Centered (Gold Hockey Book 9)

by Elise Faber

  If that person was gone, she would turn into a shell. Like her dad had.

  If that person left, she wouldn’t have anything left. Just like her dad, who had simply faded away, year after year getting smaller, disappearing into himself, forgetting about everything except for the hurt of the present, his memories of a past that had been wonderful, and the bleakness of a future that would never be complete.

  A bolt of panic shot through her.

  She could see that path so clearly, knew in her heart of hearts that was why she’d avoided any connections.

  He’d pretended to be hard and unaffected, too.

  But he hadn’t been.

  He’d been soft underneath.

  And when he’d been hurt, that soft had never recovered.

  So, he’d made Mia hard. Given her armor, ways to protect herself.

  Perhaps it was less wanting more than she should have, less disappointment, less hating her for being a selfish sixteen-year-old, who’d unintentionally been responsible for a tragedy.

  Perhaps, by taking everything away, he’d been trying to protect her.

  Her breath caught. Her lungs froze.

  She nearly twisted out of Liam’s hold.

  But by then he was already scooping her up into his arms, by then he was already cradling her close, by then she was surrendering to the man who’d taken everything in her life and shaken it all to the core.

  All of those parts rattled around, pieces falling this way and that, uncertain of what would land and what would float away. Heads up or down, breaking into pieces, colliding with a solid thunk. Mia couldn’t be sure of how everything would turn out, because Liam was holding her.

  Because then Liam was kissing her.

  And she tucked everything down to deal with in the future. This was a time to feel, to stop her multitasking superpowers, to be in the moment and focus on the man she liked, the man she was falling for, the man she might already be half in love with but was too damned scared to admit it all the same.

  Fingers threaded into her hair, tilted her head back, lips gentle and coaxing.

  The thoughts fell away.

  The sensations rose up.

  She turned herself over to the moment.

  Seventeen

  Liam

  He had a beautiful woman in his arms, and she’d all but demanded he take her to his bedroom.

  Yeah, his life wasn’t turning out to be too bad.

  Especially when she kissed him until his legs went shaky in a way that was definitely not post-game fatigue but was certainly all about the power of Mia.

  After striding across the room, he dropped her to the mattress, fingers yanking at the buttons of his shirt until he somehow managed to undo them. He fought with the cuffs for several long moments before Mia helped, unbuttoning them and pushing the cotton off his arms.

  It landed on the carpet in a near soundless murmur.

  But she wasn’t soundless. “Off,” she demanded, shoving the waistband of his slacks down, making him scramble for a few seconds to kick off his shoes before he tripped over the material—now at his thighs—and landed on his ass again.

  At least this time it was on the mattress.

  One shoe then the other slipped free. His pants hit the floor a heartbeat later.

  And then he had the glorious opportunity to watch Mia reach behind her and unhook her bra.

  He didn’t have a clue where that scrap of material landed because . . . breasts.

  Glorious, luscious breasts with dusky nipples that his mouth actually ached to taste.

  So he did, bending to take one hard peak in his mouth and suckle deep, to taste the sweetness of her skin, the slight tang of salt. Ambrosia, and he wanted so much more. He wanted to be a glutton, to inhale every bite, to lick and nip and taste . . . and he didn’t know where to start.

  Mia didn’t have that problem.

  She took his hand, leaned back onto the mattress, and tugged him on top of her. “Kiss me, Liam.”

  An easy order to follow, he let his lips fall to hers, allowed himself the opportunity to learn her skin, her curves. He’d had her come on his tongue and yet there were so many soft spots he didn’t know. Places that made her shiver, some that made her moan. He wanted to know every single secret that was hidden within her body.

  Sliding his hand up her side, noting the slight squirm of a ticklish spot at her ribs, he continued moving until he was cupping her breast, until the hard bud of her nipple was against his palm. She moaned, head thrown back, and he took the opportunity to kiss his way down to her glorious fucking breasts, to taste her again, only this time to give the luscious curves the time they deserved.

  “Liam!”

  Fuck, but he loved the way she cried out his name.

  He sucked a nipple deeply into his mouth, pinched her other one between thumb and forefinger, needing to taste her, loving the way she reacted to his touch, his lips, his tongue.

  And then she slid her hand into his underwear, wrapping her fingers around his cock and squeezing hard enough that his eyes rolled back.

  Because he fucking loved the way her touch made him feel.

  Alive, burning with need, one firm stroke away from shattering into pieces.

  Heat coiled at the base of his spine, red sparks entered the edges of his vision, and Liam knew he was in trouble.

  Brushing those dangerous fingers aside was harder than he expected.

  Well, probably because he wasn’t trying that hard to get her hand off his cock, not when she was stroking him exactly as he liked—firm, a little rough, and fast—

  He groaned, finally managed to pull her off.

  Because as good as it felt to have her hands on him, she had also been stroking fast enough that if she kept going, this would all be over way sooner than he wanted. Than she wanted.

  “Liam,” she groaned, reaching for him again.

  He blocked her, grinned down at her, amused despite the haze of desire clouding his vision. “You’re kind of feisty, J.B.,” he said, nuzzling her neck, knowing that she could easily get free from his grip if she wanted. Which made her staying there, fingers sliding into his hair and tugging back his head to mock-glare up at him, though her eyes were dancing with amusement, mean so much more.

  “You’ll tell me the meaning of that nickname.”

  A nip to the inside of her forearm. “Not today.”

  Fingers tightening for a brief second before softening, before one leg came up to wrap around his hip. “When?”

  He grinned. “With the right motivation.”

  “Is you about to be inside me not proper motivation?”

  “It’s a motivation.” He traced his fingers along the inside of her thigh, slid higher. “But I’d rather be talking less and—”

  She flipped them.

  One second, he was touching the damp heat of her pussy, and the next he was flat on his back. Her hands came to his chest, her eyes narrowed. “Condom.”

  Fuck, but she was the sexiest woman he’d ever met.

  Shifting, he reached into the nightstand, pulled one out, but before he could tear it open, she snagged it from him, ripped off the corner with her teeth, and then proceeded to tease him to insanity as she rolled it, millimeter by infinitesimal millimeter down his cock.

  Sweat dripped down his back. His fingers shook with the need to tug her over him, to pull her down and slide inside.

  He strived for patience, for finesse, for—

  Mia hopped off his thighs, smug smile on her lips as she pulled down his boxer briefs. One firm kick and they were gone, and he expected her to get back on top of him, to take him deep while he played with her breasts . . . or maybe that was just one of a litany of fantasies.

  Instead, she surprised him.

  He should be used to that, her putting him on the back foot by now, but he was still frozen for a moment, shocked into stillness for several heartbeats when she lay back on the mattress, head on the pillow next to him, when the soft words lac
ed with desire reach his ears.

  “Come inside me,” she said and spread her legs.

  If the sentiment hadn’t done it, seeing her thighs inch apart, giving a teasing glimpse of a wet pussy he could still taste on his tongue would have shattered the final vestiges of his control.

  He was on top of her before he registered moving, and the feel of her naked body against his had his brain shorting out, his mind flickering to a halt.

  Feel.

  It was finally time to just feel.

  His palm tracing her side, his mouth on her breasts, his fingers dipping down between her thighs, circling her clit, loving the way she arched up on a moan, unable to resist her when she tugged him over her, demanding, “Now!”

  It was in his nature to slow down to try and make this perfect, but he’d learned over the last few weeks.

  Learned that sometimes he didn’t have to worry about every detail, sometimes he could use his instincts, let sensation take over, and just be in this moment with Mia.

  He hitched her leg over his waist, positioned himself at her opening—

  She wrapped her other leg around him and pulled him down.

  They both moaned as he pushed inside, and he was overwhelmed by the sensations—she was tight and hot, her body flush against his, her arms and legs wrapped snuggly around him, but it was more than just pleasure and nerve endings because he also felt full, complete in a way he’d never experienced.

  Not just like. Love.

  Not just sex. More.

  Not just this moment. Forever.

  Then she shifted, pussy clenching around him, and he had to match the movements. He had to move. In and out. Slow and steady. Speeding up, pressing harder, thrusting deeper until he didn’t know where he ended and she began.

  “More,” she gasped, hands in his hair, legs wrapped tight. “More, Liam.”

  He gave her more. He gave her everything.

  And then he continued giving as he moved, as he stroked and caressed, as he bent and took her lips in a kiss that transmuted every ounce of what he was feeling into touch, into taste, into perfection.

  Her head fell back, breathing rapid, moans increasing in volume, but she wasn’t quite there. He thrust hard, found the angle that made her muscles clench around him, and slid a hand to press his thumb against her clit. She hissed out a breath, but he didn’t stop, didn’t wait, just bent to suck a nipple deep and kept moving.

  His abs burned like a motherfucker. Sweat dripped down his forehead, getting in his eyes and stinging like hell.

  But nothing was more important than this woman in this moment.

  Nothing.

  She cried out, going stiff for several heartbeats before melting beneath him, falling over the edge, pleasure making her limbs heavy. He didn’t stop moving. He couldn’t have, not when his own edge was there, so close his fingertips were already grazing the cliffside.

  “Come inside me, baby,” she murmured again, legs squeezing him tight, pussy still convulsing around him.

  The words. The way she held him.

  The glazed look of pleasure in her eyes.

  That was all he needed.

  He was already gone.

  Eighteen

  Mia

  He’d collapsed on top of her.

  He was sweaty. And heavy.

  But she didn’t ask him to move.

  Because this was Liam. Because this was the man she was falling for, the man who’d rocked her world and sent her shattering before carefully catching all the pieces and gluing her back together.

  And also . . . because he was sexy and had just given her two of the best orgasms of her life.

  It wasn’t exactly a trial to hold him close as he lay on top of her, his cock still hard inside her, his body pressed against hers.

  He kissed her neck, shifted to the side, tugging her against his chest. “You okay?”

  “That’s a stupid question,” she said.

  A chuckle that ruffled her hair. “It may be,” he said, tone light, “but, are you okay?” It was the edge of concern in his voice that made her look at him, to study those gray eyes, now clouded with apprehension.

  Her heart rolled over in her chest.

  This man. This good man.

  “Because of the fan-fucking-tastic sex?” she asked, rubbing her nose along his collarbone. He was a little sweaty still, so it should have been gross, but there was something about this man’s scent. It was her catnip and she wanted to roll around in him. “Or because of my blubbering earlier?”

  Fingers under her chin, coaxing it up, encouraging her eyes to meet his. “J.B.”

  Just J.B.

  That was it.

  A quiet admonishment.

  “I’m fine,” she told him.

  “Mia—”

  “No,” she said, wrapping her hand around his wrist, squeezing lightly. “I’m serious. It’s like . . . everything hurt so much more when it was all tangled up inside me. But being able to talk about it, to have someone listen without judgment makes me feel lighter.” She cupped the side of his neck, brushed her lips over his. “You make me feel lighter.”

  He ran his knuckles along her cheek. “Have you not talked to anyone about it before?”

  Mia remembered what it had been like after going back to school, how she’d felt so removed from her classmates, how she couldn’t relate to her friends. They’d tried to reach out, but unless they’d gone through it, what sixteen-year-old kid really understood losing a parent?

  “It wasn’t like people shut me out, but I also think it was hard for them to relate, to find the right thing to say.” She sighed. “And then there was everything that happened with my dad.”

  He paused. “Is this the more?”

  She nodded. “And I’ll admit, I’m still struggling to understand, to know what I’m feeling now, what his motivations were, because for so long I thought he blamed me for what happened, and now . . .”

  “Now what?” he asked when she ran out of steam. He rolled onto his back, gathered her close so she was sprawled on top of him.

  “Now, I wonder if he was trying to protect me.” She crossed her arms on his chest and rested her chin on them. “Or, I don’t know. Maybe not. Maybe it’s like I thought as a teenager—that he blamed me, wanted to teach me to not ask for more than I should.” She sighed. “Or . . . maybe it’s what I’d come to think over the last few years. He was hurting so much that he needed to erase everything about my mom. Because if he didn’t see her day after day, then it was easier to go on.”

  Liam rested his hand on the small of her back. “Erase, how?”

  “A few days after her funeral, I came home from school, and he’d packed it all up—her paintings, her jewelry, her clothes. Knickknacks she’d picked up on her travels. He’d even painted over the half-finished mural on the walls of my bedroom, had gotten rid of the pillows on the couch.”

  “Shit,” he breathed. “J.B.—”

  “I thought he was punishing me.” She sighed. “And maybe he was. But also . . . maybe it wasn’t so clear cut because I think of what I feel for you, after knowing you for so short a time, and I know I would be devastated if you were just . . . gone.”

  He got a sick look on his face, one that made her insides twist themselves into knots.

  “What is it?” she asked.

  “One day, I might be gone,” he said quietly. “If I get traded—”

  She relaxed, pushed up enough to touch his cheek. “That’s different.”

  “I know,” he said. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t trying to make this about me. I just—” A shake of his head. “I don’t want to hurt you, sweetheart.”

  Mia smiled at him. “What happened to J.B.?”

  A solemn look. “I didn’t think this was a time for teasing.”

  “Don’t,” she said. Her tone was intense, too intense, she knew it was. Except . . . she needed him to understand this. To not change for her.

  He frowned. “Don’t what?”


  She released a shaking breath. “Don’t stop teasing me. Don’t stop being you. Don’t stop pushing me to break all of my rules.” Her eyes burned, but she’d cried enough for the night, so she blinked the tears back. “I felt so guilty for so long that I didn’t push back. I just kept pulling into myself. When he got rid of my mom’s stuff, I didn’t argue. I thought I deserved it.” His curse had her sinking back into his arms, hugging him tight. “It’s okay. I understand now . . . or, at least, I think I do.”

  “That wasn’t right, J.B.”

  “I know.” She sighed. “He shouldn’t have done that. Maybe I’ll never know if he did that—the erasing of my mom—to protect himself or to protect me, but I don’t believe any longer that he was trying to punish me.”

  “I’m glad.” His kiss over her forehead was a whisper of contact.

  “I mean, he’s gone now, he had a heart attack five years ago, so I won’t ever have the answer, but I do think . . . he tried to make my world smaller so that I would be safe.” Liam was quiet as she spoke, his fingers tracing gentle patterns on her skin, but she could tell he had questions, thoughts, even though he was trying to let her work it in her own brain and out loud. “What are you thinking?”

  “That I’m glad he’s gone.”

  She recoiled at the venom in his words, his eyes that were filled with frost. “I know that’s inappropriate, that I shouldn’t say that about your dad, but what the fuck, J.B.? When you have a kid, it stops being about you. Your job is to put them first, to make their life better. To raise them to be a healthy adult.” His palm slid up her back, rested on the side of her neck, keeping her close as his voice softened. “I’m sorry, but you’re so fucking wonderful. It kills me to think of you burying yourself when you didn’t have to.”

  “You’re right,” she said. “He didn’t handle it correctly. He should have told me he didn’t blame me, helped me be the person he and my mom were raising me to be before she died.” A sigh. “But he didn’t. And because of that guilt, because I wanted to make him proud, to not disappoint him further, I got smaller.”