She broke the kiss and clamped her hands on his cheeks, wrenching his face up until their gazes locked. In her eyes, she let her fear and anger show, her pain and her arousal. “Then take what you want from me until it’s enough.”
Chapter Seven
In a tangle of limbs and kisses, Brandon and Harper somehow got their skates off and moved, kissing and touching, into the darkness of the hall that led to the men’s locker room. Brandon pushed her against the wall much like he’d checked her against the boards on the ice and kissed his way along her neck.
So this was it? The hallowed location of their one and only screw. A quickie up against a wall in a public place was romantic and daring, right? It was certainly something she’d never done before. Maybe she should suggest they go somewhere else. Except where? Back to her place, where Kayla was? Back to his place, where they would have to chat with Gabe on their way into Brandon’s room?
Stop it, Harper. Stop thinking and just live. Just fucking go for it for once in your life.
This was her chance to experience a trifecta of things she’d never done before. A quickie. In public. With Brandon. If she got the surgery, she wouldn’t have many opportunities like this. She wouldn’t be seen as a sexual being anymore. No other man would want her the way Brandon always had.
As if he’d read her mind, he worked his hand under her shirt and cupped her breast through her bra. His thumb and finger found her nipple and tugged. She dropped her head back as a ripple of pleasure caught her off-guard.
Then she caught a whiff of the men’s locker room.
No, Harper. You are not sabotaging this. You are not getting yourself all freaked out and ruining everything. She’d wanted him for too long to spoil this one, single night by overthinking it.
But no pressure. Right.
All she needed to do was block out how angry she was at him and how far this night was from her fantasizes. This one-off was a mind game now and she was failing it miserably.
Desperate to keep the spell alive, she pushed her pants and underwear to the ground and kicked them away.
He gave her body a quick perusal, then hooked his arm under her knee and brought her leg up, opening her body for him. Their kisses grew sloppy and desperate as he ground into her. Even through his pants, she could tell he had a great dick, thick and long like she knew it would be. He was too self-assured with women to not be endowed with a better-than-average package.
She was getting into the grind when she found herself wondering if grinding her pussy against his pants was wasting the negligible moisture her body produced, a maddening effect of having her ovaries removed.
Her hormonal imbalance meant she had trouble getting wet, even when she was excited. She had a condom and lubricant in her purse, but that was sitting on the team bench. It would break the mood too much to have to backtrack and retrieve it, so she hoped he had protection in his pocket. If it wasn’t pre-lubricated, then spit would have to do.
And that’s enough thinking, Harper. Stop it.
She licked her hand, then snaked it between them to rub her clit and test her wetness. It came as a surprise that she was a bit damp. All that foreplay on the ice must have helped.
He brushed her hand out of the way and touched her lightly. She shivered and, on a whimper, closed her eyes. This was Brandon touching her down there, a longtime fantasy she’d used to get herself off. His fingers felt as good as she’d imagined. He grunted his pleasure at her response, his touch growing bolder. He captured her lips in another kiss as he stroked her, inside and outside, all over until two fingertips settled on her clit.
Yes. This.
Their tongues slid along each other. Time slowed.
She focused all her attention on the sensations his fingers and lips evoked, though her thoughts never strayed far from awareness of who was doing this to her, who had her pinned against the wall. Who would be fucking her soon.
She flattened her back and her head against the wall, the better to memorize every moment of this so she could replay it in her mind for the rest of her life, what it was like to be with him. One last good-bye. Not only to him, but to this body of hers. She lifted her shirt and tugged the cups of her bra down. This was quite possibly a good-bye to her breasts and to life as she knew it. This sex was going to be great—as long as she could forget about how tired her standing leg was growing and the pressure of this being her first and only time with the man of her dreams.
Come on, Harper. Relax already.
***
The Iceplex was cold.
That had to be the reason Brandon was having trouble staying hard. It was cold and he was pissed at Harper for reneging on their bet. And his prosthesis was rubbing on his skin, as it did sometimes after a long day, distracting him.
While he rubbed Harper’s clit with one hand, he palmed his shaft and jerked it with vigorous strokes to get hard enough for a condom. All the while, his other hand and his mouth kept busy with Harper’s body. She was so sexy. So goddamn sexy. Her body was more gorgeous than in his fantasies. Her pussy was so hot and sweet. He could just make out her scent above the overpowering smells of the Iceplex, and she made his mouth water.
So why wasn’t his body cooperating?
Damn, how he wished he could lay her out and feast on her body the right way. After they got past this first time, past their nerves and expectations and—apparently—his performance anxiety, he’d take her back to his place and do her right, all night long.
Years ago, the first night he’d met her, he’d planned out what his big performance with Harper would be. Then he’d honed his plan during innumerable jerk-off sessions over the years. He had it down to her every sigh, his every thrust.
He kissed her lips again, capturing her whimper as he pushed two fingers up inside her damp heat. His dick surged, harder. Good. About friggin’ time.
He continued to thrust his fingers into her as he rolled on the condom. Then he went right back to her clit, rubbing her until she dropped her head back and moaned. So damn sexy.
He jerked his condomed dick again, even as he felt it go soft. Don’t lose it now, man.
It had to be the cold. The cold and the performance pressure. This was it. This was his one time with her. She wasn’t coming to Miami. There was no way, not when she might have cancer.
The moment he thought the word cancer, his dick went even softer. Shit.
Maybe she sensed his trouble because she pulled her top up higher, her bra lower, and gave him the best vision of his life. Her perfect tits. Large and luscious and ripe for him to take into his mouth.
He did just that, kissing his way to her right nipple. He swirled his tongue around it. Man, he loved big breasts. He gave another decisive suck to her nipple, drawing it into his mouth. She whimpered that time, loud enough to echo in the narrow confines of the hall, which his dick loved.
“Make that sound again. Tell me how much you like it, baby.”
He sucked harder, and this time, he lined his dick up with her pussy and rocked his hips forward, entering her, which felt absolutely fucking fantastic. It didn’t matter anymore that his prosthesis was rubbing him the wrong way or that this wasn’t the way he’d wanted her in his fantasy. Didn’t matter how pissed he was at her for giving him the runaround about Miami. This was it. This was their night, and he was going to make the most of it.
Angling his head, he kissed her again as he thrust. He loved kissing Harper. With his free hand, he cupped her left breast, tugging on the hard, strawberry-colored flesh of her nipple. He hadn’t gotten around to suckling her right one before entering her, so he’d have to make a point to do that later.
What if she had cancer? What if it was in this breast? Was she going to lose them? Was he the last man to touch this nipple? Her body was hot and her pussy’s grip on his dick was even hotter, but his arousal was no match for his train of thought.
He felt the condom dragging funny with his next thrust. After that, it was a downward spiral of awfulness. Worry begetting softening begetting performance anxiety begetting more softening. And now he had to worry about the condom staying on while he fought to regain his arousal. This had never happened to him before. Ever. Not even when he’d had to relearn everything about his body after the explosion that took off his foot. But the thought of his Harper having cancer, her life hanging in the balance and him thousands of miles away from her in Miami, was paralyzing.
Swallowing the curse on the tip of his tongue, he withdrew from her and released her leg to the floor. Her eyes opened, questioning, as he replaced his dick with his fingers, but he couldn’t look her in the eyes. How humiliating. Hopefully she’d think he’d had to pull out because he’d gotten aroused too fast.
He worked her body’s center with his fingers, thrusting inside her and swirling her clit. In no time, he had her whimpering again, her eyes closed. All her sweet sounds of abandonment and bliss should have gotten his blood pumping again, because he’d always loved fantasizing about what she sounded like when she was in the throes of arousal. Except that now he was worried about her. Worried and pissed at the horrible timing of Meet the Groom. He was leaving town right when Harper’s life was on the verge of disaster—perhaps on the verge of ending.
He closed his eyes and took her right nipple in his mouth, drinking in the taste of her flesh and concentrating on the way her body felt against his fingers. He might be the last man to ever taste this nipple.
“Come like this,” he commanded, his voice rough with emotion. There was going to be no release for him tonight, not with all the different directions his mind was going in, not with the paralyzing fear.
A few minutes later, with a cry, her body tensed. Her pussy gave a series of weak pulses around his fingers. She pushed his fingers away as though the sensations were too overwhelming to her now-tender body. That was fine. They’d both had to work hard for that one.
At least he’d been able to do right by her in some small way.
“Your turn,” she said, reaching for him. But he was already flaccid and not crazy about her discovering him that way.
“That’s all right. Making you come was enough.” Then he added lamely, “For now.”
Because what if she did want to try that again, somewhere more romantic? He had to leave the possibility open. He pulled off the condom and dropped it into his pocket, because what the hell else was he going to do in a vacant hallway? Then he stuffed himself back into his pants.
The sound of sobs had him whipping his gaze up to her face, his heart dropping until he saw that she wasn’t crying, but laughing, though she did have tears in her eyes. Her laughter filled the hallway as she dressed.
He flattened against the wall next to her, taking some pressure off his legs, and laughed. It felt artificial and wrong at first, but it evolved into a genuine belly laugh the longer he listened to hers. It was cathartic to laugh with her. Never in a million years would he have thought they’d have had a disastrous sexual experience.
“I’m sorry,” she said, covering her face. “I’ve never laughed after sex before, but I can’t help it.”
“That means I’m your first time for something, right? That’s a plus.”
She laughed harder at that and held up three fingers. “Three firsts. Public, standing, and laughing.”
Cringing, he tipped his head back and followed a crack from the wall across from them to the ceiling. “That wasn’t very good sex, was it?”
“That was terrible.”
All right. So much for her going gentle on him and stroking his ego. “Yeah, it was. I was just so damn mad at you for reneging on the bet. So pissed off. All this tension was killing us. I thought if we just got past this first time, get it over with, then maybe we could let it happen the way I want later tonight. But that sucked.”
She rolled her head along the wall to look at him. “We had bad sex.”
“We had really bad sex,” he said. “At least you came.”
She shook her head and bit her lip as though holding back a laugh. “I faked it.”
Holy shit. “You what?”
She clapped both hands over her face and groaned. “I’m so sorry. I was angry at you and overthinking everything too much to relax enough to orgasm. I thought, well, at least Brandon can come. But then you pulled out, and I was getting dry and I thought, that’s enough of that. But I didn’t want you to feel bad. I’m so sorry.”
He gaped at her. “You faked it?”
She lowered one hand enough to peek an eyeball at him. “With all those coeds you screw, I’m sure some of them fake it, too.”
“No way. I’m a great lay. I’m an expert.”
Harper lowered her hands the rest of the way and chuckled quietly. “A sexpert, I know.”
“Damn right. I’m a maestro with the female body.”
She found his hand between their bodies and squeezed it. “Sorry to break it to you, Romeo. Haven’t you ever seen the fake orgasm scene in When Harry Met Sally?”
His facial muscles were getting tired of all this cringing, but he couldn’t help it. “We’re not characters in a romantic comedy.”
“No. Clearly. Because, unlike Harry and Sally, we’re not meant to be.”
No, they weren’t. Brandon wasn’t meant to be shackled to anyone, and he didn’t want to devote a single thought to the man Harper would end up with someday. “Well, this changes things. I think that’s the worst sex I’ve ever had, including my first time,” he said.
Her mouth scrunched up as though she was giving the idea some serious consideration. “No, my first time was still worse.”
He chuckled. “That’s comforting, somehow. I’m not the worst lay you’ve ever had.”
“Yeah, but you just said that I’m the worst lay you’ve ever had, so how am I supposed to feel?”
“You’ll get over it. Plus, the worst ranking has more to do with me than you. I couldn’t even stay hard.”
Her eyes went wide. “That’s why you pulled out? I thought you did that because you were too excited.”
He shook his head, chuckling again. She threw her head back and laughed until tears appeared at the corners of her eyes again. “I’m sorry, but that’s funny. We were a disaster. Who knew?”
They shared a smile, and then she rested her head on his shoulder. “We were so good at kissing.”
He pressed his lips to her hair. “I love the way you kiss.”
She turned her face in and nuzzled her nose against his shirt. “I love the way you kiss, too.”
Then she burst out laughing again. Brandon indulged, too, because it was all so absurd. And then he glanced down at her cleavage and remembered about the cancer. His heart sank.
“Hey, I’m going to kill the mood here, but I need to know what your doctor told you today. Please. That was part of why I was having trouble staying hard, worrying about you. Like it or not, I’ve been part of this BRCA1 journey with you since the beginning. I deserve to know.”
She pushed off from the wall and hooked her thumb over her shoulder. “Let’s start moving toward our cars and I’ll tell you on the way.”
“Fair enough.”
He helped Harper put her pants on and right her clothes. In companionable silence, they collected their belongings and skating gear from the team bench, then walked through the snack bar to the side exit the employees used.
He thought about taking her hand as they walked—they had just slept together, after all—but something had shifted. Touching wasn’t going to be their thing anymore. Probably never again.
“Okay, spill it,” he prompted in the parking lot after he’d double-checked that the Iceplex door was locked behind them.
Her gaze dropped to her feet as they walked. “The doctors found a shadow on
my right breast, but it’s not big enough to be biopsied. It might be cancer or it might be nothing. They gave me another mammogram this morning and some other tests, but the long and short of it is that I’ve finally reached the fork in the road that I was dreading, and I have to figure out which way I’m going to go. I have the weekend to decide what to do.”
Oh, man. His heart ached for her. “Your choices are what?”
She ran through them, all of them terrible. Only one of them made any sense, and it was the same choice he’d been pressuring her to make for five years.
“You’ve got to get the surgery, Harper. The double mastectomy. You can’t keep taking chances like that with your health.”
“Disfiguring themselves didn’t save the other women in my family. The risk will still be there.”
“The risk will be exponentially smaller.”
“But it will still be there. It will always be there.” She stopped walking and turned toward him, her face long and pensive. This time, the tears that threatened weren’t happy ones. “And, Brandon, I’m so scared.”
Touching wasn’t a part of their relationship anymore, but he still found himself pulling her into a hug. “I’m scared for you. And now I hate that I’m leaving on Monday.”
She dropped her head to his chest. “We can still be friends, right?”
“I hope so. Friends are what we should have been all along, I’m afraid.”
She looked up at him, a sad smile on her lips. “You’re right. I wish you weren’t, but you are.”
“Someday you’re going to find someone who’ll beg you to put that ball and chain on his leg. A guy who thinks the perfect way to spend the rest of his life is shackled to you inside your brick fortress.” Which was about the worst idea Brandon had ever heard.
“And you’re not that guy. You’ve been trying to tell me that for a long time.”
“I’m not. Life’s too short to beg.”
She studied his face. “I believe you now. I’m sorry I tried to turn you into someone you’re not.”
Game Changer Page 10