“Is that it?” she asked sullenly. “Are we done?”
“Not by a long shot,” he said, turning to her and taking her mouth again in a brief but very thorough kiss that made her toes curl and her insides melt. “But I don’t want to rush this. Good things come to those who wait.”
“The saying should really be, ‘Those who wait, come,’” she said, which made him laugh again. She liked his laugh. It was brash and honest.
“Oh, we’ll come all right. But not tonight. I want to take this nice and slow.”
“Maybe you should ask me what I want? Because I vote for right now.” She pointed to the beautiful teak deck. “Maybe right there.”
He shook his head slowly again. “Miss Maggie, it’ll be all the sweeter when it really happens if we wait.”
18
Spencer always had fun with his teammates on the road. This trip was no different, what with post-game dinners and the normal male camaraderie and shenanigans. When they played against Vegas, the fun always doubled. Las Vegas had no end of world-class restaurants, clubs and shows.
But this time, he’d give all that up in a minute if it meant he could be home with Maggie.
The make-out session in the hot tub had been incredible. She was completely ignorant of how sexy she was. She’d actually commented on the unattractiveness of her swimsuit.
As if he’d been looking at her swimsuit. What a joke.
People talked about men being visual creatures and he was, but there were times when he focused more on his other senses and as soon as his mouth was on her skin, his awareness zoomed in on the sweet, salty taste of her bare skin, the faint smell of peaches at the nape of her neck, and the weight of her head when she let it fall back into his hand. It was all he could do not to attack her. Lord, she’d even invited him to do so, but he instinctively knew that making love to Maggie for the first time needed to be an Event, not a mindless quickie.
This did not make the wait any easier. It only highlighted the fact that playing for the NHL wreaked havoc on a guy’s personal life. Hell, he was on the road forty-one games a year. The road trips, of which there were usually about thirteen, averaged between four to ten days each. That was a lot of time away. Even though military personnel suffered through much longer absences—and for much nobler reasons—that didn’t erase the fact that a player’s wife was alone a full one seventh of every year.
The Dragons stayed at the MGM Grand Hotel and Resort, which was a three-minute ride from the T-Mobile arena without traffic. Spencer liked how somehow they managed to make it feel modern and new, while still imbuing it with the charm of old Hollywood. The halls and rooms were adorned with large black-and-white prints of film stars like Clark Gable, Doris Day, Gene Kelly, Greta Garbo, and posters from movies like Gone with the Wind, A Night at the Opera, and The Harvey Girls. The MGM was classy but not pretentious.
After keying open his room, he stripped down to his boxer briefs, got into bed and flipped on the TV. He caught one of the Vegas forwards in an interview but didn’t really listen to what he was saying. He was still too busy thinking about Maggie.
He glanced at the clock, which said past midnight. Vegas and San Francisco were in the same time zone, so she was probably asleep, even though it wasn’t a school night. Unfortunately, that thought reminded him she was sleeping at his house tonight and every night until he got back. She would be in his bed. His. Bed.
Fuck, he wanted to be there with her. He imagined her with her arms all akimbo, her face relaxed in sleep. Or maybe she slept with her little mouth pursed as her subconscious worked out all the problems in her life. Did she snore? Was she a covers-hog? Did she fucking sleep in the nude?
His image of her suddenly got a lot hotter and his dick started getting hard. Now he pictured her under just the top sheet but with her body clearly outlined by the fabric. He imagined laying a hand on her thigh and sliding it up over her stomach to her breast, teasing the nipple to a stiff peak before closing his mouth over it and sucking.
Fuck. He hadn’t meant to jerk off, but now he had to. Snaking his hand under the covers, he took himself in hand and stroked slowly, bringing back the image of Maggie in his bed. In his fantasy, she was slowly awakening to him sucking on her nipple. He was rewarded with a low moan. She pulled him up for a long, lingering kiss during which he found his way under the sheet.
His hand was moving faster and more firmly as he thought about her pushing him onto his back and straddling him. She reached between them, angled his cock, and sank down onto it.
Then surprisingly, as he imagined her tight, hot pussy closing around him, he fucking came. Probably the fastest he’d ever jacked off since he was a lanky teenager. He’d felt the orgasm approach and had done nothing to postpone it. Still, the climax, though fast, was pretty fucking great. Just the thought of seeing her in his bed had been enough to get him halfway there. Which was a slight worry. When he finally did get her into his bed (with him in it), was he going to embarrass himself with a stamina problem? He hoped the fuck not.
Tending to Kirby’s eyes was a familiar chore for Maggie. Pugs had a predisposition toward this particular malady and smart dog that he was, he cooperated with the application of the eye drops.
In the meantime, she acclimated herself to Spencer’s home. Having finished all her grading and prep, she was just wandering around, taking in all the details in easy view. She desperately wanted to peek into his closets and cabinets, but that was a line she wouldn’t cross no matter how curious she was.
The house looked like it had been professionally decorated at one time. It had that generic model home feel to it and not much personality. The kitchen was the only place she felt justified looking into cupboards. He didn’t seem to be much of a cook. The only small appliance he owned was a top-notch blender, which made sense. He probably drank a lot of smoothies and vegetable juice. Nor did he have a large collection of dinnerware. She knew from personal experience that he hosted parties, but remembered the preponderance of plastic cups, plates and flatware they’d cleaned up afterward.
His bedroom was where temptation to snoop hit her the hardest. Bedrooms were the most private of rooms. She’d seen the interior of his closet that night when he’d given her the tour. It had been like something out of a magazine. There was so much room the clothes he hung up barely touched. But her time there had been so brief, she’d hardly registered any real details beyond the fact that he had a stylish wardrobe. In the bathroom she saw evidence that he shaved wet. A shiver ran through her as she imagined him applying the soap then stroking the razor across his cheeks, jaw and neck. Because she’d never known her father and her mother’s encounters with men were fleeting, Maggie had always been fascinated by the act of a man shaving. She found it so sexy and intimate, so ultimately male. As much as she loved Spencer with a day or so’s growth on his face, she did appreciate him clean-shaven.
That night, Kirby chose to keep close to Lulu and that hurt Maggie’s feelings a little, because at home he liked to snuggle up against her in bed. But she again reminded herself that Kirby’s devotion to his new friend was admirable. Instead, she comforted herself with the idea that she was in Spencer’s bed.
She wondered if he was thinking about her and their incredibly hot make-out session. She certainly was. Those deeply intense kisses, his big strong hands skimming over her wet skin…such an incredible turn-on. That ten minutes had been, sadly, the best sex she’d ever had in her whole life. And it hadn’t even been full sex.
She jumped when her cell phone rang. Unfortunately, it was Jade, not Spencer. She debated answering. She’d have a zillion questions, but if she didn’t answer them tonight, she’d have to answer them at school.
“Hey, I was just about to hit the hay,” Maggie said. “What’s up?”
“Nothing. I just wanted to make sure you weren’t taking naked selfies in Spencer’s bed for Instagram.”
“As if, jerk,” Maggie replied with a laugh. “Number one rule of life—never t
ake a picture you don’t want to see made public.”
“I still can’t believe how this has all worked out. I still think you’re going to end up in a relationship with him and if you end up getting married, I get input on the bridesmaid’s dresses. I’m just saying.”
“Hey, look,” Maggie said. “Please stop saying stuff like that. Honestly, it just makes me want to not tell you anything. It also…well, it gets my hopes up and they’re moderately high anyway. So be a friend, okay, and knock it off. Please.”
Jade was quiet for a moment, then said in a recalcitrant voice, “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize you felt that way. I’ll try to stop. I do have an irrepressible spirit, though, so it might be hard.”
Truer words were never spoken.
“Any effort would be appreciated,” Maggie said.
“So the Dragons are playing tomorrow. Let’s watch it at your place, meaning Spencer’s. I’ll bring dinner and adult beverages.”
“Maybe I should cook something,” Maggie said. “His kitchen is to die for.”
“Hmm. How about tacos since it’s Tuesday? In fact, why don’t we invite the girls from school? You should ask Spencer.”
Maggie admitted it sounded like a lot of fun. They all had parent teacher meetings tomorrow, which was always draining and slightly stressful, depending on the parents.
“I don’t know. Seems pushy to ask him if we can have a party at his house when he’s not here.”
“Maggie, let me give you a little lesson on asking permission. First off, you obviously don’t frame it like that. If you say party, he’s going to automatically picture dancing on tabletops, beer pong, drunken mayhem and personal property destruction. What you say instead is, ‘Hey, Spencer, is it okay if a few of the gals from school come over so we can watch the game together?’ See the difference? Raucous frat party versus a few teachers eating club sandwiches.”
Jade was nothing if not persuasive and Maggie did end up texting Spencer her exact words. He texted back almost immediately, That’s totally fine. Have fun.
So, on Tuesday afternoon a good portion of the faculty of Addison Elementary invaded Spencer’s house. On the menu were tacos, beans, rice, chips and guacamole, some kick ass sangria and Paula’s famous grilled shrimp quesadillas. Everyone was suitably impressed and Maggie endured a lot of good-natured hints that she shouldn’t let him get away and suggestions on how to accomplish this. Paula offered to share her recipe for those quesadillas, which she swore was how she nabbed her husband. After several glasses of sangria, Mindy and Allison declared that frequent blowjobs were key to keeping a man.
This lead to a discussion on the best techniques—from testicular stimulation, to what to do with your hands, to humming and eye contact. This conversation would never have occurred without the alcohol. Maggie could not remember ever talking about sex with her co-workers before this.
“The most important thing of all is to show him you’re enjoying it,” Cindy said.
“Right. You can’t act like it’s a chore,” Jade agreed.
Maggie thought about going down on Spencer and felt a pulse of desire between her legs. It wouldn’t be a chore at all with Spencer. She wanted to take him into her mouth and make him groan. She wanted to feel his large hands slide into her hair and grip her head as she slid her lips up and down the shaft. Most of all, she wanted to make him come so hard, his knees buckled and he realized he couldn’t live without her.
As if that was going to happen.
Not without Paula’s quesadillas anyway.
19
On the next to last night of the road trip, Spencer video-called Maggie’s mobile.
“Hey, how’s it going?” he asked. “How are the dogs?”
The sight of her smiling face made him ridiculously happy. He missed her.
“They’re fine. Lulu’s eating. Kirby’s eye is almost cleared up, but we have to use the medicine until it’s gone. Congrats on the win last night,” she said.
“Thanks. How was the taco party?”
She beamed at him. “It was a huge success. Jade made some banging sangria and there wasn’t a drop left. And the quesadillas were to die for.” She paused thoughtfully. “I’ll have to make them for you.”
“Sounds perfect. We’ll have our own party, but we won’t need alcohol. We won’t even need clothes,” he said, having noticed she was reclining on his bed.
She flushed and he got a sharp stab of desire right in the groin. He wanted more than anything to be back home in San Francisco right now on that bed with her, because he needed to hold her in his arms again, to kiss her mouth, her neck, her shoulders. But even beyond the sex, he just wanted to be with her. His idea of heaven was waking on Sunday morning with her, knowing they had the freedom to do whatever they wanted, whether that be leisurely sex, cooking and enjoying breakfast together, a trip to the dog park, or maybe all three.
“You’re making me blush,” she said.
“I like making you blush. I’m wondering if I can keep it up for the whole phone call.”
Suddenly he had to swallow hard, imagining her whole body arched and flushed during orgasm. Fuck. That was a provocative mental image. His fucked-up brain even provided him with imagined audio of her breathy gasps and cries of pleasure.
When he came back to himself, she was frowning. “What are you thinking about? Are you thinking about having sex?”
He smiled slowly. “What if I am?”
Still blushing, she said, “What if I am?”
“Then we have something in common,” he said. “I don’t suppose you want to have—”
“Phone sex?” She shook her head. “Been there, done that. It’s just an earful of awkward.”
“Well, I guess I’ll just watch porn then,” he said with a laugh, but Maggie did not look amused. “What’d I say?”
“My ex said that to me recently.”
“Was he serious?”
“Yes.”
“Your ex sounds like a tool.”
She sighed. “Yeah, he kind of was. Want to say hi to the kids?” she asked, getting up from the bed.
“Sure!”
She went downstairs, calling out to the dogs as she went, “Kirby! Lulu! Daddy’s on the phone!” This made him laugh.
She showed them the phone and he talked to them, but they were disinterested. He wondered if dogs could even see phone screens.
“Sorry that was a bust,” she said, trudging back upstairs.
“No worries.”
“When can we expect you home?” she asked in a way that made him feel homesick and yet emphasized the intimacy they shared because of the dogs and the fact that she was living in his home, sleeping in his damned bed.
“We play LA and Anaheim back to back, so home on the fourth about seven-thirty.”
“Want me to heat up some of Stacy’s tuna enchiladas for you? She says she’s going to drop those by tomorrow afternoon.”
He grimaced. “I will pay you good money not to do that,” he said and she laughed. The blush was gone but the laughter was even better.
“How about slow-roasted pork shoulder and vegetables and a side of potatoes? Or those quesadillas I mentioned?”
“Holy shit, the pork, no question. My mouth’s watering already.”
“I saw the pork shoulder on a cooking show and I’ve been dying to make it. It’s too much for even two people, so we’ll both have leftovers.”
“I think you underestimate the amount of food I can consume, especially good food.”
“You’re going to be amazed. The meat will be falling off the bone tender and juicy and the house is going to smell so good.”
Her eyes sparkled with excitement and he felt suffused with an old-fashioned contentment that a good woman was home taking care of things and planned on having a hot meal ready for him when he returned. Shit, man, that was so politically incorrect it bordered on ridiculous, but that knowledge was immensely comforting.
He could get used to this.
&nbs
p; 20
Abuzz with excitement and anticipation, Maggie spent her Saturday happily cooking up a feast for her and Spencer. She actually forced herself out of bed at the crack of dawn to smooth a spice rub on the meat, put some root vegetables in the roasting pan, cover it with foil, and put it in the oven at a super low temperature. That was actually all she had to do until about six-thirty that evening when the potatoes were to go in. In the meantime, she tidied up the house, washed and changed the sheets—which meant she had a legit reason to look in his linen closet. She found nothing particularly interesting—just the normal linens, blankets and towels.
With a ton of time on her hands, she brought the dogs to a local dog park and let them run around and play with the other dogs. Rather, Kirby ran around, looking comical with his cone on while Lulu held court at Maggie’s knee like a regal queen.
Afterward, she decided to make a welcome home sign for Spencer, so she took the dogs to school with her and used the letter-making machine and glued each letter to a long banner that she would then hang across the entry to the kitchen/family room area.
The entire time she made these preparations, she felt giddy with anticipation. She tried to keep it at a reasonable level, but the excitement just kept bubbling up like coffee in those old-timey percolators.
Could Jade possibly be right? Could Spencer Corbett, star defensemen for the San Francisco Dragons, truly be romantically interested in her? It didn’t seem possible. She would have thought it was an elaborate joke, but he didn’t seem capable of that kind of callousness. She wracked her mind to think of any other reason why he would have made out with her in the spa and invited her to stay in his house. Could it just be gratitude for letting Kirby remain with Lulu?
She got herself a bottle of iced tea from the fridge and glanced over at her darling pug. She didn’t think so. Gratitude and romantic interest were not connected, at least not for her. Those two emotions ran on different circuits. So by process of deduction, she had to believe he was attracted to her.
Animal Attraction (San Francisco Dragons Book 2) Page 10