Animal Attraction (San Francisco Dragons Book 2)

by Kate Willoughby

This note is for your eyes only. If Jade is coming over, you are obligated by the Federal Relationship Pact of 1985 to not share this, so shalt thou swear on a stack of library books. Yours, Spence.

  Sighing happily, she reread the note a couple more times, adoring his sense of humor, then took the dogs for a walk. The houses sat back from the street, all of them grand and imposing. She heard some girlish laughter tumble out of an open window and as sometimes happened, she thought of Maya. It was a small world and crazy things happened, but at times like this she’d think, maybe she’s in that house and one of those little girls is her. Stranger things had happened. She hoped Maya was laughing right now. She hoped she laughed all the time. It wouldn’t matter if she lived in a grand house like this one where that mirth had originated or a small modest apartment, as long as there were the basic necessities and love and support.

  Maggie was starving by the time dinner arrived. To her delight, she discovered he’d gotten her Italian, a lot of Italian. After tipping the delivery guy, she opened the boxes one by one. Maybe she should call Jade. It was a crap ton of food. In the end, she decided she didn’t have the energy to deal with her friend tonight. Not if she was going to have delicious, mind-blowing sex with Spencer in the wee hours whenever he got home.

  So she brought the food and wine with her to the man cave where, of course, the biggest TV was. He’d gotten so many of her favorite dishes, it was uncanny—lasagna, chicken parm, chicken marsala, Caesar salad with croutons so good she could eat a bucket of them. There was minestrone soup, steamed veggies, and tiramisu.

  When she was stuffed to the gills, she’d barely made a dent, but the game was about to start. She put everything in the fridge and watched the Dragons play a surprisingly energetic game against the Sharks, the only team close enough geographically to allow the Dragons to sleep at home afterward. The TV guys spoke quite a bit about the new coach. Apparently, he hadn’t been sure he’d ever get another chance at the Stanley Cup and most of the speculation said the odds were stacked against the Dragons.

  At the end of the first period, Jade called. “I assume you’re watching.”

  “Of course,” Maggie replied. “I’m a nervous wreck.”

  “I don’t want to jinx it,” Jade said, “but this is the best start I’ve seen from them in a long time.”

  “I know, right? Did you see Spencer? Did you see that blue line hit?”

  “Bootally—brutally beautiful. I swear I only had one beer. I felt the guy’s grunt right in my midsection. Your number thirty-three is on fire.”

  “For me,” Maggie said with a giggle.

  “Ha! That’s the spirit. That man’s in love with you. If he’s not now, he will be soon and vice versa. You need to do whatever it takes to keep him. I know I’ve said that before, but I mean it. He really really respects you, Mags. He listens to you and takes you seriously. Unlike a certain blowhard we know wasn’t worth five minutes of your time, let alone months.”

  “Jade, you’re not telling me anything I don’t already know. I’m living in a constant state of disbelief and hope and giddiness and honestly, it’s exhausting.”

  “Give me a break. ‘Poor me. I’m an NHL player’s girlfriend and I’m so tired from having amazing sex and being pampered.’”

  Maggie laughed. “Okay, okay. You made your point. I’ll shut up about it.”

  “I’m just teasing you. Seriously, I’m happy for you and I don’t want to jinx it, but I’ve been eyeing the wedding magazines at the grocery checkout.”

  The tension on the bench was palpable. Everyone wanted to impress Bertsoulakis. Everyone wanted this change to jumpstart the team and propel them in a different, more positive direction. Bertie wanted speedy zone entries and shots on goal. The focus was on offense.

  And yet, after a contentious first two periods in which both teams scored one goal each, the Sharks set up camp in the Dragons’ zone and no one seemed to be able to get the puck out. Another minute and Spencer’s legs were feeling shaky with fatigue.

  A flurry of action left the net wide open.

  “Watch it!” Max yelled as a pass to an opponent made a goal imminent. A five-year-old could have made the shot.

  Spencer had already seen the danger and shot forward to try to block the shot. Their goalie, Nick Stackhouse, was flying to the left, glove outstretched. Likely, it would make no difference.

  It should have been a goal. It really should have been. But the hockey gods smiled upon them. Somehow Spencer got a tiny piece of the puck. He didn’t see it happen, but he felt it. The puck slowed and the angle changed just as Nick’s glove came down. The whistle blew and they had maintained the tie score with a miracle save, then ended up winning the game in overtime.

  Later in the locker room, before the press was allowed in, the team held the “Fuck Yeah” presentation. Often it was to recognize the MVP of the game, but sometimes they acknowledged a notable career benchmark or achievement. Other teams did this too—the Rangers gave out the Broadway hat. Dallas had their black cowboy hat. In Chicago, they awarded a belt.

  At the very genesis of the San Francisco team, the Dragons had awarded the player with a conical straw hat, but that was short-lived after most of the players objected to the racist feel of it. For a while, nothing was done to replace it and there was no post-game recognition. When Paul became captain, he resurrected the ritual.

  These days, the recipient got a fireman’s helmet slapped on his head. When Paul first revealed the new hat, the guys were relieved at the innocuousness of it. There was no kind of prejudice associated with a fireman’s hat. However, no one got the significance behind the choice.

  “Really?” Paul had said. “We’re the Dragons. We breathe fire.”

  He’d been met with blank stares.

  “But the helmet is supposed to protect the firefighter from the fire,” someone remarked.

  “And we’re not the swords and wizards type dragons,” someone else pointed out.

  Spencer remembered nodding in agreement with these two comments. The Dragon logo was a serpentine Chinese creature of wisdom, good luck and power. But even though it didn’t make any sense, they continued using the helmet out of apathy.

  “It won’t come as a surprise that the MVP tonight is House,” Ian said. Ian had been the last helmet recipient. “Not only did he fucking make the NHL Network highlight reel with that save…”

  Several of the guys voiced agreement on this or clapped.

  “He saved our asses in the first two minutes of overtime and made it possible for Corbie to get the game winner. Let’s hear it for House!”

  As per tradition, a sparkler was lit while the team chanted “Fuck yeah,” ten times while Ian slapped the helmet onto Nick’s head.

  Nick protested. “Corby should be sharing this with me. I never would have stopped that shot if it hadn’t been for him.”

  Immediately, twenty-some hands came up, middle fingers extended. Deflecting the honor to someone else, while admirable, was not allowed.

  “All right. All right,” Nick said. “I get it. Thanks. The most important thing is, we fucked up Vancouver.”

  That got a round of cheers going and Spencer hoped this win would be the first of many under Bertie’s coaching.

  Spencer got home well after one o’clock. The house was quiet, except for the scrabbling of Kirby’s claws on the floor as he greeted him. Lulu remained in her bed as she was wont to do this late at night. Spencer went to her and gave her a cuddle.

  “Did you two take care of Maggie tonight?” he asked in a low voice. “Good dogs.” He glanced upward in the direction of his bedroom. He wondered if she was naked. Or if she was wearing something uniquely Maggie to bed—like pug pajamas.

  “All right. You two stay here now and if you hear any strange noises up there, ignore them.”

  Despite having played a vigorous game tonight and reluctantly completing his whole post-game workout, he felt energized at the prospect of making love to Maggie. And yet, he was well
aware of the fact that she had school tomorrow and probably needed all the rest she could get because, shit. She dealt with a passel of first graders for six hours a day, not only managing their behavior, but actually teaching them something in the process. He got tired just thinking about it.

  The bedroom door was open, but the room was dark. He slipped off his shoes as his eyes adjusted. A Maggie-shaped lump was on the right side of the bed and soft, feminine breathing noises told him she was asleep.

  As quietly as he could, he undressed. Unfortunately, as he was hanging up his suit jacket and pants, he knocked something over in the closet.

  “Spence?”

  “I didn’t mean to wake you up. Sorry.”

  She looked at him drowsily. “Don’t be sorry about waking me up. Be sorry that you’re not in here with me yet.”

  Smiling, he stripped the rest of his clothes off and joined her in bed. It seemed like a lifetime ago that he’d hugged her before she left for school that morning.

  Her welcoming kiss was warm and eager.

  And she was naked.

  Fuck. His cock woke up in a matter of moments and when her hand slid over it, clasped it, he groaned and pushed her over onto her back. She opened her legs and he pressed up against her. The heat from her pussy inflamed him. He kissed her hard. He’d been looking forward to this all day.

  A few moments later, he put on a condom and by the way she already had her hand on him and was guiding him home, he figured she was ready for action.

  He pushed just the tip in and bit his lip against the pleasure. He resisted the strong urge to surge forward and bury himself completely inside her. The foreplay had been short, and he didn’t want to hurt her.

  With incremental shifts of his hips, he slowly, teasingly entered her further. She was so tight and hot, by the time he was fully embedded, he’d broken out in a light sweat.

  “That feels so good,” she murmured, lifting her arms above her head and gifting him with a half-lidded, provocative smile that heated his blood.

  He captured her mouth again as he withdrew almost completely, only to sink back into her until his groin was flush with hers. He continued this way for a few minutes, kissing her mouth, her neck, her shoulders, making sure to press against her clit with each downstroke.

  At one point, she surprised him by pushing his shoulders and turning her body, indicating she wanted to get on top.

  Hell yeah.

  Grinning, he obliged her by rolling over. The sight of her above him, her hair in a glorious tangle around her head, her breasts bared to his gaze…fuck.

  “So beautiful,” he murmured, reaching out to cup her breasts.

  She arched at the touch, rocking her hips against him. He played with her breasts to his heart’s content, squeezing, thumbing and rolling the nipples until they were tight and hard. Finally, he couldn’t resist anymore and he crunched his abs so that he could latch onto one of her nipples. She gasped and clutched at his head as he sucked and licked. He loved how responsive she was, but she was tiring. Her movements were slower.

  Time to take over.

  He withdrew and said in a passion-roughened voice, “Turn around.”

  She did, presenting her gorgeous ass. Fucking A, it was a thing of beauty. Round and plump and so damned fuckable. Not wanting to waste any more time, he placed the head of his cock at her entrance and pushed.

  She sucked in a breath and shuddered as he took hold of her hips and thrust. He filled her over and over, harder and faster. His eyes were glued to the spot where his cock was going in and out, and all the while, she whimpered and panted. His own grunts sounded animalistic to him, but he didn’t hold back. He was panting now, his breath hissing as he gritted his teeth against the pleasure. He had one goal—to maintain control until she came, but as he already knew, easier said than done. Her pussy held him with a silken grip that drove him crazy with need.

  Needing more leverage, he put one foot flat on the mattress. Fucking perfect. He forced himself into that mindless state in which he acknowledged nothing of what he was feeling. He was not reaming her hot slit. He did not have a grip on her kneadable, womanly hips. That was not Maggie’s plump ass cushioning his every punishing thrust.

  Maggie’s cries increased in volume and intensity. She was close.

  With a viselike hold on his control, he growled, “Come on, Mags. Come for me.”

  She gasped something unintelligible, but he read her body language loud and clear. She had twin handfuls of the sheets in her fists and the muscles of her shoulders were tense. Sweat shone on her gorgeous skin.

  Moments later, she arched hard, half-rising from her yoga pose. Her head dipped down and she pushed back against him as her pussy squeezed his cock.

  Fuck. That little squeeze was all it took. He fucking lost it right there. All the tension from the game, everything that had built up since the moment he’d gotten into bed with her let loose and his cock erupted like a fucking Mount Vesuvius.

  Wave after wave of pleasure hit him. He wasn’t sure if he was still thrusting. He wasn’t sure if Maggie was still coming. All he registered was the exquisite ecstasy of his orgasm.

  When he finally came back to his senses, Maggie was collapsing limply onto the bed. He went with her, reveling in the additional pleasure of head-to-toe contact. They lay still for long moments catching their breath.

  “You’re incredible,” he murmured at last, kissing the back of her neck.

  “I’m a wreck,” she said. “A complete wreck.”

  “Me too. I’m going to go clean up with the last bit of energy I have. Be right back.”

  A couple of minutes later, he was spooning up to her, his arm around her waist. He loved how her soft ass nestled right up against his groin. There was nothing better in this world than holding a naked Maggie after he’d satisfied her in bed.

  “That was so hot,” she murmured.

  “You’re hot,” he said with a smile. He was making slow circles with his fingertips on her stomach.

  She laughed softly. “My students say that all the time.”

  “Your kids tell you you’re hot?”

  She scoffed. “Of course not. They do this thing where they take something you just said and say you’re that. Like one kid might say, ‘This tuna sandwich is gross,’ and another kid will say, ‘You’re gross.’ This seems to be the epitome of first grade humor because they all think this is hilarious and they do it all day long. And judging from your laughter, you’re just a first grader who shaves.”

  He loved how she made him laugh and realized, with not a little surprise, he didn’t just love her sense of humor. He loved her. He’d fallen in love with this quirky, funny, sexy schoolteacher. In fact, he’d probably fallen in love with her that very first day—the day when, at great personal cost, she lent him her dog so that Lulu might live. Not only that, but she fit right in with his teammates like a boss. All the days since then had just been his brain catching up with his heart.

  He wanted her to move in with him as quickly as possible. They hadn’t known each other long, true, but with every day that passed, his feelings for her had only gotten stronger and stronger. Where else was he going to find a woman who was funnier, smarter, more compassionate, sexier than Maggie?

  But this was a big leap and ever since the beginning, she’d been skittish, hesitant. He could just imagine her reaction if he asked her to move in with him right now.

  No. Better to wait. Let her settle in to the idea of being in a relationship with him. He’d show her how great it would be between them and even try to get her to spend more time here. The wily part of his brain thought that having Kirby here was just extra motivation. He’d give her a garage door opener, clear out some drawers and closet space for her, and they’d be on their way. As he thought about her cowboy boots hanging out next to his dress shoes, he smiled.

  “What’s so amusing?” she asked. “The fact that I compared you to a six-year-old?”

  He pulled her close and l
aughed. “No. I just…I just realized I’m in love with you. I’m head over heels in love with you.”

  Her eyes widened and her mouth formed a small “o” of surprise.

  “You don’t have to say it back,” he said quickly. “I know this came out of left field and I don’t expect—”

  She pressed her index finger to his lips. “Spencer, I love you too.”

  “You do?”

  She nodded.

  Grinning ear to ear, he kissed her hard. Not his best kiss, not by a long shot, because he couldn’t stop smiling, which meant there were more teeth than lips involved, but she was beaming too. That kiss lead to another, softer one, which lead to another kiss with more heat behind it and a few moments later they were going at it again, this time each of them sure in the knowledge that their feelings were echoed in the other.

  27

  The next few weeks saw Spencer and Maggie spending more and more time together and to Spencer’s delight, she began staying over more often than not and little by little, the drawers and closet space he’s set aside for her were being filled. As the days passed, he felt more certain that this thing between them could turn into something permanent, but they’d only known each other two months. He wasn’t afraid of marriage, but he didn’t want to rush into it. Better to make sure they were right for each other than find out too late that it wasn’t going to work.

  Now, he was in St. Paul for a game against the Wild and because he’d somehow lost his travel toothbrush, he had to go to a nearby pharmacy before the team bus left for the morning skate. He’d checked the hotel gift shop, but they wanted eight dollars and damned if he was going to reward the hotel for price gouging its guests.

  Head down and watching some silly video Maggie had sent him of Kirby snapping at a fly, he didn’t see the woman who bumped into him.

  “Oh,” she exclaimed, stumbling back.

  He looked up and immediately recognized her. “Taylor?”

  She gasped. “Spence?”

  Taylor Lipp. His first serious girlfriend.