Making His Play: Sister's Best Friend Hockey Romance

by Mari Carr

  Billy was Tess’s secret crush. Because even though she and Billy were buddies who played on the same little league team, deep down inside, Tess was still a girl, hoping to capture the attention of a sweet boy, someone who would see past the skinned knees and braces and like her for who she was.

  That was the part that seemed to resonate with her young tomboy fans, the part they mentioned the most in their fan letters.

  Tomboys were never without countless buddies, but that didn’t make them feel less lonely when the pretty little girlie girls in their class got all the Valentine’s Day cards and secret admirer notes.

  Bella scoffed and probably would have said more if Charley hadn’t shot her a narrowed-eye look that screamed “shut up!”

  “Baseball,” Alex murmured with the same level of disgust as his sister.

  Charley giggled. “Billy’s a great pitcher,” she said, teasing him. “Best in the whole fourth grade.”

  Alex grinned at her for a second before his gaze changed to something else, something that had her heart skipping a few million beats.

  His smile faded and his expression turned soft.

  “You really are beautiful.”

  It was the first time in her life she’d ever felt…seen.

  Chapter Five

  Alex was surprised by how much fun he was having. Ordinarily, he would have credited the glass of wine—and four tequila shots—during dinner for this warm, relaxed feeling that had settled over him.

  Ever since he cost his team that game, since that goddamned foul, he’d been wound up tighter than a drum, his shoulders knotted, his jaw permanently clenched.

  Tonight, all of that was gone.

  And it wasn’t because of the alcohol.

  It was because of her.

  Charley.

  He’d spent most of his NHL career surrounded by plastic Barbie dolls, women who excelled at being fake. Charley was the same girl he remembered, the one who laughed the loudest, told the funniest stories, and sprinkled the word fuck into her sentences like some people used salt on food. She didn’t hold a damn thing back and it was refreshing.

  Appealing.

  He was pretty good at small talk, but it wasn’t something he liked to do. When he realized they’d have to spend the night with two couples who were more acquaintances than friends, he started trying to figure out how he could extract himself—and Charley—from the reception.

  Then his sister caught his eye, and he’d replayed her guilt trip on the phone earlier and girded his loins.

  While the sensible part of him understood Bella’s concerns and he knew he couldn’t—okay, shouldn’t—sleep with Charley, the stronger, less reasonable part of him—yes, his dick—was not in agreement.

  It really wasn’t in agreement.

  Especially when the band started playing.

  They watched the first dance and the father/daughter dance, then the floor started filling up with other guests. Bella and Josh were up in an instant, the other two couples at their table following suit.

  Charley blew out a long, slow breath that cued him into her feelings about dancing.

  “Not a fan, huh?”

  She shrugged. “Two left feet.”

  “I find that hard to believe. You can’t skate as well as you do and not have rhythm.”

  “I was on those skates pretty much every waking hour when I was a kid. Hell, I’d have slept in them if my parents would have let me. There’s no music in skating…well…real skating anyway.”

  He chuckled.

  Charley clearly hadn’t outgrown her disdain for figure skating. Something her mother had instilled in her at a very young age. Not because her mom hated it, but because her mother had thought figure skating might be a better outlet for Charley’s love of the ice.

  Some parents set a timer to force their kids to practice piano; Charley’s mom dragged her—kicking and screaming—to figure skating lessons for the better part of second grade. In the end, Charley—with the help of her dad—won the battle, and from that point on, Charley was a hockey player.

  “Come on,” he said, taking her hand and dragging her up from the table. “If you can fuck, you can dance.”

  He expected her to drag her heels, but Charley was way too into it the second he mentioned fucking.

  Shit.

  He mentally started a list of all the things he could purchase to buy his sister’s forgiveness because there was no way he wasn’t taking Charley to bed tonight. New wardrobe, new car, new house. Fuck it. The sky was the limit…because this was happening.

  Charley turned to face him when they reached the dance floor. The smile she gave him was pure seduction, and it had a pretty intense—instant—impact on his cock.

  He reached for her waist, dragging her body tight to his, using her as a shield before everyone and their brother saw the boner he was sporting.

  Charley’s eyes widened and she sucked in a soft gasp.

  Yeah.

  She felt it.

  That was his other reason for pulling her close.

  “Well,” she said as she wrapped her arms around his waist, grinding against him in a way that wasn’t helping his current condition.

  Of course, it wasn’t hurting it either.

  “Fucking, you say?” Her tone was pure sensual mischief, which was a pretty great way to describe this adult version of Charley.

  Every lithe curve of her body, every smooth shimmy of her waist as she pressed herself against him screamed sex, while her knowing smile, sparkling green eyes, and quick wit told him she knew exactly what effect she was having on him.

  She was a challenge.

  She was charming.

  And try as he may, he couldn’t remember ever wanting a woman more.

  He slid his hands over her hips, gripping her tightly, the two of them swaying to the beat of the music, creating their own rhythm, their own pace.

  Mercifully, the song had nearly been over and the band moved on to a slow song.

  He wrapped his arms around her lower back, his finger stroking the soft, bare skin beneath the laces of her dress.

  Charley lifted her arms to his shoulders, shifting her upper body even closer.

  As long as she didn’t lift her face, he’d be fine.

  He’d find a way to…

  She tilted her head back, her eyes capturing his, and he was lost.

  He kissed her just like he had in the lobby outside the ballroom. He’d told himself that kiss was just for show, a surefire way to jerk her ex’s chain when he saw her smudged lip gloss and swollen lips.

  He could admit now that had been a lie.

  He’d kissed her because he’d wanted to see if the attraction he felt would translate to arousal.

  Fuck me.

  This had gone a million miles beyond arousal.

  Alex was knee-deep in a white-hot lust that had him pushing this kiss—this very public kiss—beyond the limits of appropriateness.

  His hands were wrapped in her hair, his tongue stroking inside her mouth, as he imagined going down on her later. Giving her a similar kiss in a much more intimate place.

  Charley wasn’t helping matters. She was right there, adding her own desire to the kiss.

  He forced himself to break the union. It was that or drag her over to the table and take her right there.

  Charley’s eyes had been closed, but now, she blinked a few times and appeared to be trying to focus.

  She recovered quickly.

  “I think I’d like to revise my previous opinion on dancing. I fucking love it.”

  He laughed and somehow managed to simply hold her, swaying in time with the tune, without pushing for more.

  By the time the song ended, he was in a little bit better shape.

  Enough at least to loosen his grip on her.

  Another fast song began, but the best bet was to slow their roll, come up for air.

  “You want another drink?” he asked, pointing to the bar.

  She nodded. �
��Yeah. Another glass of wine. I’m going to go to the ladies’ room. Meet you back at the table.”

  He gave her a quick kiss, then watched as she walked to the restroom.

  He made his way to the bar and requested a glass of red wine for Charley, a glass of Scotch for him. He probably should have gotten them both a glass of water too. They’d already had too much to drink.

  “Hi, Alex.”

  He turned, surprised to see Ben standing next to him. A quick glance around showed him Beverly was still at their table, speaking to the groom’s mother and aunt.

  “Ben,” he said, not bothering to temper his tone with anything resembling friendliness.

  This dick had cheated on Charley. He was lucky Alex wasn’t laying him out on the floor.

  “I’m surprised to see you here tonight.”

  “Season’s over.”

  “Yeah. Tough game. But what I meant was seeing you here with Charlotte.”

  “Charley,” Alex corrected, narrowing his eyes.

  This guy had zero right to question anything Charley was doing.

  Or him for that matter.

  “Listen, Alex. I know what you must think of me. I’m sure Charlot—Charley—has told you about us. About the other night. I’m pretty sure none of it was flattering.”

  “Is there going to be a point to this conversation?” Alex asked.

  Ben paused for a moment, then he shrugged, as if he’d lost his nerve. Alex figured that was the end of it—fucking coward—and started to reach for the drinks.

  Ben, the idiot, decided to try again. “Charley was new to dating when the two of us first hooked up. Brand new.”

  He gave Alex a second to let that sink in.

  The fucker had taken Charley’s virginity. That fact was pissing Alex off a lot more than he would have expected.

  “All I’m saying is she doesn’t have a whole lot of experience with dating. And none with guys like you.”

  Like him.

  Alex knew exactly what Ben was insinuating and he didn’t like it.

  Not one bit.

  His fists clenched, but he kept them by his side, fighting to remind himself this was a wedding. That Roger was a good friend and he didn’t want to fuck it up by beating the shit out of this asshole.

  He counted to five, and when that didn’t work, he headed for ten.

  Ben mistook his silence, assuming he was an interested listener. “You’re way out of her league. Trust me, there are a lot better options around here tonight for what you have in mind.”

  “What I have in mind?”

  Alex was starting to get this asshole’s number. Ben didn’t want Charley, but he didn’t want anyone else to have her either.

  “Have you taken a look around tonight?” Ben said, smiling, somewhere along the line getting the impression that they were friends. “Lindsey’s bridesmaids are off the chain. Makes me sorry I brought a date.”

  “I’m sure Beverly would love to hear that.”

  Ben sobered up quickly. “Listen, man. I’m just trying to do you a favor. Charley’s okay in bed, but you can do better, you know?”

  Ben Jerome was a fucking dead man.

  “Hey, Alex.” Alex felt a firm hand on his upper arm and he realized he had raised his fist, ready to lay Ben out flat.

  Ben had noticed too. The man had lost all color in his face, and he’d taken a big step away from Alex.

  Alex started to close the gap, but Charley had a strong grip on him, holding him back.

  That was the only thing about her that let Alex know she was aware of his current state. The rest of her appeared calm, carefree.

  “Are those our drinks? Need a hand?” She used that opening to step between him and Ben.

  “Charley. Get out of the way, sweetheart.” Alex was intent on finishing what he started. No one was going to put Charley down and live to tell about it.

  Even worse, Charley had to have heard the insult.

  “You get five for fighting,” she murmured to him, in a placating tone. “Besides, I thought you were playing defense tonight?”

  Alex was struggling to shake off his anger. Ben deserved to have his ass handed to him, and he was more than man enough to do it.

  When he didn’t reply, Charley stepped even closer to him. “Please,” she whispered. “He’s not worth it.”

  As much as he wanted to take Ben down, there was no way he could refuse Charley.

  Not when she lifted those pretty green eyes to his and gave him a genuine, sweet—fuck him—grateful smile.

  “Though I do like this whole defend-my-honor thing you’ve got going on.” The little minx winked at him.

  Alex grinned, despite his anger. “You gonna bench me, coach?” he asked, letting her know he was trying to pull his shit together.

  She lifted up on her toes and gave him a too-chaste kiss on the cheek. “Nope. I’ve never known you not to take a swing or two for a wronged teammate. It’s why you’re the best captain in the NHL.”

  Charley Matthews knew exactly how to speak his language.

  He wrapped his arm around her waist and placed his lips at her ear, so only she could hear him. “You didn’t let me swing. I really need to swing.”

  She twisted slightly so her cheek was pressed against his. “I’ll make it up to you later.”

  With that, Charley stepped away from him, picking up both of their drinks from the bar, handing them to him so his hands were full and he couldn’t throw the punch. Then she wrapped one arm around his waist and guided him away.

  Adrenaline coursed through his veins.

  She wasn’t wrong.

  He didn’t walk away from fights on the ice.

  Doing so now was rubbing against the grain.

  Hard.

  “You’re going to make it up to me now. It’s taking everything I have not to rip that guy to pieces.”

  The rage in his tone must have penetrated because she took the drinks from him and put them on a nearby table that was vacant—the partiers on the dance floor.

  Charley grasped his hand and led him out of the ballroom to a door with the sign that read Family Bathroom.

  Glancing around, she confirmed no one was around, then she pulled him inside with her, locking the door behind them.

  “Listen,” she started, intent on trying to talk him down. “I apprec—”

  He didn’t give her the chance.

  The second they were alone, the pent-up aggression exploded as he pushed her against the closed door and kissed her hard. Charley’s hands wrapped around his neck, her fingers curling in his hair, pulling it until his scalp stung.

  God.

  She was as fired up as he was.

  Her dress wrapped around her, leaving a slit up one side that had been giving him generous peeks of her long, tanned leg all night. He used that slit to his advantage now, as it gave him easy access to her pussy.

  Dipping his fingers beneath her panties, he found her clit, stroking it.

  It was like touching an electric wire.

  Charley gasped and jerked, her head falling back against the door.

  “God,” she breathed. “Yes.”

  She was soaking wet, her panties way more than damp.

  “You’re wet.” He grinned. “You’re welcome.”

  She narrowed her eyes. “Cocky bastard,” she murmured. “You weren’t leaving much to the imagination out there on the dance floor. Those moves of yours could make the Sahara Desert wet. My whole body…God…it aches.”

  He gripped her hand and ran it over the front of his dress pants, showing her what kind of impact she was having on him as well. “You’re not the only one in pain.”

  He regretted pointing his hard-on out to her when she attempted to unfasten his pants.

  He shook his head.

  He wanted Charley more than anything at the moment, but he’d be damned if he’d take her in a hotel bathroom.

  Gripping her wrists, he pulled her hands away.

  Because it was C
harley, she put up a pretty decent fight.

  “I’m not fucking you here, Charley.”

  That pulled her up short. “But you are going to fuck me, right?”

  He chuckled, pressing his forehead against hers. “Jesus. You’re killing me. Bella told me to keep my hands to myself.”

  She rolled her eyes. “You gotta stop giving your sister her way all the time. She’s spoiled.” Then she gave him a smile that was way too sexy for her lack of experience. “I want you. Maybe I could get my way this time.” She started to reach for his dick again.

  Time for him to grab the reins, take control.

  “No. Right now is all about me. You’re forgetting something. You owe me.”

  Charley tilted her head, and he could see she was confused.

  “You pulled me out of there before I could teach Ben Jerome a lesson about dicks who mess with my friends.”

  She smiled when he called her a friend.

  Funny how that word felt wrong.

  “What do you want?” she asked.

  “You.” He ran his finger over her clit again, enjoying her quiet moan of pleasure.

  “But you said we…weren’t…”

  Her question faded away when he pushed two fingers inside her. “You’re going to come for me. Right here. Right now.”

  Her fingers clenched the shoulders of his jacket. “I don’t think I can—oh God,” she cried when he curled his fingers inside her, finding her G-spot.

  He leaned closer, nipping at her earlobe. “I want to feel that tight pussy of yours clenching on my fingers. Want you to think about how full you’re going to feel when I slide my cock into all that wet heat later tonight. I’m not a gentle lover, Charley. I’m going to fuck you hard.”

  “In case you haven’t noticed, I’m not exactly made of glass.” Her words were pure Charley, but the tone, the way she said it…breathless, haltingly…made his cock even harder.

  He couldn’t resist showing her exactly what he meant. He thrust his fingers in and out, deeper, faster, wiggling his thumb against her clit to provoke those sexy little gasps of hers.

  She started to tremble, her arousal rapidly growing to fever pitch.

  He liked to think of himself as a pretty good lover, a gentleman. He always made sure the women he took to bed came before him.