“It is, but we do it all the time in international competitions. You’re adversaries on the ice, but once you’re off, you’re back to being friends.”
“That’s so strange,” she said, fascinated by the very idea of supporting your teammates at the international level that you’d just tried to take down at the national level. How did you quickly switch who you were competing against?
“Nature of the game. And at some point, you’ve played on a team with almost everyone, between juniors and the pros.”
“Maybe I could come to another game some time,” she said.
“Just let me know ahead of time, and I’ll have tickets waiting for you. But you have to promise to be decked out in my jersey.”
“I’ll think about it. Twenty-two isn’t really my number.”
He laughed, then leaned across the table, and pressed a hard kiss to her lips.
“What was that for?”
“Because I felt like it. Do I really need a reason?”
“No,” she whispered, kissing him back.
***
Before she knew it, three hours had passed and the drinks and conversation had continued at a steady pace. They’d moved on from discussing his away trip to the game in general, and on to all the possible dates he’d come up with, including the Exploratorium. She’d thought it was just a kid’s science museum. But, apparently, it was adults only on Thursday nights. She refused to acknowledge her flushed cheeks when she thought about sneaking into dark alcoves with him. She’d even offered to take him to her favorite spot in the city. It must have been the alcohol talking at that point.
He knew most of the places since he’d grown up here and had gone to school in the area. She wondered if they’d ever crossed paths when they both lived in the city over the years.
She was definitely feeling fuzzier than she’d planned, but she could honestly say that she didn’t regret her decision to stay. Again, that was probably the alcohol talking. The same alcohol that had her sitting closer and closer to Ethan by the hour.
They were facing each other. Drinks forgotten on the table as Ethan told her about getting lost with his cousin during a tour of Alcatraz when they were kids.
His eyes sparkled with humor, and she leaned in closer, shifting her body.
And then her butt started to slide off the stool, and her eyes widened. Her mind moved in slow motion, and before she could utter oh shit, Ethan had hopped out of his seat and caught her against his chest.
“Oomph.” She found herself plastered against him. Plastered, now that was a funny word, and at this point, could have two meanings. No, she wasn’t completely plastered. It wasn’t as if she was about to pass out from the booze.
Although, he was doing a number on her senses just by holding her, so passing out was still an option.
“Weren’t we talking about your coordination skills earlier? Are you okay?” he asked, still not releasing her.
His breath washed over her face. It should smell. Why didn’t it smell? Hours of beer and bar food should make his breath unpleasant. Had he popped a mint when she wasn’t looking? His hands were on her waist, holding her steady. She tried to step back, but he held her firm.
“I’m okay.” Wow, did her voice sound as breathy to him as it had to her?
“Are you sure?” he asked.
“Yeah,” she said as she tried to straighten. Her traitorous feet wobbled beneath her.
She laughed. “I just haven’t stood up in a while.” She sounded loud. “I’m going to go to the restroom and I’ll be right back,” she continued.
“Okay.”
He backed away slightly, still holding her hand as she steadied herself on her feet.
She made her way to the bathroom, weaving between the high top tables and concentrating on putting one foot in front of the other. She knew he was watching her, and the last thing she wanted was to faceplant onto the floor.
It would be sticky and gross. And not to mention, mortifying. No thanks.
After entering the surprisingly empty women’s restroom, she quickly finished and made her way slowly back to Ethan. One foot in front of the other.
She glanced up to see him watching her, and her cheeks heated.
It wasn’t him, it was the alcohol.
Who was she kidding? It was totally not the alcohol.
He looked so hot. His shirt molded to his chest. Not super tight so that he looked ridiculous, but fitted enough to hint at the pecs she wanted to nip with her teeth. His hair was mussed and her fingers were itching to run through it again. It should be a crime to have hair that soft.
He stood as she got closer to him.
“What?” she asked as she got within speaking range of him.
“Just wanted to be ready in case you wobbled again.” He smiled at her. A small smile that made her heart flip over in her chest.
“Very funny,” she said, moving to take her seat.
Before she knew what was happening, he’d lifted her up and plopped her onto the barstool.
“Whoa.” She reached out, putting her hand on his shoulder to steady herself. His muscles bunched under her grip. There was something so unbelievably sexy about having him lift her with ease. “You didn’t have to do that,” she said, trying to steady her breath, her heart still racing.
“Yes, I did,” he said, standing in front of her, invading her personal space, his intent clear.
His hands hadn’t left her waist, and they burned through the fabric of her skirt like a brand.
“I’m fine, thank you,” she said, but he moved in closer.
His lips were a breath away from hers. “You know that blush is quite adorable on you.”
“Ethan, we shouldn’t,” she whispered.
“Yes, we should.”
His lips grazed over hers like a silken caress, and her attempt to gather her wits failed horribly. He caused all rational thought to flee from her brain whenever their mouths met. It was a problem. But not one she wanted to dwell on now, or ever, as long as he kept kissing her.
He nipped at her lower lip, and she tilted her head. Her hands settled around his waist, her fingertips running along the base of his spine. A shudder rolled through his body, and she thrilled at her power over him, hoping it was just as strong as his power over her.
With one last nip, he broke the kiss, resting his forehead against hers.
“I wish we were alone,” he said.
She kept her eyes closed, not wanting the moment to end.
“Let’s get the check,” he muttered, pulling back from her.
“Okay.” Her voice was breathy and husky at the same time.
“Stay here,” he said, straightening.
He took a few deep breaths before he turned and made his way to the bar, and she smiled.
She pulled out her wallet as he came back to the table.
“It’s all set.”
“What? Is she bringing the bill?”
“No. It’s all set. I paid,” he replied.
“What? How much do I owe you?” she asked.
“I never make a lady pay on a date,” he grinned.
“This wasn’t a date,” she huffed.
“Stop arguing with me, and let’s go.” He pulled her from the barstool, his fingers intertwining with hers.
It was dark when they exited the bar. How long had she been in there?
“I don’t see any cabs,” she said. She didn’t trust herself on public transportation after all that alcohol.
“We don’t need one,” he said.
“Well, you might not. But I need to get home,” she said.
“You’ve had too much to drink. I live just a few blocks over. We can walk to my place and I’ll have a car service take you home in the morning if you aren’t up by the time I have to leave.”
“Are you sure? This is a bad idea,” she said.
He put his jacket on her shoulders, and she turned her head into the lapel. It smelled like him. Spicy and male and—ugh, he
really wasn’t playing fair.
His fingers brushed the curls from her face. “I’ll sleep on the couch. You’ll be perfectly safe.”
“I still think this is a bad idea,” she muttered, but even she could hear that there was no feeling behind it.
“Trust me,” he said as he started off down the sidewalk, her hand firmly clutched in his.
Trust him.
At that moment, she wasn’t even sure if she could trust herself.
A short walk later, Ethan led her up the stairs into his townhouse. He couldn’t believe that he was finally getting her into his home, and then he’d stupidly agreed to sleep on the couch. How he was going to sleep with her only a few feet away from him, wrapped up in his sheets, he had no idea.
“Wow, it’s a lot more spacious than I would have thought,” she said as she turned about the living room.
“I just bought it. The realtor said the previous owner did some extensive renovations.”
“You actually bought a house. So, you’re really planning to stay?” Was that hope in her eyes? Or were they fuzzy from the alcohol?
“Yeah. I’m going to stay. If they want to keep me, that is. Still working on a new contract, but my agent is hopeful.” Sam had called him the other day, more hints about his image. Ethan had been squeaky clean since he’d left New York, and he wanted management to take notice.
The fact that an act he’d had no control over had been the final straw in his trade and was affecting a possible new contract grated on his damn nerves, but there was nothing he could do aside from showing the Strikers that he was not the party boy they signed six months ago. His focus was hockey and making his new team proud.
Her smile grew. “Oh, that’s nice.”
“Do you want anything to drink?” he asked.
“I think I’ve had enough alcohol for the evening. Maybe just some water,” she said as she followed him into the kitchen.
“Sure.”
“Nice kitchen. Do you cook?”
“Not really. I can get by, but I can’t make meals like the ones we had in Italy.”
“That food was amazing,” she said wistfully.
He handed her a glass of water, and they made their way back into the living room.
She set her glass on the coffee table. “Where is the bathroom?” she asked. He pointed down the hall.
“Thanks,” she said as she made her way down the hall.
Ethan sat down on the couch. Then he stood up. Should he turn some music on? Maybe the TV? Should he light some candles?
Candles? She’d had a lot to drink. Now wasn’t the time to seduce her.
He turned on the lamps on each end table to give the room some light, but kept the overhead light off. He sat back down on the couch and waited for her to return.
Her sweet smell surrounded him when she walked back into the room and plopped down next to him, desire pooling low in his belly.
She kicked off her shoes, sinking her toes into the carpet, and sighed.
Shit. He was completely turned on. One little sigh was all it took. He groaned.
“Sorry, I promise my feet don’t smell, I just hate shoes,” she said, and smiled softly.
“Let me give you a foot massage,” he said. He put a pillow in his lap, to hide his obvious need, and pulled her feet onto his lap.
“Are you trying to seduce me?” she asked.
“Of course not,” he replied, and grinned. His thumbs pressed into the arch of her right foot and she jerked back.
“Oh my God, that tickles,” she laughed.
“Sorry. Let’s try again.” He grabbed her foot and brought it back to his lap. He slowly massaged her heel and the side of her foot, and she didn’t pull away.
“Ooh, that feels good,” she moaned.
He worked his way up to the ball of her foot. He felt her tense, and he looked over at her.
She was biting her lip, her white teeth nibbling on the full pink flesh of her lower lip. Her eyes sparkled in the low light. She still had his jacket on, and he loved how it enveloped her. Her skirt was riding up her thighs, and he could see a small strip of lace on her upper thigh.
Ah hell! She was wearing thigh highs. For the love of… His good intentions would not survive, and at this point she might be able to feel his arousal through the pillow.
“It still tickles,” she whispered.
He lost all common sense with those whispered words.
He tossed the pillow aside and pulled her into his lap, still careful of her knee. She fell against his chest with a laugh.
“Ethan, you aren’t supposed to be seducing me.” She playfully swatted his chest.
“Honey, at this point, you’re seducing me,” he said as his lips met hers. He swallowed her gasp and dove in.
He pulled his and her jackets off and tossed them across the room. His hands skated up her spine, and she trembled.
His tongue traced the warm recesses of her mouth as she clutched his shirt, her fingers curling into his chest.
Her thin blouse hid nothing, and he groaned, her nipples pebbled points under her shirt.
She shifted in his lap, her skirt riding up. He swore he could feel the heat from her core through his pants.
Sweet Jesus. What was he doing? She had too much to drink, and he was taking advantage of her.
He pulled away from the kiss.
“I’m sorry, Penny,” he said.
“Why did you stop?” She sounded as breathless as he did.
“You’ve had too much to drink. I’m not going to take advantage of you in this state,” he said as he pushed her away from him.
“I’m not drunk, Ethan. I know what I’m doing,” she replied. Her green eyes were still darkened with desire.
“No you don’t, Penny. I saw how much you had tonight.” He hated being the good guy when she looked at him like that.
“I know what I’m doing, Ethan. And I want you.” She sat up in his lap, running her hands down the buttons on his shirt.
“You’re going to regret this in the morning,” he continued.
“No,” she said as she opened the top button on his shirt.
“I’m.” Button number two popped open.
“Not.” And then the third was released.
He kissed her quickly on the nose and set her on the couch next to him. Clearly, he was auditioning for sainthood.
“I want you, Ethan,” she murmured against his throat as she trailed her lips up and down his flesh. “I’ve missed you,” she whispered.
“I’ve missed you, too. More than you know,” he said.
He looked down, waiting for her to say something else. She let out a puff of air, her eyes closed. She’d passed out next to him, a small smile tugging at her lips. He wondered if she’d heard his last comment. And he wondered if he would be able to will his painful arousal away as he carried her into his bedroom. To sleep.
Chapter 12
Whoever was tap dancing on her skull needed to knock that shit off. Penny reached up, shoving away the curls matted to the side of her face. Hell. Her hair hurt. She groaned and cracked her eyes open, wincing at the offending sunlight streaming in through her bedroom window. No, not her bedroom. She lifted her head—instantly regretted it—and glanced around the unknown room.
Light gray walls, overly large windows with the curtains pulled back. She glared at the evil sunlight, the cause of her pounding head. She snorted. It hurt. The sunlight had nothing to do with the current state of her head, it didn’t help, but it was an enabler. The multiple martinis she’d consumed last night were to blame.
As she looked around the room, last night’s events filtered back in.
Ethan. Conversation that never waned. Martinis. Lots of martinis. At least there hadn’t been any shots.
Kissing. His perfect lips against hers. That damn grin she couldn’t resist.
But she didn’t remember making it to his bed. She groaned. She hadn’t been this hungover since her bachelorette party, which was
the last time she’d woken up in a bed that wasn’t hers. It’d been Amanda’s, and the rest of the day had been a combination of visiting the ER, followed by a painful confession, and copious amounts of chocolate and grease to soak up the booze.
She shook her head, not wanting to think about that night or the pain of her called off wedding. She took in the rest of the room. A large TV took up space over a dresser covered in clutter. Spare change, socks, and various other items were tossed haphazardly across the wood surface. She resisted the itch to organize because sitting up was still not something she was looking forward to.
The house was silent, but she smelled coffee. It called to her, but her headache pounded, mocking her desire to swallow a vat of caffeine and become human again. She buried her face in the rumpled sheets, hugging the pillow next to her head. Ethan’s warm scent lingered, and she wanted to wrap herself in it. Something crinkled against her nose, and she pulled the offending sheet of paper away.
Good morning, beautiful,
Heat fluttered in her chest. She’d missed his endearments. Every morning in Italy he’d greeted her differently, and she’d wondered how many words he had in his endearment arsenal.
She focused back on the note.
Had to make my early flight and didn’t want to wake you. Mostly because I can only imagine what your head must feel like right now. Maybe a few less martinis next time? Take the meds and water next to you and the coffee should be done at eleven. Don’t worry about checkout, you can stay as long as you want.
See what I did there?
He followed it up with a winking face and heart, most likely soften the dig. She bit back her snort before chasing down the ibuprofen with the glass of water he left on the end table. Did he really have to bring that up? Of course, putting the checkout time at the end of her note to him in Italy had been a little douchey, but she hadn’t been thinking clearly when she’d left him in that room and escaped back home.
Sorry. Couldn’t resist. And really, stay as long as you want.
Another winking face.
Call the car service for a ride home. They have a tab for me.
I wish I could start the new year with you, but I’ll be back on Thursday. Come to the game on Friday. I’ll leave two tickets at will call for you. It starts at seven, but get there early so you can watch warm-ups. We are going to make you a hockey fan. Best sport there is.
Breakout (San Francisco Strikers Book 1) Page 13