Playing Hard: A Chesapeake Blades Hockey Romance (The Chesapeake Blades Book 3)

by Lisa B. Kamps

  “I have practice Thursday night, you know that.”

  “It’ll be after practice. We probably won’t be getting in until close to midnight anyway.”

  “Which means you won’t get here until at least one. That’s not going to work, not when I have to get up at six for work.”

  “Then call in sick.” He winced as soon as the words left his mouth. Fuck. Did he have to sound so desperate?

  Yeah, because he was desperate. He hadn’t seen her since Sunday evening, when he finally took her home after spending all day with her. They’d had lunch after leaving the hotel, went back to his place to watch movies—and barely made it through the door before falling all over each other with a hunger that still left him breathless. He was addicted to her, pure and simple. Couldn’t get her out of his system. Didn’t want to get her out of his system.

  It was only Tuesday, just over forty-eight hours since he had seen her, and he was already going through withdrawal. The team had flown out early this morning for tonight’s game and would fly out early tomorrow for Thursday’s game in New York. Then they were back home for a few off days, an unusual weekend with no games before an extended home stretch next week.

  Unless you counted the exhibition game on Saturday afternoon.

  Caleb didn’t want to wait that long to see her. Didn’t know if he could wait that long.

  He blew out another frustrated sigh and readjusted his grip on the phone. “No comment to that, huh?”

  “No, because I’m pretending I didn’t hear you say that. You know I can’t call out sick.”

  He opened his mouth to ask her why, snapped it closed before the words left his mouth. He knew why, knew she had bills to pay, knew that she didn’t make shit playing for the Blades.

  “How about if you leave your door unlocked and I’ll just sneak into bed with you? I won’t even wake you up.” And yeah, that sounded as pathetic as he thought it did because Shannon actually snorted her laughter.

  “Yeah, right. Like that’s realistic.”

  “I’ve seen you sleep, remember? I think a bomb could go off next to you and you wouldn’t notice it.”

  “Probably not, but somehow I think I’d notice you in my bed. Which means neither one of us would get any sleep.”

  “Then how about Friday?”

  “Hang on.” He heard some more muttering, a small click, then Shannon’s voice again, the sound just a little different. “That’s not going to work, either. Inventory is Friday so I’m working late, picking up some extra hours.”

  “Is it mandatory?”

  “No but I already committed to it.”

  “Can’t you tell them you changed your mind?”

  “Yeah, I could.” She paused and Caleb could hear her stifling a yawn. “Except it’s overtime and I need the money.”

  “You could always move in with me.” And whoa. What the fuck? Had he just said that? What the hell was wrong with him? His mouth opened and closed, like a fish drowning on air, as he struggled to say something—anything—in an effort to brush the words off. To turn them into a joke. To—

  Shannon snorted, her laughter bright and maybe just a little forced as it came through the phone. “Did you get hit in the head tonight? Get boarded or something?”

  “What? No, of course not.”

  “Really? Because I know I didn’t hear what I just thought I heard. Don’t be an ass.”

  Caleb pulled the phone away from his ear, frowned at it, then moved it back. “An ass? Why does that make me an ass?”

  “You’re kidding, right? You just asked me to move in with you.”

  Yeah, he had. It was just a slip of the tongue, words leaving his mouth before his brain could engage. He hadn’t meant it. At least, he didn’t think he’d meant it. But did she have to sound so cynical about it? Did she have to make it sound like the world’s worst idea?

  It was, but that didn’t matter.

  “It, uh, it was just an idea.”

  “A stupid one. Moving in.” She laughed, the sound breathy, still a little forced, filled with disbelief. “Not happening, Caleb.”

  He ground his teeth together and drew in a quick breath through his nose. Time to change the subject. “So how about Friday night when you get home from inventory?”

  “That’s not happening, either.”

  “You’re killing me, Shannon.” He fell back onto the bed, his gaze studying the rough surface of the ceiling. “I need to see you.”

  “Yeah. Me, too.” Her voice lowered, turned a little husky. Was she in bed, pretending he was with her? Touching herself, pretending it was his hands on her, pretending it was his finger sliding in and out of her wet heat?

  He squeezed his eyes closed, pressed the palm of his hand against the aching length of his cock. Fuck, he had to stop thinking like that, had to stop picturing her that way. Not when he was here, hundreds of miles away and unable to do anything about it.

  Especially when Logan could decide he’d had enough down in the bar and come back to the room at any minute.

  Fuck it. The door was locked, the security latch in place. Nobody was coming inside.

  He fumbled with the button of his pants, yanked down the zipper and freed his aching cock with a sharp sigh. Long strokes, up and down, his thumb grazing the tip, spreading the bead of moisture over soft skin stretched tight. Picturing Shannon on her knees between his spread legs, her long hair tickling the skin of his inner thigh. Her mouth, hot and wet, closing over him.

  Christ, he wanted her, needed her. With a fever he didn’t understand, a fever that threatened to fry the last molecule in his brain. “What, um, what are you doing?”

  “Right now?”

  “Yeah. Tell me.” He stroked harder, a little faster, imagining Shannon in her bed, her legs spread wide, her fingers sliding over her slick clit.

  “Trying to unclog this damn garbage disposal. Why?”

  Caleb’s eyes shot open as disappointment shot through him. He released his cock with a growl. “Just, um, just wondering.”

  “Everything okay? You sound…I don’t know. Weird.”

  “Yeah, fine. Good to go.”

  “You sure about that?”

  “Yeah. I was just hoping—never mind.”

  “Hoping, what?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Caleb, out with it.”

  “I was just sitting here, picturing you next to me. Naked. Hot. Wet. Fingering that sweet wet pussy—”

  Something like a crash echoed in his ear, followed by a muttered curse. The sound grew muffled, dull and distant. More noises, like hurried footsteps, followed by what sounded like a door slamming shut.

  He pushed up on his elbow, frowning. “Shannon? You there?”

  “Uh, yeah. I’m here.”

  “Everything okay?”

  “Uh, yeah.”

  “What was that noise?”

  “Um…that would have been the phone flying off the counter.”

  Caleb smiled, a spurt of male pride shooting through him. “Got you a little worked up, huh?”

  “Um, no.”

  No? Really? So much for the male pride. He reached down, readjusted his pants, then pushed himself to a sitting position. “Then why was your phone flying off the counter?”

  “Because I was trying to get it off speaker phone.”

  Caleb leaned forward and pinched the bridge of his nose then pulled in a deep breath. He didn’t want to know, didn’t want to ask. Couldn’t ask.

  He didn’t need to, because Shannon kept talking, her voice just a little choked. From embarrassment? Laughter? Something else?

  “My, um, my brother’s here.”

  “Your brother?”

  “Yeah. You know, the one who’s letting me live in the studio above his garage?”

  “He’s there now.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Did he, uh, did he hear?”

  “Um, yeah. Pretty much.”

  Fuck. “I’m sorry, I didn’t think—”


  “Yeah, neither did I.”

  “Did he, um, did he say anything?”

  “Not really but I’m pretty sure he wants to meet you now.”

  Great, just fucking great. What the fuck had he been thinking? He hadn’t been, not with his brain, at any rate. “I didn’t mean—”

  “I know you didn’t. I should have warned you.”

  How could she have warned him? It wasn’t like she knew what he was thinking, what he was doing…what he was hoping she would do. Hell, even he hadn’t known, hadn’t planned on it.

  He ran a hand over his face, released a deep sigh. “So, how about Friday night? When you get off work?”

  “Caleb, I can’t.” He heard the regret in her voice, but he also heard the determination and knew nothing he said would change her mind.

  “Then how about Saturday?”

  “We’re already seeing each other Saturday. You know—when we kick your ass on the ice.”

  Caleb didn’t even laugh. How could he, after tonight’s slaughter? “I was thinking more along the lines of after the game.”

  “After the game, I’m all yours.”

  “I’m going to hold you to that.”

  “After the game, you can hold whatever you want.”

  “Is that a promise?”

  “That’s a promise.”

  Caleb smiled, some of the tension easing from his shoulders. He apologized again, finally said goodbye, and disconnected the call.

  Four days. He could last four days.

  Couldn’t he?

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Breathe.

  Focus.

  Breathe.

  Shannon rolled her head from side-to-side, shrugged the tension from her shoulders. This was just a game, like every other game she had ever played in since she was six years old. Nothing in her routine should change. It couldn’t change, not if she wanted to be ready.

  She could do this.

  They could do this.

  She opened her eyes, looked down at the small rubber balls cupped in her hand. One more deep breath then she tossed the first one against the wall. The second. The third. Watching as they bounced off the painted concrete, arcing through the air toward her.

  One. Two. Three.

  She batted each one as it moved closer, fast. Faster. Over and over, her gaze focused on the movement of each rubber ball, anticipating, breathing, focusing. Finding her zone, settling into it.

  Faster still, until each swipe of her hand came automatically, all thought gone, trusting only her instinct.

  Thwap. Thwap. Thwap.

  Thwapthwapthwap.

  Deep breaths, her heart rate slowing as she changed the rhythm of each swipe. High. Low. Stepping away from the wall, then moving closer. Always watching. Always anticipating.

  Slower now, nice and steady. Slower still until she caught each ball with her hand. One. Two. Three.

  She closed her eyes, inhaled deeply, let her head hang down. Relaxed. Free of the tension that had been gripping her since this morning.

  Free of all thought except for the game that was due to start in fifteen minutes.

  Just another game. Just like every other game she had ever played in.

  She pressed a hand against her stomach, pushing away the tangle of nerves that wanted to resurface, just like she pushed away the negative thoughts threatening to surface.

  She tossed the balls into her small duffel then sat cross-legged on the floor, hands resting, palm up, on her knees. A few more minutes to meditate, to focus, to go deeper into the zone. Just a few more minutes…

  Footsteps echoed along the tile floor, hesitated then moved closer. Shannon blew out a heavy breath then opened her eyes, raised her brows in Taylor’s direction.

  “Yeah?”

  “It’s about time.”

  A burst of nerves fluttered in her stomach. Dammit. She didn’t need the nerves, not now. None of them did.

  She swore again then pushed to her feet. “How crowded is it?”

  That question had been on her mind all morning. Hell, it had been on her mind all week. She wasn’t the only one wondering about it, either. Yes, this exhibition game was a great opportunity for the Blades, for the entire league—but only if people actually showed up.

  Taylor shrugged. “I haven’t looked.”

  “What? Why not?”

  “I’m afraid to.” Taylor made the admission with a small grin, like she was trying to play it off. But Shannon knew her too well, could feel the tension and worry radiating from her. Taylor was nervous? She wasn’t sure what to make of that, wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or not.

  “Well, fuck them then. They don’t know what they’re missing.”

  Taylor laughed then clapped her on the shoulder. “You’re right.”

  “Damn straight, I’m right.”

  “You ready?”

  Shannon opened her mouth, ready to say as ready as I’ll ever be. But she couldn’t say that—she never said that. It wasn’t her, wasn’t who she was. So she forced a confident smile she didn’t quite feel and nodded. “Abso-fucking-lutely.”

  Then it was time to head to the locker room, time to finish gearing up. Coach Reynolds came in, gave them her usual rah-rah speech, pumping them up. And they were pumped up, every single one of them, despite the tension and nervousness that hovered around them.

  They moved out to the hall and into the tunnel, listening to the heavy beat of rock music as the announcer introduced the Banners. Loud cheers greeted each name, echoing off the ice.

  Shannon exchanged a surprised glance with Taylor at the noise level. How many people were out there?

  Definitely more than the Blades usually played in front of.

  Sammie groaned and grabbed Shannon’s shoulder, dropping her head against the pads. “OhmyGod. Holy crappola. I think I need to pee.” It was what Sammie said before every game, part of a ritual that had become ingrained in them since their very first game.

  Shannon tapped her on the leg with the flat of her stick and grinned, just like she always did. The familiar words fell from her mouth, filled with a hint of laughter—just like always.

  “It’s a little late for that.”

  And it was, because the announcer’s voice boomed through the arena. “Ladies and gentleman, the…Chesapeake…Blades!”

  Holy shit, the applause was nearly as loud for them as it had been for the Banners. Shannon closed her eyes and took a deep breath, willing her stomach to settle as each player was introduced.

  Taylor. Dani. Maddison.

  Sammie. Rachel.

  One by one, until Shannon was next in line.

  “And in net, number thirty-seven, Shannon Wiley!”

  Shannon pushed through, hit the ice with a smooth stride, the stick raised over her head in greeting as she moved toward the net. And holy shit, the place was packed. Not completely filled, but still more crowded than she had anticipated.

  More crowded than she had hoped.

  She moved into position, crouching low, bouncing on her skates as she slid her stick across the ice in a wide arc, tapping each post twice. Her gaze moved over to the players’ benches then slid toward center ice. Dani was taking the face off, lined up against Hunter Billings from the Banners. Even from here, she could see the grin on the man’s face—on the faces of all the Banners. This was nothing to them but a lighthearted game. All of them probably thought it would be child’s play, that they’d win without even trying.

  Was Caleb thinking the same thing?

  She sought him out with her gaze, noticed the way he was positioned on the ice. Standing straight up, his weight on his right leg. Casual. Relaxed.

  Yes, even Caleb thought this was going to be an easy win, no matter how many times she had told him otherwise.

  Fine, let him think that. Let all of them think that. They were about to find out otherwise.

  Would the Blades win? Maybe. Maybe not. But they sure as hell were going to try.

  The p
uck finally dropped. Hunter reached out with his stick, the move almost nonchalant, like it was a given that the Banners would win the face off. But the puck was already sliding across the ice, hitting Taylor’s tape dead-center before she spun around and moved toward the Banners’ net.

  Shannon almost laughed at the expressions on the men’s faces. Had they really thought the Blades were going to make this easy for them?

  Aw, hell no.

  Shannon relaxed, just a for a second, as she watched the play unfold as they had planned. Taylor slowed down, turned and made a big show of looking around, like she was searching for someone to pass the puck to. Jordyn slid in closer, stumbled, nearly fell. The Banner who had been following her reached out like he was going to catch her, like he was afraid she might actually fall.

  Instead, Jordyn casually slid the blade of her stick in front of his left skate, sending him flying to his knees—just as Taylor passed the puck on her direction.

  Shannon glanced over at the Banners’ bench, saw the surprise on half a dozen faces as Jordyn skated behind the net for a beautiful wrap-around. Connelly wasn’t even looking, his gaze directed on the spot where Jordyn had been a few seconds before.

  A second later, the red light flashed above the net and the horn blared. Twenty-eight seconds in, and the Blades had scored their first goal. Shannon almost wished they had waited, that they’d taken more time to lull the guys into a false sense of security. Then again, maybe they’d think it was just a fluke and continue to underestimate them.

  Shannon’s gaze moved across the ice, finally resting on Caleb. He turned toward her, his green eyes flashing with an intensity she could feel even from this distance. Was he surprised? Maybe. Did he think it was a fluke?

  Probably.

  Did she care?

  Abso-fucking-lutely not.

  Caleb reached out and snagged Jaxon Miller’s sleeve, leaned in to say something. Both men looked over at her, then Caleb finally raised his stick, waist-level, and pointed it at her with a crooked smile.

  Was that supposed to worry her? Not even close. And if that’s what he thought, then shame on him.

  Shannon tipped her helmet back, her gaze never leaving his. Then she nodded and pointed her stick right back at him.