by Jill Shalvis
“More.”
A spurt of lust shot through her. She spread. Wider.
And he touched her with fingers that were exquisitely sensitive on those big, rough hands. Her hands grasped the white, shiny tile, as slick with wetness as she was herself, she felt she needed something to hang on to or she’d slide in a boneless heap at his feet.
While he rubbed her, she felt his cock, hard and eager at her back, bumping her gently as she moved helplessly against his magic fingers.
Heat built and she heard herself moan, resting her cheek against the cool tile. Closing her eyes against the bright light, while the water pounded down over them.
Climax flowed through her, sudden and pure, like the streams of water coming down. She turned, half blind with passion and water, reached for him. “My turn,” she said and took the soap.
Soaping up his chest was a delight. She loved the hairiness of him, the big lather she created and then rubbed all over him. Over his gorgeous athlete’s biceps, his ropy forearms and wrists, his hands, finger by finger, while she made other parts of him wait.
He’d commanded her and she’d obeyed. Would he be as smart?
“Turn around,” she ordered in imitation of the way he’d spoken to her.
She thought he raised an eyebrow, but it was hard to tell with all the steam and water. He turned.
She smiled to herself, enjoying having her hands on his lovely, muscular back. His butt was round and hard. She washed all the way down his legs, and then without words, turned him, so his jutting cock was level with her mouth.
When he saw her intent, he said, “Oh, baby, yes.”
She opened for him, took him in. Loved him with her mouth.
He was so beautiful, so hard and deliciously big. She explored all of him with her tongue, licking underneath, taking his balls gently in her mouth which made him shudder and moan.
He was hers completely. She loved the heady sense of her own female power. Playing with him, torturing him just a little as she built him up slowly, keeping control so he had to adjust to her pace.
“You are killing me,” he groaned, and then she took pity on him and let him fly.
He pulled her to her feet, kissing her deeply.
“You are everything,” he said.
8
ON THEIR WAY OUT, Jarrad stopped to thank the night manager for letting them in. He noticed that Sierra hung back, as though the guy would know what they’d been doing. Which, come to think of it, he probably did.
Jarrad felt like he had when he’d first been drafted. As though everything was ahead of him and he could do anything he put his mind to.
He stopped dead, astonished to find that the darkness which had plagued him since he first found out he wouldn’t be playing professionally anymore had mysteriously lifted.
How could one school-teaching, fledgling hockey-playing, sweetheart of a woman change a man in such a short time?
It couldn’t be possible.
But if not, then how else to explain the sudden knowledge that everything was going to be all right?
He turned to leave and the guy said, “Oh, by the way, we had some press types here earlier lookin’ for you.”
Irritation tried to poke holes in his feeling of happiness. “What did you tell them?”
“Told ’em to piss off,” then he nodded to Sierra. “If you’ll pardon the expression.”
“Certainly,” she said, always polite.
“Thanks,” Jarrad said and grabbing her hand they left.
Even though it was 3:00 a.m. or so, he still checked the parking lot before hustling the pair of them into his car.
As they hit the road, he said, “I guess I figured they wouldn’t bother me up here. So my ex is hooking up again, so what?”
She touched his hand with hers, and he felt ridiculously reassured. “I’m sorry.”
“What are you sorry about? I’m the one dragging you into a mess no woman needs. I’m sure you don’t want your students asking what you’re doing hanging out with that guy who used to play hockey. Or your girlfriends and family asking a bunch of questions you might not be ready for.”
Her hand gripped his so suddenly he was startled. “Is that why you’ve been hiding me?” He turned and found her eyes big and serious as she regarded him.
“I haven’t been hiding you. I’ve been trying to protect you.”
“I thought—I thought— Oh, never mind.” She shook her head and turned forward once more.
“You thought what?”
“I thought I wasn’t important enough for you. Not high-profile enough I guess. Not a celebrity.”
“You have got to be kidding me.”
She shook her head, kind of sadly. “I’d love the world to see us together. I want to meet your family. But then, with only two weeks, I figured we’d keep it quiet, then no one has to know.”
“What do you mean two weeks?”
“Before you go back.”
Had he really said that? He put an arm out and pulled her to him. “You know what’s great about being retired? You can do anything you want with your time. I don’t have to go anywhere.”
She turned back to him and he thought her face was the most beautiful sight in the world.
“We’ve only started this thing. Who knows where it will lead? All I know is that you make me feel like the world’s full of possibilities again. I think I lost that after the accident.”
He looked at her for a long moment before continuing. “You’re smart and sexy and beautiful and you care about people.”
“I’m a teacher, not a fancy celebrity.”
“Exactly. You’re a great teacher. You’re teaching me to live again and to quit coasting along making dumb-ass commercials for something to do. Maybe I’ll coach, maybe I’ll build stuff.”
“Build stuff?”
“Sure. I used to love working with my hands. I built furniture and all kinds of things when I was younger. Then hockey took over my life. I don’t need more money. I need something to do. I guess I got so caught up in who I used to be that I forgot there’s a whole new life out there waiting for me.”
“Of course there is.” She spoke with so much confidence in him, how could she understand what that meant? He didn’t want to scare her since they’d only begun, but he had a pretty strong feeling that Sierra was going to be a part of that future.
He caught a dream image glimpse of the two of them in the future. He bet she wouldn’t let him build a crib because of some safety thing, but he was bound and determined to build a high chair. That he could do.
And maybe a rocking horse.
He’d have go dig up his dad’s old tools and start practicing.
The contentment was like a warm blanket around his heart. “Anything you need to go home for?”
She shook her head. “School’s closed tomorrow. I threw a few extra things in my sports bag, in case I got an invitation I couldn’t refuse.”
“That’s my girl.”
* * *
NEXT MORNING, HE WOKE up feeling better than he’d felt in a long time. With a jolt, he realized he was alone in bed. Surely she hadn’t gone squirrely on him and snuck off home?
Then he heard the greatest sound in the world, next to those panting cries she made when she came. He heard the sound of a woman singing in the kitchen.
In his experience, a woman singing in the kitchen this early meant she was making something like coffee. Or breakfast in bed.
Sure enough, she waltzed in a few minutes later, wearing one of his T-shirts that dropped almost to her knees, looking sexy as hell and bearing a tray. Okay, so it was healthier stuff than he usually ate, and maybe the portions were a little skimpy, but he didn’t feel like complaining.
After breakfast, they sat around drinking coffee and reading the paper, then after a nice round of midmorning sex followed by a shower, he said, “Let’s go meet my family.”
“Are you sure? I didn’t mean right away.”
“I
don’t know what that ex of yours did to you, but since you’ve helped me get over my little problem of feeling sorry for myself, I figure it’s the least I can do to return the favor and demonstrate how much I want to show you off.”
She nibbled her lip. “I don’t know what to wear. What if your family doesn’t like me? What if—”
He stopped her feeble protests with his lips. “Do you know what they called my ex-wife?”
She shook her head.
“Gold Digger Barbie.”
“Ouch,” she said, but he could tell she was pleased. “I’m not a gold digger.”
“I know. You’re a teacher.”
She grinned at him. “Right.”
“Also a real, intelligent woman. They are going to fall down and kiss your feet.”
She giggled. “Okay.”
“Dinner tonight?”
“Sounds good.”
“I’ll give you a lift home, pick you up again later.”
They drove out of his place and when he saw the car and the man at the top of his drive, he let out a string of curses that had Sierra’s jaw dropping.
“Damn vipers,” he said finally.
“Press?”
“Yeah. This one’s a sports blogger. He’s not the worst. But if he prints something, everybody will pick it up.”
He made to roar by the guy, and then at the last minute changed his mind. He pulled over. Looked over at Sierra. “You sure about being okay if we’re outted?”
Her eyes shone back at him, and he thought he’d do anything, anything at all to make sure this woman stayed in his life. “Sure.”
“Okay, let’s do it.”
He got out of the car. Went around slowly to open Sierra’s door. Then, with his arm around her, he confronted the blogger. He hadn’t realized there was another van parked half a block away. A TV crew. Who was he, Céline Dion, that the Canadian press should be so excited about his doings?
He heard the camera whir and tamped down his irritation. He knew that once they had their story they’d be on their way. The duller the story, the less intrusion he’d have in his life.
“Hey, guys. What can I do for you?” he asked, at his most benign.
“Just have a few questions for you, Big J,” the blogger began.
“Shoot.”
“How do you feel about your former wife getting engaged to Ogden Terry? The NBA superstar?”
“I wish her well. She’s a great woman and he’s a good guy. I hope they’ll be very happy.” To his immense surprise, he found that he actually meant those words. His marriage had been pretty much a disaster, since they’d both been such different people. He hadn’t given her what she’d wanted any more than she had him. He genuinely hoped she’d find what she was looking for with the next guy.
“Really? She says you’re an overgrown boy with emotional issues.”
He smiled. “Well, I’m working on them.”
“Who’s this?”
“This is Sierra.”
“She your new girlfriend?”
There was a beat of silence. The sun was making a valiant effort to peek out from behind the clouds, casting golden glints on the gray water. “Yes.”
“Congratulations.” The camera and all attention turned to Sierra. “Can you tell me how you two met?”
Her dimples peeped out. “At the skating rink.”
They asked her what she did for a living, the spelling of her name, a few easy questions and then the zinger. The headline-grabbing, sound-bite-making, zinger.
“So, are you guys in love?”
She turned to him, wise and mischievous all at the same time. “We’re working on it,” she said, and then leaned in and kissed him while the camera whirred.
“Well?” she said when the media left. “How was that?”
“So much more satisfying than shooting a shaving commercial,” he said.
“Come on, let’s go back inside and get naked.”
* * *
THEY WERE MORE LIKE GODS than people, Sierra thought when she first saw the three McBrides together. They were gathered at Jarrad’s house for dinner and Jarrad was cooking. Well, he was supposed to be doing the cooking, but it seemed that the whole family had opinions on how to grill a steak on the barbecue.
All three McBrides were built on a larger scale than Sierra was used to. Not only were they physically imposing but all of them shared a kind of energy that drew your attention and held it.
Samantha, Jarrad’s younger sister, the closest to him in age, greeted Sierra with friendliness, but there was suspicion in her gaze. The woman was gorgeous, with long, dark hair, striking features and a tall, athletic body that Sierra would kill for.
While she made Caesar salad, she grilled Sierra more thoroughly than Jarrad was grilling the steaks. Everything from her family to her job to her dating history was fair game. Finally, Jarrad said, “Hey, Sam, play nice. Sierra’s not a hostile witness. She’s my new girlfriend.”
Samantha smashed garlic with gusto. “You have such appalling taste in women that I want to make sure she’s for real.”
Sierra and Jarrad exchanged glances. There was so much warmth in his gaze that she felt she’d melt if she looked at him too long. “Oh, she’s for real all right,” he said. “And the best thing that ever happened to me.”
“I like her,” Taylor said. Taylor was the youngest. He had so much restless energy that he never stayed still. But she’d liked him immediately. He had a frank way of looking at a person, and a smile that could thaw ice. “It’s about time somebody in our family got serious. Mom’s going to have a fit if we all stay single much longer.”
“Ah, we only just started dating,” Sierra pointed out. She was pretty sure she wanted to marry Jarrad, but not because his family pushed him into it.
“Sam?” Taylor said. There was a jokiness about the way he spoke. As a teacher she could usually spot a youngest. They were often the class clown.
“Don’t look at me,” Samantha said. “I like being single.” She said it in a way that sounded like a challenge, and Sierra had to wonder what that was about.
“Well, I’m the baby of the family. I’m way too young to get married,” Taylor said. “Gotta get to the NHL first. Then I’ll hook up with a movie star.”
“You are so full of it,” Samantha said. Then she turned to Sierra. “It’s a good thing you’re an elementary school teacher. Hanging around with these two will remind you of your students.”
Sierra smiled and sipped her wine. Yes, she thought, as they continued to squabble, Jarrad’s family had definitely accepted her.
She glanced up to find Jarrad looking at her. I love you, he mouthed.
She smiled at him in a way that would let him know she’d show him exactly how much she loved him back.
Later.
In the Sin Bin
1
“CAN YOU NEVER ADMIT to being wrong?” Millicent Parker demanded of Samantha McBride.
Sam smiled the smile of a lawyer who knows she’s about to settle out of court. “Not when I’m being paid a lot of money to be right.”
Opposing counsel shook her head and unclipped her pen. “Okay. My client wants to stay out of court. He’s given me a certain amount of leeway. Let’s get this deal done. You’re asking way too much for a wrongful dismissal suit and you know it. Your client’s position was made redundant and he was given a fair exit package.”
“He’s fifty-nine years old and showing early signs of dementia. We both know that’s why he was made redundant. He’ll never find another job and you know it.”
Millicent sighed. “All right, what’s your bottom line?”
Sam settled her computer closer and did what she did best. Argued her position.
Samantha had been blessed—or cursed depending on how you looked at it—with no ability to see the so-called gray areas of an argument. Something was right or it was wrong. For her there was no middle ground. It made her a fierce lawyer, but sometimes in her personal life
, her implacability caused a certain friction.
She’d be married by now if she had a different personality. For a second she allowed her thoughts to stray to the man she’d loved so long ago, but she’d become an expert at steering her mind away from painful thoughts of the past.
Back to business. Always business, where rules were clear and if there was any doubt, a judge would always decide. There were no gray areas, no “if onlys” in her practice, and that was exactly how she liked things.
She was feeling pretty damned pleased with herself when she got home from work later that day. As she was changing for her run, the phone rang. Normally, she didn’t deviate from her routine, but when she saw it was her older brother calling, she grabbed the phone, one leg in her running tights.
“Hi, Jarrad. How’s the coaching going?” If there was ever a good news/bad news scenario it had to be recently learning that her big brother was coming home to Vancouver where he belonged. That was the good news. Naturally, she’d assumed that he’d finally listened to her excellent arguments on the reasons for returning home and not wasting his life in Hollywood.
However, the bad news part of the equation was that he was here not because he’d heeded her superior advice, but because Greg Olsen had asked him to coach the amateur firefighters and police league. Greg Olsen. Of all people.
She’d wanted her big brother to come home and figure out what he wanted from life. He had a boatload of money and he’d enjoyed a decade of success in pro hockey. Now he could do anything. Go back to school, open a business, travel the world. Instead he’d informed her he was coming to coach.
“You’re coaching? Seriously?” Sam could not believe her ears, and she’d heard some improbable stories in her seven years as a practicing lawyer. “Hockey?” she wanted to clarify to make sure she hadn’t misunderstood. Perhaps her older brother had completely lost his mind and was coaching synchronized swimming or something. Though, based on his marriage to the swimsuit model, she doubted he wanted to get close to that many women in tank suits anytime soon.