Full Contact

by ANDIE J. CHRISTOPHER

  As soon as he left her body, she swore she’d get up in a minute. She wouldn’t let him hold her, wouldn’t fall asleep across his body.

  But promises, especially ones made to her, were meant to be broken.

  Anders didn’t think sleeping on the floor was part of his physical therapy protocol. But, after his early morning wake-up call, he hadn’t wanted to disturb Dahlia. He wasn’t sure if she would have stayed if he’d woken her up and suggested they adjourn to the bedroom. And—the stab of pain in his knee told him—he wouldn’t have been able to walk up the stairs with her in his arms.

  He didn’t know if he was being overly sentimental about his first or if something really powerful was brewing between the two of them. All he knew was that he wasn’t ready to see Dahlia walk away from him for good.

  Either way, he knew it couldn’t be permanent. Knowing didn’t keep him from thinking about the “what ifs.” If she was on board, maybe they could try long-distance. The ordinary things that interfered with long distance relationships, other people and lack of time, might not be a problem for them. Lord knew, he could keep it in his pants. And they both had goals and aspirations that prevented them from having unlimited amounts of time. He was probably bullshitting himself, but the thought of never seeing Dahlia again after he left in a couple of days hurt more than he’d ever admit out loud.

  But thinking wasn’t going to get her any closer to being his. He wanted to wake her up and remind her with his body that she didn’t want him leaving to be goodbye, but he’d already done that once. Instead, he tried to imprint the feeling of her limbs against his body and listened to the water.

  He didn’t hear anyone knock. But one moment he was listening to the water and Dahlia’s soft breathing, and the next, he was staring at Edwin Motz and the Cup.

  Motz was the person who got to transport the Cup from player to player the summer after they won. Each player got it for one day, and this was his day to commune with a symbol of the pinnacle of the game.

  And of course, someone connected to the game of hockey had to find him like this.

  “It wasn’t locked.” For his part, Motz appeared unsurprised and unruffled by finding Anders naked on the floor with a girl. He’d probably walked in on something similar countless times this summer. But Motz most certainly knew about the bounty, and Anders wasn’t certain the man could be trusted.

  Anders put up one finger, signaling the other guy to stay quiet. “You still could have knocked.” Dahlia was still sleeping, her body weighing down his arm. “Leave the Cup.”

  “Do you want me to call first before I pick it up?” Fuck. Dahlia stirred when Motz’s voice squeaked on the word “up.”

  Anders didn’t have enough time to warn her before she sat up and screamed. All he could do was throw the blanket over her shoulders so that Edwin didn’t get a glimpse of her perfect seventies tits. Motz was probably too much of a dweeb to appreciate them anyway.

  “Who the fuck is that?”

  Motz tipped an invisible fedora—guys like him always wore fedoras—and said, “Edwin Motz. I’m here to deliver the Cup to Anders for his day.”

  Dahlia’s gaze snapped to Anders, then wandered around the scene of the crime. She opened and closed her mouth multiple times, and made to move away from him.

  Not gonna happen. No matter how bad it made him look, he wasn’t about to give up touching her for a minute. And Motz certainly wasn’t going to see any more of Dahlia’s fine ass. No one else.

  “Motz, you going to keep your mouth shut?” Anders never barked at anyone, but barking seemed to be in order in this one instance.

  The other man nodded his head, but Anders was going to need something verbal. “Need you to tell me that you never saw this happening.” He felt Dahlia stiffen next to him, but he was trying to protect her. Motz didn’t need to get a hint of how he was starting to feel about Dahlia. He didn’t need names, and he didn’t need to know that Anders was ass over teakettle for his vacation fling.

  “But the bounty—” Social graces certainly weren’t the man’s strong point.

  “I don’t want it.” Dahlia’s clear, strong words were a balm over the raw fear that his personal business would be the focus of the next hockey season—should he even decide to go back. Worse, if he retired, the press could find Dahlia and make her into a distraction that stole his career with her vagina. Then, some rabid fans of the game better described as trolls would start making memes of Dahlia, painting her as the whore of Babylon for no reason. Anders didn’t know if she wanted to see him again.

  “It’s one hundred and fifty—”

  “I know how much money it is.” She sounded frustrated, and he could feel her body heat up next to him. “I’m not here for the money. I don’t know who the fuck you are, but you heard Anders. As far as you’re concerned, I’m not here at all.”

  Motz reddened and backed away as though Dahlia had slapped him. She was probably defending herself from bad publicity, but she was magnificent when she got mad. He hoped he would have the chance to make her mad someday—but when the stakes were much, much lower.

  “I see.” Motz had backed into the doorway.

  “Make sure the door’s latched.”

  When he left the room, Anders finally turned to Dahlia. When she gave him her eyes, her gaze was ice cold.

  “You did that on purpose, didn’t you?”

  The kind of hot anger that spiked before he threw down on the ice lanced through his system. He stood up, none too carefully, tweaking his knee. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

  Dahlia crawled around the room, gathering her clothes. He leaned down and grabbed a corner of blanket so she wouldn’t have the advantage of knowing that her ass turned him into a horny goat even when she was pissing him off.

  “You wanted the whole world to know that you weren’t a virgin anymore, so you made sure we didn’t get to the bed last night.” She found her panties and shimmied them on. Then, she grabbed his t-shirt, and put it on. As the cotton fabric slithered over her breasts, he wished them a silent goodbye. This conversation was likely putting an end to his acquaintance with the finest set of boobs in the state of Minnesota.

  “You sound fucking crazy.”

  The way her eyes widened told him he’d said the wrong thing. He should have known from witnessing a couple of his teammates argue with girlfriends that he’d said the wrong thing.

  “I’m going to pretend you didn’t just say that so that I don’t knife you.” She looked down at where he held the blanket over his balls, and his skin went cold.

  “Wait. I didn’t mean that. I just—I didn’t do that on purpose.” Hadn’t he? Maybe, in some remote, subconscious part of his brain he’d wanted Motz to find him with a girl? Because no matter what he said, this was not going to stay a secret. Motz wasn’t a troll, but he was definitely the kind of extreme hockey fan who would realize that finding the league’s only virgin player with a naked girl was big news. “I wanted you so much.”

  Dahlia blew air through her lips while she pulled off her jeans. “I find it hard to believe that you wanted me more than any girl you’ve ever met on the road.”

  As she laced her boots, he realized he was running out of time to rectify this shitastic situation. What he’d said was true. He wanted Dahlia more than he’d ever wanted anything. He could already feel the ache of her absence.

  She stood up from the couch, and he stalked over to her, dropping the blanket. Naked in front of her, he was powerless. But that was merely a metaphor for how he felt about her right now. She didn’t slap him when he gripped her face in both palms.

  “Believe me because it’s true.” This close, he could see the shiny coating of tears in her eyes. “I didn’t mean for anyone to find us.” Not intentionally anyway. “I value my privacy, but I should have been more careful with you.”

  “I believe you.” A tear slipped out of her right eye and he kissed it away. “I don’t want to be a laughingstock again.”


  “You won’t be.” He couldn’t guarantee that, but he would do whatever he had to do to keep her safe.

  “I should go.”

  If he wanted to take the day to figure his life out with the Cup, she was right. She should get going. But everything in him wanted to keep her in his space.

  “I don’t want you to go when you’re angry at me.”

  “I’m not angry at you, Anders.” She looked down and he dipped his knees so he could still look her in the face. “I’m just confused.”

  He was confused, too. But he was starting to feel like the confusion she aroused in him was a good thing. She’d tipped him off his axis—something nothing and no one had ever done for him. “You’re crying.”

  “I know.” Those two words were agonizing, for him to hear and definitely for her to say.

  He didn’t know what to say to make it stop, to make her feel okay about this, so he didn’t try. Instead, he tipped up her chin and kissed her on the mouth. He would have stopped if she had pushed him away, but she wrapped her arms around his neck and brought her body flush with his.

  His whole being felt lighter with her clinging to him. She kissed the same way she’d spoken with him two nights ago when fate brought him to her bar—without reservation, playful. It was everything he’d been missing all his life outside of hockey.

  Being with her planted a seed of something inside his head, made him wonder if he could get back to that on the ice.

  Though he was naked, and his dick very much wanted back inside her, they kissed for so long they were out of breath by the time she pulled back. Her hand was around his cock before he could stop her, and she sat down and put her mouth on him before he could think to care.

  “Fuck, Dahlia. You don’t have to do this.” He grabbed at her hair, not sure if he wanted to push her further down this path or push her away, but she took away his choice when she wrapped her wicked strong hands around his ass and pulled him all the way in. Fire beat a path all over his skin, and he didn’t know if he could last longer than a few minutes. Every stroke, she licked and sucked all the way up and down, wrenching sounds from deep in his chest. He felt his most elemental, chest-beating nature spring forth.

  When she reached between his legs and massaged his balls, he lost it. She sucked him until he was done, and sat back with a swollen smile on her face when she was done. This woman wrecked him in ways he hadn’t known he could be wrecked.

  He had no words to explain how she made him feel. And he wasn’t sure he’d share them if he did. She was already running scared, that was what that blow job had been about. He was sure of it. His telling her that he was starting to need her would get her out that door faster than he could blink.

  He slumped onto the couch next to her as she was standing up.

  She grabbed her phone out of her purse on the end table. “I’ve gotta go.”

  “Seriously? You’re going to leave me like this?” Maybe cajoling her would get her to stay, make her think he was playing her fast and loose, sarcastic sex games.

  “I think I’m leaving you better than I found you.” Her eyes flashed with emotion that belied more than a quip.

  “You’ve got that right.” Her gaze flipped to her phone screen. “Will I see you tonight?”

  “I—uh—I don’t know.” She was out the door before he could pin her down for a more definitive answer.

  When the door snicked shut, it was just him—naked and totally laid out—and the Cup. At that moment, it looked like nothing more than a piece of metal, and he wanted to toss it into the lake and watch it disappear.

  Seven

  The text from her mom saying that her uncle was sick and that she needed to fill in for lunch was the most welcome family emergency Dahlia had ever had. She simply could not have faced all the raw emotion that Anders had scooped out of her overnight.

  Anders didn’t seem to want to let her push him away. When she’d accused him of setting things up so that the Cup-keeper guy would find them, she’d been panicked. She hadn’t believed a word of it, but it seemed like a good way for them to end. It was way too dangerous for her to want something more than one night with Anders.

  Last night had been—beautiful. She’d had raw sex, dirty sex, sweet sex, boring sex, even exciting, kinky sex that hadn’t kept her in the moment as much as Anders’s hand in her hair directing her, making her beg for him. He was fucking something else, and it was a crime he hadn’t been using his talents in that department for good—or evil for that matter.

  The thought of him using his sex magic on anyone else was enough for her to stop stirring the coq au vin she’d made for a lunch special. As soon as she’d left Anders, she knew she needed to do something that would fully occupy her mind so that she couldn’t drift back to his hands all over her, the way he smelled and the slightly desperate sounds he made when she took his cock in her mouth.

  But hurried shopping and lots of dicing and slicing didn’t distract her from feeling hot all over every time she let her mind wander. It was almost as if he was right there, his touch was so indelible on her psyche.

  And it had to be a fucking hockey player. They had to get caught by someone who knew him and about the bounty. Jesus, it would be a miracle if the whole world didn’t catch wind of Anders popping his cherry before he left the resort in a few days—was it cherry popping if the dude was the virgin?

  And he was leaving in a few days. She had to remind herself of that every time her head took over and she thought about rated R hikes at the Temperance, or making it to an actual bed. No, last night was a one-time deal. She got a bunch of orgasms, and Anders got a boon to his erroneously battered concept of himself as a romantic and sexual prospect. He definitely didn’t have anything to worry about.

  Lilly walked into the kitchen with a batch of orders. “You’re going to tell me.”

  “Not now.”

  “Well, if you don’t tell me now, in front of the entire kitchen staff, you’re going to have to give me more details later.”

  Dahlia grabbed the tickets out of Lilly’s hand. Over her shoulder, she said, “Fire me two walleyes, a pork chop, and dish up two of the specials.”

  “I’ll tickle it out of you if I have to.” Lilly was still standing there, stubborn as all get out.

  “Actually, I don’t have to tell you anything.”

  “At least tell me you had sex with him!” Of course, her cousin said that as there was a lull in the din of the kitchen.

  She looked around, and it appeared that the kitchen staff valued their jobs enough to stay silent.

  “Don’t you have tables?” Dahlia needed them to get off this topic as soon as possible.

  “You’re blushing. That means you had sex with him.”

  “Shut up.”

  Lilly reared back, and her teasing smile turned into a grimace. “You’re really mean. You know that?”

  Dahlia went into the walk-in, and Lilly followed her. The cool air swept away some of the heat from her anger. “Yes. I’m really mean.”

  “That didn’t sound like an ‘I’m sorry.’”

  “That’s because I’m not apologizing.”

  “What the fuck is your problem?” Lilly punched a bag of greens. If she weren’t so genuinely angry, it would be funny. “Ever since you came back up here, you’ve been a jerk. A lot of people are worse off than you. If they fuck up their business, they can’t go home to a job and people who love them.”

  Lilly was right. Dahlia had been taking out all the pain and anger she felt toward Dylan—and herself—since she’d come home. She thought she’d been covering well, but she wasn’t. And Anders opening her up with his kindness, his sexiness, him being him didn’t help matters.

  “I’m mean, and he’s not.”

  Lilly looked at her quizzically. “Now I really don’t know what you mean.”

  “He’s too good for me. I meet the one guy who I actually want to stick around, and he’s too good for me.”

  “Shut up.” Lilly
hit her on the shoulder so hard, she jostled one of the shelving units.

  “Why? It’s true.”

  “Well, then you’re now lying to yourself.” Her cousin’s probably shrewd assessment of her internal state knifed Dahlia’s frayed emotions open wider. “You are so smart, and fun, and talented. Your boobs are amazing and your ass is perfect. Plus, you can cook anything. You’re better than my dad.”

  “If I’m so fabulous, why am I stuck here? No matter how far and fast I go, it’s like there’s a rubber band that snaps me back.”

  “You just haven’t broken it yet. It will break. And maybe Anders is your way out.”

  “I’m not collecting the bounty.” The idea of it made Dahlia a little bit sick. No, she’d make it out of her hometown on her own terms and her own dime.

  “I don’t mean the bounty. But you’ve changed overnight. You look like yourself again. Before, you looked like shit.”

  “I thought my boobs were amazing and my ass was perfect?”

  Lilly hugged her. “Don’t fish. They were, but your smile was gone. This morning, you were in the kitchen like you finally cared about something. I think ‘something’ is Anders Sorenson.”

  “Maybe you’re right. But if he’s the difference, what am I going to do about it? He leaves in a few days, and he’s a professional hockey player.”

  To say their lifestyles were incompatible was an understatement. If he wanted to spend more time with her, enough to invite her to stay in New Orleans with him for a while, she would have to find a job. And any job she found would prevent her from spending time with Anders. When she’d been in the run-up to opening her place in Minneapolis, she’d worked twenty-hour days. She couldn’t show up in the stands every time Anders played. She couldn’t be the kind of girlfriend he needed.

  Dahlia broke their hug. “We have to go serve lunch.”

  “I’m still going to need details later.” Lilly was like a dog with a bone. Maybe Dahlia needed to be more like her cousin when it came to Anders.