Hot on Ice: A Hockey Romance Anthology

by Avery Flynn

  He trailed his lips to her forehead. "Trust me, you're enough. Why do you think I haven't been able to get you out of my head all these years?"

  She'd trusted Matt, had loved him, and he'd broken her heart and fractured something deep within her soul. "I'm scared that once we do this, you'll think the same thing he did."

  "No way." Rod cradled her face in his hand. "I'll just have to convince you."

  She leaned into his palm as his other hand came up to stroke her hair. She wanted to believe him and to believe that he'd still want her afterward. "I wasn't interested in anyone since that happened. Not until I saw you at the bar. It's as if something clicked inside me that night."

  "If it hadn't then, I would've waited for you. There is no one else, Arielle. No one who's made me feel the way you do."

  The sincerity in his gaze convinced her to believe him. "Then show me."

  Rod bent low and touched his lips to Arielle's. A kiss of promise. He'd wanted this moment, this experience, this woman for years. Rushing wasn't an option. He'd savor, and show her just how things were supposed to be when two people actually gave a damn about each other.

  Part of him wanted to hunt down Matt and beat the hell out of him. Arielle hadn't gone into much detail, but thanks to Ben, he knew far too much.

  On a low growl, he tossed thoughts of Matt aside. Arielle was all that mattered. He linked his hand with hers and together, they walked to his bedroom.

  He switched on the bedside light, then drew her into his arms. Soft, small curves molded to his frame, reminding him again of how delicately she was formed.

  She rose onto her toes and lifted her head toward his. No way could he resist that mouth. He slanted his lips over hers, soaking up the faint flavor of the wine. He could get drunk off of her kisses.

  Her hands slipped up his arms, then grabbed onto his shoulders as the kiss went deeper and his concentration splintered into sharp need.

  More.

  The word growled through his mind. He gripped the edge of her tank top and made sure his knuckles grazed her skin as he raised the material. She rewarded him with a sigh that only made him greedy for more sounds of her pleasure.

  The shirt ended up on the floor, and then the blood rushed out of his head at the image before him. Arielle’s small breasts, covered in a peach-colored bra as soft as satin. He couldn’t contain his moan as his fingers cupped the swell and the warmth of her skin seeped into his hand. Her head fell back, exposing the long column of her throat.

  He lowered his head and feasted there with kisses and nips and long strokes of his tongue.

  Arielle's hands dug into his hair and then directed his head lower. He sank to his knees and trailed kisses to her breasts. Her scent intensified, and desire surged faster and hotter. God, he had to taste her. He flicked the bra straps off her shoulders and pulled the cups down. His lips explored the soft skin, and then his tongue followed the same path, tasting the sweetness. Urged on by her gasps and sighs, he scraped his teeth over her nipple.

  Arielle moaned, and her hips rocked against him. His cock throbbed in his jeans, and he clamped one hand on her hip and returned his lips to her breast. The fingers on his other hand mimicked the movements of his mouth, pinching and tugging and caressing until the strength in Arielle's fingers threatened to yank out his hair.

  When he raised his gaze, she crooked her finger. "Come back up here."

  He stood and then she tugged his shirt up his torso. Rod yanked it over his head and tossed it aside and then hissed as her nails scraped along his chest and down his stomach. The sting was perfect, and he hardened even more.

  Emerald eyes watched him. Although darker from passion, they were still a bit too clear, still too nervous for his liking. He didn't want her second-guessing herself. He wanted her so lost in the moment that she didn't care about anything except how good they were making each other feel.

  He slid one hand into her hair and fisted it there and then traced his other hand down her torso to the seam of her shorts. "Hey, it's just us. You and me. And we have all night. No rushing."

  She nodded. "Kiss me?"

  He obliged while she writhed against the tease of his fingers. When mists clouded her gaze, he eased her shorts down and helped her step out of them. The satin riding low on her hips was the same shade as the bra that still rested just beneath her breasts.

  Releasing the tiny clasp at her back took too long, but finally, he worked it free, and the garment slipped to the floor. Arielle stood before him in only those tiny panties. His hands flexed at his sides. She was far too beautiful, far too perfect for him. But she was there, gazing at him in the way he'd always hoped she would, and he forgot how to breathe.

  And then she reached for him, and he moaned at the contact of her delicate fingers caressing his skin.

  She fumbled with the button on his jeans and then the zipper, and took her time tugging the material down his legs. The brush of her fingers along his skin drove him crazy. He kicked free of his jeans and boxers and stood before her, unable and unwilling to hide his desire.

  She held his gaze when she took him in her hands. And then his brain short-circuited.

  Her. Hands. On. Him.

  Just that knowledge alone was enough to push him to the edge.

  He'd imagined it a million times, but the fantasy didn't come anywhere near the reality.

  She drove him crazy with long strokes and clever twists of her fingers. And her lips skated across his chest and burned a path into his skin.

  His pulse thudded harder and harder, and his breath came faster and faster. The control he’d always prided himself on came dangerously close to slipping away.

  "Hold on. I want to last." He cuffed her wrists in one of his hands and guided her to his bed.

  The sight of her in his bed with her curly hair fanning out around her face was enough to snap his hold on his control. He knelt between her legs and held her gaze, wanting her to watch him worship her body.

  He started at her feet. Caressing her skin, he skimmed his fingertips up her calves, over her thighs, then higher, tracing patterns until she sucked in her breath and reached for him. Her nails scored his skin as she tugged him down to meet her waiting lips. He welcomed the bite of pain, akin to pinching himself to make sure he wasn’t dreaming.

  Together, they worked their fingers into the waistband of her panties, and then he slowly tugged them down her legs. Arielle spread out before him, breath quickening as she held his gaze. A wave if tenderness washed over him and he kissed a path over her legs, back to her core. He teased her, first with his fingers and then with his lips and then with both working in tandem, needing to give her pleasure more than he needed his next breath.

  Arielle's fingers tugged on his hair and then scraped over his scalp as he brought her over the edge.

  When her hands fell to her sides he continued his trail of kisses, weaving a path over her stomach, pausing to linger at her breasts, and then to her mouth.

  "Rod." Her whisper pierced the silence, and her hands clutched his back.

  He rolled on protection and guided himself to her center and then paused, savoring the moment, while desire pulsed in his blood and demanded more.

  Holding her gaze, he slid inside. Slowly. And groaned at the tight heat. And nearly lost control. Arielle's breath hitched and then she clamped around him.

  On a gasp of her name, he retreated almost all the way, and then thrust into her again. And again. And again, until she arched against him and met his thrusts with her own.

  He lowered until their mouths met, and then slipped one hand between them to stroke her core, desperate to give her everything he could. Her breath increased to panting and then her eyes closed, and she threw her head against the pillow and cried out her release.

  The heated squeeze of her body pulled him past the point of no return. He began to move faster, thrust harder. He grasped her shoulder tighter and pushed in deeper, grinding against her. Her hands guided his mouth back to he
rs. The nip on his lips surprised him, and he lifted his head and met her gaze. Looking into her eyes, he exploded inside her, so hard his vision grayed out at the edges.

  When he recovered enough, he pressed up, removing his weight from crushing her into the mattress.

  Arielle kissed his chest before he rolled to her side. He tilted his head until he met her gaze and saw the question lurking there.

  Rod stroked his hand down her back and pulled her closer against him. "Wow doesn't even begin to cover it."

  "For me too. I just—"

  "It's always been you, Ari. Always." He kissed her lips, then her nose, then her forehead. More than passion, the caring he'd felt for years embedded deeper in his heart.

  He rose and dealt with the condom. When he turned back to the bed, the scene before him was another fantasy come true. Arielle in his bed, curls disheveled by his hands, lips swollen from his kisses, and body that he could now map from memory.

  Seeing her there in the place where he'd dreamed of having her for so long, appreciation and amazement and satisfaction mixed together and spun out, radiating from his heart to settle deep in his soul.

  Her teeth sank into her lower lip. "What is it?"

  "You're just… beautiful. And here. I almost can't believe it."

  "Me neither. But I'm glad I am." She lifted the sheet in invitation.

  He climbed back in bed and tugged her until she lay partway on him.

  Tonight, he'd get to sleep with Arielle by his side. And tomorrow, he'd get to spend the day with the Cup.

  the Cup was a one-day thing. He had to figure out a way to keep Arielle by his side for a hell of a lot longer than that.

  6

  An air horn's wail pierced the silence, startling Arielle's heartbeat to a gallop. She opened her eyes, and the warm body next to her on the bed rolled over with a grumble.

  Rod's voice, muffled curses, made her laugh as he fumbled with something on the bedside table. Then, blissful silence returned.

  "That is the most grating alarm clock I've ever heard. It's not a gentle, pleasant way to wake up at all."

  He rolled back and faced her. His blue eyes warmed with his smile. "Yeah, but it's the only one I can't sleep through."

  He looked amazing in the early morning light. Mussed hair, sexy stubble, and cut muscles.

  Feeling shy now, after they'd spent the night together, was silly. Still, she pulled the sheet higher.

  Rod brushed his hand through her hair. "Good morning."

  Leaning into him, into his kiss, felt right. Arielle slid her hand along his back, and the hard muscles bulged. She snuggled into the delicious warmth of their torsos pressing together and threaded her fingers into Rod's hair.

  His hands stroked along her side, up and down, sending tingles shooting down her spine. He tangled their legs together and rolled her underneath him.

  The alarm blared again.

  Rod pushed off of her and silenced it. "We have to get moving. Edwin will be here soon."

  Edwin's name snapped her into action. She climbed from the bed and bent to pick up her clothes from the floor. "You need to get ready. Let me just get dressed, and I'll get out of your way."

  "Stay. Spend the day with me."

  She stood and slowly turned to face him. "But you have all your plans for the Cup today."

  "I know. And I want you to be a part of them."

  "Really?" The word slipped out automatically, born of surprise. She hadn't thought she'd factor into his day with the trophy.

  He crossed to her and slipped his fingers along her neck, lifted her hair, and then kissed the sensitive skin where her neck met her shoulder. "Really."

  A shiver worked through her. Rod pulled her clothes from her hands and dropped them on the bed. "Shower? Then coffee."

  "I thought coffee always came first." She followed him into the bathroom.

  "Coffee takes a backseat to you." He winked and turned on the shower spray. "We don't have a lot of time to play this morning. I hate rushing with you."

  "No worries. the Cup is a special situation." Still, his words pleased her. "We'll just have to do it again sometime."

  "I like the way you think." He drew back the curtain and ran his hand along her spine.

  She stepped under the water with him, and he handed her the soap. As she lathered up, he poured shampoo into his hands and then pressed a kiss to her lips and began rubbing her hair. Sighing, she leaned against him and enjoyed being pampered. When was the last time someone had washed her hair? Matt had never done it.

  He turned her to face away from the spray and helped her rinse her hair.

  "My turn." Arielle rubbed the soap over his chest then explored lower. Rod sucked in his breath and his eyes sparked as her hand closed over his cock. He hissed out a breath and grabbed her shoulders.

  And then his tongue teased along her lips and slipped inside, thrusting against hers, mimicking his body's movements. His hand cupped her breast, then wandered a slow journey to her center and teased until she came apart, and then he groaned out his release.

  Steam filled the room, misting the air as they rinsed and kissed under the hot spray.

  Rod turned off the water and tugged her out of the shower. He draped a thick white towel around her shoulders, then grabbed another and wrapped it around his waist. "I figured we could get breakfast at the coffee shop."

  "I'm glad you're bringing the Cup there. That'll mean a lot to Ben."

  "He's had my back for years. Besides hanging out with my family, all I really care about is sharing the experience with Ben and Jacob. And you." He winked at her. "Hopefully, it'll get some free advertising for the coffee shop. Maybe draw in some new customers."

  "It's a Sunday morning. Trust me, the shop will be busy, and if the customers all text or call their friends to stop by, you might not get time to eat at all." She toweled off and dressed in yesterday's clothes. "I'll need to stop home and change my clothes. If you don't mind dropping me off along the way, I'll grab my car and then meet you there later."

  He pulled on a blue t-shirt and gray shorts and then sat on the edge of the bed. "I can't believe today is finally here. I knew this day was coming, but it's sort of surreal."

  "It's a big deal." And he looked overwhelmed. She sat beside him and laced their fingers together. "Just enjoy it."

  "Yeah. I've been excited about it, but I still feel like it's someone else's victory. Not getting to play at all during the playoffs really bothered me. I feel like I didn't really win the series."

  "The games you played in during the season helped, though. Remember, there was a coach who said, 'the more games you win at the beginning of a season, the less you have to win at the end.' Your record was eighteen wins and four losses. You did contribute to winning the championship."

  His eyes crinkled at the edges with his smile, and he raised her hand to his lips. "Thank you."

  "Want to make some coffee while we wait for Edwin?" Coffee always made him happy and would give them something to do.

  He rose and pulled her to her feet. "I'm impressed you know my stats."

  "I pay attention. And I might have watched the games."

  His brows rose, and he gave a fake gasp. "In the heart of Bedlam country, you're a closet Rage fan?"

  Heat flushed into her cheeks, and she told him the truth. "I'm a Rod Fraser fan."

  A grin beamed across his face. He clamped his hands on her hips and drew her against him. "I like that. I think I'll keep you."

  She rose onto her toes and pulled him down until his lips met hers. His strong hands lowered and he lifted her. Sighing into his mouth, she wrapped her legs around his waist.

  He secured her against him with arms as strong as steel. "There. Now we're eye-to-eye."

  "And mouth-to-mouth." She arched closer and kissed him again.

  "I like the way you think."

  Arielle threaded her fingers in his short, light brown strands. This was sexy. Easy. Effortless. And he made her happy. "I like
everything about you. But I'm thinking we better head downstairs now, or we'll end up back in bed, and that'll keep your Cup Keeper waiting."

  "Poor Edwin. I can see the headline now: Cup Keeper Catches Goalie in Bed with Goddess."

  The goddess part made her smile. "But it's you, so they'd play up the coffee angle. It would be Cup Keeper Catches Goalie in Bed with Part-time Barista."

  He laughed and kissed her again. "You really are something special."

  And she really was falling for him. He seemed too good to be true.

  And that was what scared her.

  Rod rinsed coffee cups in the sink. He'd been eying the clock for the past fifteen minutes. Having Arielle with him was the only thing keeping him from pacing the floor.

  Finally, the doorbell rang. His stomach lurched and his heartbeat ticked faster.

  Eight o'clock. Edwin was right on time.

  Arielle followed him into the hall. He met her gaze, soaked up that calming energy, and opened the door.

  Edwin smiled at him from behind the huge gleaming silver cup. "Rod. Nice to see you."

  "Come on in, man." He stepped back, hands itching to hold the trophy. Memories flooded back—of taking a lap around the ice, holding the Cup high over his head after the last game, of drinking champagne out of it during the celebration with his teammates, and of sharing it with the Rage's fans during the parade in New Orleans.

  And now, he had it all to himself.

  Edwin nodded. "Go ahead. Take it."

  Rod wiped his hands on his shorts. Mouth dry, he accepted the heavy Cup. Each band listed player names from previous Cup-winning teams. His name, his team, wasn't on there yet. The league would add the names after the team's individual days with the trophy were finished.

  Behind him, Arielle introduced herself to Edwin. Rod turned. "Sorry. Edwin, this is Arielle. Arielle, Edwin is the Keeper of the Cup. He gets to travel with it wherever it goes."

  "Just like a bodyguard." Smiling, she shook his hand.

  "That's right." Edwin pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. He was a hockey geek in the best sense of the word. He could quote stats better than anyone and was a font of information.