Roughing (Ottawa Titans Book 1)

by Sarah Hegger

  He, at least, needed to invest in some stools.

  “Here.” Elizabeth popped the cap and handed him a beer. “If you’re no good to me as a sex toy, at least tell me about your game.”

  “Lizzie.” He used that tone that made her girl parts wake up. “You keep yukking it up, sweetheart. I’m gonna make you eat those words.”

  “Sure you are.” She rolled her eyes and poured herself a glass of wine. Fortunately, she’d had the foresight to add a couple of glasses to her grocery shop. “Actually start with telling me what’s been going on since I last saw you.”

  Pulling off his tie and tossing it on his jacket, Sam told her about his team practices, the extra hours and effort demanded of him and the games he’d played.

  “Were they all like tonight?” Watching Sam take punishment on television made her wince, but seeing it live made her cringe and then want some payback on Sam’s behalf.

  Sam shook his head. “Tonight was the worst, but there are lots of players with something to prove to me.” He hid a yawn behind his beer.

  “Why don’t we go to bed?” She’d never seen him look so done in.

  “I’m sorry, Liz.” He yawned again and stood. “I know this is not cool. Me not…you know. But I needed to see you tonight. I needed you.”

  And what the hell girl could resist that? Not her that’s for damn sure. She took her newly acquired toothbrush into the bathroom and got ready for bed. In Sam’s dressing room, she dug out a T-shirt and slipped it on.

  Sam had dropped to the bed like a felled tree. The clothes he had been wearing lay scattered around the bed like fallen leaves.

  Picking up his jacket, Elizabeth read the label. “Sam! This is Armani. You can’t drop it on the floor.”

  Cracking an eye, Sam muttered something that sounded like a sorry and closed his eye again.

  Elizabeth tried not to care, she really did, but you didn’t leave your clothes on the floor. You especially didn’t leave your horribly expensive clothes on the floor. As she finished her wine, she hung up his suit and put his tie away. The shirt she dropped in the laundry.

  She shut the door before the urge to make order of his stinky gear overcame her. Nobody needed that kind of punishment. She turned off all the lights and slipped into bed beside Sam.

  Beside her, Sam snored softly, dead to the world. City lights painted the loft in multicolored hues while streetlights created intriguing shadows on his back. The sheet draped the perfect globes of his ass.

  Yay her! She was in bed with a naked, super-hot jock. And he was fast asleep. There were worse things.

  None that her overheated hormones could think of right then.

  But they were out there.

  * * * *

  Early morning light woke Elizabeth.

  Sam had kicked off the covers and lay face down and spread-eagle across the bed.

  “Shit.” In the lightening morning, the full extent of Sam’s hard week was revealed. The backs of his legs, where the pads didn’t cover were riddled with bruises in varying shades from green to newly gained puce.

  She ran her hands lightly over the marks.

  Stirring, Sam grumbled and rolled over. He reached for her before he opened his eyes. “Hey.”

  “You look like you’ve gone ten rounds with someone,” she said, snuggling close to his warm chest.

  “Several someones.” He kissed her head. “And I feel like it too.”

  Elizabeth traced the muscles of his chest and then his abdomen. She already knew the hours of work a body like this took, and Sam didn’t do it for vanity. Sam’s body was a tool.

  Speaking of tools, he didn’t seem as wiped out this morning.

  Elizabeth trailed her hand down to his erection and palmed it.

  Sam hissed and pressed his cock into her hand.

  Kissing her way down the same path her hand had taken, Elizabeth peered up at him. “All those moving parts still hurt?”

  “Not all of them.” Sam’s eyes were slumberous with desire.

  She slid her lips over his cock and took him deep.

  Arching his back, Sam groaned. His hands fastened in her hair. “Jesus, Lizzie!”

  He grew bigger and harder in her mouth as she worked him over. Hollowing her cheeks and taking as much of him as she could, she used her tongue on the sensitive tip. She learned he liked the flat of her tongue on the underside of his cock, and when she cupped his balls it drove him wilder.

  Panting, fingers in her hair, he guided the pace of her mouth.

  His balls tightened in her hand.

  “Lizzie!” he rasped through clenched teeth. “I’m close.”

  Close wasn’t far enough. Elizabeth wanted all of him, until he came with a shout.

  Elizabeth crawled back up him and kissed the underside of his jaw. “Good morning, Sam.”

  “Christ.” He lay lax and sated beside her. “I can’t tell you how glad I am you’re here.”

  She laughed, but she was serious when she answered him. “I’m glad I’m here too.”

  Sam rolled and took her with him. His hard body caged hers as he grinned down at her. “Not as glad as you’re going to be.” He trailed hot kisses down her neck. “Can’t let my girl do all the work and leave my bed not taken care of.”

  “Am I your girl?” The question popped out of her, and she wanted to kick her ass for sounding so desperate and needy.

  Sam raised his head and stared at her. “What kind of question is that?”

  “A fair one.” Lying against her thigh, evidence that he was fully recovered got her libido celebrating. “We kind of drifted into this thing, you and I. I’m not even sure what it is.”

  “There’s my Quizzy Lizzie.” Sam nibbled her ear and drifted lower. “You like your rules.”

  Concentrating on rules and boundaries got really hard when Sam put his mouth on her nipple and sucked. Her other breast got his hand.

  “You’re my girl, Elizabeth Rogers.” He grazed her abdomen with his teeth. “My one and only girl for as long as this thing lasts.” He pressed her thighs open and settled his shoulders between them. “Meaning I’m the only man who gets to see this pretty pussy of yours.” He lowered his head and blew softly. “And the only man who gets to do this.”

  He lowered his head and showed her. After that, there was slow, sweaty lovemaking filled with laughter and exploration.

  Finally, after Sam had shared his huge shower with her, and delayed her coffee even further, they left his apartment hand in hand. And Sam showed whoever saw them that she was his girl.

  * * * *

  Sam drove her home later that evening. He had Sunday off, and they would spend it at her place. Monday his crazy schedule started again.

  “Listen.” Sam kissed her hand as he kept his eyes on the road. “The next few weeks are going to be crazy. And if we make the playoffs, they’re going to get worse.”

  “I know.” Elizabeth didn’t relish the days when she wouldn’t see him, but she refused to be that girl. “Make sure you win the playoffs, or my dad will be even worse than ever.”

  Sam stared at the road, his jaw muscle working.

  “What?” She knew that face. Sam had something on his mind.

  “I think you should find a new job,” he said. “Your dad doesn’t deserve you, and there would be plenty of places that would love to have you.”

  “Like who?” She had a standard degree in marketing.

  “Plenty of companies.” Sam intertwined their fingers and rested them on his rock-hard thigh. “Have you ever looked around?”

  “Not really.” They’d known each other too long for lies. “I drifted into working with my dad, and now I feel like I would betray him if I left.” Her laugh had a bitter edge to it. “Not that I think he’d even notice.”

  “You’re worth more, Lizzie.” Sam kissed her fingers again. “Promise me you’ll look.”

  “I’ll look.” That seemed easy enough, despite her churning stomach.

  Randy popped his
head around the door as Sam parked outside her condo. “Yo! Sam.”

  “How you doing, Randy?” Sam grabbed his bag from the trunk.

  Leaning against his doorjamb, Randy scratched his belly. “Doing good, Sam. You know. Same old shit, different day.”

  Apparently Randy and Sam were now great buddies.

  Sam took her hand. “I hear ya, Randy.”

  “Great game last night,” Randy called as they climbed the stairs to her condo. “Pay no mind to what that shit Gracie is saying tonight.”

  Despite the light tone, Sam’s hand tensed in hers. “He trash talking me again?”

  “You know how he is.” Randy rolled his eyes and disappeared into his condo.

  Elizabeth got the door open.

  As she expected, Sam headed straight for the television and flipped to the hockey. Sitting down in front of it, Sam dug his phone out and scrolled.

  “Would you like a beer?” Elizabeth stood beside the sofa not really sure whether to join him or not.

  Sam kept scrolling. “Sure.”

  Oh-kay. So much for Gracie not getting to Sam.

  Elizabeth took Sam a beer and then surveyed her fridge for something to make for dinner. Calories weren’t a problem for Sam, but he did have a quite specific eating plan.

  She hauled out some chicken breasts first, then dug through the veggie drawer. The feeding of a professional athlete took a lot of considerate shopping.

  “Fuck.” Sam had his attention on his phone. The rigid set of his shoulders spoke for him.

  Elizabeth got busy on a chicken casserole. She didn’t know whether to ask him or leave him alone, and that bothered her. “What is it?”

  “Gracie.” Sam took a swig of beer. “He’s on my fucking case again.”

  “What about this time?” Elizabeth added carrots, onions and celery to her pot and fried them.

  Back to her, Sam stared out her window. Her condo overlooked a small duckpond in the center of the complex and while pretty, was not particularly inspiring. Anger radiated off Sam.

  Elizabeth poked at her veggies while her mind raced. His anger didn’t bother her as much as her reaction to it. She was dancing around Sam and trying to appease him. When Dad got angry, she did the same. It was something she’d seen her mother do time and time again.

  Discomfort with the situation churned in her belly. She was avoiding Sam’s displeasure, like she did her father’s. She added chicken to the veggies and stirred it around.

  Sam’s heavy silence hung around her.

  “What did Gracie say?”

  Shoving his hands in his pockets, he shrugged. “More of the same. How I’m always showboating and how I mistake tricks for talent.”

  Wow! Gracie hadn’t held back. “Sam.” She turned her burner to simmer and approached him. “You have to know that’s not true.”

  He grunted.

  Beneath her hand his arm stayed taut and tense. “Why does this get to you so much?”

  Spinning, he looked at her as if she’d lost her mind. “I’m human, Elizabeth. Shit gets to me sometimes.”

  “I know that.” She kept her tone gentle, soothing. “But what he said tonight was totally undeserved. You played a fantastic game Friday night, and everyone knows it.”

  He turned away from her and continued staring out the window. “Apparently not everyone.”

  “He rides you hard because he thinks you’re the most talented player he’s ever met,” Elizabeth said.

  “Right!” Sam’s face twisted with skepticism. “Is that what he told you?”

  The anger in Sam’s face put her on the back foot. She was losing her grip on their conversation, and it made her anxious. The familiar anxiety she’d had growing up around a man she could never please. “Yes.”

  She carried on preparing dinner. Also familiar, her in the kitchen trying to make sure everyone else was happy.

  Sam had never demanded this of her, yet his anger triggered it in her.

  “Listen, Lizzie.” He strode into the kitchen. “I don’t want you to take this the wrong way, but I think I should go back to the city tonight.”

  “Oh?” Only a bona fide people pleaser could manage to keep the hurt off her face like Elizabeth did.

  Sam rubbed at his nape. “Gracie got under my skin tonight, and I’m not even sure why.”

  “Okay.” She wanted to ask him to stay. Invent ways in which she would make it all right for him to stay. And that was precisely the problem.

  “Look at me, Lizzie.” He got closer to her.

  Elizabeth stirred her pot and then did as he asked.

  “This is not on you,” he said. “But I’m in a stinking fucking mood, and I want to punch something, or pound a treadmill.”

  She managed a nod. Part of her did get it. “I understand.”

  And even in that she missed the mark on honesty.

  “Cool.” Sam kissed her on the mouth. “I’ll see you soon.”

  The door shut behind him, and Elizabeth flipped off the burner. “No point in making a man dinner that he’s not going to eat.”

  Her mother’s voice rang in her mind. Daddy is busy. Daddy’s had a hard day. Daddy needs time to relax. All the excuses made up year after year to deal with a difficult man. Was she signing up for more of the same?

  Elizabeth sat on the sofa and picked up Sam’s half-empty beer. She pressed her mouth to where he’d had his and took a sip.

  Her people pleasing had led her here. She buzzed about making the world better for other people. She did it for her family, for Leonard, for the animal shelter, even for the women’s auxiliary. And now she was doing it with Sam.

  A knock at the door stopped her nasty mental meanderings toward a distressing conclusion.

  Elizabeth opened the door.

  “I’m back.” Sam stood on the other side looking sheepish.

  She held on to the door. “I see that.”

  “I got halfway home and turned around.” Sam dug his hands in his pockets. His breath made vapor clouds in the air. “Then I realized that even though I was upset, the person I most wanted to be upset around was you.”

  Elizabeth swung the door open. “Good answer.”

  Chapter 29

  Sam sent a text to Lizzie before putting his phone away. She really liked those GIF things and he liked blowing up her phone with the ones of him.

  “Hey, Stoney.” Novotny chucked his socks at Sam and said in his heavy Czech accent, “Stop sending dick pics to your girlfriend. They cameras cannot focus that small.”

  Sam faked confused. “Is that English you’re speaking there, Novo?”

  “Varg you.”

  Sam pinched the socks between his forefinger and thumb and tossed them on the rookie next to him. “No thanks, Novo, Lizzie doesn’t share.”

  “Jesus.” The rookie went green and pushed the socks away. “Does he ever wash his feet?”

  “Nah.” Sam loved messing with rookies. They’d believe anything. That kid was a goddamn rocket with a wrister on him that inspired poetry, but still a rookie. “He only wears one pair for the entire season, and never washes them. They bring him good luck.”

  The rookie rolled his eyes. “Bullshit.”

  “You kees your ma with that mouth, Rookie?” Novo joined the action.

  “I thought Trapper was kissing the rookie’s ma.” Dawson chimed in. “They’re about the same age, aren’t they?”

  Guy looked up and grinned at Dawson. “Varg you, kid.”

  Coach walked in and the laughter died. “Okay, boys. They’re fast and their first line has a wicked breakaway. Starting tonight, Dawson, Stone…”

  Sam stopped listening. The temptation to text Lizzie almost won out, but Coach would lose his shit and Sam needed to get his head in the game.

  He was back in the starting lineup.

  * * * *

  Elizabeth arrived at work on Tuesday and fought the sinking feeling that had only gotten worse in the last few weeks.

  It was as if by acknowle
dged she didn’t want to be there, she’d made it so much worse. She’d promised Sam she would look for something else, but so far, she’d not upheld her promise.

  She was scared. Okay, there she’d said it. Not so much scared that she might not find something, but scared that she would. Then she would be out of excuses to hide behind her job.

  Her relationship with her dad had also deteriorated. She still went around to the house when she could, but last Saturday night she had spent with Sam.

  As she was putting her bag away, Dad walked past her desk.

  “Good morning,” she called after him and got a grunt in reply. Maybe she would look online for something else today. Looking wasn’t committing.

  Midmorning, Dad came out and dropped a large envelope on her desk. “I got these from your mother this morning.”

  The logo on the envelope belonged to Mom’s lawyer. This must be the reason for Dad’s bad mood. Maybe he’d even had them for a while now and they had contributed toward making him extra difficult. “I’m sorry, Dad.”

  “About what?” He blinked at her.

  Maybe she’d gotten it wrong. She slid the papers out of the envelope. “She sent you divorce papers.”

  “Yes.” He shoved a hand in his pocket. “That’s what happens when two people get divorced.”

  Clearly, she was missing something. “Why are you giving them to me?”

  “You’re my secretary, aren’t you?” He scowled at her.

  “Office administrator.” Although why she bothered to make the distinction he didn’t respect was beyond her. “And I’m also your daughter. The divorce is between you and Mom.”

  He made a sound of frustration. “Call my lawyers and set up a meeting. Or send them an email or something, but also tell them this is unacceptable. Tell them to let her lawyers know if she wants a fight, she’s got it.”

  All Elizabeth could do was sit there and blink at him. She had nothing. Not one coherent thought, and therefore, no chance of forming a word. “Huh?”

  “I’ve got meetings all morning.” Dad threw his hands up in exasperation. “I need you to do your job and call them and tell them what I told you about that woman.”

  “That woman is my mother.”

  “I know that.” He sneered. “And I’m your father, and more importantly, your boss.”