Forbidden Puck: A Hockey Romance

by June Winters

  Gross. He's such a pervert. After tonight, I don't care if I ever see him again. I'll have to go out of my way to avoid him at Lance's … but it can be done. Oh, it can be done.

  Another stream of traffic passed, and still no taxi. I groaned.

  And then I thought I heard my name.

  “Ella!”

  But I didn't turn and look because I was sure I was imagining it. No one in this city knew me.

  Then I heard it again, closer, and this time followed by the hurried stride of an athlete in expensive leather shoes.

  “Ella! Hey! Ella!”

  I stopped and turned. It was him. Radar sprinted after me, his arm waving madly to grab my attention. A gush of relief displaced the bitterness in my heart, but I remained determined to keep him at a skeptical and healthy distance.

  This guy is just so full of mixed messages and he's fucking my head up.

  ***

  I don't know if he was expecting me to throw myself in his arms and have some romantic kiss like out of a movie, but once Radar caught up to me, the moment seemed to grow awkward. I stood with my arms folded and he doubled over, panting for breath.

  “Hey,” he said.

  “What are you doing here?”

  “I, uh.” Huff, puff. “I couldn't let you leave like that.”

  “Why not? That was the plan all along, wasn't it?”

  “Yeah, but …” Radar trailed off. He didn't have the words and that fact made him look briefly annoyed at himself. “Damn. Look, Ella, you're covered in goosebumps. I told you you'd be cold …”

  He took his suit jacket off in a hurry and held it out for me to put on. But I regarded the jacket, and the act itself, with suspicion.

  “Oh, come on, just wear my jacket,” he urged. “You're obviously cold.”

  It was true, I was freezing. Begrudgingly, I stepped forward, and Radar helped me into it. The jacket was still sizzling with his blistering body heat. I pulled the jacket tight over my chest and one final chill ran down my spine.

  “There,” he said. “How's that?”

  “Better. Thank you.” The smell of his cologne surrounded me, mingled with my senses, my thoughts. “Why are you here, though? Where's your hot babe?”

  “She's back at the club. I left her.”

  “Why?”

  “Really, Ella? Do I have to explain everything?”

  “Yeah, you do.”

  “Because you're our guest. And it didn't feel right, the way you left. Nothing about tonight felt right and I didn't want to leave you all alone in a strange city.”

  I huffed. “I told you, you don't have to worry. I can take care of myself. I can find my way home. I live in New York, remember?”

  “Yeah? You know you're walking in the wrong direction then, right, Miss Big City?”

  I gulped. “Er.”

  “Yeah. That's why it took me so long to catch up to you. I left almost as soon as you did, but I ran a few blocks in the other direction first.” Radar pointed 180 degrees in the opposite direction. “The condo is that-away.”

  “… My phone died,” I whimpered, feeling about two inches tall. “I don't have your guys' address memorized.”

  “Damn. Thank God I found you then.” Radar shook his head. “If I got you lost in the city? Lance would be right to kill me.”

  “So … what do we do now?” I asked.

  “We're gonna get you home.” Radar pulled out his phone and called for a cab. He gave them the address and hung up.

  “They said five minutes,” he told me.

  “Thank you.”

  The two of us passed the minutes rather silently. It felt like there was a lot we could both say in that moment, but no one had any desire to talk. Instead, we toed at the sidewalk and milled around in place. We watched the lights of traffic flying up and down the street. We stepped aside for the large and boisterous groups of bar and club-goers that roamed the sidewalk.

  Radar sidled next to me and let out a gentle breath. “Hey. What's on your mind?” he finally asked.

  I gave a short laugh and shook my head. “My mind's fried.”

  He gave a nod. “Yeah. I hear you. Same.”

  I thought that was an invitation to ask. “What's on your mind?”

  He shook his head. “I shouldn't say.”

  This time, I wasn't tempted to convince him otherwise.

  But then Radar blew out a breath. “To hell with it, I'm just going to say it: I had a fun time with you tonight, Ella. Like, an actual good time. Once you left? I just looked at Kara, and like … I dunno. I didn't even know what happened. It all happened so fast. I just didn't want you to leave. I shouldn't even say it, but—” He grit his teeth. “I like you, Ella. I know I'm not supposed to, but I do.”

  My mind knew better, but the heart was always a fool. My heart pumped and churned with waves of warmth, and good vibes flowed outward through my whole body.

  He neared confidently, a man on a mission. He pulled me against his warm body and nestled me tightly. I didn't look up. He tried to stroke the hair out of my face but I let out a short burst of laughter and turned away. “No. Don't. Don't even.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because you're drunk and you're acting ridiculous, Radar.”

  “How am I ridiculous?”

  “You know you shouldn't touch me like that.” I planted my hands against his hard stomach and shoved, separating us. “You know nothing good can come out of this. Only bad.”

  He nodded gravely, guiltily. “I know.”

  With brakes squealing, our cab slowed to a stop at the curb in front of us. Radar held the door open for me.

  “And the only reason you like me,” I told him as I climbed into the cab, “is because you can't have me.”

  He didn't deny it.

  Chapter 15

  Alone

  Ella

  Radar gave the cabbie our address and the car rolled forward. The only sound was the hum of the road below us and the quiet whisper of the radio. Disappointment was in the air. It was Radar's, not mine. While he silently suffered the sting of rejection, I was certain that I'd done the right thing.

  We were nearly home when Radar broke the silence.

  “Y'know,” he began in a low, gritty growl. “It's not because I can't have you.”

  I buried my face in my hands and laughed. I couldn't believe he was seriously going to try to argue with me over this …

  “I don't believe you,” I muttered.

  “I don't want to like you, Ella. But you're not like any other girl I've ever met. I can't help it.”

  I noticed the cabbie's eyes dart into the rear-view mirror and watch us with a hint of amusement. I'm so glad we could be your drunken late night entertainment, sir.

  “Don't you get it? You're used to being able to sleep with any girl you want—any girl but me, that is. What you like is that I'm this forbidden fruit, this best-friend's-little-sister taboo that would wreck your life if you dared to touch me. Ryan, you're just after trouble. You don't even know your own self well enough to know that, but I do, so you should listen to me.”

  One look at him and I knew my pleas had fallen on deaf ears. His irises seared into mine. Telling him no had only stoked the embers of his interest, and now he was consumed with burning desire. I knew he wasn't used to hearing a girl mouth the word 'no', in fact, those two letters might be the most powerful aphrodisiac the athlete had ever sniffed in his entire life.

  But the way he looked at me, with such brash and undying interest, made my head woozy and my thighs throb.

  “You felt it, Ella. Back at the club and last night, too. I could see it in your eyes. We've got something, even if neither of us wants to admit it.”

  My heart began to race and I didn't say a word. I knew damned well what he meant. And thanks to the heat rushing into my cheeks, I was sure that he could see it in my face, even in the dark backseat of the cab. I knew he still wanted that kiss. And I knew that he was going to come for me soon, and I ha
d better be committed to fending him off.

  “I wanted to kiss you,” he began, “and you wanted me to kiss you, too.”

  “No …” I panted.

  But he cupped my face with his titan hand, so huge and so strong, yet so gentle. “I mean, trouble is kinda hot, isn't it?”

  “Ryan … don't … we're almost home—”

  But he stroked a lock of hair out of my eyes, and my stomach fluttered and hell, maybe he was right, maybe trouble was hot, because the next thing I knew? I'd closed my eyes and surrendered to him, waiting for his kiss.

  Part of me stubbornly screamed, um, hello, this is still a bad idea! But the other part of me was far too curious to see where this could go … but when Ryan's mouth grazed mine, any thoughts about this being a bad idea were immediately snuffed out of existence. His lips touched mine like sweet and silky rose petals brushing against my lips. I was surprised. Who would have guessed that the hockey tough guy, the awful playboy, could be so soulful with his embrace? I didn't kiss him back so much as I opened for him, as if I never had any choice in the matter, and my lips melted into his mouth.

  My insides twisted and knotted as I kissed Ryan in the backseat of that cab. I liked it, I liked it a lot, and I lost any sense of time—but with each kiss going deeper, and with a throbbing between my legs, I remembered again, with conviction, that yes, this was indeed a bad idea. I didn't trust myself. I wanted to lose my virginity, after all … and yes I found Ryan gorgeous … but that did not make any of this appropriate or smart.

  I planted my hands on Ryan's chest and pushed, separating our lips.

  He looked at me, his brows raised, “no?”

  “No,” I said, shaking my head solemnly. “I'm sorry, but we shouldn't.”

  The cabbie cleared his throat. “Ahem.”

  I looked out the window. We were already stopped outside Lance and Ryan's building, and come to think of it, the car hadn't moved in some time.

  “For God's sake, how long were we here for?” I asked.

  “I didn't want to interrupt the first kiss, miss,” the driver answered in a heavy Boston accent.

  I groaned. “Oh, how kind of you.”

  Ryan paid the cabbie, and we hopped out, and then the two of us waited for the elevator in the lobby.

  My mind was swamped with worries about what waited for us at the condo: would Lance be waiting on the sofa, in total darkness, like your parents would back in the high school days when they knew you'd snuck out and went to a party? Was Lance just waiting for us to sneak in, so he could surprise us and ask in an ominous tone, 'so, what were you two up to tonight?'

  The elevator arrived. We stepped on and rode it up to the top floor in a sort of stunned silence. I didn't dare look at him. I was too afraid he'd just suck me right back in … and I was still too damn worked up over that kiss.

  “Shit!” I gasped, remembering I was still wearing his jacket. “Thanks for this, but you better take it back.” I hurriedly took it off and handed it back.

  “Good thinking,” he said.

  That's when I noticed the red paint of my lipstick on Ryan's lips. I wiped it off with the tip of my finger, swearing under my breath about how stupid and screwed we were.

  Ryan broke into a grin.

  “You think it's funny?” I asked him.

  “Sorta.”

  “It's not.” I held my breath and gave myself a nervous once-over. “How do I look?”

  “Beautiful.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Oh, God. Stop it. You know what I meant.”

  With a ding, the elevator reached our floor. Ryan unlocked the door to the condo and I stepped in, holding my breath. The condo was dark, just like I'd imagined in my dreaded nightmare scenario—but after Ryan flipped on the light, I let out a quiet sigh of relief. Lance wasn't on the couch. I took off my heels and quietly tip-toed down the hallway. Lance's bedroom door was wide open, and the room was empty. He wasn't home.

  Whew.

  “Looks like Lance never made it home,” I said.

  Which, of course, means that the two of us are alone.

  With several feet separating us, I stared at Ryan and he stared at me. A silence and a tension filled the space between us. Just look at him. Even after a night of drinking and dancing, he still looked so damn handsome, so sharp and put-together in his suit …

  I sighed.

  “What's wrong?” he asked.

  “This is the part of the night where, instead of going to bed, you try to make one last move on me, isn't it?”

  Ryan chuckled. “It's like you've read my game-plan.”

  “Oh, I've lived it.” But I wasn't sure I'd have the willpower to stop him. “Don't you guys have a game tomorrow?”

  He neared with purpose. “We do.”

  “You're going to get us caught,” I whimpered. I backed away from him until I was against the sofa's arm rest. “Shouldn't you go to bed? Won't you be tired for your game tomorrow?”

  “I might be.”

  Trapped between the sofa and Ryan, I hopped on the arm-rest. He neared, his huge body pressing against my legs, until I spread them open and let him in.

  He gently brushed the tip of his thumb over my lips, reigniting the fire in my belly. “Just one good night kiss?”

  With Ryan's body heat pulsing between my thighs, I was down to my last line of defense.

  “If only you would've gone home with that girl. Forget a good night kiss, you could've been getting laid right now, Radar.”

  He lifted my chin with his big hand and raised my eyes to his. “Enough about her. She's not what I want.”

  “What do you want?” I stammered, gently squeezing my legs against his rear.

  “You. You're so fine, Ella.”

  “… Ryan,” I muttered softly.

  He leaned in and kissed me. Just as gently, just as perfectly as he had in the back of that cab. I moaned as he kissed me, knowing the next kiss would only be deeper, hotter—

  But there wasn't a next kiss. I opened my eyes to see Ryan pulling back with a devious glint in his eye.

  “I said, 'just one kiss'.”

  “Ugh,” I grumbled, “that's just cruel.”

  I grabbed him by the lapels of his suit jacket, whipped him around, and gave him a shove. The big man bowled over the armrest and crashed into the cushions of the couch.

  On his back, Ryan looked at me and laughed. “I knew you had a thing for trouble.”

  I leaped over the armrest and landed on him.

  “Yeah, yeah, save it.” I ran my hands over the mountainous pecs that bulged beneath his Oxford. “You're lucky you're so jacked.”

  He put his hands on my hips and held me in place. “It's not luck at all. It's a lot of hard work and time spent in the gym.”

  “Shut up and kiss me.”

  I leaned in, my finger-tips grating against the coarse grit of his stubble, and pressed my lips lightly onto his. I kissed him modestly, savoring the humble little pops and wet smacks of our innocent lip-locking.

  Ryan's manly desire quickly grew. He needed to kiss me deeper, but I enjoyed only letting him have a taste. Since he'd wanted to torture me with his 'just one kiss' gimmick, it was only fair to return the favor. I was wondering how long I could tease him like this, until—

  Ryan grabbed my hair, bunching up a ponytail in his fist, and pulled my head back.

  “I know what you're doing,” he growled, his breath hot on my exposed neck.

  He planted his lips on my neck and sucked. I let out a moan, my whole body going limp, a sudden heat radiating between my thighs …

  In one fast and powerful move, Ryan flipped me over. He was on top now, on all fours like a wild animal, his pupils darkened with lust. I clung to his sexy forearms, so thick and muscular and hairy, and writhed beneath him.

  His eyes on mine, Ryan lowered himself onto me until I was smooshed between his solid mass and the couch cushions. I'd never felt so perfectly content to be crushed—he was so much man, so warm and big and stur
dy. It only felt natural to submit to him.

  He gripped my hair lightly and pulled me tighter to him. And then he kissed me, the way he wanted to kiss me; wild, hungry and dominant.

  “Ryan,” I panted breathlessly, my tone uncertain. He was a wonderful kisser, and if we were going to stop before we got too carried away? Now was the time.

  But he silenced me with his tongue, and we moved together, tongues circling, pushing, pulling, an intimate dance that grew closer and more passionate with each movement. With each kiss, we sank deeper into the couch, deeper into each other. His large hands cupped and squeezed at my breasts, and my knees weakened.

  I could feel him, quickly growing in his pants as the two of us gently rocked back and forth against each other. He was huge, big and long, bigger than any guy I'd ever felt. The presence of his rock-solid arousal against me made my pussy clench and throb.

  “I can feel you, Ryan,” I moaned in his ear. “You're so big and hard.”

  But after mentioning his manhood, a seriousness gripped Ryan. He pulled himself back, a sober look in his eye.

  “What? What's wrong?” I asked.

  “I—I don't want to make you do anything you don't want to do.”

  Wow. I'd never heard those words from a guy before. Ever.

  We stared at each other, wondering what came next.

  “It's okay,” I said at last. I grabbed his hand and lowered it to my thigh. “We can do other things?”

  The pads of his fingers climbed my legs, painting long, torturous lines up my inner-thighs. When he reached my crotch, I was more than ready for him—I needed him. Delicately, Ryan stroked the crotch of my panties. He let out a growl, thick and throaty and full of conflicted desire.

  “You're dripping wet, Ella.”

  Driven wild by my wetness, Ryan pressed himself closer against me. He shoved his tongue into my mouth, and his thick hand slid under my panties. His skilled fingers caressed my bare flesh and neared my folds.

  His voice was dry, coarse, demanding. “I need to taste you.”

  With my pulse thumping in my neck, I nodded.

  And I watched as Ryan slithered off the couch and onto the floor.