Roman

by Sawyer Bennett

  We had a few beers, and while I didn't get enough of a buzz to drop my panties for him--and let's face it, he didn't even try--I was comfortable enough to ask him if he wanted to stay a bit and watch a movie or something.

  He accepted--quite quickly--and that made me smile, because it meant he was having a good time too. I liked that because this wasn't a conventional first date and yet it seemed like the way it was supposed to be.

  So we ended up on the couch, having agreed on watching Captain America--he'd already seen it, I had not--and I didn't even have a moment's hesitation when he lay down on the couch, pressed his back against the cushions, and patted the area in front of his hips. With a devilish gleam in his eyes, he said, "Come on...let's cuddle."

  Roman Sykora, hockey bad boy, shameless flirt, total panty dropper asking me to cuddle.

  Who was I to say no.

  I'm not sure who fell asleep first. I clearly didn't make it through the movie and I have no clue even what time it is. Roman shifts on the couch behind me and reaches at arm out to the coffee table to nab his phone. He flicks his thumb across the screen and it lights up, showing us it's almost a quarter after one in the morning.

  "Power's probably been out awhile," Roman says as he sits up behind me. With a gentle hand to my hip, he nudges me and we both stand up from the couch.

  My eyes have adjusted enough that I can easily maneuver around the coffee table to the kitchen counter, rubbing my arms briskly to ward off the cold. I grab my own phone, glad I'd plugged it into the phone charger cord there and disconnect it. As I power it up to look at the news, Roman walks to the window that sits above the kitchen sink and peers outside through the slats of the blinds.

  "Damn," he says in amazement. "There's ice all over the trees and power lines."

  I walk around the counter, come to stand beside him, and look out. The moon is high and bright, lighting up Georgia's backyard, and it looks like a fairy-tale winter wonderland. There doesn't appear to be any more sleet or snow falling, but every single structure and tree is glistening with ice.

  Turning away from the window, I pull up the browser on my phone and go to the local news page I have bookmarked. My eyes scan a few articles and I'm warmed inside and out as Roman turns and wraps his arms and his warmth around me as I read. It's an intimate move that speaks more to his concern for me being cold than a need just to touch me solicitously. What's even more astounding to me is just how natural it feels, and that's just something that will take a lot of thinking about on my part. We hardly know each other, and yet I seemingly melt into his embrace as if it's the most natural place in the world for me to be.

  "It says there's over fifty thousand reported power outages," I say as I read a news article, and then hit a link that takes me to a map provided by the local power company of the homes without power. It has a handy little menu with associated icons to tell you when resumption of power is expected. For my neighborhood, it says not until at least 6 P.M., which means I have about fifteen hours of freezing.

  Guess I better load up on layers and pull all my blankets into my room. Looks like I'll be doing an awful lot of napping and huddling under the blankets until then.

  "Come on," Roman says as he releases me and heads toward the couch. "We're going to my house."

  "Why?" I ask curiously, not moving from my position.

  "So we can get warm," he says simply.

  "But you don't even know if you have power," I point out.

  I can't see him all that well in the gloom, but I can feel his smirk.

  "I've got a whole-house generator," he explains. "I have heat."

  "Oh," I say, and then decide to be a bit cautious. "You go on ahead. I'm going to be fine here. Power will be on soon."

  "Not soon enough" is all he says as he puts his shoes on. "So go pack a bag and get your shoes and coat on. I'm going to go out and start my car to warm it up."

  "Roman," I say with mild annoyance. "I can't just go to your house."

  "Why not?" he asks as he stands from the couch and moves toward me.

  "Well, because...I don't want to impose on you," I say truthfully.

  "Impose?" he asks, and although I can't see his expression clearly, I can hear the impatience in his voice.

  "Yes, impose," I say in exasperation. "You drive me all the way there, then you're going to have to bring me back when my power comes on, and besides that...you have a game today."

  "Not if the arena doesn't have power," he says as he walks right into my space and puts his hands on my shoulders. "Not if the city is shut down."

  I start to open my mouth to argue when he interjects, "If you open that mouth to say anything other than 'Okay, Roman, I'll go pack a bag,' I'm going to do something to occupy said mouth."

  It might be cold as hell in my apartment, but heat flushes through me at the thought of all the ways in which he could occupy my mouth.

  For a brief moment, I think about arguing with him, just to see what he does. To see if he'll make good on that threat. But then an involuntary shiver hits me, my body naturally rebelling against the cold, and self-preservation takes over. "Fine. Okay...I'll go pack a bag."

  Chapter 11

  Roman

  I hear the soft pad of feet upon thick carpet coming down the stairs and I feel my blood rush a little at the prospect of how Lexi will look first thing in the morning. I didn't have the privilege of having her in bed beside me so I could judge at first light, since I offered her a guest bedroom once we got to my house in the early morning hours.

  While traffic was nonexistent at 2 A.M. as we made our way from her apartment to my house, the roads were still treacherous outside of the main thoroughfares, so it was slow going. By the time we got to my house, I could see the exhaustion all over her face and the slump of her shoulders, and without any thought to anything other than her getting some rest in a warm bed, I put her in the first bedroom at the top of the stairs. She didn't argue, but I was surprised that she lifted up on tiptoes and kissed my cheek as she murmured, "Thank you for everything, Roman."

  That was nice.

  I mean, really fucking nice, and I had no regrets going to sleep by myself. Doesn't mean I wouldn't have turned her down had she made even the slightest gesture she was interested in something between the sheets with me, but I also wasn't disappointed either. I've figured out enough that Lexi is a different type of woman, and she has piqued my interest in a way no other has before. I'm going to ride this out and see what happens, whereas normally I'd ditch a girl if she didn't put out for me right away. I know that makes me a bit of an ass, but I'm not apologetic about it either. If a woman gladly gives it up to me that quick, I'm going to take it, and I'm not going to look backward either.

  I get busy cracking eggs into a bowl, intent on making a few extra than the normal six I'd eat on game morning. There was a text sent out at 8 A.M. stating that the game scheduled for tonight was going forth as planned as the other team had arrived in town safely before the storm and that the arena had power. I expect tonight's attendance will be low, as there will be plenty of people who won't risk some of the scattered ice that will still be on the roads after the DOT trucks do their thing today, but for those adventurous ticket holders, the game will go on.

  Lexi's feet go from the carpeted stairs to the hardwood floors of my living room, her steps getting louder as she comes toward the kitchen, I'm sure led by the smell of the bacon sizzling on the stove.

  When she appears in the kitchen, my eyes immediately pin on her and I wonder how someone can look that fucking amazing rolling right out of bed. She's got on pair of fleece pajamas done in light purple and little kittens all over them. Her eyes are still heavy with sleep, her hair is pulled up on top of her head in some kind of messy concoction, and she yawns as she looks at me.

  "Good morning," she says through the yawn.

  "Sleep good?" I ask, glancing at the clock on the wall behind her. Just after nine, so I figure she had close to six hours of sleep at least.
>
  "So good," she says, her normally husky voice even more so having just woken up. "Thanks again for giving me a warm place to crash."

  "My pleasure," I say as I crack one more egg into the bowl and push the empty carton filled with the shells to the side. "Hungry? I'm making eggs and bacon."

  "Yeah, that would be good," she says as she walks to a stool at the island where I'm working and sits directly across from me. "I'd kill for a cup of coffee, though."

  I give her a sheepish smile. "Sorry...I don't even own a coffeepot. Not being a coffee drinker and all."

  Lexi lets out a raspy laugh and teases me. "You mean you've never dated a single woman who drank coffee? Or for that matter, never had friends or family visit you who drink coffee?"

  I give a shrug as I grab a fork to whisk the eggs. "I don't have any friends or family who visit. But there's orange juice in the fridge and you can poor me a glass too."

  "Now that's just sad and needs further analysis." She grins back at me and hops off the stool.

  "Glasses are in that cupboard," I say with a nod of my head that way as I beat the eggs.

  Lexi doesn't say anything as she grabs two glasses and the orange juice from the fridge, bringing it all to the island. I set the fork down in the eggs and nab another pan from the cupboard beside the stove, placing it on the burner next to the bacon to get it going.

  "So I'm the first woman who's stayed here?" she asks casually as she pours juice.

  "Yup." I coat the pan with cooking spray and turn on the burner. "I'm what you would consider a very casual dater, and frankly...never been with a woman long enough to trust her with my home address, you know what I mean?"

  "Not really," she says. "You hardly know anything about me."

  "I know enough," I tell her firmly, and I don't elaborate, because I already told her all about my newfound penchant for girls who play ukuleles in coffeehouses.

  "That's sweet," she says before taking a long slug of her orange juice. "But why no friends or family visiting?"

  I glance at her as I turn from the oven to the island, grab the bowl of eggs, then turn back to the heated pan. "My parents are in Prague. They're both really busy and don't travel much outside of the Czech Republic."

  "Not even to visit their son?" she says.

  And it doesn't bother me that she's asking me these things, but I also don't want to get into a deep discussion about my lack of a traditionally cozy and loving family. So I merely tell her, "I'm just not that close with them. Honestly, not that close to anyone really. Playing hockey is such a transient existence. I've been living away from home since I was a teenager, and I've been traded among teams a few times. It's hard to develop relationships when you're constantly on the move."

  She's quiet a moment as I pour the eggs into the pan, and while they cook, I turn the bacon.

  "I don't buy that part about not being able to develop relationships," she says, and I look back to her to find her staring at me intently. "I mean, look at us. You invited me to your house after having spent probably less than a full day total in each other's presence. You can move quickly when you want if you find something you're interested in."

  "Now that is true," I say with a smile, because that's a definitely something I agree with.

  "Thus," she says as I start to scramble the eggs, "I don't think you've ever really wanted to let people in or develop relationships. If you're not all that close to your parents, I'm guessing you just learned early on how to be by yourself."

  "Something like that," I agree with a shrug. She's pretty much on the mark, but like I said, I don't want to get into any deep discussion about my family. There's not much to talk about, and I'm sure she'd find that very sad, especially since I know family to be very important to her.

  I change the subject as I finish scrambling the eggs and turn the heat off for both pans. "So, our game is going on as scheduled tonight. I'm going to have to head to the arena around 4 P.M. or so and I've got some options for you."

  "Lay them on me," she says easily, letting me know that she's not upset over my evasiveness about my lonesome ways.

  "Well, you can just stay here at my house and relax," I say. "Your power won't be on until this evening, and I bet even later than that, as they never get these things done in the time frame they promise. With that many power outages, it could take awhile, so stay here...relax and be warm."

  "That's a good option," she agrees as I grab two plates from the cupboard. "What's the second?"

  I put the plates down by the stove, layer one with some paper towels, and start to transfer the bacon to drain. "You could come to the game and watch it. You'd have to ride in with me this afternoon, and you can hang out in the friends-and-family lounge until the game starts."

  Looking over my shoulder, I note that Lexi gives me a slightly pained look. "That sounds awesome, Roman, but I really can't afford a ticket right now. I had to have some work done on my car last month and I'm still paying that off. So I'm thinking the first option will work, if you don't mind me staying here that is."

  Setting the fork down beside the plate of bacon, I cross over to the island, round it, and come to stand beside Lexi as she sits on the barstool. Reaching out, I take a lock of hair that's sticking out from that mess on top of her head and tug at it gently. "I should have been more clear. Every Cold Fury member gets two season tickets, and you obviously know I don't have any friends to even justify having a coffeepot in my house, so you can imagine that I've got two tickets sitting there that are all lonely and begging to be used. You can even invite a friend or something to the game if you want. I can leave the other ticket at will call."

  "A friend or something," she muses with a cute grin. "There's this guy at work I've actually got a crush on. Maybe I could invite him to come."

  My eyelids drop as I narrow my gaze on her in a fierce glare that might be diminished somewhat by the amusement in my eyes. "You're fucking kidding me, right?"

  "I can tell by that look on your face you know I'm kidding," she says with a mischievous smile, then places a finger right in the middle of my chest. She rests the tip there lightly, but it's like I feel the weight of her entire body, and a surge of adrenaline spikes through me. I've wanted to kiss Lexi from basically the first day I saw her in the Cold Fury offices, but never more than I want to right now.

  But I don't, and instead lean my face down nearer to hers and ask her in a low voice, "So which option do you want?"

  "Hmmmmm." She taps her finger against my chest and hums low in her throat, and even that has a sexy, raspy quality. "I think I'll take option number two. I've been dying to see a game since I found out Brian was my father."

  "It will be our second date," I point out, feeling the rhythmic tap against my breastbone that's almost hypnotizing.

  "I might let you kiss me at the end of it," she says with her eyes sparkling.

  "Or you might give me more?" I push at her teasingly...but not really teasing. I so fucking want more.

  "I might," she says coyly.

  My hand comes up, wraps around hers at my chest, and I give it a squeeze. "We'll see," I say noncommittally. "I might be too tired after the game."

  "We'll see," she says playfully, and I know there's no way in hell I'll ever be tired enough to say no to her if she wants a kiss or something more. But again, I find that I like not knowing which way this will go. For some reason, I feel the uncertainty of our actions is only heightening my attraction to her.

  "You should probably stay here again tonight," I tell her. Of course I'll take her home if she wants, but I'm going to try my damnedest to get her back here and we'll see what happens.

  Squeezing her hand again, I release it and turn away from her. I head back to the stove and start to pile scrambled eggs onto the other plate.

  "I've got to work tomorrow," Lexi says to my back. "Georgia agreed with me we should stay closed today because of the roads, but it will be good enough tomorrow to open up."

  "I'll get you there
in time," I tell her assuredly. I don't have any plans tomorrow other than a few hours in the gym and a short speed-skate practice.

  "Then I'll stay the night," she says, and I smile down at the last scoop of eggs I transfer from the pan.

  Chapter 12

  Lexi

  My phone chimes and a partial text notification is visible at the top of my phone screen. I tap on it, which takes me out of Facebook and right to the message.

  It's from Georgia and it makes me smile. Just got home. Power is on, which is a good thing. It's colder than a witch's tit outside.

  My fingers fly over the screen. Welcome back. Missed you.

  Want to do dinner? she asks.

  Can't. On a date. I respond.

  With who?!?!?!

  I laugh to myself over her effusive use of punctuation to denote her surprise, but before I can even send a response, my phone rings. I stand up from my perch on a plush black leather couch in the family room of the arena where Roman dropped me off about an hour ago. He had secured me a pass for the room as well as my ticket, and left me here with promises he'd stop in to see me before going up on the ice. He introduced me to one of the assistant coaches' wives who was there when we arrived. Roman told me it doesn't get used all that often, as most of the team's family members come to the arena separately and closer to the start of the game. But it is a nice place for those who might ride with one of the players to hang out before the game.

  Since then a few more people have come into the lounge area, none of whom I'd talked to, as I'd been surfing on my phone. I walk to the doorway that leads out into the hall for a small measure of privacy and answer Georgia's call.

  "Did you have a good trip?" I ask her as soon as I answer.

  "Oh, to hell with that," she huffs impatiently. "You most certainly don't want to hear all about my boring weekend with my college peeps, as we were in bed most nights by 9 P.M. and none of us can handle our liquor anymore. Now who are you on a date with?"

  "Roman," I say in a low voice as I lean against a concrete block wall painted white. The hallway I'm standing in is long but curved, matching the shape of the oval arena. We're on the basement level and I'm surprised I actually have decent coverage.