But as he approached the net, Carson skated next to him. “You have impeccable taste in one-night stands.”
Ben didn’t even tense. Really? The guy thought harassing him about his past was going to get him riled up? He handled the puck with ease as he circled the goalie’s net. Carson followed, but didn’t make a play for the puck.
“I mean, cheerleaders and clingy puck bunnies are one thing, but Olivia Davis…” He let out a low whistle.
Ben frowned, his shoulders tensing now. This guy knew Olivia? He skated to the front of the net, and dared a glance toward her. Her look of excitement—the anticipation of an upcoming goal—faded as another player stole the puck from him.
Fuck.
Behind him, Carson laughed. “She is distracting. If you like ball-busting attorneys with big tits and amazing legs…”
Ben swung around. “Watch yourself.”
Carson skated past with a shrug. “I’m just saying, good play, man—seducing the opposing counsel. I’ll keep that in mind next time I’m fighting against her in court. You’ll be done with her soon, right?”
Something snapped. Skating toward the bigger player, Ben dropped his stick and gloves simultaneously.
Carson’s face clouded, then the brawler, known for his on-ice fights, dropped his own gear and raised his hands.
Ben didn’t swing. Instead, he grabbed the guys’ jersey and pushed him up against the boards. “You don’t know what you’re talking about, so I advise you to shut it, man.”
Carson shrugged him off. “Fuck you, Westmore. We all see what you’re doing with her.” He grinned. “We think its genius. But you can drop the act now that your divorce is settled, right?”
He clenched his fist. “Another word. I dare you.” Ben’s calm, clear head had disappeared.
Carson loomed over him, challenge clearly accepted. “Let me ask you, does a woman like her prefer to be on top, or does she ever submit? I always wondered about that…” His dark, threatening gaze lifted past Ben to the stands and a disgusting grin appeared on his face. “Yeah, definitely let me know once you’re done with her.”
Ben’s right hook landed with precision on the taller man’s jaw, and he shoved his hip into him, crushing him to the boards once more as he threw a left that failed to connect.
“Well, fuck me—Ben Westmore’s got a girlfriend,” Carson taunted, seemingly unfazed by the shot.
The ref tried to separate them and the crowd was yelling “Fight!” as Ben delivered another shot.
This one was harder, and it erased any amusement from Carson’s face.
The blow to his own left cheek had him reeling from the impact, but instead of retreating, he moved in closer, using his hold on the guy to steady himself.
“Oh, she looks concerned,” he said. “Looks like someone might get to play nurse later…”
He moved back and swung again, but the ref grabbed his arm midair, dragging him away.
He struggled against the hold, and once free, the temptation to skate back toward Carson was overwhelming, but the game announcer was already announcing his two-minute penalty. Continue this petty schoolyard fight and he’d get five minutes. He couldn’t do that to his team.
He dove for his gloves and stick and removed his helmet as he skated toward the penalty box, ignoring the annoyed look from his coach and teammates, and the questioning one from Olivia. A look that also held a trace of admiration.
He smiled. That look made sitting in the box for two minutes just a little easier.
* * *
“You guys realize you’re on ice and not in a boxing ring, right?” Olivia asked, handing him an ice pack for his swollen cheek.
Ben rested his head on the arm of the couch, stretching his legs across the cushions. “Fighting is part of the game.” It wasn’t usually part of his game, but he’d made an exception. Luckily it hadn’t cost them the win. Only three possible games between him and the Stanley Cup.
Olivia sat on the edge of the sofa, and he took her hand in his, loving the comfort having her with him provided. He’d take a punch to the face every game if she was there afterward to nurse his injuries. The team had been going out after the game to celebrate, but he’d passed on what would normally have been an evening of debauchery to take Olivia back to his place. He’d been desperate to be alone with her since he’d seen her sitting in the stands.
“So, what was the deal with that number sixteen anyway? Carson, right?”
He nodded, but just shrugged. He was embarrassed that he’d let the idiot’s words get to him the way they had, and his rare flare of temper wasn’t the impression he wanted Olivia to have of him.
“I mean, neither of you even had the puck when the fight started.”
He looked away. “Sometimes guys run their mouth, and playoffs are intense. It’s harder to keep a cool head.”
“So, that was it? Just playoff bullshit?”
“Yup.” She had the bullshit part right.
She seemed to be thinking hard as she studied him. Then recognition registered on her face. “Oh, now I remember him—Dennis Carson, right?”
Shit. “Probably not the same one you know…” his voice trailed.
She nodded. “Oh, yes, it’s the same one, all right. I represented his wife in their divorce three years ago. Asshole,” she muttered. “I thought I was imagining the dirty looks he was shooting me when he skated past.”
“He’s a moron.” Ben suspected a strong, independent woman like Olivia wouldn’t be impressed by the macho display of his. He would probably get another punch if he came clean.
“That fight was about me, wasn’t it?” she asked.
Her expression was unreadable, so he hesitated. “What’s the right answer here? The one that will earn me a kiss?” Maybe he could flirt his way out of trouble.
She smiled and leaned toward him. Gently, she placed a soft kiss on his sore cheek, then another one on his lips, then she slapped his shoulder. “That fight got you a penalty, which led to the other team scoring. We almost lost the game.”
The pout on her pretty face and the half-hearted scolding was hot as hell. “We?” He pulled her hands, dragging her body toward him. Her hair fell onto his chest and he breathed her in. He’d missed the familiar scent of her hair and neck and body while he’d been away. He’d missed her. Their nightly Skype sessions had only made him want to be with her even more. Talking to her at the end of the day reiterated just how much he wanted her in his life. Needed her in his life. And the idea no longer frightened him. They had to talk. About them. About a future together. About the baby. They’d avoided any real heart-to-heart discussions, but that needed to change. He knew his reputation would make her reluctant to take a chance on them, and he wanted to prove to her that he was in this for the long haul. “Since when are you an official hockey fan?” he whispered against her lips.
“What can I say? Playoff fever is addictive.” She slid her arms around his neck.
He smiled. “That’s it? The only reason you’re attending the games and have an interest in the sport?”
She pretended to think. “Yup. That’s it.”
“It has nothing to do with how hot I look on the ice?” He moved his hands up her back, massaging her shoulder blades.
Her body relaxed and she closed her eyes. “Not at all.”
“Liar,” he said, his hands moving to the back of her neck.
She tossed her hair to one shoulder, giving him better access to her skin. “Okay, maybe seeing you out there is a little bit hot, but then, with these pregnancy hormones going crazy, I find the Chinese delivery guy hot these days.”
“That’s not nice. I can’t compete with a guy bearing food.”
“You could try,” she whispered, opening her eyes.
Removing the ice pack from his cheek, he set it aside. “How have you been feeling?” he asked.
Her dark eyes met his. “About us?”
He wanted an answer to that, too, but right now, he was wondering
about her. “With the pregnancy.” He didn’t know anything about these things, and he found himself wanting to know.
“I feel great. No morning sickness yet…” She looked away.
“What’s wrong?”
She smiled but it seemed forced. “Nothing…just…things are complicated.”
Understatement. But he was no longer afraid of complicated, and he wanted her to know that. Unfortunately, words and confessions of feelings weren’t something he was good at. Maybe he could show her. Show her how he felt. Give her the reassurance she needed, not through his words, but by his actions. Only time would really prove his intentions anyway.
Shifting their bodies, he laid her on the couch, hovering on his side next to her. He brushed her hair away from her face, tucking several loose strands behind her ear. “You are so amazing,” he said, letting his hand trail along the soft skin at her neck, then down across her chest, grazing lightly over the swell of her breasts visible above the cashmere. “Beautifully distracting…” He lowered his lips to her flesh where his hand had just been. “You can’t come to the games anymore.”
Taking his face in her hands, she lifted it to look at him. “Try to stop me.” She pressed her lips to his and he shifted his weight to lie on top of her.
“Is this okay?”
She nodded. “More than okay.” She ran her hands through his hair, love undeniable in her dark eyes. “I missed you while you were away.”
He swallowed. He’d told her being on the road was one of the reasons he didn’t believe in commitments…but while it had been hard being away, not having her to come back to would have been so much harder. “It’ll get easier…We can make it work.”
Her eyes widened and she opened her mouth to say something, but she kissed him instead.
All of the longing for her he’d felt in the last few days came immediately to the surface, and he returned her kiss—hard, desperate as though he needed her to feel everything he was. All the uncertainty, all the fear, all of the words he needed to say melted away in the passion of the moment.
Her fingers tangling in his hair, she held his mouth to hers. She needn’t worry. He was going nowhere.
He couldn’t remember the last time he’d made out on his couch. The same excitement and anticipation he’d had as a teenager about to get to second base surged through him, and his dick awakened from its semislumbering state. His tongue teased her bottom lip, and his teeth caught it. He bit gently.
She closed her eyes and moaned, arching her back so that there was no gap between their bodies as she gripped his shoulders.
His hands pressed against her hips, and he separated her legs with his. Settling himself between them, he felt his cock push against the fabric of his jeans. Jesus, he was already close. Kissing a woman was nothing new for him. Touching a woman, caressing her, seducing her had been part of his game for so long…but it was never like this. This time, he was the one getting played.
He knew it. He didn’t care. He was too far gone.
He rocked himself against her and she moaned again, holding the back of his head to keep his mouth from leaving hers.
He couldn’t drag his lips away even if he wanted to.
He slid his hands beneath her sweater, slowly moving upward until he felt the edge of her bra. God, he wished another wave of the sexual revolution would hit and women would burn these stupid things. All breasts deserved to be free, admired, and cherished. Especially hers. He forced his hands beneath the underwire and cupped the soft mounds, ignoring how the metal bit painfully into his flesh.
She laughed against his lips as she struggled to reach behind her back and unclasp the bra. “Better?”
“Much.” He lowered himself further, sliding the sweater and the loose bra upward as he took a nipple in his mouth. The hard little bud was delicious, smelling like honey and tasting as sweet. He sucked gently at first, then more eagerly.
“Ben…Oh my God, Ben…I’m going to come just from you doing that. They weren’t kidding about pregnancy sensitivity,” she said.
“Trust me, I don’t think it’s the pregnancy,” he murmured, sitting up slightly to display the full, hard erection. “Not unless I’m pregnant, too.”
She grabbed his shoulders and pulled him back down on top of her, moving her hips up and down against him.
The friction between their thighs was going to put him over the edge in no time. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d come in his pants.
Her movements grew frantic, and her eyes closed as her head fell back. “Ben, I’m going to come, and I don’t want to stop.”
Coming in his pants it was.
He pushed his hips against her even more and began his own rhythmic rocking, his hands massaging her breasts as he pressed harder against her…faster…His breath was labored as he lowered his mouth to her ear. “I can’t get enough of you, Olivia. You make me crazy for you…for your body…your mind…your heart…” He was spiraling out of control in so many ways. The emotions like a whirlwind through him, making him desperate for release.
Olivia moaned and clung to him. “Ben…Ben…” she whispered his name over and over.
“Come for me, baby,” he murmured, biting her neck as he pinched her nipples.
A second later she cried out as her body shook slightly beneath him. She held her breath for a long second as release took over, and then she sighed, content and spent.
Opening her eyes, she smiled at him.
Fuck. Nothing else put him over the edge like that smile. The one she seemed to save just for him. The one he’d come to crave as much as he craved her body. He pushed a final time and shuddered as his own orgasm wiped all coherent thought from his mind and he went limp on top of her. “Damn,” he muttered, feeling the wetness seep into the fabric at the front of his jeans.
She cradled his head into her chest and he glanced up at her. “Am I too heavy?”
“No,” she whispered, hugging him tighter. “Don’t go.”
“Never,” he said, kissing her gently. He waited for anxiety to appear after making a promise he’d vowed he’d never make again, but he felt only a silent determination to prove to her that he planned to keep it.
* * *
Lying in his bed hours later watching the sun come up, Olivia rested her head against Ben’s shoulder, loving the feel of his arm draped across her waist. In less than two hours, he had to be at the stadium for practice, she had to be in court, and neither of them had gotten a wink of sleep. She didn’t care.
Being with him was a feeling unlike any she’d experienced. No other man had ever looked at her the way Ben did. No one else’s touch had been both gentle yet passionate, comforting yet desperate. She was in love with him—smart or not, it no longer mattered. His words, or rather one simple word, the night before had sent her heart and hopes soaring. She knew she should keep her walls up, but he was making them come crashing down around her and she let them fall.
She no longer felt the empty, lonely void that had always been inside of her. With Ben, she felt like she had someone she could trust, someone she could count on…family.
She glanced at him to see if he was awake. He was, and he was staring out the window, a relaxed smile on his face. She didn’t need an explanation for the look; she felt the exact same way.
Propping herself up on one elbow, she pulled the sheet around her chest and asked, “So, when did you realize that you could make it to the NHL?” She imagined it was the dream of many kids, but there had to be a moment of realization along the way, when a kid knew they either had the potential to make it to the big leagues or not. A moment when they either worked harder to achieve their goal or acknowledged it wasn’t in their future.
“When I first picked up a hockey stick.”
She shot him a look. “Even you’re not that cocky.”
He laughed, pulling her back toward him. “You’re right.” Taking her hand in his, he stared at their entwined fingers. “I don’t know…I guess I started tak
ing it seriously when I kept making the A list teams, and I felt like it wasn’t fair to the other players who had to play against me. And I don’t mean that to sound as arrogant as it does. I just mean, I wanted to be challenged, and I never really was.”
“A natural-born athlete. Growing up, I hated people with your coordination.”
He grinned. “When I made the Major Junior team, I was advised to get an agent, and that’s when it hit me that this was real, that things were getting serious.”
“Major Juniors—so you were still a teenager?”
He nodded. “Fifteen.”
“An agent at fifteen—wow.” She knew hockey was a competitive sport for these athletes and that a lot of their lives were devoted to it if they were serious about turning their passion into a career, but she hadn’t realized how young it all started.
At fifteen, she was just trying to survive high school.
“Thank God for Peter, who’s still my agent today. Being the oldest and the first one to go after a pro athlete career, my parents didn’t know what to do to help me prepare for my future, so Peter’s been invaluable, as were the Harrison family, who I went to live with.”
“You were billeted?” Fifteen seemed so young to move away from home and give up friends and a familiar school, not to mention family. She knew how hard the transition had been on her when her parents died. Choosing it for his career must have been tough in a different way.
He nodded. “I had to decide if I wanted to take the Major Juniors path to the NHL or play college hockey once I graduated high school. Most guys were getting drafted through the Major Juniors, so that’s the way I went.”
“What did your parents think?” Ben was a success, and his choice had obviously been the right one, but she couldn’t imagine how nerve-wracking it must have been for his parents—the gamble he was taking on his future.
“They were supportive. They were nervous. So was I,” he said, giving her that rare glimpse into the vulnerable, real side of him, which was even more irresistible than the sexy, arrogant side.
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