But he didn't seem to care because his mouth trailed a path across her jaw and over to that sensitive spot just below her ear. She sighed, her body melting under his as he nibbled her neck. Then he sat up, still leaning over her, his eyes still glittering with his soft laughter.
"I brought coffee."
She pushed against him again, finally sitting up and glancing around the room in desperation. "Where?"
"On the dresser. I wasn't sure how you took it—"
"Black. Strong. Now."
He laughed again, the bed dipping as he rolled off and moved toward the coffee. He handed her the cup, barely large enough for three long swallows. She didn't care, she'd take what she could for now.
"Careful, it's hot."
She grunted then peeled back the top, blew on it, then took the first sip. Liquid heat slid down her throat and settled into her stomach, nudging her toward full consciousness. Another sip, then one more before the last threads of sleep finally fell from her hazy mind.
She glanced around the room and mentally cringed at the disaster meeting her gaze. Clothes were strewn everywhere. One of her heels was tossed on the small chair in the corner of the room, the other was resting on the floor beneath the curtains. Her dress was tossed over the television—how the hell had it ended up there?—and the scrappy lace of her underwear was beside the bed, tangled with his red boxer briefs. A handful of foil wrappers, torn and empty, rested on the nightstand. And the bed...she glanced down at it, frowning at the way the covers were twisted and tangled, half on the bed and half on the floor. No wonder she had been cold.
She wasn't cold now, not with the embarrassment heating her from the inside. She took another sip of the awful coffee and hoped Caleb would think her red face was from the steam.
Yeah, right. Not with the way he was looking at her, like he was ready to eat her up. How was that even possible? She had to look like shit, like death warmed over.
Or like someone who had been kept up all night, deep in the throes of wild sex.
She swallowed back a groan and placed the coffee on the nightstand, trying to ignore all those wrappers sitting there, trying not to count them. She kicked her feet free from the tangled sheets and swung her legs over the side of the bed. She hesitated, wondering if she should grab the sheet and wrap it around her before heading to the bathroom.
Was she really worried about modesty now? After everything they'd done last night? Yes, she was. There was a huge difference between the dark hours of last night—even if the light had been on most of the time—and now.
She tugged the sheet free and yanked it around her, then shot Caleb a dirty look when he chuckled. She swept past him, tripped, caught herself at the last minute, then headed into the bathroom and closed the door.
And holy shit, she really did look like death warmed over. Her hair was a tangled mess around her face, sticking out here and there. Mascara was smeared under her eyes, making her look like a raccoon—
Or like a hooker who had spent the last ten hours alternating between her back and her knees.
Which probably wasn't too far from the truth.
She swallowed back a groan, dropped the sheet, then stared at her reflection with wide eyes. Red marks marred the skin of her chest. Not just red marks. She leaned closer, frowning at the small bruise just above her left breast.
No, not a bruise. A small bite mark.
Holy shit.
She turned away from the mirror then leaned into the shower and turned the water on, twisted the knob to the hottest setting. Then she took care of personal business and stepped into the tub, pulled the curtain closed—
And remembered that her small overnight bag was still in the other room.
Dammit.
She stepped out of the shower and grabbed a towel, wrapping herself in it before opening the door. Then she nearly screamed. Caleb was leaning in the doorway, a devilish grin on his face, her bag held in one hand.
"Forget something?"
She growled at him, yanked the bag from his hand, then slammed the door in his face.
And damn if he didn't start laughing.
"You really aren't a morning person, are you?"
"Not when I don't get any sleep, I'm not."
"Are you complaining?"
She wanted to say yes, just to throw him off. Just to tease him. But she couldn't force the lie from her mouth so she settled for another growl instead.
Which only made him laugh again.
Damn him.
She grabbed the small toiletry bag from the duffel, pulling out her shampoo and conditioner before climbing back into the shower. The water was too hot now, nearly scalding her. She adjusted the temperature then stood under the stream, closing her eyes as water washed over her. Blissful, hot water. Relaxing her, waking her.
She waited for the morning-after regret, expecting it to wash over her as fully as the water streaming from the showerhead. What they'd done last night—what she had done. That wasn't like her, to be so brazen and wild. To sleep with someone even knowing nothing would come of it. But there was no regret. How could she regret it, when she had wanted it? All of it. When she had wanted Caleb?
She had no idea what they were doing, where they would go from here. Were they dating? Maybe. Were they a couple? No, she couldn't let herself think that. She couldn't read into anything they'd done, couldn't make more of it than what it was.
Sex. That was it.
Pure, raw, blissful sex.
Everything else had to be one-day-at-a-time. God help her if she tried to make more of it than it was. God help her if she let her heart get in the way.
The shower curtain whipped open, startling her. She wiped the water from her eyes and glowered at Caleb. At least, she tried to. It was hard to glower when all she could do was stare at the hard length of his cock.
She forced her gaze to his and tried to frown. "What are you doing?"
"What's it look like I'm doing?" He climbed into the shower and pulled the curtain back. "You're using all the hot water."
"Am not."
He didn't say anything, just watched her with smoldering green eyes. He reached behind her and grabbed the small bar of soap, moving it between his hands until a bubbly lather formed.
"Turn around."
The intensity in his eyes scorched her, knocked all thought from her mind. She turned, the stream of water falling across her chest as Caleb's hands slid along her back. Warm, strong, fingers digging into the muscles of her shoulders, her lower back. Lower, teasing the round curve of her ass before sliding into the cleft.
She sucked in a breath, her head falling back as Caleb's mouth traced a line of fire along her neck. Heat raced through her, pooling low in her belly, between her legs. She reached behind her, draped one arm behind his neck as his hands slid around her waist. Up, to cup the fullness of her breasts. Squeezing, teasing, his thumbs scraping the hard points of each nipple.
Lower, down across the flat of her stomach, one hand cupping between her legs. His mouth nibbled the sensitive flesh of her skin, tugged on the lobe of one ear.
"Spread your legs for me."
She sucked in a deep breath, braced one hand against the tile wall, and did as he asked, helpless to tell him no.
Helpless to do anything but feel.
Her breath left her in a hiss as one slick finger slid across her clit. Back and forth, harder and faster as her hips bucked against his hand. She pulled her lower lip between her teeth, biting down as that solitary finger slid inside her.
"Christ, Shannon. You are so fucking wet. So fucking hot." His voice, hoarse with need, made her knees buckles. He draped one steely arm around her waist, supporting her as he slid his finger in and out, up across her clit, back inside. Over and over until her vision swam, until her breath came in short gasps, until her muscles clenched and her body shuddered with release. But it wasn't enough, not nearly enough. She wanted more. Needed more.
Needed him. Caleb. All of him.
&
nbsp; Deep inside her.
She rocked her hips backward, bent over and braced her hands against the wall. She heard him groan, felt his hands rub her ass, squeezing, pinching.
Shannon glanced at him over her shoulder, captured his gaze, held it with a desperation she didn't know possible. "Now, Caleb. Fuck me. Now."
He leaned to the side, grabbed something from the edge of the tub and ripped it open with his teeth. She watched, her glazed eyes focused on the way he sheathed the hard length of his cock, the way his hands closed over its thickness and stroked. Once. Twice. Then he leaned forward, guiding the tip of his cock into her from behind. Stretching. Filling.
She closed her eyes, sucked in a deep breath as he drove into her. Hard and deep, fast. Heat spiraled through her, scorching her as muscles tensed. Clenching, gripping, tightening.
Tightening even more, until there was nothing but sensation. The heat of his cock driving into her, the tug of his hand as it twisted in her wet hair, the glide of his fingers as they rubbed her clit.
Over and over.
Fast.
Deep.
Hard.
Driving her over the edge. Tumbling. Falling.
Trusting Caleb to catch her.
Chapter Twenty
Caleb yanked the tie from around his neck and threw it across the room. It hit the bed, slid off and landed in a wrinkled heap on the floor. He thought about kicking it but what the fuck good would that do?
It sure as hell wouldn't do anything to relieve the anger and frustration boiling inside him.
Tonight's game had been a fucking fiasco. The Banners had been annihilated by Vegas, to the point where he wondered why the fuck they had even bothered playing. Eight to one? Seriously? That wasn't a fucking hockey game. Not even close. It had been so damn bad, he had honestly thought Coach Donovan was going to have a fucking heart attack right there on the bench.
Neither of their goalies had performed worth a shit. Then again, neither had any of the players—including himself. Their single goal had been nothing more than a fluke, a crazy-ass loose puck tipped in by Lucas Sacco. And the only reason he had scored was because Vegas's goalie had thought he had stopped the play and was waiting for the fucking whistle to blow.
And now, to make things even worse, Shannon was telling him she probably wouldn't be able to see him on Thursday night.
Caleb dropped to the bed and swallowed back his frustrated sigh. "Just a few hours. I can meet you at your place right after we land."
He heard noise in the background, the sound of running water and something banging, a low voice followed by a muffled grunt. From the television? Probably. It was already past eleven, Shannon was usually asleep by now.
"I have practice Thursday night, you know that."
"It'll be after practice. We probably won't be getting in until close to midnight anyway."
"Which means you won't get here until at least one. That's not going to work, not when I have to get up at six for work."
"Then call in sick." He winced as soon as the words left his mouth. Fuck. Did he have to sound so desperate?
Yeah, because he was desperate. He hadn't seen her since Sunday evening, when he finally took her home after spending all day with her. They'd had lunch after leaving the hotel, went back to his place to watch movies—and barely made it through the door before falling all over each other with a hunger that still left him breathless. He was addicted to her, pure and simple. Couldn't get her out of his system. Didn't want to get her out of his system.
It was only Tuesday, just over forty-eight hours since he had seen her, and he was already going through withdrawal. The team had flown out early this morning for tonight's game and would fly out early tomorrow for Thursday's game in New York. Then they were back home for a few off days, an unusual weekend with no games before an extended home stretch next week.
Unless you counted the exhibition game on Saturday afternoon.
Caleb didn't want to wait that long to see her. Didn't know if he could wait that long.
He blew out another frustrated sigh and readjusted his grip on the phone. "No comment to that, huh?"
"No, because I'm pretending I didn't hear you say that. You know I can't call out sick."
He opened his mouth to ask her why, snapped it closed before the words left his mouth. He knew why, knew she had bills to pay, knew that she didn't make shit playing for the Blades.
"How about if you leave your door unlocked and I'll just sneak into bed with you? I won't even wake you up." And yeah, that sounded as pathetic as he thought it did because Shannon actually snorted her laughter.
"Yeah, right. Like that's realistic."
"I've seen you sleep, remember? I think a bomb could go off next to you and you wouldn't notice it."
"Probably not, but somehow I think I'd notice you in my bed. Which means neither one of us would get any sleep."
"Then how about Friday?"
"Hang on." He heard some more muttering, a small click, then Shannon's voice again, the sound just a little different. "That's not going to work, either. Inventory is Friday so I'm working late, picking up some extra hours."
"Is it mandatory?"
"No but I already committed to it."
"Can't you tell them you changed your mind?"
"Yeah, I could." She paused and Caleb could hear her stifling a yawn. "Except it's overtime and I need the money."
"You could always move in with me." And whoa. What the fuck? Had he just said that? What the hell was wrong with him? His mouth opened and closed, like a fish drowning on air, as he struggled to say something—anything—in an effort to brush the words off. To turn them into a joke. To—
Shannon snorted, her laughter bright and maybe just a little forced as it came through the phone. "Did you get hit in the head tonight? Get boarded or something?"
"What? No, of course not."
"Really? Because I know I didn't hear what I just thought I heard. Don't be an ass."
Caleb pulled the phone away from his ear, frowned at it, then moved it back. "An ass? Why does that make me an ass?"
"You're kidding, right? You just asked me to move in with you."
Yeah, he had. It was just a slip of the tongue, words leaving his mouth before his brain could engage. He hadn't meant it. At least, he didn't think he'd meant it. But did she have to sound so cynical about it? Did she have to make it sound like the world's worst idea?
It was, but that didn't matter.
"It, uh, it was just an idea."
"A stupid one. Moving in." She laughed, the sound breathy, still a little forced, filled with disbelief. "Not happening, Caleb."
He ground his teeth together and drew in a quick breath through his nose. Time to change the subject. "So how about Friday night when you get home from inventory?"
"That's not happening, either."
"You're killing me, Shannon." He fell back onto the bed, his gaze studying the rough surface of the ceiling. "I need to see you."
"Yeah. Me, too." Her voice lowered, turned a little husky. Was she in bed, pretending he was with her? Touching herself, pretending it was his hands on her, pretending it was his finger sliding in and out of her wet heat?
He squeezed his eyes closed, pressed the palm of his hand against the aching length of his cock. Fuck, he had to stop thinking like that, had to stop picturing her that way. Not when he was here, hundreds of miles away and unable to do anything about it.
Especially when Logan could decide he'd had enough down in the bar and come back to the room at any minute.
Fuck it. The door was locked, the security latch in place. Nobody was coming inside.
He fumbled with the button of his pants, yanked down the zipper and freed his aching cock with a sharp sigh. Long strokes, up and down, his thumb grazing the tip, spreading the bead of moisture over soft skin stretched tight. Picturing Shannon on her knees between his spread legs, her long hair tickling the skin of his inner thigh. Her mouth, hot and wet, closing ove
r him.
Christ, he wanted her, needed her. With a fever he didn't understand, a fever that threatened to fry the last molecule in his brain. "What, um, what are you doing?"
"Right now?"
"Yeah. Tell me." He stroked harder, a little faster, imagining Shannon in her bed, her legs spread wide, her fingers sliding over her slick clit.
"Trying to unclog this damn garbage disposal. Why?"
Caleb's eyes shot open as disappointment shot through him. He released his cock with a growl. "Just, um, just wondering."
"Everything okay? You sound...I don't know. Weird."
"Yeah, fine. Good to go."
"You sure about that?"
"Yeah. I was just hoping—never mind."
"Hoping, what?"
"Nothing."
"Caleb, out with it."
"I was just sitting here, picturing you next to me. Naked. Hot. Wet. Fingering that sweet wet pussy—"
Something like a crash echoed in his ear, followed by a muttered curse. The sound grew muffled, dull and distant. More noises, like hurried footsteps, followed by what sounded like a door slamming shut.
He pushed up on his elbow, frowning. "Shannon? You there?"
"Uh, yeah. I'm here."
"Everything okay?"
"Uh, yeah."
"What was that noise?"
"Um...that would have been the phone flying off the counter."
Caleb smiled, a spurt of male pride shooting through him. "Got you a little worked up, huh?"
"Um, no."
No? Really? So much for the male pride. He reached down, readjusted his pants, then pushed himself to a sitting position. "Then why was your phone flying off the counter?"
"Because I was trying to get it off speaker phone."
Caleb leaned forward and pinched the bridge of his nose then pulled in a deep breath. He didn't want to know, didn't want to ask. Couldn't ask.
He didn't need to, because Shannon kept talking, her voice just a little choked. From embarrassment? Laughter? Something else?
Playing Hard_A Chesapeake Blades Hockey Romance Page 15