Playing His Part: A York Bombers Hockey Romance (The York Bombers Book 7)

by Lisa B. Kamps

  Tormenting him.

  Tormenting herself.

  He stood there, his hand gripping the hard length of his cock, mesmerized by the sight in front of him: Natalie on her knees, legs slightly parted, the finger of one hand sliding up and down along her clit. A teasing smile curled her mouth as she reached up with her free hand and pulled the peak of one tight nipple. The smile wavered and her mouth parted on a sigh as her head fell back. Her fingers moved faster, her hips rocking against her own hand. Her chest rose and fell with each sharp breath she pulled into her lungs, with each sigh that escaped her parted lips.

  Faster still, putting on a show for him. Pleasing herself. Pushing herself to the edge.

  Alone.

  Emotion ripped through him. Impatience. Jealousy. Frustration. Maybe a combination of all three, maybe something completely different. He didn't know, didn't care. All he knew was that watching was no longer enough. He wanted her to feel him deep inside her when she came. Wanted to hear her call his name when her body exploded. Wanted to feel the muscles of her pussy close around his cock when she shattered.

  Ben stalked toward the bed, grabbed the condom and quickly tore the package then sheathed himself. He grabbed her shoulders, felt something primal and desperate tear through him when her eyes widened in surprise. Then he pushed her against the mattress, yanked her jeans and underwear down her legs, and spread her legs wide.

  She stiffened, but only for a second. Only until he bent at the waist and pressed his mouth against her pussy. His tongue darted out, flicked against the tip of her finger. He grabbed her wrist and pulled her hand away, held it captive against her hip as he teased her sensitive flesh with his tongue. She cried out, fighting against his hold for a brief second before rocking her hips against his mouth.

  And God, she was so fucking sweet. So fucking wet. Ben released her hand, reached down and spread her soft lips, stretching her as he licked and sucked. He darted his tongue into her wet heat, felt the first spasm tease her muscles as he slid two fingers inside her. She gasped, the sound sharp and surprised. Reached for his hand then just as quickly dropped her arm to the mattress, her fingers curling into the thick comforter.

  Her back arched, her body stiffening for several long seconds before she cried out. Ben pulled his mouth from her and grabbed her hips, dragged her to the edge of the mattress and drove his cock deep inside her.

  And damn near exploded himself when her muscles clenched and tightened around his hard length. She cried out again, her back arching off the bed as her hips pumped against him. He held himself still, reveling in the feel of her orgasm squeezing his cock, mesmerized by the sight of her trembling body. Hovering on the brink of his own explosion.

  But not yet. Not until—

  "Look at me." The words came out as a low growl, surprising him with their intensity. Natalie's lids fluttered, finally opened to reveal deep green eyes glazed with need and passion. She pulled her lower lip between her teeth, biting down against a small groan as he slowly withdrew from her tight heat—

  Then drove into her again.

  Her eyes fluttered shut and he stopped. Withdrew. Tightened his hands on her hips. "Look at me."

  Her eyes opened again, only this time he noticed a shadow of shyness in their depths. He drove into her, burying himself to the hilt. Again. Deeper. Harder. Faster.

  Over and over, his gaze holding hers with a silent force he didn't understand and didn't stop to question. Using her. Her body. Too rough, but he was helpless to control himself. Helpless to gentle each desperate stroke of his cock.

  He plunged into her again. Harder. Deeper. Harder still, driving into her tight, wet heat with a desperation that made no sense. Again and again, until she cried out once more and shattered around him, snapping the last tenuous hold on his fragile control. His body tensed and he threw his head back, his jaw clenched as he climaxed with a force that robbed him of reason. Of breath. Of sanity.

  He finally collapsed on top of her, his breathing heavy—

  And his heart consumed by guilt.

  Chapter Ten

  Consciousness tugged at her, insistently pulling her into the realm of wakefulness. Natalie rolled to her side and pulled the pillow over her head. She didn't want to wake up. She wanted to stay right where she was, in the hazy gray of cloudy dreams that flitted through her sleeping mind. The dreams made no sense, filled as they were with unclear images, but she didn't care. The images didn't need to be clear, not when they filled her with warmth and contentment.

  How long had it been since she'd felt that way? Warm. Content. The words were nearly as foreign as the sensations themselves. If she allowed her mind to make the leap from hazy sleep to fully awake, the sensations might disappear.

  And she wanted to hold onto them for just a little while longer.

  But like everything else in her life, even her dreams ended up disappointing her. They dissipated in front of her closed eyes, nothing more substantial than wisps of smoke blown away by the strong breeze of reality.

  She reluctantly opened her eyes and pushed the pillow from her head, disoriented for a few seconds as her vision adjusted to the dim light. For a few sleepy seconds, she wondered where she was. The room wasn't hers. At least, not her studio in the city. The bed was large and comfortable, completely different from the thin mattress of the futon she'd been sleeping on for the last three years. The walls were painted a deep blue, the rich hue accented by the creamy color of the ceiling and doors and trim.

  The odd disorientation stayed with her as she sat up and stretched—until the flash of silver and gold on the ring finger of her left hand caught her gaze. Reality slammed into her.

  This was her room. Or more precisely, this was a bedroom in her husband's condo. Her husband of...she frowned, trying to remember what day it was. They'd been married on Tuesday in Vegas and today was Saturday, meaning they'd been married for four days. Not even an entire four days, since their hurried wedding had taken place in the late afternoon.

  And it had finally been consummated last night.

  Heat filled her, prickling her skin with warmth. Not just the heat of embarrassment for what they'd done during the night—the sex had been frantic, at times rough and desperate, a battle of wills with each trying to possess the other. She'd never felt the way she had last night, had never responded as wantonly as she had with Ben. It had started as an act on her part—bold, confident, self-assured. But at some point during the long hours of the night, she had stopped acting and just let herself be...herself. Natalie Kenney. Responsive. Eager. Demanding and surrendering. It had been her. Just her, with no pressure to play a part or assume a role or become someone she wasn't because that's what was expected of her.

  No, the heat flushing her skin was definitely more than embarrassment—it was the contented heat of being well-loved and accepted for who she really was, and an almost exuberant need for a replay of the night before.

  Natalie glanced around the room, searching for Ben even though she knew he wasn't with her. A brief memory, hazy and incomplete, drifted through her mind. Had Ben left in the middle of the night to return to his own room? No, she must be mistaken. Yes, he'd left—that much was obvious because he wasn't here—but it hadn't been in the middle of the night. He must have gotten up not too long ago to get ready for work. That's what she was remembering.

  And now that she was a little more coherent, she could hear sounds drifting under the closed door of the room. A rattle of something metal. The muted opening and closing of a door. The sound of running water.

  She closed her eyes, tilted her head to the side, and inhaled. Was that—? Yes, it was.

  Coffee.

  Natalie untangled her legs from the sheets then swung them over the side of the bed. Muscles protested the sudden move then relaxed as she slowly stretched before standing. Most of her clothes were still crammed into the suitcases—she hadn't unpacked yet because she still couldn't believe Ben had brought her back here. Even if she had unpacked, s
he didn't have any sleepwear or pajamas she could throw on.

  She reached for the jeans and sweater she had on last night then paused when her eyes landed on the ball of material a foot away from her own clothes. Her hand passed over the faded denim and closed around Ben's shirt. The light gray material was soft, maybe some kind of silk. She lifted it to her face and inhaled, the scent of something woodsy and warm and uniquely Ben teasing her nose. The shirt was wrinkled from being thrown on the floor but a few quick shakes took care of the worst of them.

  Natalie slipped her arms into the sleeves, smiling when she saw how far past her fingers the soft material extended. She rolled the sleeves up then buttoned the shirt, glancing down to make sure she was decently covered. She was—the shirt was big enough that it nearly came to her knees. Ben was taller than she was—obviously, because she had to tilt her head back to look at him if they were standing right next to each other. But she had no idea how much bigger he really was because the cut of his clothes hid it.

  The memory of last night, of seeing him without those clothes for the first time, caused another wave of heat to wash over her.

  She pushed last night's memories from her mind, quickly ran her fingers through her hair, then left the room in search of coffee. And maybe, if they had enough time, they could share more than a cup of coffee before Ben had to leave. Isn't that what newly-married couples did?

  She followed the rich aroma of brewed coffee to the large kitchen and stopped just inside the doorway. Ben was at the stove, a spatula in one hand, a mug of coffee in the other. His back was to her and she used the opportunity to lean against the doorframe, striking a pose that she thought he'd find sexy and alluring. Once she had it just right, she pasted a sleepy smile on her face and gently cleared her throat.

  "Morning."

  His reaction made her carefully-constructed smile fade. Instead of turning around as she expected, his entire body stiffened, his back straightening as his shoulders hunched around his ears. Uncertainty coursed through her and she pushed away from the doorframe, suddenly unsure what to do.

  Suddenly questioning everything they'd done last night. Every reaction she'd allowed herself, every word she'd let fall from her mouth. Had last night been nothing more than her imagination? No. No, it had definitely happened—the soreness of her thighs and the tender ache between her legs was proof of that. They'd definitely had sex.

  But it was suddenly, glaringly, apparent that's all it was. She didn't have to see his face to know he regretted everything they'd done. That the light of the morning had stolen whatever pleasure they might have shared last night. Every line in his tense body screamed his regret—

  And sliced through her with a pain she hadn't expected. For the first time in a long time, she'd given someone herself as she truly was. Open. Honest. For the first time in a long time, she'd dropped the wall she usually hid behind and let someone in. Let someone see the real her.

  Ben's reaction—the tension and regret that rolled off him in thick, smothering, waves—threw everything right back in her face. This was why she held herself apart. Why she hid the scared little girl who was always with her behind a thick wall. Nobody wanted her for herself, they only wanted her for who they thought she was or what they thought she could give them.

  Not her parents.

  Not her family.

  Not her string of worthless boyfriends.

  And now, not even her husband.

  Natalie curled her fingers into her palms and looked down at her bare feet. God, how could she have been so stupid? How could she have thought anything would change? They'd had sex. Nothing more than a physical coupling of their bodies. It had been primal and raw and desperate and—for her, at least—honest.

  But that's all it had been.

  Sex.

  She was nothing but a fool to place such importance in her reactions, to make more out of them then they really were. Then to come out here, wearing nothing but Ben's shirt, hoping to see the same raw need in his eyes that she saw last night. To hear words that would make her feel—

  She shrugged off the thoughts. Shrugged off the embarrassment and disappointment coursing through her. This was her fault for reading too much into things. For placing even little importance on what happened last night.

  For being herself, if only for a few hours.

  Natalie straightened her shoulders and walked across the cold tile floor, heading straight for the coffee pot. She opened a cabinet in search of a mug, saw only plates. She reached for another door, stopped when Ben spoke.

  "Mugs are in the next one over."

  She shot a bright smile over her shoulder then pulled down a mug and quickly filled it. The warmth of the brew seeped through the mug and into her hands, thawing some of the chill that had settled over her like a heavy cloak. She took a cautious sip, focused on the heat that trailed down her throat and spread to her stomach. Better to focus on that than on the shadows in Ben's eyes as he studied her.

  Ben turned back to the stove. "Did you want anything to eat? I can throw more on if you're hungry."

  The message was loud and clear: Ben hadn't given her any thought this morning, had put her completely out of his mind once he left her room in the middle of the night. She realized now that her initial memory of him leaving had been right—he hadn't left her bed because it was time to get ready, he'd left much earlier than that.

  After he'd gotten what he wanted from her.

  She ignored the sting of the words—and the harsh truth—and pasted another bright smile on her face, even though his back was to her. "No, thank you. I can take care of myself."

  Ben gave her a sharp look over his shoulder, brows pulled low over hard eyes and lips compressed in a straight line. "I didn't think to make you anything because I figured you'd want to sleep in."

  Was it the truth? It didn't matter if it was or not, the unspoken message was still there. She was nothing more than an afterthought as far as Ben was concerned.

  Why had she thought any different?

  She offered him a careless shrug and took another sip of the coffee. He finally turned back to the stove and scooped eggs onto the single plate resting on the counter, then added the few strips of bacon that he pulled from the oven. Natalie tried not to inhale, tried to pretend that the smells weren't wreaking havoc with her taste buds.

  And then her stomach growled, the noise embarrassingly loud in the large kitchen. Natalie raised the coffee mug to her mouth and pretended it never happened. Unfortunately, Ben wasn't considerate enough to do the same.

  He shoved the full plate toward her. "Here. Eat. I'll get something on the road."

  "I don't want—"

  "I don't care."

  "—your food. I'll just grab a yogurt."

  The muscle jumped in his clenched jaw as he stared at her. "I don't have any yogurt."

  "But I saw—"

  "I ate the last one." He shoved the plate at her again, then muttered something under his breath when she refused to take it and carried it over to the small island counter.

  Natalie deliberately ignored the full plate—and her noisy stomach. "I'll find something later. When I'm hungry."

  The look he sent her was filled with so much disbelief that she almost laughed—except there was nothing funny about the tension rolling off him. "Just eat the damn food, Natalie."

  Their gazes locked in a silent battle of wills that neither wanted to concede. Natalie was the first to look away. Not because she was giving in, but because there was something in the depths of Ben's dark eyes that made her uncomfortable. She made her way to the small island and carefully climbed onto one of the two stools.

  But she didn't eat the food, not even when Ben slid silverware toward her. She just sat there, staring at the plate, trying to ignore the thick tension humming around her.

  Ben disappeared from the kitchen only to return a minute later. He shrugged into his suit jacket and quickly knotted the tie around his neck. "Nathan is picking me up in a
few minutes. The keys to the car are hanging up if you need to go anywhere."

  She started to tell him that she didn't drive, that she had never learned. Driving had never been an issue, especially living in New York. But he wasn't looking at her, wasn't even paying her any attention as he pulled the wallet from his back pocket and opened it. He grabbed a stack of bills and held them out to her. "Take this. In case you need to get anything from the store or, I don't know, whatever."

  Something like shame washed over as she stared at the money in his hand. It wasn't just a few dollars, either. There was at least one hundred-dollar bill in the thin stack, along with a fifty and a twenty. No matter how much she scrimped and saved, she never had that much cash laying around, not when every dime she made went to paying the few bills she had. Yet Ben was standing in front of her, offering her the cash like it was no big deal.

  Like it was payment for services rendered.

  Anger, hot and sharp, pushed the shame away. She raised her eyes and met his gaze, not bothering to hide the fury washing over her. "I have my own money. I'm not some whore who expects to be paid in the morning just to ease your guilty conscience."

  Ben took a hasty step back as if he'd been punched. Shock widened his eyes and a splotch of color stained his cheeks. Then those gold-ringed hazel eyes narrowed and whatever surprise he may have felt a second earlier morphed into anger.

  He tossed the money on the granite counter then leaned forward. "My conscience is clear. And the money was in case my wife wanted to go to the grocery store and buy food for us."

  Natalie opened her mouth to respond then quickly shut it when the doorbell rang. It was just as well because she had no idea what to say. She stared at the money then looked back at Ben. He met her gaze for a few tense seconds then pushed away from the counter.

  "We'll talk when I get back Sunday night."

  Natalie sat there, shame robbing her of speech as Ben stormed from the kitchen. Low voices drifted in from the living room only to be cut off by the sharp sound of the door slamming.