by Amy Olle
“Then what?”
“Then I guess I’ll go back to my life.”
His eyes remained carefully hooded. “You don’t have to.”
He was so handsome. So sweet to her mom. So perfect in every way that mattered.
She touched his cheek, and he pressed his forehead to hers. Eyes closed, she breathed him in. His fingers danced along her collarbone. Pulling aside her shirt collar, his warm mouth tasted the bare skin of her shoulder. She shivered.
She wanted these last days with him, before she went back to being her and he went back to being him.
She slid onto the countertop and opened her legs to him.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Jack feared he might not survive the grueling six-day road trip. Without her, his body withered. He grew edgy and short-tempered, which helped his play on the ice if not his relationship with his teammates in the locker room.
He thought about her constantly, wondering how she was doing. From his hotel room, he called her on the nights his road roommate went out, but hearing her voice without seeing her face or touching her body only enflamed his want of her.
The Renegades won three of their four games before flying home Tuesday morning. Their flight touched down at 3:00 a.m., both too late and too early to go to her.
He’d prowled his apartment, unable to sleep with the starvation feasting on his flesh, only to doze off and miss the chance to catch her before she left for work.
He arrived at the arena in the late afternoon for practice. When he suited up, a strap broke on one of his elbow pads, so while the team headed to the ice, he found the equipment manager for a replacement.
New pad in hand, he headed back to the locker room to finish dressing.
He spotted her from behind, walking away from him down the hall. She must’ve sensed him, for she turned and looked back.
Her lips parted, and her hand came up to offer a tiny wave.
Caught in her gravitational pull, he was moving toward her.
“Hey,” she said. “You had a good trip. You guys are playing great.”
He didn’t want to talk about hockey.
He wanted to snatch the flimsy blouse from her body, tear the confining bra away, and set her large breasts free. He wanted to watch them bounce and sway to the rhythm of their joining. He wanted to lay her on a bed on her stomach, grip her round, lush ass, and enter her from behind.
He drew close, as close as he could get without touching her. “How are you? You okay?”
Her breathing hitched a little higher and she nodded. “I’m okay.”
She took in his appearance, dressed as he was in only his black undersuit and shoulder pads.
“You’re missing some of your clothes.” Her voice trembled.
Without making the conscious decision to do so, he reached for her, his hand finding the curve of her waist.
He slanted his head closer and her scent teased his nostrils.
She whispered his name next to his ear.
At the desperate snag in her voice, a lick of fire stirred in him, awakening his hunger.
His grip on her waist tightened. “I need you.”
“We shouldn’t....” Her big brown eyes darted left and right.
A nasty curse ripped from him. “I don’t care, Haven. I don’t care what happens. I have to have you. All of you. Now.”
He hated the concern in her eyes when she gazed up at him. “Okay.”
That she trusted him, even knowing—probably better than him—what their discovery would mean, sent a surge of affection roaring through him.
He walked her backward into a meeting room. Before the door shut, he was reaching for her. His hands rushed over her body, caressing the lush mounds and soft hollows of her tantalizing form.
He knew her body. Knew it naked. Knew what it craved. What it sought. What it couldn’t endure without.
He took her face in his hands. “I can’t get enough. It’ll never be enough.”
“Please, Jack.” Her mouth pressed against his with soft urgency. “I need you. Inside me.”
His body’s desperate, throbbing need for her pushed out all thoughts of exposure or self-protection.
If he were to be burned by the fires of his lust, he would dance merrily in the flames.
Haven’s intoxicating musk lingered on his skin when he stepped onto the ice and joined the team in their warm-up drills.
As he picked up his speed, trying to catch up with the rest of the guys, his thoughts remained in that room where he’d had her. On the desperate way she’d clutched at him when he hiked up her skirt, and on the sounds of her soft panting and moaning while he drove deep inside her.
Skating around the ice, he experienced a moment of heart-pounding, ball-busting unreality.
What was he doing, fucking his boss while they were at work? Only an unlocked door between them and discovery? It was madness, and yet he wouldn’t stop himself doing it.
He didn’t know what was happening between them, but they’d certainly gone beyond a hookup. And he wanted to keep it going. See where it led.
What was so wrong with wanting to be with her? Wanting to give them a chance? They were good together. Really good, and there wasn’t a damn thing wrong with him enjoying sex with a smart, beautiful woman.
In fact, he wanted to have sex with her every day. For as long as it was good.
Even if that meant forever.
The thought stunned him momentarily. He didn’t even see the puck until it was by him.
“Time to wake up, Nolan,” Coach offered by way of advice.
“He’s in la-la land,” Gus called out in his thick Czech accent. “Thoughts of Blondie running in his head.”
That pulled some chuckles from his teammates.
They thought he was lovesick.
Over Sutton.
Sutton was sweet, and there was no denying how gorgeous she was, but she would never electrify him the way Haven did.
Jack ignored his teammates’ laughter. Let them go on thinking Sutton was the woman dominating his thoughts and commanding his cock. It’d only help protect Haven.
He turned to head back up ice, but drew up when he caught sight of Coach.
He wasn’t laughing with the rest of them. Chewing the inside of his cheeks, he was watching Jack.
So when practice ended and Coach called him over, a nugget of dread lodged beneath Jack’s breastbone as he skated toward the edge of the rink.
“What’s up?” Jack kept his tone casual.
“How are things going?” Coach watched the last of Jack’s teammates disappear into the tunnel. “Things going okay?”
“Things are going just fine.”
Unwilling to look Jack in the eye, Coach gazed out over the empty ice. “You seem a little distracted lately.”
“I’m not.” Jack bit off the words.
“The captain thing’s not too much for you, is it?”
The captain thing was awesome. Jack had a great rapport with his teammates, and they respected him.
“Is there a problem, Coach?”
Coach dropped his gaze to the floor and scratched the back of his head. He pushed a huff of air through his lips. “You and Haven aren’t… you know, involved, are you?”
Though not unexpected, the words knocked into Jack with the force of a physical blow. A black stain of regret began to seep through him.
Coach’s serious gray eyes met Jack’s then. “Because that would be bad. For both of you. If the media found out….”
Jack saw no condemnation on the man’s face, only concern, and the reality of what they’d done slammed into him.
If the media found out he and Haven were sleeping together, the disaster that’d ensue could, likely would, derail the entire season, messing with this young team’s frail focus and distracting them from their goals. All their hard work, and all the fragile hopefulness he’d seen in Haven’s eyes when she’d asked him to help her, would dissolve like cotton candy on the tong
ue.
Worse, it’d thrust her back into the spotlight. His reputation might survive, but would hers? Would they rehash her past, dissect her every behavior? He could only imagine what disgusting things they’d say and write.
Their cruelty would crush her. He recalled how, only a few weeks back, she struggled to get out of bed she was so devastated by their words. He couldn’t let them do that to her. Not again.
Whatever it took, he had to keep his relationship with Haven a secret. No one could know.
Starting with Coach.
Jack arranged his features into a derisive sneer. “C’mon, Coach, do you honestly think I’d risk the entire season, my entire career, for a little meaningless sex with her?”
At the soft sound behind them, both men twisted.
To see Haven hovering at the entrance to the tunnel.
Watching him with wounded brown eyes.
Her heart crumbled to dust inside her chest. God, how his words hurt.
He made their affair sound meaningless, which made her feel cheap. Slutty. She knew she wasn’t, but she hated that that was the first place her mind went.
She hated that he chose those exact words.
She hated that she’d put herself in the position to feel denigrated. Again.
Sick with humiliation, she put a hand on her hip and gave Jack a cheeky grin. “I’m glad you set him straight. I mean, can you imagine? You and me?”
Jack’s laugh sounded tight. “It’s ridiculous.”
Splotches of red broke out on Coach’s face and neck. “I’ll admit it, I’m relieved.” A sheepish smile touched his features. “And completely mortified. I’m sorry, guys.”
Jack’s green-gold gaze burned into her. “How about we pretend this conversation never happened?”
“Done,” Coach agreed.
Unable to play along, Haven turned away.
She lifted a hand. “Thanks for the laugh, Coach. Good luck tomorrow night.”
She stumbled back down the tunnel, Jack’s words haunting her steps. She could forgive him the words, though they hurt, but she couldn’t forgive herself for letting them hurt.
Her feet carrying her away punished the concrete floor.
She knew better than to let this happen. She had rules.
Even so, there was no rational reason for this to hurt so badly. No reason, except one.
She’d fallen in love with him. She’d given him her heart when he didn’t want it. Never asked for it.
She’d thought she could handle it. Thought she could walk away from him when her time with the team was over, as she’d done on the island, her heart untouched.
With the back of her hand, she wiped at the hot tears running down her cheeks.
She’d let him break every one of her rules. Why? Why had she done that?
Because she thought he was special, and with him, so was she.
But if he were special, she wouldn’t be feeling like the other woman right now. The woman she used to be. Cheap. A throwaway.
He was no different from all the other men who’d enjoyed her body only to be careless with her heart.
Immediately, her heart rejected that notion, even as her mind tried to outrun its logic.
So what if he was different? She was the same Haven of two months before, and that Haven knew what she had to do now to put her world back to rights. To save her heart from one last fatal blow.
She had to end the relationship. Sever the bond.
Destroy it beyond repair or recognition.
Beyond the point worth saving.
Chapter Twenty-Three
The sounds of revelry and blues music grated on Jack’s nerves while the smooth brewed beer sat heavy in his stomach. His shitty day had taken on a new level of sucking when some guys from the team bullied him into going out with them for drinks.
So while the party raged on around him, he descended further into the chaos inside his mind.
In his entire career, he’d never given a coach any reason to sit him down and have an awkward or embarrassing conversation. In college, he didn’t skip classes or drink too much. He never did recreational drugs or sniffed around the wrong crowd, and the women he’d chosen to be with didn’t cause trouble because he didn’t give them the chance to do so. Everything he’d ever done was with the express purpose of becoming a better hockey player.
Except Haven.
He never should’ve gotten involved with her, and now everything between them was complicated and messy and—shit. Wasn’t this exactly why he’d avoided relationships all these years? A relationship with his boss should’ve been a deal breaker.
Though, if he were completely honest with himself, he couldn’t say he regretted all of it. Just the part where his coach had to ask Jack if he was sleeping with the boss, and the part where the woman in question had overheard his response.
What would he say to her later when he saw her, knowing she’d overheard? The words were callous, cruel, and she’d heard them.
By now, Jack knew her well enough to know they had to hurt her. He also knew she’d deny that they did.
Inside the dark bar, bodies mingled around their table while Jack stared into his pint.
Until a prickle at the back of his neck caused him to lift his gaze.
And there she was, across the room by the bar, looking directly at him. The brown in her eyes melted with gooey warmth when her gaze tangled with his.
A shuddering breath eased from his body. No, he didn’t regret it all.
He recalled the night she’d challenged Avery to chug a beer with her and won. Despite his sour mood, a smile touched his lips at the memory, though all he could do at the time was scowl for his erection pressing against the fly of his jeans.
But now, he watched as she seemed to draw herself up and a mantle of resolve settled around her shoulders.
He frowned. Unease listed through him.
She showed Jack her back and leaned across the bar to shout her order to the bartender. She wore the black skirt that showed off her curves, and on her feet, bright red “fuck me!” pumps wailed with intent. The bartender placed a shot glass in front of her and she threw her head back when she drank it.
He’d never seen her drink liquor.
Abruptly, she turned to the man beside her. Whatever she said to him, Jack watched the man’s interest in her change, from cordial to sexual.
His heart started to pound.
She twirled a length of her hair around her forefinger, and when she laughed at something the asshole said, she flipped her hair over one shoulder.
Her hand touched his arm.
What. The. Fuck.
At the asshole’s other side, a woman appeared to stare daggers at Haven, and the asshole let the woman pull him away.
Haven faced the room, her wide mouth pulled down at the corners while her dark, desolate gaze searched the crowd.
Then another man stepped in front of her, his big back blocking Jack’s view until he moved to stand beside her. With a gesture to the bartender, he bought her another shot, which sat on the bar top less than a fraction of a second before she scooped up the glass and tossed back its contents.
The man leaned close and said something near her ear. She nodded and another shot materialized before her.
A wrench of nausea turned his stomach.
What in the hell was she doing?
The guy’s hand moved to her back and slid lower. She slipped off the barstool and he led her onto the dance floor. She pressed her body against his, and Jack experienced a blinding flash of possessive rage.
She belonged to him, dammit. Now and forever.
At his side, Sebastian sipped from a pint. “You all right, man?”
But Jack didn’t register his teammate’s concern, for just then, the man’s hand smoothed over Haven’s round bottom.
Jack gripped his pint so tightly he might’ve fractured the fragile glass. Why didn’t she slap the creep’s hand away? Why did she let him grope her like tha
t? When she knew Jack was watching? Did she seek to punish him? To hurt him the way he’d hurt her?
Then the man’s grotesque hand squeezed one of Haven’s firm butt cheeks.
A roar of white-hot fury exploded inside Jack’s skull. The rage pushed out all else, until he no longer cared what twisted logic guided her. She’d gone too far.
“Uh… Jack?”
His gaze locked on his target, Jack climbed to his feet. As he approached them, the man dipped his head and his fat tongue came out of his mouth even before he claimed hers.
“What are you doing?”
Haven startled and blinked up at him, pretending she’d only just noticed him. “Oh, hey, Jack.” She gave him a wink. “Don’t worry, I got this. I know my part well.”
“What are you talking about?”
Dropping her voice, she leaned close. “In case anyone else finds out you and I are, you know, fucking, I figure I better be doing it with half the men in here. Fucking a bimbo you picked up at the bar can’t ruin your career, can it, Jack?”
She slashed his heart. “Haven, don’t.”
“Why not?”
His anger spiraled out of control. What did she want him to say, there, in that shitty bar? To come away with him? To be with him? Him and no other?
“You’re better than this,” he finally said.
She flinched as though he’d slapped her. “I’m really not.”
The man tugged on her arm, like a child competing for her attention, and she turned back to him.
“Go back to your table, Jack.” Her voice held no heat or vexation. Only a gut-wrenching sadness.
The man leered down her top and she tilted her face up to his. His tongue came out again.
Violence whipped through Jack. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”
The guy drew up and fixed Jack with a blurry-eyed stare. “This doesn’t concern you.”
Jack bared his teeth. “I’m going to enjoy kicking your ass.”
“You think so?” The prick pushed Haven aside. “Let’s go, then.”