WILD ZONE, A Rough Riders Hockey Novel

by Skye Jordan

  “Fine. Let’s just get it over with so you can get on with this scintillating night you have planned. Quinn is terrified that word of our night together is going to spread through the team and reflect badly on the family.” Olivia gestured absently to the rink, indicating Quinn was overreacting. “She’s afraid that potential jobs Essex could get from the team or connections to the team could be ruined because of this.”

  She gestured between herself and Tate in a way that seemed to make what had happened between them a throwaway event, which annoyed him.

  He shook his head, repeated the gesture, even more flippant, almost disgusted it would even be suggested. “There is no this.”

  Olivia’s face brightened, her hands came out, palms up, and she offered and over-exaggerated, “Right?”

  That one gesture diffused all the tension and made laughter tickle his gut again. But dammit, he didn’t want to laugh. He didn’t like her coming in here, acting like his embarrassment and his feelings were things she could push aside with a little charm, a little flirtation and walk away getting what she wanted. Especially when Tate wasn’t especially in the mood to give her what she wanted.

  “That’s what I told her,” Olivia went on. “But she insisted—I swear, that girl is so melodramatic sometimes—that I’d hurt you, and that your hurt feelings were going to ruin everything. No joke, you’d have thought the world was ending.”

  She was teasing, trying to lighten a potentially touchy topic. Tate could appreciate that. But that didn’t change the underlying situation between them. And it didn’t help Tate feel any better about being one of her puck bunnies.

  But he was ready to let this Quinn thing go, so he matched her flippant tone with, “Some people.”

  “Some people,” she repeated with a smile in her eyes. She braced her hands on the ledge at her hips and looked at the ice shaking her head and swinging her crossed feet. “She’s a bleeding heart, that one. Means well, but… Anyway, can I tell her that you promised not to say anything bad about me to anyone involved with the team so it will settle her nerves about losing business for the company?”

  “You can tell her I’ll think about it.”

  She lowered her chin. “You’ll think about it?”

  “You’re in my rink, interrupting my practice, wanting your way. And it’s not even for you, it’s for Quinn. So I’m not particularly eager to make concessions. I’ll think about it.”

  Her expression fell along with her shoulders. The sight pinched Tate’s chest, but with Beckett’s “Stop being a pussy and take some control of your life” ringing in his head he resisted the urge to backpedal.

  “You should probably know,” she said, “that Mom and Quinn won’t have time to vet a caterer with the ability to handle your banquet, so I’ll be doing it. If that’s a problem for you, let me know now. I can reach out, make some calls. See if I can find someone qualified to fill in.”

  He narrowed his eyes. “That’s over two weeks from now. You’re not supposed to be here that long.”

  “Nope, I’m not.”

  “Is that going to screw with school?”

  “I’m not going to let it.”

  “Why’d you say yes? Why didn’t you tell your family you had to go back?”

  She looked down at the ice and didn’t answer for a couple of long moments. “I’ve been asking myself the same question to tell you the truth. If it was just my mom and Quinn I might have said no, told them to figure it out. But I have my doubts about your ability to get another caterer at the caliber you need to pull off a celebrity dinner for thousands of dollars a plate on such short notice.”

  That chipped away at the barriers around his heart. “Why would you have said no to just Quinn and your mom?”

  She thought again, her expression serious. “Because the same old bullshit that always happens between us is already happening again. I can see it. I can feel it. And I’m just done with it all. I have one of the most important things in my life happening in a very short time and they haven’t given me any reason to want to stay.” She looked up with a furrow between her brows. “Sorry, that was probably way too much information.”

  Tate hesitated. It was too much information. He didn’t want to get into any family drama. Still he couldn’t keep himself from asking, “What’s that about?”

  She sighed and shook her head. “Never mind.” Her eyes were so clear, so open, all her emotions right there on the surface. “I’ve done a lot of charity work overseas, and I don’t want to see the kids you help suffer just because I’ve got issues with my family.”

  Beckett was right. She had a good heart. A really good heart. She just hid it well. As someone who’d done the same since Lisa had trampled all over his, Tate recognized the signs. Which made her willingness to help him even sweeter.

  “Thank you,” he said, sincerely grateful. “That means a lot to me.”

  Her mouth flickered into smile, and she nodded. A second of silence lingered between them. Her gaze slid over him and when her eyes returned to his, a familiar little gleam hinted there. “I must have been too young to appreciate how hot hockey players are when I was in high school, because watching you fight for that puck was a serious turn on.”

  Just like that, fire spilled through his lower body. His automatic response for any other woman would have been some dry brush off, a response that made it seem like he hadn’t even picked up on her interest. But with Olivia, his lips formed the words, “Oh yeah?”

  “Oh yeah.” Her smiled heated, her voice grew heavy and languid, and her lids lowered as her gaze slid down his body again. “Reminds me of our night. Of the way you—” She cut off the last word and Tate found himself hanging on the edge, waiting to hear the word fuck drop from her lips. Instead, she teased him with, “The way you are in bed.” Her gaze roamed back to his. “Passionate, driven, intense. Relentless.”

  Memories depicting all those words flooded into his head, pressure built in his lower body and his temperature spiked.

  “The way you go all out. And even when you score, it’s not good enough. You turn around, grab another puck and go at it again. The way you push and demand. The way your total and complete focus made me feel like I was the only person on the planet. The only thing that mattered. The only woman you wanted. Or had ever wanted. Or would ever want.”

  Her eyes fell closed and she tilted her head back with a long hum of desire that pumped directly into his cock. “Mmm, what a fucking rush. Rush after rush after rush.”

  Tate’s blood had drained south. When she opened her eyes again and he saw the wicked light there, he knew what she would do next. Which was the moment he realized he’d drifted too close. But his brain was too slow, Olivia’s hands too quick. She reached out and snagged a handful of his Jersey, yanking him toward her with an evil little giggle.

  “Oliv—”

  His blade tips hit the wall, stopping him. But she already had her thighs open and she wrapped her legs around his, pinning him there. Tate caught her biceps and pushed away.

  “If you’re goin’, I’m goin’,” she said, her voice husky and serious but her eyes sexy and playful. “So if I go down, you go down.” Her grin glinted with an extra spark. “And you know how I love to go down.”

  Another memory rushed in, of Olivia on her knees, offering her warm, soft, wet mouth to fuck. Excitement kicked through his body, but Tate didn’t want to find her amusing or fun or flirty. Because that made him want her. Hell, who was he kidding, as long as he was alert and breathing he wanted her.

  “Liv, I smell like a locker room.”

  “No, you smell like sweat. You did plenty of that our first night together,” her voice dipped and her lids lowered, “and I like it.”

  He exhaled slowly, purposely refocusing on why he shouldn’t stroke his hands down her arms. Why he shouldn’t wrap his arms around her waist. Why he shouldn’t press his lips against hers. Why he shouldn’t sink his tongue into her warm mouth and take a long, deep, slow taste of
her to quench what felt like an endless fast.

  “I was just thinking the same thing,” she said, as if she were reading his mind, her voice another silky reminder of that unforgettable night.

  “I doubt it.”

  “Really?” she asked softly. “Because I was thinking about stripping you out of these sticky clothes, stroking every inch of your amazing body under a hot stream of running water until you were squeaky clean, feeding you with your choice of delicacy until you were absolutely sated, and rocking you so hard you’d sleep for days. Isn’t that what you said you wanted to do right now?”

  Just like that, Tate’s partial hard on turned to rock.

  And Olivia knew it. She shimmied her pelvis against his, shooting sparks of lust between his legs. “I think that’s exactly what you want right now.”

  It wasn’t just exactly what he wanted, it was the only thing he wanted. Tate heard Beckett’s words again. “Take the hits, get a few scars and get your ass back in the game.” The problem was that Tate couldn’t just change the way he thought about women and relationships overnight. And in truth, he didn’t really want to. He was proud of the way he treated women, which was probably why feeling like just another boy toy to Olivia hurt.

  But that was his problem, not Olivia’s. And if he wanted to love Olivia while he could, he was going to have to find a way to get over it.

  But Olivia seemed to finally read Tate’s silence for disinterest, because the flash in her pretty eyes vanished and her expression fell into a little pout. “But, unfortunately, unless we can do that in your locker room, it won’t happen tonight.”

  He almost jumped at the bait. Almost. Before the “Why not?” fell from his lips, exposing his keen interest in executing her plans, he caught it and just lifted a brow instead.

  “I have to prep for Lily’s party tomorrow. Mom and Quinn are picking up the food. I’m making and assembling the base of the cake tonight, prepping some of the food, then finishing everything tomorrow before her party while Mom and Quinn are decorating.”

  Tate slid his arms around her waist and eased closer, frowning at the fact that Beckett hadn’t told Tate about this. “You’re catering Lily’s birthday party?”

  She smiled, but it looked tired. “I am.”

  “I didn’t know Eden and Beckett were having it catered.”

  “Guess they asked after the engagement party.” She lifted a shoulder. “They’re key clients for Mom and Quinn. They tell me the Croft’s family are a potentially big referral base all through the District and Metro.”

  Tate nodded. “The Croft’s do know a lot of people.”

  “At least the work will have purpose then.”

  “This hasn’t turned into much of a vacation for you.”

  She skimmed her fingers through his sweaty hair and her smile returned, along with the light in her eyes. “I don’t know about that. My time with you feels like a vacation.” She tipped her head. “When you’re not mad at me.”

  He laughed softly, wishing he could take her home and have her in his bed all night. “I think Quinn’s right on the mark about one thing.”

  Olivia’s gaze angled up to his.

  “I think there’s a softie inside this pretty shell of yours,” Tate told her.

  “Oh no.” She leaned back and shook her head with an obstinate frown. “Uh-uh. Not me.” She fisted her hand and tapped her chest over her heart. “Stone right here, dude. Granite. Quinn stole all the good stuff in the womb. Left me with nothing redeemable. Just ask her.”

  Tate was grinning, completely against his will. “I didn’t have to. She volunteered the information.”

  “Oh, God.” Her shoulders sank. “I’m afraid to ask.”

  Now, so close to her in the light, Tate saw all kinds of things he hadn’t seen before. Like the darker rim on the edge of her light blue eyes. And the length, curl and golden color of her lashes without mascara. Like the little scar above her right brow and the smooth texture of her skin. “She said you’re a beautiful person.”

  She waited, and when he didn’t go on, another brow winged upward. “And in the same sentence she said…?”

  “Why do you do that?”

  “Because I know her. She’s my twin. So tell me how that sentence ended.”

  He sighed. “She thinks you’re just a little lost.”

  Olivia broke out in laughter, and when her head tipped back, it was all he could do not to press his mouth to her throat.

  “You’re not lost?” he asked.

  When she looked at him again, she was smiling, but the sparkle of laughter didn’t reach her eyes. “Quinn thinks I’m lost because her version of happiness and mine differ. Because I don’t follow American norms. Because I’m not striving for the American dream.”

  “What are you striving for?”

  She stared at him an extended moment, gaze distant, lips parted. After a second, her walls went up. She closed her mouth, thought about it some more and said, “That changes as my life changes. We’re not all born knowing where we want to end up. I’m sure you’ve heard the saying, ‘Not all those who wander are lost’.”

  “My sister is one of those.”

  “Ah, a kindred spirit.” Her smile was warm. “Where does she live?”

  “Here.”

  “Oh.” Her eyes widened. “Are you close?”

  He nodded. “We had a rough patch recently, but we’re getting past it.”

  “Good to know you can forgive.” She slid her hands up his sweaty chest to his shoulders and ran her fingers over the stubble on his jaw. “Gives me hope. I really don’t like it when you’re mad at me.”

  She slid one arm behind his neck and pulled his head down.

  Tate resisted until she said, “Just one kiss goodbye. I have to get going.”

  As soon as her lips pillowed beneath his, Tate moaned. Olivia opened. Her tongue reached for his, circling, circling…

  And Tate was fucking gone.

  He lost all reason, all logic. Lost all will power, all resistance. He wrapped his arms around her, one low on her hips, the other high on her shoulders, using his hand to keep her head right where he wanted it. Positioning her mouth right where he needed it. And Olivia responded exactly like he remembered, like liquid fire. They flowed into a rhythm that amped the heat between them in seconds. Enough heat to melt the rink beneath his skates.

  In sixty seconds Tate was spiraling. Fast.

  He broke the kiss and pressed his forehead against her temple. “How do you fuckin’ do this to me?”

  “It’s not me,” she said. “It’s us.” She pulled back, framed his face with both hands and he had no doubt that the emotion he saw in her eyes was real. “I’m sorry if I hurt you. I’m sorry I’m not more…traditional or American or whatever.” She shrugged. “This is me. I love sex. I happen to really, really love sex with you. More than I’ve loved sex in a long time. And I know we have a limited opportunity. That makes me hungry.” She rocked her hips against his and instead of starting a slow simmer, the movement shot fire through his cock. “Feels like it might make you hungry too.”

  He clenched his teeth and flexed his fingers in her waist. “You know it does.”

  Part of his jaded mind knew she could be doing this to boost his ego so he’d stay on with Essex. But that same damaged ego really wanted to believe she did enjoy sex with him more than other guys. Only he couldn’t ignore the fact that either way, the major problem between them still existed.

  “But you’ve confirmed something I already knew about myself,” he said. “Something I was trying to disprove because I wanted you so badly.”

  “Which is?” she asked.

  He exhaled, frustrated with the ache between his legs. “I’m not a one-night, sex with a stranger kind of guy.”

  She lifted her brows and a hot little smile turned her lips. “Well, another night would be night two, and we aren’t strangers anymore.”

  He laughed, but it came out as pained as he felt. “Really? B
ecause I learned more about you from Quinn in five minutes and listening to you talk to Beckett for three than I learned directly from you in bed over eight hours.”

  “Oh, mon dieu de sexe,” she purred in a way that made Tate light up like a struck match, “I promise you that’s not true.”

  Calling him her sex god nudged him closer to her way of thinking, but didn’t make him cave. The last week and its turmoil were still too fresh.

  “You have the ability to have a short, casual relationship with a predetermined end date without heartache if you frame it that way in your mind ahead of time.”

  Maybe Beckett was right. At least half right.

  Voices broke the spell between them and Beckett straightened, glancing toward the lobby where a dozen pre-teen boys flooded through the doors. He groaned, released Olivia and pushed backward, gliding a short distance away.

  “Club practice,” he told her.

  She swung her legs over the wall toward the bench. “Okay, well…”

  “Hold on.” He skated to the mat, threw the guards on his blades and curled his hand around hers. “If you wait for me I’ll drive you home.”

  As soon as he said the words, Tate flashed back to there first night together and that moment when he’d tried to offer the same. Remembering the skittish look in her eyes then made him cringe internally now. Another faux pas. He walked her toward the hall that connected the lobby, the locker rooms and the lounges, expecting that any second, she’d pull from his grip and get the hell out of Dodge.

  Instead, she threaded their fingers, smiled up at him and said, “I’d love that.”

  Tate damn near wobbled on his skate blades.

  “Wow,” she said, “You were tall to begin with, but you’re really tall in skates.”

  He laughed and led her down the corridor to one of the private lounges accessible only to the Rough Riders’ staff. “You can hang here. I won’t be more than fifteen minutes.”

  “This is incredible.” She released his hand and wandered toward the twenty-foot glass wall that looked out onto the rink.

  The boys and their coaches were on the ice, warming up, but Tate’s gaze was on Olivia’s ass and how delicious it looked in those jeans.