Body Check

by Deirdre Martin

  “Nice place.”

  “Glad you like it. Now tell me why you didn’t call.”

  “I’ll tell you when you put your glasses back on.”

  “I told you, I don’t need my glasses except for reading.”

  “Bull, you’re squinting at me like Mr. Magoo. How many fingers am I holding up?”

  Janna angrily folded her arms across her chest. “Sorry, I’m not playing this game.”

  “How many fingers?”

  “Fine,” Janna huffed. She squinted harder and craned her neck forward. “Two.”

  “Wrong. Three. Put ’em back on, Janna. They’re not as bad as you think.”

  “That’s easy for you to say, you don’t wear glasses.”

  “Yeah, I do. I wear contacts most of the time, just like you. Now put ’em back on.”

  Sighing, she donned her glasses, the world springing back into Technicolor.

  “Better?” he asked.

  “Yes,” she was forced to admit. “Now tell me why you didn’t call.”

  “Because I thought you might not talk to me.” He paused. “That you’d even hang up on me.”

  Her gaze was steady. “Why would I do that?”

  “You were pretty upset last night. I think we need to talk.”

  “Yes, I think we do,” Janna agreed. She was about to ask him if he wanted to follow her into the kitchen when he began moving in that direction himself, his head and shoulders thrown back in a relaxed gait, revealing a man used to assuming he owned whatever space he entered. Cocky bastard, Janna thought.

  He paused in the entrance to the kitchen, inhaling deeply.

  “Mmm, what’s that smell?”

  “Chocolate cake.” Janna squeezed past him. The way the man filled up a doorway! “I’m going to frost it in a few minutes.”

  “Smells great.” He remained in the doorway, taking in the room. “Nice kitchen. Homey.” He directed his gaze to where she stood by the counter, once again checking the cake. “You like to cook?”

  “Yup.”

  “Huh,” he said thoughtfully.

  “What does that mean?”

  “What does what mean?”

  “ ‘Huh.’ What does ‘huh’ mean?”

  “It means,” he started slowly, his deep-set brown eyes irresistibly drawn to the bald chocolate cake, “that I never figured you for a cook.”

  “Huh,” Janna repeated back in the same tone. What did he figure her for, a fast food junkie? He’d managed to tear his eyes away from the cake and was now glancing longingly at the coffee machine atop the faded blue Formica counter. “You want a cup?” she offered blandly. I could spill it on your lap if you’d like.

  He smiled appreciatively. “Coffee would be great.”

  She could feel his eyes watching her as she padded in her thick, woolly socks across the small, rectangular room, reaching high above her to extract a mug from the cabinet above the stove. She turned to the coffee machine on the counter and began pouring.

  “Lou told me there was some family problem last night and that’s why you left.”

  Janna stiffened. Damn Lou and his big fat mouth.

  “Is everything okay? Your brother?”

  “My brother”—she opened the fridge and held a quart of skim milk aloft, to which he nodded yes—“is okay now.” She poured the milk in his mug then returned the carton to the fridge. “He wasn’t last night.”

  “What happened, if you don’t mind me asking.”

  “I do, actually, but since you seem genuinely concerned, I’ll tell you.” She handed him his mug on her way back to the kitchen table, sliding into a seat. Ty remained standing, leaning against the doorjamb.

  “To make a very long, very boring, very complicated story short, my parents have an awful marriage, and fight quite a lot. Last night was a doozy. Liquor flowing, plates flying . . . you get the picture. Wills called and asked me to get him out of there, which I gladly did. Unfortunately, though, I had to bring him back this morning, so he wouldn’t miss school.” She took a sip of coffee. “That’s it.”

  “Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine,” said Janna a bit sharper than she would have liked. “I didn’t get much sleep last night, but apart from that, I’m okay.”

  “Family stuff can be rough,” Ty observed sympathetically.

  “You have a family? I always got the impression you were spawned from a test tube. You never, ever mention them in interviews.”

  “No reason to,” Ty replied. “They’ve got nothing to do with hockey.” He took a quick gulp of coffee. “Wills is lucky to have you.”

  “Yes, he is. But you didn’t come over here to talk to me about Wills.”

  “Yeah, I did, partially.” He sauntered over to the table and slid into the chair opposite her, his large hands clasped around the mug as if for warmth. Janna could see he was tired. “When you weren’t at practice this morning, I got worried, especially with the way you ran out of the dinner last night.”

  “How was the dinner last night?” Janna asked facetiously. She knew she was treading on thin ice, but she couldn’t help it. The imp of the perverse was now screaming in her ear, goading her on. “You and Skyler have fun? Sky and Ty . . . I wonder if that’s what the papers will start calling you. ‘Sky and Ty were seen dining at Nobu last night.’ ‘Look who’s sitting courtside at the Knicks game—it’s Sky and Ty.’ ”

  “You know, I wish you wouldn’t act like that,” Ty said quietly. “It’s beneath you.”

  Janna could feel her face burning with humiliation at his rebuke.

  “Can we talk? Sans the bullshit—the way we did in the bar last week? Is that possible?”

  “Sure,” Janna murmured, on her guard after being put in her place. “You start.”

  Ty considered his words carefully. “I meant what I said the other day when you were reading me the riot act outside the locker room. I do play my guts out on the ice every night, and in my opinion, that’s all I’m required to give, or willing to give.”

  “But.”

  “But one of the things you should know about me is that I don’t like to let my friends down, especially friends who are downright begging me for my help, the way you were.” He took a long, slow sip of coffee. “That’s why I showed up last night. Not to throw those pigs at Kidco a bone. I came because I wanted to help you out. Period. End of story.”

  “And I appreciate that,” Janna returned sincerely, feeling let down at his choice of the word friend. She rose to get the can of frosting and a spatula from the counter. “But I really do wish you had let me know you were coming so I could have played up the publicity a bit more.” She glanced back at him, nearly keeling over from shock when she saw he actually looked contrite.

  “Sorry about that.”

  “Well, I am too.” She ripped the lid off the can of frosting and moved back toward the cake, which sat on a cooling rack on the opposite counter. “Maybe next time you’ll give me some advance notice.”

  “Hey, there’s not gonna be a next time, remember? You said that if I helped you on this you’d never bug me for anything again.”

  “I lied.” She dug the spatula deep into the rich, gooey frosting and carefully, so as not to rake the top spongy layer off the cake, began frosting. “I have to bug you, you know that,” she continued. “It’s what Lou hired me to do.”

  “Right,” he said glumly. He rose from the table and came to where Janna was standing. “Need some help?”

  “No, thank you. I can manage on my own.” She waited for him to sit back down, but he didn’t. Though outwardly she felt perfectly in control, in truth his proximity was taking its toll on her, the sheer male warmth coming off him making her feel lightheaded. “So,” she asked casually, “how long have you been seeing my sister?”

  She glanced up just in time to catch him clenching his jaw.

  “I’m not seeing your sister. She gave me her number at some restaurant and I called because I didn’t want to walk into the United W
ay bash alone. End of story.”

  “So you’re just sleeping with her.”

  “Jesus Christ!” Ty exclaimed, losing his famous temper. “I am not sleeping with her! I don’t want to sleep with her! I want to sle—”

  He stopped. Janna froze, her hand involuntarily tightening around the spatula. She closed her eyes for a moment, swallowing. She could feel her heart banging against her ribs, could feel the charged air in the kitchen swirling around them. For a split second, it seemed as if the room itself were gently vibrating, so intense was the power of the unspoken emotions between them. She waited for Ty to speak, longed for him to either leave or grab her and turn her around to him. But he did neither. Instead, he reached out, and gently prying the spatula from her hand, laid it down on the counter.

  “You’ve got frosting on your finger,” he said quietly.

  Janna forced her eyes open and made herself turn to him. Their eyes locked as Ty reached out for her hand and slowly, deliberately, took the offending chocolate coated index finger into his mouth and gently began sucking. Janna drew a sharp breath. What was he doing? She watched, fascinated, as he took each of her remaining fingers into his mouth, kissing, licking, sucking them in turn, his actions tender yet provocative, her body beginning to tremble ever so slightly as the pleasure of it snaked its way through her system like fine brandy, heated but mellow.

  Warmth began percolating deep within her—slow, honeylike. No one had ever done this to her before. No one had ever done something so simple that aroused in her such feelings of want.

  “Ty.” Her body was humming with energy now, an energy born of equal parts fear and desire. Feeling weak, she gripped the kitchen counter. “I think—”

  “I know.” He opened her hand and kissed her palm deeply. “I should leave. But I’m not going to. I want you, Janna.”

  Her legs nearly gave way then. To hear those words actually spoken—words she’d fantasized about, words she was convinced this man would never, ever speak about her—made her head swim. She leaned against the counter with a half gasp of disbelief.

  “Janna? You okay?”

  She nodded, unable to speak, though a low, feral moan escaped from the confines of her throat. Hearing it, concern faded from his eyes, and in its place came blind, reckless arousal, her moan the sign of acquiescence he’d clearly been waiting for. He whipped off her glasses and crushing her to him, covered her mouth with his, his kisses desperate, ravenous. Janna felt her grip on the counter slipping, saw a million blazing colors explode behind the closed lids of her eyes as they nipped excitedly at each others lips, body pushing into body in an animal longing to meld, to become. My God, how she longed to have this man. Here. Now. Longed to feel those hard, rippled muscles of his burning beneath the touch of her fingers. Wave upon wave of restless desire surged through her as he roughly explored the terrain of her body with his hands, her own hands groping, wanting, grasping. Clinging to each other, they staggered their way toward the white refrigerator. Ty had her up against it now, and lifting her ever so slightly, pinned her with his body.

  “Janna,” he murmured into her throat, his mouth fevered as he showered the tender skin there with hot, swift kisses. Greed for him overtook her, and she clutched at him, her fingers twining through his blond hair, her moans matching the demands of his mouth, goading him on to explore her further, lift her higher.

  His hands, which he’d cupped around her buttocks, slid silently to the waistband of her sweats. And then, in one swift movement, he yanked them and her panties down. Janna gasped loudly, the shock of it shivering straight through her, making her giddy. Her garments pooled around her ankles, she eagerly kicked herself free of them. Grabbing his face, she kissed him with an abandon so ferocious his breathing became ragged and strained. Yes, was all Janna could think. Yes. Now. Please.

  Reading her mind, he tore his mouth from her flesh. “Wrap your legs around me,” he whispered urgently.

  Shuddering with anticipation, she slowly slid her left leg up along his denimed thigh. She saw his eyes glaze over, felt him struggling for control in the wake of this simple yet effective form of caress. Pleased, she repeated the motion on the right, encircling his waist with her legs. “Don’t worry,” he promised as his hand slowly moved to cup her between her legs, “I won’t let you fall.”

  Yet that’s exactly what she was doing—falling through clouds, through wet forests, through depths of deep azure ocean as his fingers reached down between the cleft of her thighs and expertly began teasing her. Good, so good, the layers of desire building, her body arching and tightening as her eyes fluttered closed and her nails sunk deep into the hard flesh of his shoulders.

  “God,” she half sobbed, breath clogging her lungs. She could feel herself going slick and wet beneath his touch, her body going taut as a bow as he continued stroking deeply, taking his time.

  “I can tell you’re really hating this,” he teased.

  “Despise it.”

  “Tough,” he growled, pushing his erection hard against her.

  Another gasp escaped her throat, this one of a woman swept close to the brink. The need to touch him in return, to feel that broad expanse of perfectly sculpted flesh that was his chest, overwhelmed her. She released her hands from the golden tangle of his hair and yanking his sweater free from where it was tucked into his jeans, shoved her hands up beneath it, palms flat to his chest. His skin was burning, the iron muscles hard, almost steeled. Janna reveled in teasing him, felt icy hot pinpricks of delight hiss through her as his shallow breathing filled her ears the longer she kneaded and stroked. Her hands continued their roaming, fingertips occasionally dipping below the waistband of his briefs to lightly brush and tease the flesh below.

  These small, feathery movements brought forth a savage male groan of appreciation. Janna could feel his desire to possess her rip through him. Wanting to match her, or perhaps surpass her, his fingers between her legs began moving faster. Janna’s sense of herself began melting as he brought her ever closer to toppling off the edge of the known universe. Her world faded to white mist; there was only this, now, the all-consuming drive to devour and be devoured in return. She rocked against him, arched, stretched, reaching with her body, so close, almost there. . . .

  “Tell me what you want,” he growled.

  “You,” she gasped. “You deep inside me. You.”

  He unzipped his jeans and freed himself. They were both on the verge now, the frenzied need between them almost unbearable. She opened her eyes briefly to address the inevitable question in his, whispered to him she was on the pill, closed them again. His hands came to her hips, and then he lowered her, slowly and with great care, down onto his erection.

  The perfection of the fit startled her. Blood roared through Janna’s head as he began moving her up and down on him, her own hips pumping wildly, driving him on, wild desperation tearing through her.

  “Now,” she cried out hungrily. “Now. Now!”

  Ty groaned, and dropping to his knees with her still wrapped around him like a second skin, laid her down on the tiled floor of the kitchen. His head came up once, looking into her eyes to double-check this was what she truly wanted. And when he saw she meant what she said, he plunged—hard, deep, burying himself within her just as Janna demanded, her own shocked cries of mind-lashing pleasure ringing in her ears as he hammered her again and again until she peaked, senses crackling and sizzling. Never had a man driven her to the extreme edge like this before. Never had she been so willing to blindly follow the map of her own desire.

  Mind still reeling, she reached up and linked her fingers through his, folded their joined hands into fists. “Now you,” she commanded. A wave of appreciation swept over his face as he smiled down at her languidly. Then he was off, eyes closed and body working, dipping in and out of her with expert, rhythmic strokes that began coming faster and faster. Janna arched to meet him each time, tightened the grip of herself around him in a delirious dance that could only end one way. Fin
ally he came, the explosive release of his climax sending a long, shuddering sigh through his solid body, and through Janna who lay quivering beneath him, grateful, sated, and utterly amazed at what had just transpired.

  CHAPTER 07

  The silence of the kitchen sang in Janna’s ears, though it had only been a few seconds since she and Ty finished their lovemaking. Lying beside him, holding his hand while they both regained their breath, it occurred to Janna that if anyone walked in right now, what they’d see would be two sweaty, panting adults stretched out on a white tiled floor, staring up at a ceiling fan—which needed dusting—with their pants off. The image made her giggle, provoking an uneasy look from Ty, whom, she thought, probably wondered if his prowess was the source of her amusement.

  “What?” he asked.

  “I hope we’re not on Candid Camera, because this is one image I would not want beamed out into millions of living rooms.”

  Ty chuckled appreciatively and pulled up his trousers, prompting Janna to locate her sweats and do the same. Erogenous zones now safely covered, he rolled onto his side toward her, his head resting on his open palm as he propped himself up on one elbow, his free hand gently grazing her cheek.

  “That was amazing.”

  Janna sighed. “I know.” She turned to look at him. “Did you mean what you said a few minutes ago? About wanting me? Or is that something you say to—”

  His fingers stilled her lips before she could finish. “I meant it. Why do you think I went after you at the gala last night? I didn’t want you to think I was seriously involved with your sister.”

  “Because you knew I had a crush on you and you didn’t want me to be hurt, or because you had a crush on me and thought it might ruin your chances with me if I thought you were seeing Skyler?”

  “Grown men don’t get crushes, okay?”

  “Just answer the question, Gallagher.”

  His gaze was frank. “Both.” He paused. “But . . .”