Game Breaker (Portland Storm Book 14)

by Catherine Gayle

  I nodded, hating myself because of the momentary flash of disappointment that swept through his eyes.

  Men were visual creatures. I knew that. But here I was, asking Nate to give up that part of the experience just because I couldn’t deal.

  He sat up and eased me off his lap before crossing to flip the switch, leaving only the lamp next to the bed burning. I clutched the blankets to my chest as he took a moment to remove his shirt and retrieve a foil-wrapped condom from a box on the nightstand. Then he turned off the lamp, as well, and sat on the edge of the bed.

  “Better?” he asked, stretching out a hand for mine.

  I put my hand in his, letting his calmness seep into me as the blankets drifted back down to the mattress. “Much.”

  “You’re sure?”

  My breaths came more regularly. The uncomfortable jumping sensation in my belly was starting to ease. “Positive,” I said.

  “Good. So any chance I can get back to the groping part of the proceedings? Because I was getting really close to the toe-curling stuff.”

  I laughed and inched closer to him. Once again, he’d surprised me by simply accepting whatever was thrown at him and moving forward, as though nothing was standing in his way. “I don’t know about yours, but mine were already curling.”

  “Not curling anywhere near enough yet.” There was a hint of a smile in Nate’s tone. He caressed my cheek and drew my face toward his, but he didn’t kiss me even though our mouths were only a hairsbreadth apart. He slid his other hand up and down the side of my arm. “You’re sure this is okay?”

  I nodded, trusting that the movement would be enough with his hand on my face.

  The thumb of his other hand slipped across to tickle the side of my breast. “You’d tell me if I did something that’s not, wouldn’t you? You’d stop me?”

  I hated how worried he sounded, especially because I was the reason for it. “Promise. I’ll tell you. But this is good. I want this. Just not…”

  “Not with the lights on,” he finished for me.

  “Right.” I couldn’t get over the fact that he was going along with it, not trying to figure out why I couldn’t allow him to see me.

  His touch was still so tentative, though—not groping like he’d promised only moments before. Lifting up onto my knees, I reached behind my back and unclasped my bra. When the straps fell forward, I took Nate’s hand and guided him to touch me. He palmed my breast, and I sucked in a breath at the surge of energy racing through me.

  “That’s better,” I said.

  He kneaded gently, and I felt the pull all the way in my core.

  Not trusting my legs to hold me up for much longer, considering the amount of adrenaline surging through my veins, I undid the hook and zipper of my slacks. I hooked my thumbs under the band of both my pants and my underwear, lowering them past my hips as Nate started exploring my body with his hands. He used them the way a blind man would, learning how I looked through the sense of touch.

  I steadied myself with my hands on his shoulders. He helped me free myself of the last of my clothes, tossing them to the floor. He kissed me again, and I lost myself in sensation. His hands—strong and sure—teased me to a frenzy, until I was aching to be closer to him. He had amazing hands. Skilled hands. Loving hands. Before long, he started using his mouth to torment me in new and delightful ways.

  “Nate,” I begged, arching into him as he shifted us, placing me on my back.

  He took a moment to remove the rest of his clothes and put on a condom, but then the bed shifted with his weight as he settled between my legs. I raised my knees and drew him toward me, so ready to be with him I thought I might burst.

  He let out a groan as he slipped easily inside, his head coming down to rest beside mine. I rocked my hips against him, urging him to move with me. He held himself above me, his powerful arms preventing him from crushing me as we crashed into each other repeatedly.

  It was all I could do to hold on, both arms around his shoulders, my legs locked behind his waist, riding the cresting waves caused by sensation and emotion colliding inside me. I held on and knew I couldn’t let go even if I’d wanted to, because no one had ever made me feel more accepted than Nate did in that moment. My crazy panic about him seeing my body and all, he took me as I was and left me feeling cherished.

  It all came together in my mind at the same time as my climax struck. Every muscle in my body clenched, and I clasped Nate tightly to me until the tiny tremors came to a stop. He whispered things in my ear I couldn’t make out, driving his hips against me a few more times. His body tensing, his back flexing, he came and rolled off me, drawing me to his side almost in the same movement.

  I laid my head on his chest, rising and falling with his breaths, his heart pounding out a rhythm against my ear.

  “I could stay like this forever,” he said once his breathing started to settle into a more normal pattern. “Never move another muscle. I’d be fine with that.”

  I’d be fine with it, too. Until the sun came up, and he could see every bit of me. I decided to keep that thought to myself.

  “You’re awfully quiet,” Nate said after a moment. He stretched his arm around my shoulder and drew me closer to his side. “Not having second thoughts now, are you?”

  “No regrets,” I insisted.

  “But? Are you still worried about whatever had you freaking out with the lights?”

  I shook my head again and slipped away from Nate, dragging a pillow with me and holding it over my chest and abdomen. Not that he could see me with it pitch black in here, anyway, so it shouldn’t matter. But I couldn’t seem to face this without covering myself.

  Moments ago, he’d been what had covered me. It seemed crazy that I could have been so close with him—the two of us touching one another in every way people could touch—but I couldn’t bear the thought of his eyes falling on my naked body.

  He rolled over so he was facing my back, but this time, he didn’t take the pillow away. Not like he had last night. He didn’t attempt to make me face him, either. He just rested his hand on my elbow, letting me know he was there. That he wasn’t going anywhere.

  “Why don’t you want me to see you?” he asked.

  I tried to shrug it off, but a massive sense of shame was welling up inside me, choking me with its intensity. There was no way to get rid of the sensation other than to spit it out. “It’s stupid,” I said.

  “That’s one word that doesn’t ever belong anywhere near you.”

  “No, but… There’s no good reason for me to be like this. Except I am.”

  “Like what?” he asked, so calm and patient, just like always.

  “I just— I can’t handle anyone looking at me. Seeing me undressed. Seeing me without something covering every single inch of me.”

  “But you’re beautiful. You know you’re gorgeous, right? I’ve never been as turned on as I am when I look at you.”

  I shook my head. “It’s not that, even. It comes down to all my mother’s ideas of what’s acceptable and what isn’t. When I was a girl, she forced me to wear traditional Indian clothes, even though I was living in America. Everything had to be covered all the time—and I do mean everything. My neck, face, and hands were just about the only parts of me that ever saw the light of day, all the way through high school. I had to swim in full clothing, so I chose not to swim. I couldn’t participate in sports if I wasn’t in long pants and long sleeves, so I didn’t participate—I just reported on them, instead. She even made me go to my prom in a sari.”

  “Saris are pretty,” he said.

  “Pretty, but they’re not like regular prom dresses.”

  “You don’t dress like that now,” Nate pointed out.

  “I wouldn’t even if you paid me to. Except, if I’m being completely honest, I still dress like that in some ways.”

  He made a sound of disagreement.

  “No, I’m being serious!” I said. “I wear business suits that cover everything but my ne
ck and my hands. You pointed out yourself that I never wear dresses, and you weren’t sure I had legs under there…”

  “I was teasing you. Because I like to tease you, not because I think you need to change anything.”

  “But I do need to change things, because my mother’s still in my head. I don’t know how to handle anyone seeing me if I don’t have every available inch of skin covered in some way.”

  “Even though I was just inside you?” he asked.

  “Even then.”

  “But you don’t have a problem with me touching you?” As if to test the theory, he slid his hand down my side until it settled on my hip.

  “No,” I said, but the word came out on a puff of air.

  “Just with me seeing you.”

  “I told you it was stupid.”

  He didn’t say anything for so long I thought he might have fallen asleep. But then he curled his arm around my waist and drew me back against him. “Don’t say things like that,” he murmured, his face buried against my hair.

  “Why not?”

  “Because I don’t like hearing anyone attack the woman I love.”

  All of those emotions that had been crashing into each other a bit ago? In that moment, they smashed together all at once and caused an explosion.

  In my heart.

  SOMETIME BEFORE SUNRISE, after spending most of the night in my arms, Anne kissed me, found her clothes in the dark, and made her way back to her own room.

  There’d been a selfish part of me hoping she’d keep sleeping until the sun lit the room, but I had no intention of pushing her for something she wasn’t ready to give me. I might want to deliver her mother a piece of my mind, but the kind of shame Anne felt about her body wasn’t something she would break free from overnight. She needed time. And acceptance. And I intended to provide her with as much of both as she required.

  With the playoffs in full swing, Bergy and the rest of the coaches weren’t holding too many practices these days. We needed rest a hell of a lot more than we needed a refresher course in the systems we’d been using all season long, so that was exactly what they gave us. Instead of a needless practice the day after Game Three, Bergy had us all come in for a brief film session so we could talk about all the things that had gone both right and wrong the night before. Then he gave us the rest of the day off to spend in whatever manner we preferred, with a warning to be very careful if we were out and about in the city, considering the heightened state of tensions.

  I wanted to spend it with Anne, of course, but while I had the day off, she still had a job to do. She and some of her crew tagged along with Koz, 501, Coop, and Jo-Jo. I wasn’t sure where they were headed, but since Koz was involved, I hoped he wasn’t going to get Coop and Jo-Jo in over their heads with anything. They were the two youngest guys on the team, and they were definitely still impressionable. Coop hadn’t even been with us the whole season, only getting called up a few months back due to some injuries. I couldn’t say that Koz would be a good influence on them, but they were grown men and could do what they wanted…even if what they wanted wasn’t good for them. At least 501 was going, too. Maybe he could rein Koz in.

  It was probably for the best that Anne had other things to do, anyway, because I needed to write a final essay for one of my classes, and the day off would give me a perfect time to do that.

  So, after we finished with the film session, I went to lunch with RJ and Babs before heading back to the hotel alone to break out my laptop and start writing. Hours later I was still working on my paper, going through my notes, and looking things up in textbooks, when my phone buzzed, alerting me to a text message.

  Anne: You busy?

  Me: Depends on your definition of “busy.”

  Anne: Okay, let’s try this again. Are you hungry, do you already have plans for dinner, and/or are you too busy to go grab a bite with me? If you still want to have dinner with me, after last night.

  Me: I know how you get hangry, so let’s get some food.

  Anne: Meet you in the lobby in ten minutes?

  Me: Done.

  She was already waiting for me when I got down there, still wearing the business suit she’d had on earlier—pale gray, with a bright green top under the jacket that made the green flecks in her eyes dance. I planted a kiss on her as soon as I reached her side, grinning when she blinked a few times in surprise.

  “Hey, gorgeous,” I said.

  “Hey, yourself.” Her expression was filled with a combination of excitement and nerves, much like last night when we’d gotten up to my room. I loved the excitement but hated the nerves. I wanted to help her get past that, but I wasn’t sure what she needed from me. No matter what, it would take time—something I needed to remind myself of again. In fact, I might need the reminder a few times.

  But there was no rush.

  I reached for her hand and headed out front to have a cab hailed. Twenty minutes later, after a bunch of flirting and laughing in the back of the cab, we were seated for dinner at a swanky steak place.

  Anne sat across from me as the waiter handed over a wine menu and filled our water glasses. But then she started fidgeting with her suit jacket, like she couldn’t make up her mind about something.

  “You all right?” I asked.

  She nodded, but she didn’t stop messing with the jacket. The next thing I knew, she undid the buttons and took the whole thing off, draping it over the back of her chair. The shirt she had on underneath was sleeveless. Two wide straps covered her shoulders, but her arms were bare—and absolutely nothing to be ashamed of. They were toned and shapely, much like the rest of her. Absolutely perfect, if you asked me.

  I raised a brow. “You don’t need to do that if you’re not comfortable.”

  “I know.” She nodded resolutely. “But I do need to do this. It’s just my arms. There’s nothing scandalous about showing off your arms, especially when it’s as warm out as it is right now. I can do this.”

  Her determination was one of the things I loved the most about her. When she made up her mind to do something, she did it no matter how much might stand in her way. We were a lot alike in that way.

  “One thing at a time, right?” she said, arching one of those gorgeous brows. With more of her shirt showing, her eyes looked almost fully green.

  I was captivated. Completely.

  I knew I probably shouldn’t draw any more attention to the fact that I could see her arms, but I couldn’t resist, just this once. “If you’re not careful about how much you show off, I’ll get the urge to grope you again.”

  She narrowed her eyes and gave me a little kick under the table. “Watch it. No public groping.”

  “But private groping is all right?”

  “Depends on how you behave the rest of the night until we’re in private again.”

  “Fair enough.”

  She took a sip of water. “What’d you do today?”

  “Worked on one of my final papers. And what were Koz and the guys up to?”

  She gave me a mischievous look but didn’t answer.

  “Oh God. Tell me he didn’t corrupt Coop.”

  “Corrupt? I wouldn’t say that, no.”

  “But you aren’t denying that he dragged them into something.”

  “Cooper and Johansson got their first tattoos,” she said with a shrug.

  That definitely could have been worse. But then again… “What did they get? And where?” And how much influence had Koz exerted over their decisions?

  “Maybe you should ask them.” Anne winked, and the waiter came back for our wine orders, effectively putting an end to that conversation.

  TWO MINUTES INTO the second period of Game Four, Brenden Campbell had been out killing a penalty when he crashed awkwardly into the boards, and a few players from both teams fell on top of him. When he came out from the bottom of the pile, he was carrying his arm in a crazy position, which couldn’t be good news.

  Turned out he had pulled his shoulder completely out of
socket. He was done for the playoffs.

  Coach Bergstrom double-shifted a bunch of other players the rest of the game, especially those who normally played left wing—Nate’s natural position. In fact, the coach sent Nate out with the third line more than any of his other players. Nate came close to scoring a goal with Cooper’s help, but the Blackhawks goaltender snagged it at the last second.

  He ended up being the one with the shutout that night, sending the teams back to Portland for Game Five tied at two games apiece.

  I spent the flight home sleeping, my head resting on Nate’s shoulder while he read more of The Hunger Games. He started on the second book in the series before I drifted off. Neither of us had gotten much sleep over the last couple of nights, but he had at least taken his pregame nap this afternoon. I’d been busy editing film for Eye of the Storm while the team had their downtime—something I’d been doing more and more of in my so-called time off. There seemed to be no end to things to be done with this job, and it didn’t help anything that I was constantly changing my mind about things I’d thought I’d settled on already, as the narratives in front of me shifted. I was at once invigorated by my work and exhausted from it, but I wouldn’t have it any other way.

  Nate woke me as we landed, shaking out his arm once I straightened away from him. “It’s been asleep for the last hour,” he said in explanation.

  I yawned, covering it with my hand. “You should have shoved me off.”

  “Not a chance,” he said with a wink. “I only get so much time to hold you. Not going to give up even a minute of it if I have anything to say about it.”

  There wasn’t any good reason I could come up with to argue that point.

  He picked up my carry-on as well as his own as we left the plane. But instead of taking it to my car, he headed straight for his.

  I slowed down enough that he stopped and turned.

  “What? You’ve got a toothbrush in here, right?” He winked.

  “I do, but—” It was one thing to spend most of the night in a hotel room with him, when the lights were all out and I could sneak back to my own room before the sun came up. It was something else entirely to be with him all night at his house.