by Meader, Kate
“This is … almost perfect.”
“Almost?”
She turned in his arms. “I need you now. Don’t think I can wait.” She would never make it through lunch without revealing her worries about her Selena Fabien problem. She needed to forget. To lose herself in sexual oblivion.
Stepping back, she slipped off her jacket and let it fall to the floor. Then she peeled off her sweater.
His eyes flew wide. “Mia. Christ, you look gorgeous.”
She wore a satin rose-pink bra, edged with lace, from the Beautiful collection. It was designed by Addison Williams, who was married to Ford Callaghan, one of the Rebels players.
“Sexier than a sports bra, I think.”
“You’re sexy whatever you wear.” He grazed his knuckles across her breasts, then cupped her with his rough palm. “Okay, gorgeous girl, let’s work up an appetite. Come on.”
Taking her by the hand, he led her to his bedroom, shutting the door behind him.
“Hold on.” He left, returning a minute later.
“What was that about?”
“Just putting some water out for Gordie Howe. Got to keep him distracted from all the moaning and whimpering he’s about to hear.”
He thought of her puppy? Hell, she hadn’t even thought of her puppy.
He walked her back to the bed, and pulled at her pants. “What did you need from me, Mia? Anything you want.”
She sat on the bed, removed her running shoes, then lay back on it. “I want to see what you’ve been doing to keep busy during Cal’s self-care time.”
“Really?”
She nodded, her mouth watering at the prospect. “Show me how you touch yourself.”
No slouch, he pulled at his sweat pants and pushed them down, revealing a very enticing bulge cradled by tight, black cotton. After removing his pants, he picked them up and turned to throw them over a chair, which meant she had a very nice view of his cotton-covered buns. This man’s butt was spectacular.
“That’s the stuff.”
He turned, grinning. “You like my ass?”
“Yes, Foreman. Yes, I do.”
Down came the boxer briefs and he turned, almost coquettishly, to reveal pure, unfiltered, unadorned Cal. The man was glorious.
“This what you want to see?”
Words refused to climb her throat. All she could do was nod. Nod again, because she wasn’t sure she’d nodded the first time.
He took himself in hand and gave one rough rub from base to tip. Oh, God, she’d made a terrible mistake. She shouldn’t have told him to demonstrate his self-care routine because now he was over there, about ten feet away and she was over here, dickmatized by his beauty.
Continuing his stroke, he said, “I need to tell you something.”
“What?”
“I’ve done this before.” His hand slid along the length of his cock, each stroke forcing the fleshy head to squeeze out a trickle of pre-come.
“I’d never have guessed.”
He dug his teeth into his bottom lip. “I mean, I’ve done it with you watching me. In my fantasies.”
“Really?”
“The morning after Hunt’s wedding, I woke up alone.”
“Whose fault was that?”
His smile was wicked. Oh, how she loved that smile.
“I usually have a rotating spank bank of fantasies but that morning, and pretty much every morning since, I could only see dark hair, gorgeous blue eyes, full, ruby lips. I could only hear you tearing me a new one for what I’d done. And still, it didn’t stop me. If anything, it made it better. Hotter. I wanted to fuck that saucy mouth of yours. I wanted to hear you telling me I was a Masshole so I could fuck you harder. I wanted to suck on your gorgeous tits, run my hands all over your strong, beautiful curves, and then drive inside you.”
She cupped between her legs and applied pressure there, anything to relieve the ache. He stopped stroking and squeezed the base.
“What are you doing? Why are you stopping?”
“Trying to make it last.” He took a few steps closer until he was at the side of the bed. “Push your breasts together.”
She did as he told her, enjoying the velvet weight in her hands, the luxurious sensation of this man watching her.
He kneeled one leg on the bed. “I need to touch you, Mia.”
“Yes.” Please.
Looming over her, he breathed hot air on her breast before taking her satin-covered nipple and sucking right though the fabric. Heat coursed through her, her skin tightening with each delicious motion. He raised his head, his eyes fluttering open and taking her in. One breast had popped out of its satin cage and he moved his thumb across the nipple, bringing it to a rosy pucker before applying his tongue, this time to naked flesh. Waves stirred in her core, a slow build to oncoming release.
Not yet. She wanted it to last.
“Cal, let me touch you.”
He drew back, giving her the perfect view of fully-aroused male. Starting at his shoulders, she mapped each muscle with her hands, from the perfect indentation along his collar bone to the dusky, dark nipple, slightly raised and sensitive to her touch.
She inclined her head and kissed, adding tongue, sucking at tasty patches of skin on his chest, his abs, the right wing of that beautiful V over his hip-bone.
“What do you like?” She felt stupid for asking, but Tara had said he was good at this. Good at dictating his needs in a way that made it seem like she would be the one blessed. Looking up, she found him staring, his gaze dark and hooded.
“What do I like?” The words emerged rough from his throat.
A slow nod from her.
He took her hand and placed it around him. So hard, yet smooth.
“Lick your hand, baby. Then stroke me like you mean it.”
She swallowed the saliva she needed to follow his instructions, worked up some more and did as told her.
His hips moved, thrusting into her hand, and she watched as the top of his cock bulged and moisture beaded with every pull. To know she was doing this, having this effect on him, made her a little crazy with the power.
He laid a rough, callused palm on her exposed breast and massaged until her nipple pebbled and all those streams of sensation activated again.
“Squeeze tighter. And faster, Mia.”
Together they watched as she stroked rhythmically, working him hard as his pre-come trickled over her fingers.
“Mia, Mia. Yes, that’s it.”
“Come on me, Cal.”
Surprise crossed his brow, and she wondered why. Surely he was experienced enough to have marked a woman’s body or maybe … she was coming off as crude, not like the women he’d been with before. Too forward. That’s what had gotten her into trouble in the first place—wanting to please a man by being up front about her desires. Not every guy liked that.
She aimed to make light of it. “Too much?”
“No, not at all.” He slipped his hand between their bodies and gripped his cock. “I love every word out of your gorgeous mouth. Never be afraid to ask for what you want. Never be afraid of wanting anything.”
The words were meant for the moment, but she took them inside her heart. She had been afraid for a long time and she was trying not to be any longer. Trying to be the self-rescuing princess, the heroine who propels her journey. First with her mission to get back to the top of her game, next with her love life.
“You seemed surprised.”
He groaned. “Only because …” The words petered out replaced with guttural moans, and now she was no longer interested in conversation either, only the physical and the now. The sight of the leaking fluid from his cock shouldn’t have been so arousing, but she couldn’t help her body’s reaction. Heat flourished through her, settling between her legs, calling for some kind of action.
In seconds, he was coming in ropy bursts across her stomach and breasts, a long moan erupting from his throat followed by her name. A surge of desire rose up inside her, the pea
k still slightly out of reach. She didn’t expect him to recognize the need, but he did. Those clever, rough fingers found that sweet, sensitive spot and tortured her clit for a few lovely strokes, teasing a corresponding climax from her sensitive flesh.
His mouth swept over hers and they kissed for an age, nuzzling and nibbling, getting to know each other better. She felt it with each kiss, another piece of information exchanged, another moment recognized. Another beat of her heart toward danger.
The man who shouldn’t mean a thing had suddenly become the man who meant everything.
* * *
They ate the sandwiches after, then cuddled up on the sofa and gave Gordie Howe the attention he’d been lacking during the last hour. Despite the physical closeness, Cal sensed something was off, a distance she was putting between them. He’d overdone it with the candlelit lunch and that was why she’d pressed the reset button and made it clear that sex was her primary reason for being here.
Not that the sex wasn’t amazing—it was—but he was finding himself craving more. The quiet moments, the spaces in between.
“Everything okay?”
She nodded against his chest, snuggled in closer.
“You’re happy with your Team USA news, aren’t you?”
“Of course. It’s exactly what I wanted.”
“Vadim’s over the moon about your spot.”
“I know. You are finally where you are meant to be.” Her impression of Vadim’s accent was flawless.
“He also warned me off you.”
“What?” She raised her head, her eyes wide.
“Just made sure I remembered that you were his kid sister. He’s protective. Understandably.”
“Why would he warn you? Did you say something?” She didn’t sound too pleased about the notion Vadim might suspect.
“No. But he saw me skate back over to you and he probably wonders if we’re getting close. He wants you to be happy and he likes to control things. He’s always felt bad he didn’t know you when you were younger.”
“I get that. The billions of rubles he gave me are proof that he feels bad. I didn’t even want that money.” She’d donated a ton of it to sports activist causes, especially ones that promoted girls and LGBT youth participation in sports.
“He can’t help it. I was there when he found out about you. That you needed his help.” Cal smiled, recalling Vadim’s reaction to learning about Mia. “The second he knew he was on a plane to see you. No hesitation. He’s been crazy about you ever since.”
“I know and I love him, too.” There was a sadness in her eyes that was soon evicted by determination. “But he needs to stop smothering me. If he ever found out about this, he’d be pretty mad at you.”
“Probably.”
She paused a moment then spoke, her words tentative. “Does that scare you? His reaction?”
“He’s a friend. I wouldn’t want to lose him as a friend.” If this was the no-strings fun she wanted then Vadim didn’t have to know, which is why what Cal said next made no sense at all. “But I don’t let other people run my personal life.”
Would you care if he knows, Mia? Would you stand up for me if he did, like I’d stand up for you?
He waited for her response, praying she’d give him a hint about what she’d like to see happen between them. The more he so obviously wanted.
“I wouldn’t want to come between you.” And there it is. He’d provided the out and she took it. “But to be honest, I’m a big girl and Vadim can just deal.”
“Just deal?” This felt important, a step toward recognizing this thing had legs.
“He needs to understand that he has no say over who I’m with. If he doesn’t like this, then he certainly won’t like—” She changed course. “He won’t like anyone I’m with.”
The mystery target. “Vadim knows this guy, the one you have your eye on?”
“My brother knows everyone.” She returned to laying her head against his chest, indicating this discussion was at an end. It was good to have it clarified. Any backbone she might show in response to her brother’s iron fist wouldn’t be in defense of Cal, but an assertion of her agency so she could be with this man she had her heart set on.
Cal was not, and would never be, Mia’s end game.
21
Mia grabbed her mango and pineapple smoothie from the counter and turned to find a familiar face.
“Ooh, you traitor!” Kennedy grinned at her and shook her head in what Mia assumed was mock disapproval.
“What? This is fruit. I can’t drink coffee 24/7.”
“I know, I know.” Kennedy raised her own plastic cup. “Woman cannot live on caffeine alone. Though without it I’d be useless.”
Kennedy had been a lifesaver helping with walking Gordie Howe now that Vadim was back to practice and Isobel was so busy. She usually stopped to chat when Mia and Tara met up at Starbucks, but Mia hadn’t had a chance to talk with her much one on one.
“Hey, are you doing anything now?”
“I’ve got a few minutes. Want to have a seat?”
They both sat at the juice bar counter and chatted about this and that. Kennedy was a woman of many talents—as well as her Starbucks job (for health insurance) and her dog-walking gig, she also modeled for an art class and taught yoga to seniors at the local community center. Mia listened in awe. It was nice to focus on someone else for a moment, though Kennedy was obviously good at turning the conversation away from herself, too.
“So you got your spot on Team USA,” Kennedy said, sucking on the dregs of her raspberry razzmatazz smoothie. “Aren’t you the superstar?”
“Hardly. But I will be heading to training camp in November. I’m hoping you’re available to help with my pupper.”
“Of course. Let’s get that sorted.” They both took out their phones, and that’s when Mia saw the Hockey for Everyone event on her schedule, only a week away. It wasn’t that she’d forgotten about Tommy or her plans. In fact, he’d left her a nice message of congratulations and told her they had to do that lunch. But these last few weeks since Biddeford had been a whirlwind of sneaking around to be with Cal in between his playing schedule. They no longer talked about her seduction scheme, and while Mia could pretend every time Cal touched her that she was learning something for her future with Tommy—the right guy—she wasn’t so sure anymore.
Kennedy frowned at her. “You look like you just realized you left the oven on.”
“Too much illicit sex.”
“Now we’re talking!”
“It’s kind of complicated.”
Kennedy looked sympathetic. “Hey, have you finally hooked up with that bruiser Tara was showing off a while back? Wasn’t that guy her ex or something?”
“Yeah, he was. I mean, she told me to go for it and I did and now … well, it’s not common knowledge.” She hadn’t told Tara. She hadn’t told Vadim or Isobel. She hadn’t told anyone anything and now, she was an ever-tightening coil waiting to unravel.
Kennedy grasped her hand. “Are you okay? You seem—I don’t know—stressed.”
“I shouldn’t be. Everything’s going according to plan.” She had spent two years focused on how to return to the sport she loved on her terms. She had spent six months building up the courage to make a play for Tommy Gordon, then recruiting the team she needed to make that happen. All the pieces were falling into place, those jagged shards of pain with the edges smoothed away by her stolen moments with … Cal.
Kennedy patted her hand. “Sometimes you can plan all you want, but it’s not what you want after all.”
Mia was astute enough to recognize that as a possibility—for other people. For now, she was right on track and these days, she felt closer to the person she was supposed to be.
If she kept telling herself that, she could surely make it true.
* * *
Cal opened the door to find Mia not in her usual garb of sweats. Today, she wore jeans, white Nikes, a checkered shirt, and a red puffer vest. C
ompleting the ensemble was a skateboard in her left hand and her dog’s leash in her right.
Okay.
Gordie Howe strained, so Mia let go and the little bundle raced past Cal’s legs into the apartment.
“Uh, hello, stranger.”
She grinned. “What’s up, Doc?”
What’s up, Doc? “Are you … holy shit, are you Marty McFly?”
“Happy Back to the Future Day!”
October 21, the day Marty first went back to 1955. Cal had told her that he usually watched the movies once a year and that she was welcome to join him. He would never have imagined she would go to all this effort. If he were to look in a mirror right now, he’d see the most foolish, sappy grin on his face.
Gripping the sides of her puffer vest, he yanked her toward him. “This is maybe not quite as weird as Marty making out with his mom, but it’s up there. I really want to kiss you, McFly.”
“Kiss away, weirdo. I won’t tell anyone.”
So he did, pouring all his emotion into it, loving that she didn’t hold back. She never did.
“I guess I’d better dig out my Doc Brown hazmat suit.”
Her eyes lit up. “You have one?”
“Nah. I’ve never taken it this seriously.” He shook his head, still grinning so hard his cheeks ached. “You’ve made my day.”
It had been a tough couple of weeks. Coach was experimenting with the first line, switching Cal and Durand out for shifts on the right wing. When Cal was out there, he did well, but he wasn’t out there enough. Barely three weeks into the season, and Durand was two points ahead of him on the board.
But Mia was still here. Still coming over for lunch. Still making him smile with silly texts and post-game check-ins while he was on the road. Still gathering intel to use with her romantic target.
They didn’t talk about him. But he was always there, a ghost between them, a metaphorical chaperone keeping them at a safe emotional distance. Knowing that she would eventually end this, not because Cal would engineer it as was his usual MO, but because she would soon realize Cal’s utility as a relationship mentor was both nonexistent and no longer useful, allowed Cal a certain measure of detachment.