by Teagan Kade
I slowly and carefully spread my thighs knowing it would reveal more, but to hell with it. Let him look. Let him see.
It was, quite simply, exquisite having his hands on me, so near, so close to my core.
He took his time and I was happy to let it march on. My surroundings started to blur together and the ever-present need for sleep began to take over again when I noticed Scott had stopped.
I looked back to see him collecting the jars and standing. “You’re finished?” I queried.
“You need ice now. Have you got something you can change into?”
I nodded and he smiled in return. “I’ll get the ice. Come back when you’re ready.”
Scott left the room and I managed to pull myself up, rearranging the towel.
In the ceiling-to-floor windows in front of me I could see myself and the goofy grin on my face. Because if that was the kind of treatment I was going to receive after every practice session, I’d be more than happy to cop whatever the boys threw my way.
My skin, especially around my ribs and lower back, was warm and tingly. The rubs were definitely doing their job, but warmer still was that spot high between my legs — wet and warm and in need of something more than a jar of cream.
I made my way to my room and quickly rummaged through my clothes for whatever would bare the most skin possible.
I settled on a tank and short shorts — items of clothing completely unsuited to the environment here, or outside, at least.
Scott’s eyebrows lifted when I entered the lounge again. “Well, well,” he said, “if it isn’t Daisy Duke.”
“Ready, Rosco,” I replied, winking.
Scott gestured to the lounge and I took up the same prone position as before.
The ice packs were laid out on the coffee table.
“It’s going to bite a bit at first,” Scott warned.
“I’m good.”
He wasn’t wrong. Every time a pack was pressed into place, I softly shuddered. It had been such a strange mix of sensations here tonight — of pain and pleasure, hot and cold, dry and… wet.
The packs against my ribs were the worse. Scott helped bring my arms up onto the sofa by my sides, holding the ice in place. Packs on my calves and thighs, back and shoulders — I felt like a loaded mule, albeit a rather cold mule.
Done, Scott dimmed the lights and sat on the coffee table across from me, simply watching and nothing more.
And there, his eyes on me, I fell into a deep and welcome slumber.
CHAPTER TEN
RAE
I woke groggy and disorientated. I moaned and shifted, the ice packs sloshing in response.
It all came back — the hits, practice, Scott and his healing hands.
I tried my best to look around, but the lights were off and the room was close to pitch black if not for the city lights twinkling outside.
Slowly, my eyes began to adjust. A form started to emerge, though it took me some time to work out that blurry blob ahead was actually Scott sleeping on the sofa opposite, one hand tucked under his bicep as a makeshift pillow.
I shifted again and a couple of the ice packs slid off onto the floor.
It was enough to wake Scott, who jumped upright, startled and searching for the source of the sound.
His eyes, incandescent in the low light, locked onto me and I’m sure even in the darkness I saw a growing smile there. He was pleased to see me, and I had to admit the feeling was mutual.
He was over to me in seconds, whisking the ice packs off and placing them neatly on the coffee table.
Free of the ice packs, I had to admit I was feeling a lot better. I wasn’t ready to go for a midnight run, but a great deal of the stiffness and tenderness had abated. And it was all thanks to Scott. Without him I’d still probably be crumpled up on the step downstairs. Heck, without him I wouldn’t even have had a place to stay or a roof over my head.
Scott’s voice was gravellier than normal when he spoke. “Do you think you can stand?”
“I think so,” I replied meekly.
“Here, I’ll help you.”
Scott hooked his hand under my arm and slowly, together, we lifted from the sofa to my feet. I was still stooped over like some sort of Quasimodo robo-girl, but at least I was actually standing now.
I stretched and tested my mobility.
“How do you feel?” asked Scott, concerned first and foremost with my wellbeing.
In what had to be the worst timing of my life, my stomach let out a giant grunt-slash-purr-slash-grumble that probably woke the entire building.
I wanted to collapse back onto the sofa and die, but Scott was amused.
“I guess you’re hungry then? Either that or you ate an Orca last night?”
I slapped him playfully in the chest, but even that small movement kicked the pain back into life.
His hands bolted out to hold my shoulders. “Easy now. Save that aggression for the ice.”
“If I ever make it back onto the ice,” I replied wistfully.
“You better,” he laughed. “Nothing would piss me off more than Jensen and that crew getting what they want. Now, can I fix you and your Orca something to eat?”
I rolled my eyes hoping he couldn’t see them in the dark. “I wouldn’t say no.”
“I’m not exactly stocked for a midnight buffet, but how does a grilled cheese sound?”
My stomach rumbled audibly again. I was pretty sure I’d eat grilled cardboard I was so hungry. “That sounds amazing.”
He let go of my shoulders and I think we both felt it, the severed connection. “I’ll get started. You join me in the kitchen when you’re ready.”
I watched him move off towards the kitchen, the light flickering on and slowly illuminating my surroundings. It was so strange, the way this place really didn’t look like a bachelor pad at all. No, if anything it was tasteful and minimalistic. Christian Grey couldn’t happily set up here and call it home.
And let me guess, you’d be Anastasia?
I smiled. As I said, I wouldn’t say no.
I stretched out a bit more and waited before making my way to the kitchen and propping myself up against the kitchen counter, the marble cold against the small of my back. I watched as Scott placed the sandwich into the frying pan, the wonderful smell that followed causing my stomach to knot again.
He added a knob of butter and turned to smile at me.
“Is this a ‘thing’?” I asked.
He seemed amused at that. “Cooking grilled cheese at 1am? Sometimes. I don’t tend to sleep terribly well.”
“Work?”
He paused, returning back to the frying pan with spatula in hand. “In part. It’s a new team, with new players… It’s my time to shine, but there’s a lot of pressure there.”
“But you’ve already shined,” I argued. “You’re a legend. Three Stanley Cups? I mean, you’re basically a silverware collector by now.”
“Flattery won’t get you far with me.”
I was slightly annoyed he thought that’s what I was going for, but I continued all the same. “I’m being honest. You could have happily lived out your days here in luxury, so why coach now and risk it all again?”
He turned around to face me and I was rather disappointed I wouldn’t be able to stare at that beautiful ass of his anymore. Distressed Levis never looked so good. “It’s a good question and perhaps I don’t have a complete answer only to say I needed the challenge.”
“A reason to live?” I offered.
“Yes,” he nodded, “but not a reason to live, a reason to live, if you follow.”
“It’s too late for riddles.”
He took a moment to flip the grilled cheese, adding another knob of butter to the pan. It looked gosh-darn delicious. I’ve never wanted anything in my mouth so badly. “Since we’re getting all deep and meaningful here, perhaps you can tell me why you’re here, about your ambition.”
He’d turned the tables, but I was not going to back down. “To
prove the naysayers wrong.”
“No,” he shook his head, crossing his arms, “there’s more to it than that. Don’t give me the cookie-cutter answer.”
I thought on it. “Perhaps I want to prove it to one person in particular.”
“And who’s that?” he pushed.
“My father,” I confessed.
“He’s a machinist, isn’t he?”
“He’s a bit rough around the edges,” I admitted, “but he is rooting for me, at least on the outside.”
“But, like any father, he doesn’t want to see you getting hurt. So, I ask, do you really want to put yourself through this? Run yourself through the meatgrinder to please your old man?”
Scott’s eyes were steely as he said it.
I crossed my arms in reply, standing taller. “I am, and I will.”
We stared at each other for what seemed like eons… until I noticed the grilled cheese burning. “Maybe you should get that.”
It was pretty amusing seeing the way Scott jumped around in panic mode, cutting the gas and doing his best to lever the grilled cheese from the pan. I don’t think there’s anything more endearing than a man cooking, or at least trying to cook. Something told me Scott Bausch was at his culinary limit here.
Slightly burnt or not, the grilled cheese was incredible when we finally sat down to eat, Scott watching carefully.
“How is it?” he asked.
I spoke with my mouth full, mumbling and not really giving a damn whether he thought that was ladylike or not. “You know, I think the charcoal adds a nice kind of smoky flavor to it,” I reply cheekily.
He smiled, leaning back. “Stop it.”
I wiped my mouth. “It’s great, honestly. Thank you.”
“My pleasure.”
He let me eat and I was happy to let him watch, though something told me he wasn’t concerned so much with the grilled cheese as he was checking me out. I could actually feel his gaze, the heat and intensity of it from the other side of the table.
I popped the last piece of grilled cheese into my mouth, mmm-ing in satisfaction.
“You know,” laughed Scott, “I’ve seen quarterbacks eat slower than that.”
I swallowed the last piece down. “Sorry. Guess I was just really hungry.”
“I like it,” came his response. “It’s nice.”
“To see a girl who actually likes to eat?”
He smirked in satisfaction. “Something like that, yet you’re no tomboy.”
Now it was my turn to lean back. “At times, but I can go full-on Kristen Stewart when I want to.”
His eyes dropped. “Not with a chest like that.”
I brought my hands to my chest in mock horror. “How superficial you are. Don’t you get sick of it?”
“Staring at your chest?”
“Being infamous for what happens off the ice.”
His mood darkened instantaneously. “You shouldn’t believe everything you read.”
“So you’re not a shameless womanizer?”
I knew I was pushing the boundaries, but I felt oddly empowered in that moment.
His reply was perfect. “It depends on the woman.”
And if there was any doubt he was into me, it was washed away.
He leaned back across the table and I realized there was little space between us. A simple shift out of my chair and we’d be…
“Don’t give me the cookie-cutter answer,” I fired back, mirroring his words and keen to see where he would take this.
He looked amused at that, a hard, thin smile playing behind his lips, but he had no reply.
I don’t know why I felt the need to press him, but I drilled right to the core with my next question. “There’s someone, isn’t there? Who’s the ‘she’?”
“You’ve read the tabloids. You tell me.”
“It’s Wanda, isn’t it?”
He looked up to the roof and exhaled. “We’ve had something of a troubled relationship, Wanda and me. She wants me back. I think she’s made that quite clear.”
I was somewhat surprised at the instant fog of jealousy that fell over me. I’m not a jealous person, never have been, so why now? What was it about this man that had me so outside myself?
“But the feeling’s not mutual?” I asked carefully.
He took a moment before he answered, hand running across the side of the table. “No. There’s not a chance in hell.”
I tried my best not to let the relief show on my face.
But I had to be sure.
I shouldn’t have asked the question, but I did. I couldn’t stop the words from coming out of my mouth. “Do you ever see yourself getting back together with her? Is that something you’d want?”
He shook his head. “She might have had a chance, but not anymore. That door’s closed.”
“Why? What changed?”
He licked his lips as his eyes met mine. We sat there in silence as we searched the depth of each other’s gaze. There was something there. His mind was chewing on something… something that maybe he shouldn’t even be thinking in the first place. Which was a bit strange. This was Scott Bausch. He did what he wanted when he wanted. Why was he holding back now?
“Tell me,” I whispered.
He lifted his hand to my cheek, and his fingertips tracing the angle of my jaw. “I met someone who’s astoundingly and wildly gorgeous.”
My chest tightened. I couldn’t believe this was happening. My body had been one giant pulsation of pain, but sitting here listening to him confess made every cell in my body freeze. I felt nothing but excited anticipation.
I had to lick my lips they were so damn dry. “And who might that be?”
His smile turned into something more and in that moment I knew what was about to happen. I also knew there was no stopping it, or trying to stop it, because the pull between us was too strong and too great. There’s no point struggling against an ocean when it’s trying to pull you one way.
No, my head filled in, you simply have to go with the flow and wait it out.
My body was lit again, the same way my sex was when I knew the towel had risen, when I knew his eyes were on my most sensitive and private area. I was burning up from the inside out and I knew there was only one way of quelling the flames for good.
I looked at the man across from me, at his perfect, chiseled features and prominent cheekbones, at the face that had been on the cover of so many magazines, but looked so different now, so needy.
I looked and I wanted.
So I took.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
RAE
Scott met me halfway, his lips finding mine across the table, both of us out of our chairs.
The kiss itself was more than I could have dreamed — hot and passionate, demanding all of me.
I yielded and then pressed back. His tongue found its way past my lips and found my own, the two of them twining there in the heat of our mouths caught somewhere between my ragged breathing and his need to dominate completely.
I could smell his intoxicating scent, could taste and feel him, my body lit up like a Fourth of July sky, because this was real, very real.
This was most definitely happening.
In our haste we sort of skipped around the table until we were standing chest to chest staring at each other. Time stopped, yet none of the intensity was lost, because I was deep in those cerulean pools of his eyes with no way to swim free.
He held the side of my face, his labored breath hot on my face when he spoke. “You don’t know, do you?”
“What?” I asked, barely above a whisper.
“How fucking beautiful you are.”
And then it was on. His hands came behind me and I was lifted clear of the ground, kitchen table groaning as it was knocked off axis, the light in here all too bright and overwhelming.
Our mouths locked, my legs caught around his hips as he carried us towards the bedroom. I was conscious of the way my heart was trying to beat itself into his chest, of the w
ay my crotch grinded delightfully against his hard body and certainly the hint of something even harder below. There was still pain, but I pushed it aside for the greater good.
So desperate was our kiss our teeth brushed together lightly, something like a snarl escaping Scott’s mouth as his mouth descended down my throat, pulling and sucking at the skin like an animal.
My head went back, my hair folded on my shoulders and my mouth caught in an open ring. All that before I was tossed into the middle of the master bed once again breathless.
Against the kitchen light coming from the rear of the apartment Scott stood before me as little more than shadow, only the barest flicker of his eyes to offer he was human.
I pressed myself up with my elbows, straining to see and well aware of the way I was positioned here with my legs spread and chest heaving, so exposed and vulnerable.
Somewhere deep in the back of my head I knew this was the worst kind of idea, but that insatiable need to have him, to feel him, won out and took control of every sense. I wanted him inside me more than I wanted air itself.
I said it aloud. “I want you.”
“Where?” he asked, well used to this dance.
“Inside me,” I swallowed. I’d never been this forward.
A moment of silence followed, broken by a siren somewhere far below and then the sound of buttons being undone, a belt unthreading through denim loops and, finally, a zipper running down.
I sat up and followed suit with unsteady fingers, managing to pull my tank top free and wriggle out of my shorts, my panties bunched up inside.
A snap of elastic and I knew he was standing there naked in front of me. I unclasped my bra and let it fall free, shifting onto my knees and allowing my hands to search through the darkness.
The room was cool. My nipples stood firm and erect on my chest, sensation pinging to them and back down to my open sex, my aching clit desperate for attention.
My hands fell on something thick and silky, the two of them taking hold of it and running upwards to a bulbous head so heated it was like taking hold of a hot coal. It twitched in my grip.
“Eureka,” said Scott.
I looked up into that shadow and back down. My eyes slowly started to adjust and I could finally see what I was holding, the sheer size of the cock in my hands.