach. His hands framed my face as he watched me come down from the high of him. He held us motionless, our bodies connected until our breathing synchronized.

  His thumbs ran trails over my cheeks, my jaw, his fingers following suit down my arms, over my thighs and calves, massaging the muscles. When I shivered, he chuckled and planted another sweet kiss on my lips. I let my eyes fall from his, my nose nuzzling in the crook of his neck, inhaling the heady scent of soap, sweat, and sex.

  His hand tickled up and down my spine, and I was content to stay like this for the remainder of the day. But the silence was broken by a growl of his stomach, and I laughed into his shoulder.

  “You need sustenance?” I asked as I raised my head.

  “I don’t want to leave this room.” His smile was playful. “Fucking ever.” He slapped my ass and I jumped. His jaw went tight, his spine rigid. “Holy shit, Stevie, you move like that again, and I’ll never let you leave this bed.”

  “Promise?”

  His smirk was boyish as he easily moved me onto my back, pinning me to the mattress. His eyes flicked to the clock on the nightstand. “I still have four hours.”

  I laughed, but he kissed me quiet. The playful mood evaporated into the smoothed curve of his lips, and for the third time today, I found myself surrendering to the way his mouth commanded my body. Mark drifted the tip of his nose along my collarbone before rolling onto his left forearm. His right palm splayed across my belly as his eyes appraised me. “You are…” His cheeks filled with color. “Fuck, Stevie, I think you’ve ruined me for other women.” I shoved him in the chest and he laughed. “I’m not kidding.” His brows dipped and his eyes exposed me. “I’ll never say shit I don’t mean.”

  “Okay.” I swallowed and brought my fingers to his lips. He kissed them and I rested my palm against the bristled scruff of his jaw. He leaned into my touch as I said, “I’ve never had sex like that before.”

  I lowered my hand from his face and raised up onto my elbows as he asked, “What do you mean?”

  “Hard… ” I swallowed around the weirdly timed lump in my throat. “Eyes open. It felt…” I struggled for the right word. Raw. Gri
tty. Unhinged. “Real.”

  His fingers painted circles around my belly button. “Real.” He chewed on the word, a frown forming on his lips. “Can I say, I fucking hate that you’ve ever felt less than real? You’re beyond real. I know you were with him for a hell of a long time, but Stevie, you should get to feel everything, to have everything you want.”

  I fought the ache forming in my throat as I whispered, “I’m finally seeing that now.”

  Mark leaned down, his lips touching mine. “Good, because it’s the truth.”

  He kissed me until the ache in my throat subsided, and the only burn I felt was from the stubble of his chin. He kissed me until I forgot that I’d ever felt like a paper doll, his lips showing me how “beyond real” I was. Mark kissed me until we’d both forgotten to breathe, until our stomachs reminded us that there were needs beyond this bed, until we could no longer overlook the red numbers ticking away on the nightstand clock.

  The restaurant host led Stevie and I through the soberly lit main dining room. My hands hadn’t left Stevie’s body since I’d walked in on her getting out of the shower. I loved touching her, having her heat my skin. Maybe it was the fact I hadn’t eaten since breakfast, played hard during practice, and fucked the afternoon away, but I was feeling pretty damn high as heads turned watching us retreat to the private room in the back where my team was sitting.

  “They’re staring…” she whispered.

  “I know.” My laugh was low and graveled as I dipped my head. “They’re staring at you though.”

  She met my gaze with big, amber-colored eyes. Stevie looked phenomenal in dark blue, curve-hugging jeans, and a black sweater. The fabric hung low on her left shoulder, exposing smooth porcelain skin. I knew exactly what it was like to taste that skin, how silky she felt against my lips. I wanted to leave a trail of hot kisses along the line of her neck, slip my hand under her sweater, and feel her soft stomach below my fingertips. The blood in my veins sang and pulsed toward my groin. I released her hand only to wrap my arm around her waist, needing to be that much closer to her, and whispered, “You look fucking hot tonight, I don’t think I’m gonna make it through this dinner.”

  She laughed quietly, her delicate chin tipping forward, long chocolate strands of her hair fell with the movement and shielded her face. She pushed the pieces behind her ear and said with a confident smile, “I’m thinking you almost passed out in the shower, you need carbs more than you need me.”

  She might’ve been on to something, but I shrugged. “I did not almost pass out.” She gave me incredulous eyes, the distinct blue burst flaring as my lips spread into a smirk. “I slipped. It was worth it, though, that angle…”

  She slapped my chest, and I heard Bryson’s deep laugh over the raucous sounds of my teammates as we entered the back room.

  “Finally!” he bellowed.

  Some of the guys lifted their eyes, giving me a knowing smile or a nod of the chin. It didn’t take them long to avert their attention to the sexy woman on my arm. A few of them furrowed their brows, but the majority of them gave her smiles. Their eager stares lingered over her body more than I would’ve liked, but it was my favorite assistant coach who greeted us, showing me and Stevie to our seats.

  “You brought a guest?” Meyers asked, his smile reaching his eyes.

  “I did.” I held out my hand and he shook it with a firm grip. “Mitch, this is my girlfriend, Stevie. Stevie, this pain in the ass is in charge of our defense.”

  Meyers laughed and shook Stevie’s hand. “Amongst other things, but no shop talk tonight…. It’s nice to meet you.” He angled his head to the right, indicating the only other woman in the room. “That’s my wife, Carrie, she’ll be happy to have a comrade-in-arms for once.”

  Mitch’s wife had been diagnosed with breast cancer a couple of years ago. Once they’d given her the all-clear, and she’d gone into remission, the woman was at every game, road or not. They never had children, and she’d sort of become our road mother in a lot of ways. She was there for me when all the shit went down with Mia, and it shouldn’t be my favorite thing about her, but she hated Mia maybe more than I did. She’d told me, “Women who cheat, especially on their hardworking men, deserve a special place in Hades.”

  Stevie’s smile was sweet as she said with a laugh, “Glad to get the chance to meet her, all these men, I’m a little intimidated.”

  “Don’t be, half of these idiots are already salivating over you, they’re lambs to be slaughtered,” Mitch joked as he led us deeper into the room.

  Four long tables hosted the majority of my teammates and were covered with drinks and appetizers. After a quick scan of the room, I noticed not everyone was here, but this didn’t surprise me, a lot of the guys preferred peace and quiet before a game. Bryson, who usually preferred the exact opposite, shot me a smart-ass smile from where he sat between Maddox and Rasmussen at the farthest table to the right. The same table Mitch’s wife Carrie occupied, and the only table with empty seats. I was proud of my team, my friends. But Bryson could be a dick if he wanted. He was protective of the team, of his friends. Of me. And because I’ve played alongside him for so long, I saw that edge, the way his eyes played at friendly, but in a faceoff, he’d unravel your game with one glare.

  Carrie stood and offered Stevie her signature broad, honest smile introducing herself immediately as Mitch pulled out her chair. Stevie sat down to the left of Carrie, and as I pulled out my own chair, Mitch’s mouth split into another smile.

  “She’s...” Amazing, I wanted to say for him, but didn’t because I was sitting across from my line mates and they eyed me like a hawk waiting for me to give them a reason to embarrass the hell out of me. “Nice,” Mitch finally said, his eyes tracking a line to where Stevie was now engrossed in conversation with his wife.

  I nodded as I took my seat, watching Stevie’s cheeks light up in shades of pink. She laughed at something Carrie had said, and knowing Carrie, it must have been something dirty. You couldn’t hang out with a bunch of hockey players all the damn time and not have us influence you in some ways.

  “Mark,” Maddox said by way of greeting, lifting his water glass to his mouth.

  “What took you so long?” Bryson asked, knowing damn well what took us so long.

  I ignored Rasmussen’s snort, and Bryson’s dumb fucking smirk and turned my attention to the now silent woman sitting next to me. I reached for her hand under the table, and when she laced her fingers through mine, I exhaled a long, tension-soaked breath. I gave Stevie a crooked grin and started the introductions. She’d already met Bryson at the bar the other night, and when Stevie leveled Rasmussen with her sexy smile, I watched, somewhat shocked, as his bravado fell away. For the first time since arriving in Tampa, Jasper Rasmussen looked his age. Barely over nineteen, the kid talked mad shit, but Stevie apparently had his number.

  “Jesus Christ, Jazz, did you just come in your pants?” Bryson asked and I pinched the bridge of my nose.

  Coach coughed and Carrie laughed so hard I thought wine would come out of her nose. The room was packed with adults, adults with the maturity level of a raunchy high schooler. It was the giggle that escaped Stevie’s lips, the sound like fingers kneading away the knots in my shoulder muscles that had me chuckling as well. Her eyes were open and bright, taking everything in. The rust-colored light of the room made the smooth surface of her face glow. She looked fucking beautiful. I couldn’t stop myself from leaning in and kissing her on the cheek, in front of every asshole in this room, I whispered with a smile on my lips a mile wide, “I apologize for nothing.”

  She turned her head an inch and smiled back at me. “Good, because I won’t need one.” Stevie scanned the room, her gaze falling to Bryson. “It takes a lot to offend me.”

  “Thank fuck,” Bryson barked, lifting his beer. His smile was genuine when he said, “Welcome to the team.”

  All the guys sitting at my table pounded their fists on the wood like they would’ve pounded their blades to the b
oards for a goal. I thought the attention would’ve made Stevie shrink, but she sat up straighter, her smile popping into a dimple. She lifted her water glass, reached across the table, and tapped the rim of her glass into Bryson’s. I chuckled as I caught Karlsson shake his head with a laugh. “Welcome to the team” was classic Jensen, Captain Showmanship. Bryson’s amused eyes met mine, and though it had receded some, a protective shadow hovered. He was giving her a chance. And for him, that was a big step.

  The conversations around the table resumed again, and I settled back into my seat as I overheard Carrie whispering to Stevie about the perils of surrounding yourself with hockey players. Stevie let go of my hand, resting her palm on my thigh above my knee. Her fingertips skated figure eights against the denim as she chatted up the assistant coach’s wife like she’d known her forever. Stevie fit, seamless, at my side and with my team. The cynic in me argued about too soon, and slow down, and stop thinking with your dick. Valid points or not, I felt better than I had in months. I draped my arm across the back of her chair, letting my fingertips graze her neck every once in a while as I talked plays and strategies with my line mates, loving how she leaned into the touch every time.

  After the servers took our order, I’d won Stevie’s attention back with a soft kiss to her cheek, and I whispered for about the hundredth time today, “I’m glad you’re here.”

  She pressed her lips together, a shy smile forming as she said, “So it seems.”

  L.A. had shown up to their house ready to win, and win wasn’t even the best word to describe what happened on the ice tonight. Demolish, destroy, they fucking owned our asses. We were shit against the boards, spending more time behind our own blue line than we had all damn season. The few quality scoring chances we’d had were smothered and saved by their impressive display at net minding. After the second period, L.A. had managed three goals while we managed to stay scoreless.