It had backfired on him.
He jumped off the bed, kicked off his pants as he dragged hers down her legs. Then he was covering her body with his, his arms tight around her as he captured her mouth…
And plunged deep inside her.
She wrapped her legs high around his waist, pulling him in deeper. Her hands stroked his body, her nails digging into his back as he drove into her. Harder. Deeper.
"Tell me again." He kissed her, pulled back. "Tell me."
"You. I want you." Her head fell back, her body arched as she climaxed again. Her inner muscles tightened, clenching, over and over until he became part of her.
He'd always been part of her.
He captured her face between his hands, kissed her, deep and possessive as he drove into her. His hips pumped, faster, a desperation he didn't understand consuming him.
And then his climax shattered around him. His vision went dark, slowly filled with pinpricks of light. Reds and oranges and whites, each explosion matching the pounding of his heart. He slowed the kiss, pulled away, worried that he might have somehow hurt Courtney, that he'd been too rough, too hard.
He sucked in a lungful of air, forced his eyes open, saw Courtney staring up at him. Her warm eyes were glazed with passion…and with the same wonder he felt dancing in his chest.
He smiled, leaned down for a quick kiss, pulled back just the tiniest bit. "I love you."
She reached for him, dragged the tip of her finger along his lower lip, the touch gentle, reassuring. "I know."
Chapter Twenty-Three
"You need your head examined."
Courtney blew the hair from her eyes and kept walking. Maybe if she ignored Beth enough, she'd stop talking. Or if she walked faster, Beth would just give up and find some place to sit and wait for her instead of harping on her.
This was her fault. What had she expected when she asked Beth to go shopping with her? It was supposed to be nothing more than a leisurely few hours at the mall. Try on some clothes, maybe get a free makeover at the department store's cosmetic counter. Splurge on a giant gourmet pretzel when they were done.
Yeah, that's what it should have been—until Courtney opened her big fat mouth. She should have known better, should have just kept her mouth shut. But she needed to talk to someone—someone besides her mother, who made it quite clear that she thought she was insane.
Maybe her mom and Beth could move in together, since they both thought the same thing.
"Would you stop running? My legs aren't as long as yours!"
Courtney blew out an impatient sigh and stopped, waited for Beth to catch up to her. "I wasn't running."
"You were walking fast. That's the same thing as running as far as I'm concerned." Beth looked around, frowning at the harried shoppers passing around them. Then she rolled her eyes and grabbed Courtney's arm, dragging her over to an empty bench out of harm's way.
"Sit." She pushed Courtney to the bench then stood in front of her, hands on her hips. What was she going to do? Tackle Courtney if she decided to get up? Probably.
She crossed her arms in front of her and scowled at her former best friend. "Fine. I'm sitting."
"Good." Beth just stood there, hands still on her hips, staring. And she kept staring.
"What?"
"Start talking."
"No." Courtney tried to stand, only to have Beth push her back down.
"Out with it. Tell me what's really going on."
"I told you."
"No, you didn't. Your words said you thought you were seeing too much of Harland and that you thought maybe you should back it off some. As in, all the way. Your eyes said the whole idea of doing that scared the living shit out of you. And I think you're totally bat shit crazy for even saying something like that because you're totally in love with him."
"I am—"
"Oh, don't even say it. You are, too, and I don't know who the hell you're trying to convince otherwise. Now out with it: what happened?"
"Nothing happened. It's just—everything. Everything happened."
"Yeah, you're definitely in love. You even sound insane."
"I'm not—"
"Oh my God. Yes, you are. In love and insane. Stop denying it. Now tell me what happened."
Courtney flopped back against the bench, clenching her jaw. If she had a bag nearby, she'd probably punch it. Or kick it. But she didn't, because she hadn't bought anything. She didn't want to buy anything, she just wanted to get away from everything for a few hours, away from her mixed emotions and whirling thoughts.
Except she couldn't, not when she was the one who had made the mistake of bringing everything up in the first place.
Beth made a screeching sound, startling her. Her friend rolled her eyes, ran both hands through her hair until it stood up in every direction. Then she plopped down next to Courtney and leaned in close, like she was trying to be threatening.
"Tell. Me. What. Happened." She said the words through clenched teeth, reminding Courtney of an angry beaver—not exactly the most complimentary comparison. She bit back a laugh that came dangerously close to ending in a sob.
"He said he loved me."
Beth pulled back like she'd just been slapped. "Okay. And this is a bad thing, why?"
"Because everything has happened too fast. Because he's hiding something from me. And if he's hiding something from me, how can I be sure he's telling the truth?"
"Too fast? Um, correct me if I'm wrong, but haven't you guys known each other forever?"
"Yeah. Fourteen years."
"Fourteen years? Whoa. Holy shit. Really? That long? That's…wow. No kidding?"
Courtney nodded. What else could she say? It was a long time.
"Okay, so you've known him practically your whole life. Not to mention the fact that he's Noah's father so it's not like you guys don't have a romantic history…" Beth's voice drifted off as her eyes lost their focus, like she was suddenly somewhere else. Courtney looked around, wondering if maybe Beth had seen someone she knew—or someone she wished she knew.
Then her hand dashed out and gripped Courtney's arm, started lifting it up and down in some kind of crazy wave. "Oh. My. God. No way. Tell me no way."
Courtney pulled her arm free and slid back two inches to put more distance between them. "Okay. No way."
Beth screeched, reached for her arm again, only this time, Courtney was faster. Beth frowned, like she'd just been denied a prize, then screeched again.
"Harland's the only guy you've had sex with, isn't he?"
"Keep your voice down!" Courtney glanced around, looking to see if anyone had overheard her. One or two people looked their way then kept walking. Courtney slid down in the seat, trying to hide.
"Oh my God. It's true. You've never been with anyone else! I can't believe it. Well, yes I can but still—wow. No way."
"Stop it. People are starting to look this way."
"They are not. You're just paranoid. And who cares if they are? I think it's sweet. So what—did he ruin you for other men? Is that it? I've seen pictures of him and he has huge hands and you know what they say about the size of a man's hands and—"
Courtney slapped her hand over Beth's mouth, stopping her before she could say anything else. "Enough. Just—stop."
Beth mumbled something and narrowed her eyes. Courtney narrowed her own eyes in response. "If I move my hand, promise you'll shut up?"
Beth glared, then finally nodded. Courtney moved her hand, but only a few inches, waiting. When her friend remained quiet, she finally lowered her hand to her lap.
"Is it true? What they say about a man's hands?"
"That's it. I'm done." Courtney pushed off the bench, prepared to leave Beth behind. But Beth had other ideas and pulled her back.
"Okay, okay. I'm sorry. I'll stop. It's just—that's not something you hear every day, you know? I think it's sweet." Beth paused, tilted her head to the side. "Do you think he—"
Courtney shot her a look that must have been
more threatening than she realized because Beth shut up immediately.
"Okay, guess not. Of course not. Men are pigs. Death to all men. Who needs them? You're right. Dump his ass. The pig."
"Beth! Can you be serious for just one minute? I don't want to 'dump him'."
"Ha! I knew it!"
Courtney ignored her and kept on talking. "I just think…I think we need to take a break. Just for a little while." And God, just the words were enough to bring tears to her eyes. She didn't want to take a break. But she was so afraid they were moving too fast. And she knew he wasn't being completely honest with her. That bothered her most of all. Something had happened last year. Even his teammates knew that. So why couldn't he tell her what it was? And if he was hiding that, what else was he hiding?
"Courtney, you're my best friend and I love you like a sister, but I think you'd be making the biggest mistake of your life if you walked away from him." Beth leaned closer, placed her hand on Courtney's arm and squeezed. She wasn't used to seeing Beth this serious and almost wished she'd go back to making inappropriate comments. The serious Beth scared her.
No—it was what she was saying that scared her. Because she was afraid Beth was right.
"My mother said the same thing."
"Then that's two out of three of us. Don't you think that maybe we're right? I mean, I know you guys went through some shit and all, but damn—you've known him your whole life. He's Noah's father. And I see the way you look when you talk about him."
"Yeah? Like what? Scared?"
"Maybe. But also like someone in love. And don't say you don't love him because I know you do. I don't think you've ever stopped."
"Okay. So I love him. I always have. But I'm so afraid that there's something else going on, something he doesn't want to share. And after what happened last time, I'm afraid…"
"Afraid of what?"
Courtney took a deep breath and let it out in a rush. She ran her finger along her leg, her nail scraping at the frayed edge of the hole by her knee. "Last time, right before things ended, I knew something was going on with him. I could feel it. And I kept asking him but he wouldn't tell me. And then everything blew up and he just…left. If he had told me what was going on, if he had trusted me enough to tell me what his father was saying and doing, we could have talked about it and maybe things would have never ended. I'm just afraid of the same thing happening again, only this time, I have Noah to worry about."
"Have you tried to talk to him?"
"Yeah."
"Like how?"
"What do you mean, like how?"
"Just what I said. Did you tell him what you just told me?"
"No. I just asked him what happened."
"That was it? Nothing else?"
"No. I didn't think—"
"You know, for as smart as you are, sometimes you can be really stupid. You need to talk to him. Like, really talk to him. Tell him what you told me. And then give him time to tell you what happened. Maybe he's not ready to talk about it yet, you know? But you can't just go assuming the worst without talking to him."
"I don't know. Maybe—"
"No 'maybe' about it." Beth stood, grabbed Courtney's hand and pulled her to her feet. "When are you supposed to see him again?"
"Tomorrow morning. I'm taking Noah to watch him practice. And then we're supposed to go to the game tomorrow night."
Beth lopped an arm through hers and started walking, practically dragging Courtney along. "Perfect. Good thing I have off tomorrow."
"Why is that a good thing?"
"Because I'm going to practice with you. I want to meet this guy. Besides, you need to know someone will be there to kick your ass if you chicken out."
"Beth, I don't think that's a good idea."
"Sure it is. Now come on, we have plans to make. Or rather, I have plans to make. You just need to listen."
Chapter Twenty-Four
"For the love of…God damn son-of-a-bitch. You mother fucking, cock sucking piece of—hey, what the fuck?"
Harland spun around, ready to swing his stick at whatever stupid son-of-a-bitch had been brainless enough to clip him across the back of his leg. Aaron loomed over him, a scowl etched into his hard face.
"Cool it the fuck off, Day-glo. You're making an ass out of yourself." Aaron dipped his head to the side, toward the bench. Harland sucked in a deep breath and looked over, trying not to be obvious. Sure enough, the entire coaching staff was watching him. And the expression on Coach Torresi's face did not bode well. Fuck. Coach didn't have a scar running down his face that flashed red with warning like Sonny LeBlanc of the Banners did. He didn't need one, not with a face chiseled from marble and piercing green eyes that flashed like the devil's.
Harland was fucked. Truly, thoroughly fucked.
Was he trying too hard, like Tyler kept insisting? Or was he really jinxed, or cursed—or both—like Zach and Jason thought? What the fuck did it matter? He was in a dry spell. Fuck, it was more like a dry vacuum—and it was sucking his career right out from under him.
What sucked the most was that, other than scoring, the rest of his game was better than it had been in a long while. Nowhere near the top, not like his first few months with the Banners, but still good. And this morning had been going well. Smooth. He'd been sure, so fucking sure, that today would the day. That the cloud would lift and the spell would be broken and that would be it. Hell, he'd felt it. That was how sure he'd been.
And then Courtney had shown up earlier than he'd expected, Noah toddling behind her. And she'd brought a friend. Okay, he hadn't expected that, but whatever. She smiled and waved, moved over next to the glass while her friend took Noah up to the stands.
He had time so he'd gone over to say hi, to steal a quick kiss. He'd been buoyed with optimism, ready to show off. Ready to finally get a damn puck into the fucking net.
And then she told him they needed to talk. Told him she was afraid he was hiding from her, afraid he was holding a piece of himself back.
How the fuck could she think that? He loved her! She knew he did. Although maybe that explained why she hadn't said it back, why she became too fucking quiet when he said it.
So what if she explained why she was afraid. And so what if part of him actually understood? He got it, he really did. He'd been wrong three years ago, hadn't stopped to think. Maybe, just maybe, if he had talked to her back then, things would have worked out differently.
But maybe not. Because he'd been cocky, so full of himself, his focus on being the best. On thinking he was the best because he'd been called up by the Banners. Because he'd made the big time—or so he thought. Would he have listened to her? He didn't know.
But to say she was worried he was hiding from her? That she was afraid that maybe things were moving too fast? What the fuck?
No, she wasn't calling things off. She just wanted to let him know they needed to talk more about things. Later. When he had more time.
What the fuck did that even mean? What the fuck was he even supposed to make of that?
Harland released the death grip on his stick then ran his gloved hand across the back of his neck. He looked at the coaching staff again, saw that at least they had stopped staring at him. Then his eyes drifted up to the stands, where Courtney and Noah were sitting. Because yeah, of course they'd still be here.
Mother fucker.
He took a deep breath, let it out. Looked at Aaron. "How loud was I?"
"You weren't. Mostly just mumbling. But you were still acting like an ass. Anyone watching could see you were having a meltdown."
A meltdown. Great. Now he was acting just like Noah when he didn't get his way.
"I'm fucked, Aaron. I don't know what to do anymore. Nothing works. No matter what I do, what I try, nothing works. And I really thought—fuck. It doesn't matter. I'm done."
"Yeah, with that attitude, you are."
"Attitude has nothing to do with it. I mean, did you see the look Coach was giving me? I'm surprised the fuckin
g ice didn't melt."
"You sure that wasn't just because of your little tantrum?"
"Yeah, pretty sure."
"I think you're just being paranoid."
"Yeah. Okay."
"Listen, you're having a dry spell. That's it. Everyone has them. Stop worrying about, stop getting so fucking tense. Lighten up. It'll happen."
"Not if Coach benches me."
"So your ice time sucks. You're preaching to the choir. I've been there, remember? Shit, I've been in worse slumps than you. Been bounced around, sent up, sent down. Moved all over the fucking place. The worse my attitude was, the worse my game became."
"What? So you think it's my attitude?"
"No. I think it was your attitude. And whatever the fuck happened to you last year. Come on, let's work on some passing so we don't get our asses chewed." Aaron pushed off, heading down ice with a puck. Harland followed him, his stick at the ready. Back and forth, easy passes, just warming up.
Harland kept his eyes away from the net, just in case. And he refused to look back into the stands.
"You're tensing again. I can see the way your stick twists to the right. Relax. Stop worrying about scoring. Remember why you started playing in the first place."
"What are you, a fucking life coach now?" Harland mumbled the words, didn't think they were loud enough for Aaron to hear until the other man laughed. He forced himself to relax. Deep breath in. Deep breath out. Deep breath in, deep breath out.
Tried to remember how it felt when he was kid, when all he wanted to do was lace up his skates and hit the ice. Pick up speed, faster and faster until he thought he'd fly. He never worried about the stick then, didn't have to. It was part of him, nothing more than an extension of his arm, his to command at will.
He closed his eyes, trying to recapture that feeling. His time on the ice had been the only time he'd truly been free. Away from his father, away from the insults and the random backhand because he happened to be standing in the wrong spot at the wrong time. He could be himself when he was on the ice, with nobody there to yell at him. He'd been accepted for who he was; nobody cared that his father was a loud bully, that his mother had walked out—
[York Bombers 01.0] Playing the Game Page 17