Slap Shot

by Lily Harlem

  “And what about you?” he asked, settling back on the chair and locking his hands behind his head, his elbows spreading wide. “You always wanted to be an event planner?”

  I pushed my plate away. “No, not at all, it just sort of happened.”

  “How?”

  I stared at the waterfall. There was no way I was going to give him the full story. The fact that I’d grown up with losers for parents and happily adopted the status of a runaway at sixteen was not something I was proud of. Neither were the years I’d spent working in a seedy downtown gentlemen’s club, earning a living dancing and spending my wages partying. I was wild during that time, I was out of control. Until one day I’d walked away and never looked back. Thank goodness I had. If I hadn’t, well, it didn’t bear thinking about where I might be now.

  “I came into some money,” I said. “Not loads, but it was enough to allow me six months off to try out a new venture.” I looked back at him, trying to banish memories of spinning around the poles and having money poked into my underwear.

  “And so you decided event planning was the way to go?”

  “Why not? The clients paid up front and there was no initial outlay except for a couple of ads, time and calls. I’m well organized and I know what people need to have a good time.”

  His black brows rose and his lips parted as if he were about to speak.

  “I know what makes a great event,” I said sternly.

  He chuckled and his head bobbed slightly.

  “It roller-coastered, word of mouth spread and before I knew it I was getting bookings while I was actually at an event.”

  “Wow, that’s impressive.”

  “It kept me busy. I’d only been at it three months when I leased my offices on Tremblant Street and hired Maddie.”

  “And you haven’t looked back since.”

  “No.” I definitely hadn’t looked back to that awful morning when I’d woken with a man sleeping next to me whose name I couldn’t recall and whose face I didn’t recognize. That in itself was bad enough, and thank goodness I’d tested clean at the STD clinic, but the fifty thousand dollars, the stash of white powder and the loaded gun on the bedside table had completely freaked me out. Five minutes later, staggering out of the stinking room, the sweat of a drug dealer slick on my body and my intimate parts sore and swollen, I’d decided there had to be change. I could not live my life that way another day. There had to be more out there for Dana Wilcox.

  “So how did you come into the money? Lotto win?”

  “I told you. I’m not a gambling lady.” I smiled and was rewarded with a return grin that showed off his dimples. “I was down on my luck and, as if fate had been saving herself for me, an elderly uncle who lived up in Calgary went and left me eighty thousand dollars. Turned out he’d met me once when I was about three and always held a soft spot. Poor old devil, I can’t remember him. He was on my mother’s side and she’d had a fallout with her family years ago.”

  “Eighty thousand, a good amount to start fresh.”

  “Well it’s not like the money you’ve made or anything, but it paid the deposit on the house, got me a car, and like I say, meant I could live while I tried out Best Laid Plans.”

  “Cheers,” he said, raising his glass to mine. “Here’s to Best Laid Plans, a wonderful and successful venture.”

  “And here is to old Uncle Toby,” I said. “And the fact he had a soft spot for the naughty three-year-old who once jumped all over his couch and drank his pop.”

  Rick took a sip of his drink. “You want to go jump in my pool?”

  “We’ve just eaten.”

  “You finished half an hour ago and I don’t mean anything strenuous, a paddle and a sit in the spa.”

  I glanced at the water. It was dark now and the spotlights beneath the large fronds of the plants made them glow magically. The water frothed white at the base of the waterfall and in the large round spa. The pale blue pool shimmered and sparkled and above the almost invisible mesh a large, cream moon hung in a velvet sky.

  “I don’t have a swimsuit.”

  “There’s some in there.” Rick nodded at a wooden door set against the main house.

  “What, you keep a stash of swimsuits for unprepared women you invite over?”

  His brow pulled low and his eyes narrowed. “No, not at all, I ordered them from a local store and they arrived this afternoon. For you.”

  My heart did a stupid little flip. “You didn’t.”

  “Why would I lie?”

  “But, but you don’t know my size.”

  He held up his hands, made an hourglass shape and grinned. “Let’s just say it’s a gift. Size four, yeah?”

  What could I say, he was right. “Okay, a quick dip, but only if one of the swimsuits fits.”

  “If not you could always go in naked.”

  I drained the last drop of my wine and stood. “You know that is never going to happen.”

  He stacked the plates and wisely said nothing.

  I stripped in the wooden-paneled changing room and picked out a black bikini. It wasn’t too skimpy and the halter-style top was flattering. It fit fine. After folding my clothes I headed back out. Rick was nowhere to be seen.

  Padding barefoot to the pool, I dipped my foot in. The water was lukewarm and my pink-painted toenails shimmered in the pool lights. I took the steps and let the coolness envelop my body, pushed off and swam breaststroke to the waterfall. Reaching the rolling water, I stood beneath it, tipped my head back and let the coolness soak through the thick strands of my hair. The feeling was heavenly. Refreshing and rejuvenating.

  Pushing off to swim back to the steps, I spotted Rick standing at the edge of the pool. He wore navy swim-shorts and had his hands on his hips. I tried to look unaffected by the sight of his gorgeous body looming against a backlit palm. Tall and wide, his muscles bulged and his dark body hair led a beautiful trail from his sternum to his navel, thickening as it disappeared below his waistband. He had a string of purple-yellow bruises down his right-hand side, a hazard of his job I guessed.

  “Is it good?” he asked as I got nearer.

  “Lovely.” Okay so I’d had sex with the guy, but it hadn’t been a slow mating, it wasn’t as if I’d had chance to truly savor, truly appreciate a body that was as near to goddamn perfection as was humanly possible.

  He dropped into the water, ducked right under then came up shaking his head, flipping his dark hair upward and sideways out of his face.

  “The swimsuit fits then.”

  “Yes, great, thanks.” I turned and swam back to the waterfall.

  With several fast strokes he overtook me and popped up in the hard flow, letting it bounce off his shoulders and face as he raked his hands over his head.

  I stared at the water gushing over his body, at the way it streamed down his tendons, sluiced over golden skin and caught in the wisps of black hair under his arms.

  “Ah, that’s better,” he said, stepping toward me, the water at his waist.

  “I thought you said nothing strenuous.”

  “That wasn’t strenuous.” He stopped in front of me and my feet hit the floor to avoid my nose bumping into his bricked abdomen. “You want to see strenuous?” he asked, his eyes glinting wickedly.

  I dropped backward, floated on my back and kicked away from him. “No, I wouldn’t want you to get a cramp.”

  “Babe, that damn bikini is already giving me a cramp.”

  I glanced down at myself and saw that my breasts, though still safely housed in the top, had breaching the surface of the water and the two round mounds of flesh jiggled as my body moved. Quickly I flipped onto my front and made for the steps. “I’m going in the spa, but just for a few minutes,” I said, and in my head added that soon I would go home. Bad Dana could not be trusted around a three-quarters-naked Rick. No way.

  The spa was hot and bubbly and I settled down against a powerful jet, letting it soothe the tension from my lower back.

  “I
don’t get enough use out of this,” Rick said, climbing in next to me, stretching his arms out sideways and dropping his head back. “It’s bliss.”

  “Mmm,” I agreed, closing my eyes and allowing a delicious state of relaxation to surround me. I was in control, everything was all right.

  “I’ve been offered an interesting project,” he said.

  I opened my eyes and turned to him. “What?”

  “My agent rang me earlier. Channel Eight has approached him about a TV show next spring.”

  “A TV show, what about?”

  “It sounds like it could be a winner. They’re planning a talent show looking for the next hockey stars, sort of like American Idol but on ice. They want me to get involved, judge, train, that sort of thing.”

  I sat a little straighter. “Do you think you’d have time for all that, what with games and practice?”

  He shrugged. “I’m not getting any younger, Dana. I’m thirty-six, my NHL days will soon be over. I’ll have to retire and let the youngsters have their glory.”

  “But surely you can just retire altogether and have an easy life. It’s not like you need the cash.”

  He frowned. “I’d go insane if I just sat around here all day. I need something to get my teeth into.” He pushed his wet hair back over his head, one tendril fell down over his right temple and a drip hung from the end. “I was kind of thinking of working with kids, teens anyway, setting up some kind of hockey training scheme that’s available to all, not just the ones who can afford it. Get kids skating, get them active, maybe even find some stars of the future and mentor their first steps.”

  I smiled at the way his face lit up. It was good to have plans for the future, and I agreed with him, he was too vibrant, too alive and too damn talented to just sit around for the rest of his life. “So you think the show could be incorporated into what you want to do anyway?”

  “Yeah, I think so. I’ve been mulling it over this afternoon.” He reached out and the tip of his index finger just brushed the curve of my shoulder. “What do you think, you know, as a businesswoman?”

  The same sizzling sensation I always got when he touched me burned across my collarbone and tightened my nipples. I glanced down and checked they were safely beneath the bubbling water. They were. I swallowed tightly and said, “It sounds like an ideal way to gain publicity and get the project off the ground. I guess it would just be a case of juggling the two roles until you did retire from the NHL.”

  “Yes, it would keep me kind of busy.” He moved closer. “But then I guess that would be a good thing. Keep me out of trouble.”

  I hitched in a breath at his sudden close proximity. Even in the hot water, his body heat radiated toward my bare flesh.

  “Dana,” he said in a quiet voice. “Thanks for coming tonight. I’ve really enjoyed your company.”

  “I’ve…” I paused and breathed in his delicious scent. “I’ve had a really nice time. The meal was great.”

  He slid his finger up from my shoulder and touched my cheek. His leg brushed mine beneath the water. I didn’t move away.

  “I have to go now,” I whispered, trying not to fall into the liquid desire in his eyes and trying not to let his delicious scent infiltrate every cell in my body.

  “In a minute,” he murmured. The gentle touch of his finger on my face turned into a palm over my jawline. “Stay with me for a little while longer.”

  My head tipped to his touch and the hard patches of skin on his hand rubbed my cheek. It only added to the rawness of him, the deep maleness that could never be associated with anything vaguely feminine. “No, I really should go, now.”

  “But you haven’t had dessert.” He swept his tongue over his bottom lip.

  I mimicked his action, my heart pounding in my chest. “What’s dessert?” I asked.

  “This.” He slanted his head and pressed his lips to mine, his soul patch tickling my chin. I didn’t resist, I knew I should, but suddenly every nerve in my body was wide awake with lust. I closed my eyes and put my hand over his large one, which still cupped my cheek. He was so damn good at making me forget I’d said no. Even though I’d told him it was time I went home I wanted him. I wanted him so badly.

  What am I doing? “No,” I snapped, pulling away and remembering my vows to myself. “You have to stop, Rick.”

  He gaze staked mine. “I will if you say ‘stop’ like you mean it.”

  “I…I…” The word wouldn’t come out, at least not with an iota of conviction.

  He grinned, his gaze heavy and full of promise. “But I will stop…eventually,” he whispered. His mouth hovered, tempting me with the heat and softness of his lips and his sumptuous flavor.

  I leaned into him. His chest brushed my peaked nipples and I caught my breath.

  “It’s just a kiss, Dana,” he breathed. “Just a kiss.”

  Oh god, but my body needs so much more.

  “And it’s not like I haven’t kissed you before,” he went on in a low, murmuring voice. “I like kissing you. You’re the sweetest, most delicious thing I’ve ever tasted.”

  His lips were a hairsbreadth from mine and each word, each whisper undid my resolve a little more. Weakened me for him.

  He threaded his fingers through my damp hair until he cradled my skull. Then he was kissing me again, confidently, expertly. My breasts grew heavy and my nipples tightened further against him. I wanted this. I wanted this heat pumping through my veins, the delicious tug between my legs. It was wrong of me. He was bad for me. But it had been so long since I’d felt anything like this—well, apart from last time I’d been alone with him.

  I slid my hand down his corded forearm, which held my head for the kiss. Smoothed over his wet skin, feeling the haze of hairs thinning as I reached his dense biceps. My palm cupped over the hard bulge of muscle and absorbed the solid, tense texture of him.

  The kiss deepened, his hand left my hair and stroked over my shoulder. It slipped below the water line and rested on my waist. Just his touch, his flesh on mine was like a match to gasoline, it rushed across my flesh creating a burning desire that was spiraling dangerously out of control.

  Who was I kidding? I was already out of control. Pressing up harder against him, I fed back the same hungry kisses he was giving me. Our tongues mated. He was hot and wet and eager, his body a rock beneath the bubbling water.

  “You feel good, wild thing,” he said, his voice deeper, rougher than before. “So damn good.”

  He sent kisses trailing over my cheek to my neck. I tipped my head and clung to his wide shoulders. I’d always been a sucker for neck kisses. It was as though there was a hard wire from the skin on my neck to the core of my pussy. Suddenly I was aching with need, a real, painful swelling of want between my legs. Starving myself of sex all that time had clearly not dampened my libido, if anything it had rocketed it to sky-high levels. “Rick,” I gasped, twisting so our wet, slippery bodies connected more fully. “Please, I don’t, I can’t”

  “Shh,” he soothed, his hand busy exploring the sensitive skin of my belly generating little trembles beneath the surface. “Shh, just give yourself up to me.” His mouth came back to mine. “You know you want to.”

  I groaned. He’d got me. He had me.

  Again.

  He tucked his fingers below the waistband of my bikini bottoms and I parted my legs. My clit was buzzing, my pussy aching. I needed him to touch me there like I needed to take my next breath.

  He brushed his big fingers downward, stroking through my pubic hair and just skimming over my clit. I gasped and my head fell back, only to be caught by his other palm. He pulled me closer and I felt the bikini elastic stretching as his hand journeyed farther in, sliding over slick folds of needy flesh.

  My toes curled off the base of the spa and my fingernails tensed on his back. “Rick,” I gasped as his teeth grazed my neck. Nothing mattered anymore, nothing was quite real. It was as though he’d cast a spell over me and reeled me in.

  I squirmed
as his thick finger found my entrance and pushed in. I lifted my leg, opening myself farther for his invasion. He groaned approvingly, added a second finger and allowed his palm to catch on my clit as he ventured higher.

  The immediate fullness and stretching along with the touch where I needed it most stole my breath and my eyes fluttered shut. Every nerve in my body homed in on the glorious sensations he was creating.

  “So perfect,” he whispered in a hoarse voice. “You feel so perfect for me.”

  I moaned an agreement as his hand began to work quickly but methodically, fingers inside me, the heel of his hand rubbing and caressing my clit. He didn’t waste time, he just got busy, searching for my orgasm, building it up, coaxing it from me. It was growing in the pit of my stomach and spreading outward, and as he brought me nearer I felt it rushing and prickling over my skin. He took me so high, almost to my release then stopped.

  “Rick,” I managed, clawing at him and riding his hand for more. “Please.”

  “So you want your dessert after all?”

  “Yes, yes, oh god, please.” My voice was whiny and desperate even to my own ears. Where the hell has astute, independent, celibate, businesswoman Dana Wilcox gone?

  He caught my mouth in a mind-blowing kiss, thrusting his tongue in time with his clever fingers. My mind turned white—white and hot with neon flashes. “Ah, ah, yes,” I panted around his lips. “Please, keep going.”

  He pushed into me harder, faster, stroking my G-spot, catching my clit. I cried out again, intense pleasure racing through me. My ears rang and my body trembled as I teetered on the edge of climax for several long, blissful seconds.

  Then I crashed down, completely overtaken by my orgasm, my pussy convulsing around his fingers and a sob tearing from my throat. It seemed to go on forever, shaking and pulsing, releasing my desire. It was consuming, he was consuming. I gripped his body, gasped for oxygen and my thighs clamped around his expert hand.