Kit: A Chicago Blaze Hockey Romance

by Brenda Rothert

  “I guess we can,” she says, biting her lower lip. “What rules would you put in it?”

  I cup her face in my hands and kiss her slowly. “I’m in charge. In charge of showing you what you do to me and how fucking incredible I can make you feel.”

  “That’s a good rule,” she murmurs.

  “Turn around,” I order, stepping back and turning her shoulders so she’s facing the island. “Put your palms on the counter.”

  She complies, and I groan with satisfaction as I unbutton her top, sliding my hands around to unfasten her bra. When I move my hands to cup her breasts, teasing her nipples between my thumbs and forefingers, she gives me a ragged moan of pleasure.

  “I fantasize about you constantly,” I whisper in her ear. “I can hardly even think about anything else.”

  I unfasten her pants and tug them down, along with her panties, too. When she reaches down to pull her pants off her ankle, I take her hand and put it back on the counter.

  “Your hands stay here,” I remind her.

  Bending down, I help her step out of her pants and panties and then I toss them aside. Her smooth, round ass is right at eye level, and I kiss one cheek as I run both hands up from her ankle to her thighs, and she exhales hard in response.

  Standing up, I lean down and speak in her ear. “Spread your feet apart wider for me.”

  She does, and my cock pulses with desire as I look at her. I run my hand up her inner thigh, and she inhales sharply as my thumb brushes over the soft, dark curls between her legs.

  “Oh my God,” she murmurs as my fingers slide over the crease of her pussy.

  Her slick heat coats my fingers as I play with her, the sounds she’s making driving me fucking crazy. I stroke her clit and ease two fingers inside her, making sure to keep her from getting too close to orgasm.

  When I move my wet fingertips around to her ass, just rubbing them around her rim, she cries out in a mix of shock and arousal.

  “Such a perfect ass,” I say in a low tone. “I can’t wait to get my cock in it.”

  “Oh…God,” she whispers, gripping the edge of the countertop so hard her knuckles are white.

  I slide my fingers in and out, not going far since I can tell this is new for her. Once I have her panting, I return my attention to her clit. After circling it a couple times with my fingertips, she sucks in a breath and moans.

  “Kit…oh my God, I’m—”

  She cries out hard, her legs shaking with the force of her orgasm as she bucks her hips in time with my fingers. My cock strains against my pants, aching to be inside her, but that’s not part of my plan tonight. I need to spend the rest of our date showing Molly I want her for more than just sex. I’m planning on dinner, conversation and a movie on my couch.

  I kiss her shoulder and she relaxes, leaning forward on the counter.

  “That’s what I needed, right there,” I say softly.

  “That was…I mean…wow.”

  “See? When we just let it happen, it’s out of this world.”

  She doesn’t say anything, but she doesn’t have to. Her body already told me everything I needed to hear about her feelings on me calling the shots when it comes to sex.

  She approves.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Molly

  * * *

  “You’ve been holding out on me!” Jenn says as she drops a stack of the special section on my desk. I look over at the picture of Kit on the cover.

  “I have?”

  Her eyes bug out with an isn’t-it-obvious look. “You’re dating Kit Carter.” She thrusts her pointer finger at me for emphasis.

  “Who told you?”

  “Mike—the sports photographer Mike, not the one in sales—saw you guys getting cozy over coffee yesterday. How long has this been going on? And how could you not tell me?”

  Theo spins around in his chair, gaping at me. “You’re dating someone?”

  “Not just someone,” Jen clarifies. “A Blaze player.”

  I enjoy the unusual moment of stunned silence from Theo. “You’re…dating a Blaze player?”

  “I…yes, I am.”

  “Wow.” He grins. “Good for you, Lynch. You deserve to be happy.”

  I furrow my brow. No wisecracks about my pens? No quips about me working too many hours to date? This is truly a momentous day. Theo is like the big brother I never had, though, and if I ever really needed someone to cover for me at work, he’s the one I’d ask.

  “So let’s hear all the deets,” Jen says, sitting down in the chair next to my desk.

  Theo laughs and turns back to his computer. He knows I absolutely hate it when anyone sits in that chair because goodbye, productivity.

  “There are no deets,” I tell Jen.

  “I beg to differ. Have you seen his stick?”

  “Go away, I have work to do,” I say, trying to hold back a smile.

  “Ohhh, you have! I can see it all over your face.”

  “I’m not saying a single word about Kit,” I say, eyes focused on my computer screen.

  Jen puts her hand on her chest, feigning distress. “You’re killing me, Molly. This is straight out of a movie. A reporter and the pro athlete she interviews for a story falling for each other? I mean…give me something.”

  “We can talk about how cute my dog is if you want,” I offer, not looking away from my screen. “Other than that, though, I need to finish this story before my interview, so…”

  “Ugh, fine.” Jen gets up. “But when you’re ready to talk about it, come find me.”

  “That’ll be never.”

  “You’re the worst.” She narrows her eyes at me and bursts into a huge smile. “But I’m really happy for you, girl.”

  I just smile back, staying quiet. When she turns to walk away, I look over at the stack of special sections she left on my desk.

  Kit’s smiling on the cover, posing on the ice at the Carson Center in his game uniform. I see so much more in his expression than I did before I knew him. He really is the nice guy his warm toffee-colored eyes and easy grin make him look like.

  But there’s also an intensity to him. When he plays hockey, I’d say he’s focused and driven, but not necessarily intense. I only see that side of him when we’re intimate.

  He blew my mind the other night in his kitchen. I still can’t believe I stood there, naked from the waist down, moaning shamelessly as he touched me under the bright lights of his kitchen island.

  That’s what his intensity does to me. It makes me forget what I think and just give in to what I feel in the moment.

  The rest of the time, though, when I’m alone with my thoughts, I can’t shake the nagging sensation I have that something’s not right. Kit doesn’t want me to touch him anywhere beneath his chest. It’s more than not wanting it—in the few times we’ve been together, he’s actually stopped me from touching him.

  If I weren’t an overthinking, anxiety-ridden person, I’d just bask in what we have together. He doesn’t want anything for just himself? His favorite thing to do is make me come so hard I see stars? Most women would say bring that shit on.

  Something’s not right, though. I couldn’t sleep last night because my mind was reeling with the possibilities. I’ve never been able to touch Kit below his chest, and he’s only allowed me a quick glance of what he looks like.

  I’ve run through scenarios from a tattoo he’s embarrassed about to an STD he doesn’t want to expose me to. And then I started wondering if maybe he’s telling me the truth, and he just prefers to make all the decisions about what we do sexually?

  None of the options sit well with me. I stare at the half-written story on my computer screen, tired from my sleepless night and worried about things with Kit.

  Life was much simpler when I kept my head down and focused on work. I never cared if I looked good or if anyone would find me attractive. There was no analysis of anyone’s words or actions. And Mr. Darcy kept me warm at night.

  Was I lonely? I didn�
��t think so then. But now, the thought of going back to the way things were before Kit leaves me feeling empty and sad.

  When Zach announced his plan to divorce me and find someone better, I immediately made myself several promises. No one would ever hold that kind of power over my self-worth again. I’d find a way to move forward and make a better life for myself without him. And I’d never, ever let myself be snowed by any man again, for any reason.

  Kit decided he’s in charge in the bedroom, and he never asked me if that’s what I want, too. If he did, I’d tell him I want control some of the time, but not all the time. The only relationship that will work for me is one with parity. One where we’re both involved in everything.

  It was hard for me to put myself out there in his kitchen the other night, and tell him I wanted to taste him. I’m not forward, and I worry endlessly that I’ll say or do the wrong thing. But with Kit, I felt confident. Like it was safe to tell him what I wanted.

  He shot me down, though. Even though he was smooth enough to pivot things in his direction without an argument, he basically said, “thanks but no thanks” to my desire to touch and taste him.

  When his hands aren’t on me and my head is clear, I find I’m a little bothered by that. Saddened, even.

  Am I overanalyzing? Probably. But this is who I am. If I learned nothing from the devastation that was my marriage to Zach, I learned that I’m not willing to change who I am for anyone. Kit will have to take me or leave me, just like this.

  We have to talk about this, with several feet of space between us so I can think straight. And while I hope we can grow closer from the conversation and keep dating, deep down I’m terrified that it will be the end of us.

  Chapter Twenty

  Kit

  * * *

  Molly’s expression screams serious when I open my apartment door to let her in, her brow wrinkled and her lips pursed.

  “Hey, you,” I say, giving her a quick kiss. “Rough day at work?”

  She smiles weakly. “About average.”

  “You okay?”

  “Yeah.”

  I point to my couch, where my coat is lying. “You don’t sound okay. Let me grab my coat and we’ll talk on the way. I made a dinner reservation.”

  “Oh. Actually, I was hoping we could talk here.”

  When I look at her over my shoulder, I realize from her drawn expression that something’s really wrong.

  “What’s going on?” I ask, forgetting all about my coat.

  She sighs heavily, taking her coat off and sliding out of her snow boots as she walks into the apartment. “Well, first of all…” She reaches into her bag and takes out a folded section of newspaper. “The special section got printed and I wanted you to see it.”

  “Thanks.”

  I don’t look at the paper though; I’m too focused on Molly’s expression.

  “Did something happen?” I ask her.

  “Can we sit down?”

  “Yeah, come here.” I put my arm around her, trying to walk her over to the couch, but she goes to a recliner instead.

  Now I’m really fucking worried. She seems mad at me, and I can’t imagine why. All we’ve done since our last date is text back and forth about average stuff.

  “Tell me what’s going on,” I say, sitting down on the couch.

  “I want us to talk about something that’s bothering me.” She leans forward in the chair, elbows on her arms. “And since it’s on my mind, I wanted to do it now, before we go out for dinner.”

  “Okay.”

  She takes a deep breath and looks at her hands. “I really like you. I honestly thought I’d never find a man I liked this much who felt the same way about me.”

  My pulse pounds as it hits me what conversation we’re about to have. “You’re breaking up with me.”

  “No,” she says quickly, looking up to meet my eyes. “No, I’m not. I really like you and I want us to keep seeing each other.”

  “But?”

  “But…I feel like we need to talk more about…sex.”

  “Sex?” I arch my brows, surprised that’s what she’s concerned about. And then it hits me. “You weren’t comfortable with the ass stuff the other night. Shit, I’m sorry. I should’ve asked instead of just doing it.”

  Molly draws her brows together and shakes her head. “No, it’s not that.”

  “Then what?”

  After a pause, she says, “Every time I try to touch you below your chest, you stop me.”

  Fuck. The conversation I tried so hard to avoid is hitting me square in the jaw. I’m immediately agitated.

  “I told you, I’m into being in control. You’ve seemed to be into it, too.”

  “I am. I mean, I like it. But I have this gut feeling that something’s off. I feel like you’re either easing me into something hardcore or holding something back.”

  I scoff. “I’m not into anything hardcore. You already asked me that and I already told you.”

  “I know, but…you’re not telling me something.”

  I throw my hands in the air. “Seemed pretty right when you came so hard your legs shook the other night.”

  “And you wanted nothing,” she says, sounding skeptical. “All you want is to touch me and please me and only get off when you’re fucking me, which isn’t every time.”

  I stand up and walk over to the window, looking out at the skyline. “Why the fuck do you doubt everything? You’re this cynical reporter who always assumes there’s more to the story and you just dig and dig and never take anything at face value.”

  “That’s not fair. I don’t always assume and never believe anything.”

  I turn to face her. “With me you do. That’s what you did when you were interviewing me and it’s exactly what you’re doing now. Why would I lie to you about what I like in bed?”

  Molly stands up and narrows her eyes at me. “Why does it only matter what you like? Don’t I get a say?”

  Taking a few steps toward her, I feel myself losing my cool. “I told you that you can decide everything else. But this, this one thing, is important to me. Why would you want us doing stuff that I don’t like?”

  “I don’t want that, but I also don’t want to feel like a sex doll.” She crosses her arms.

  “Are you fucking serious? You’re saying I make you feel like a sex doll?”

  If there was anything breakable within my reach, I’d grab it and destroy it right now. I don’t get pissed off very often, but when I do, I just want to break shit.

  “Do you have an STD you don’t want to expose me to?” Molly asks.

  I put my hands on my head, too floored to even respond. “What the fuck are you even asking me? We fucked. You think I’d do that if I had an STD?”

  “You wore a condom. Maybe you don’t want me to give you oral sex because of an STD, or…I don’t even know, Kit. That’s the point. I don’t know, because you won’t tell me.”

  “I don’t have a fucking STD, but thanks for the vote of confidence.”

  “Then why am I not allowed to see or touch your penis?”

  “Jesus Fuck. I never fucking said that, and I think you saw it the first time we were together anyway. Why do I feel like the subject of an undercover investigation here? Why does every fucking thing have to be a code for you to crack?”

  Molly’s eyes deepen to a dark indigo shade, flashing with anger. “Don’t you dare turn this around on me. Why should I feel like I can’t ask you about this? Why should I feel like I can’t ask you about anything, when we’re dating?”

  “You don’t just ask me about anything, you ask about every fucking thing. And you always suspect the worst, probably because of your dumbshit ex. I’m not a dom, and I don’t have an STD. What else do you want to grill me about?”

  “I’m not trying to grill you. I just wanted to talk.” Her tone is icy. “But it sounds like you don’t even like me all that much. I ask about every fucking thing? I guess that’s just who I am. You knew that before you
asked me out.”

  “Is there ever a point where you just trust me, though? Or will you always be suspicious?”

  “I’m not suspicious, I just want to know the truth. And I find it hard to believe that you just don’t like blow jobs.”

  There’s a pillow on a chair next to me, and I grab it and throw it all the way to the other side of the apartment, where it hits the wall and drops to the ground.

  “So now you’re the sex police?” I yell, feeling myself come unglued. “You get to tell me what I should like and not like?”

  “Isn’t that what you do to me?”

  I shake my head. “This. This right here is why I don’t do relationships. You can’t just let it happen. You have to analyze every little thing to death.”

  Molly stands up, walks over to the door and slides her boots on, her face flushed with anger.

  “Consider yourself free of my questions effective immediately,” she says in a clipped tone.

  “Molly.”

  “No, don’t.” Her voice breaks with emotion. “Don’t tell me not to go or try to convince me to let you fuck me into compliance.”

  “I’d never try to fuck you into compliance. Why would you even say that?”

  She looks at me, tears leaking over her eyes and running down her cheeks. “Because I’m angry. And disappointed. But this is it, I guess. Better now than later.”

  I walk over to her, a few feet away when she puts up a hand to stop me. “This doesn’t have to be it. I don’t want it to be. I just need you to be more patient and stop questioning everything.”

  “You hurt me,” she says softly. “I won’t be with a man who hurts me. So this is goodbye, Kit.”

  She grabs her coat and walks out the door, leaving me stunned and speechless. And I can’t even be angry with her, because it’s not really her fault. It’s mine.

  I never should’ve thought I could have a relationship. I’ll never be able to tear down the walls it would require. Not even for Molly.