Wrist Shot (Puck Battle Book 3)

by Kristen Echo

The young woman shrugged her shoulders as if it didn’t matter; as if she was used to being stood up. “Oh. Makes sense. You’re here now. I’m Beth.” She extended her hand towards Sylvie. They completed their introductions and chatted for a while.

  Beth was a gorgeous girl and too smart not to see Joe for the player he was. The way they flirted gave her the impression the two would have sex and nothing more would come from their relationship. Though Sylvie got the impression Beth wanted more than a one-night stand. She wondered why someone who could have any guy in the place would subject herself to less than she deserved. But then who was she to judge. Sylvie needed to get laid in the worst way and maybe it was the same for Beth.

  A few more hockey players and their entourage joined them. She was introduced to many new faces. The conversation flowed and so did another round of drinks. Martin seemed quiet and never left the table. He sipped his water and smiled, but it seemed like he had something on his mind. She interacted with the surrounding people, aware that his eyes were on her. With each sip her attraction towards him grew stronger. She desperately needed a distraction.

  “I’ve never seen you with these guys before, and I’d definitely remember you. I’m Bill.” A man in his late twenties with an easy smile stood next to her.

  This was the distraction she needed. Besides, she was supposed to flirt tonight and now was her chance. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. Care to dance?” She kept her eyes on Bill and downed the rest of her drink. The alcohol had worked its magic, and she felt great.

  “Hell yeah.” He helped her off the stool and led her towards the dance floor.

  The first few songs were fast, and she laughed as he showed off his sprinkler moves. Bill couldn’t dance to save his life, but he was funny and cute. Flirting wasn’t as difficult as she imagined it would be. The booze helped a lot. She gripped his hips, circled around him and shimmied against his backside. They danced to a few songs and sweat dripped down her back.

  When the next song slowed, she was thankful, until Bill pulled her close. She felt his erection against her hip. No part of her wanted anything physical with him. “Any chance you want to get out of here?” He whispered in her ear.

  “Um… You’re a nice guy, but—”

  “Mind if I cut in?” Martin asked, offering his hand.

  She accepted, her body seeking anything he offered. When their fingers joined a shiver raced up her arm. She’d touched him millions of times, but never had her body craved it. “Okay. See you around Bill.”

  He pulled her against his hard body. She was unsteady on her feet. She blamed the booze, but it was his scent and heat. It felt good. She melted into him and hugged him closer. “I see you’ve got your flirt back,” he said, resting one hand low on her back.

  “Are you having fun? You don’t seem like yourself tonight.” She rested her head against his chest as the hiccups began.

  “It was a shit practice for me; nothing you need to worry about. You’re not considering leaving with that idiot, are you?”

  “Oh, you heard. I’ve had too many drinks to leave with anyone but you.” Not that she would have left with that guy. There was only one man that made her heart race and she was in his arms. “I mean you’re the only man I’m sleeping with tonight.” She closed her eyes, realizing that came out wrong.

  “Yeah, we should probably cut you off. Beth and Joe took off already. Do you want to kick it?”

  That would be a smart decision. Once the hiccups started, it didn’t usually take long before she passed out. “Yes. Take me home to bed.” That sounded way dirtier than she intended and Martin’s smile nearly stopped her heart. He was so beautiful. And strong because he ended up half carrying her out of the bar when the heels on her boots gave her problems.

  She cuddled up against him in the taxi, practically sitting on his lap. “Sorry I drank so much. Are you mad we had to leave early?”

  He laughed and ran his fingers through her hair. “It’s not early; it’s past midnight, Sylvie. And no, I’m not mad. I’m glad you had fun, but… watching you dance was a little much.”

  “Why?” She pulled away so she could look him in the eyes. Unfortunately, there were four of them. She focused on his lips instead, which was another mistake. His lips were so full and perfect. She wanted to know how they felt against hers. All night she’d been fighting those feelings and losing the battle.

  “Sylvie, I think you know why.” He shifted on the seat, causing her hand to slide down his chest and rest near his crotch.

  Another hiccup made her laugh. She did not understand what he was talking about. But she couldn’t take her eyes off his mouth or stop her hand from exploring. “You don’t like my dance moves?”

  He stilled her hand before she made contact with a part of him that friends don’t touch. “I like your moves. Maybe too much and… Sylvie you’ve had too much to drink and I’m not taking advantage of this situation.”

  “Take advantage,” she breathed as she leaned in closer to kiss him. The car lurched to a stop. She missed his lips by a mile. Kissing his hair wasn’t as rewarding. They ended up hugging instead.

  “I should have buckled you in myself.” He held her close, but kept her head next to his; not the right angle for kissing. “It’s my job to take care of you.”

  She giggled. “I bet you will.” She curled into him. Everything sounded dirty to a woman who hadn’t had sex in ages. “Be gentle because it’s been a while.”

  He groaned but didn’t say another word. They sat in silence for the rest of the ride. She may have fallen sleep because he nudged her shoulder when they arrived. Again, he held her close for the walk to the condo. He helped her remove her boots as she leaned against the wall. Seeing him on his knees, holding her legs, filled her with desire.

  “Time for bed,” he said, taking her hand.

  She swallowed hard, remembering the sleeping arrangements. They would sleep together. The two of them in one bed, possibly and preferably naked. She stumbled to keep up.

  Once they entered his bedroom, she collapsed onto the bed. The hiccups had eased, but her eyelids were so heavy. She watched him disappear into his closet. When he returned, he wore a pair of sweat pants that hung low on his hips, and he had one of his jerseys in his hand.

  Her mouth watered at all those finely developed muscles. She mustered the courage to go for it. “Can you help me out of this dress?” She flipped her hair over one shoulder. The zipper was along the side and she could easily manage on her own, but where would be the fun in that.

  “That’s not a good idea.” He looked down at his feet while he spoke. “You can sleep in this.”

  “Fine, you can watch.” She stood, unzipped the dress and peeled it off her torso. “I don’t mind.” She removed her dress, letting it pool at her feet. Standing before him in nothing but the finest lingerie he’d bought her.

  “Sylvie.” His long lashes fluttered as he gazed upon her.

  Her alcohol-soaked brain told her this was a great idea. That sex solved all problems, and she needed to release the pressure. She unclasped her bra and let it fall to the floor. He didn’t say a word, but she noticed the rising bulge in his pants. “Do you want to—”

  “Sleep. Lift your arms.” He stepped towards her and she did as he said.

  She thought he might touch her and her breathing sped up. He didn’t. Not the way she wanted. He placed the jersey over her head and helped her dress. She was too drunk to say anything. She’d tried and failed to seduce him; there was nothing left to say.

  “Lie down, and I’ll be right back.”

  Mortified, she crawled under the blankets. He returned a moment later with a large glass of water and two pills. She took the pills and downed the water. They would help prevent the hangover that was bound to follow. As her head hit the pillow, she hoped she wouldn’t remember any of the night, but she wasn’t that drunk.

  He turned off the lights and joined her under the covers. She turned over on her side so she wouldn’t hav
e to face him. Martin wrapped his arms around her. She instantly felt better. He might not want to have sex with her, but they were still good. At least she hoped they were.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  R olling over and finding the bed empty wasn’t the way Sylvie expected to start the morning. Not that she had a plan in mind. She hadn’t adjusted to the time change and her brain wasn’t operating at optimal levels. Her dreams had been so vivid. She couldn’t tell reality versus fiction and considered them highly inappropriate. She doubted those things took place in real life. The ending of the evening was foggy.

  She looked down and saw Martin’s jersey, covering her body. It wasn’t a dream, but a living nightmare. She had actually tried to have sex with her best friend. More than tried, she’d thrown herself at him and he’d turned her down. She buried her head under the covers and didn’t want to come out until summer.

  How could she have been so stupid? She vowed she would never drink again. Anything in excess was bad. Except sex. Was there really such a thing as too much sex? Not possible; but there was something called a dry spell, and it sucked big time. She touched between her legs, confirming her panties were damp. She’d been awake for all of thirty seconds, and she was already thinking about sex. To add insult to injury, she pictured doing it with Martin. Riding his big fat cock until she couldn’t walk. She needed to come so badly, but she moved her hand away.

  Bad Sylvie.

  He didn’t want to have sex with her. They were friends; nothing more. Yet she’d taken his kind gestures and flirtation to mean more. She cringed, thinking about how she'd asked him to undress her, and then bared her body when he told her no. He acted like a gentleman when she behaved like a whore. She blamed the dirty magazines, sexy clothing and way too much alcohol. That never should have happened. But, she wanted to be intimate with him. Her body still vibrated with pent-up desire.

  The refusal stung more than she cared to admit. It hurt because this new attraction was real and not going away. Even as the new day dawned, she wanted him. Had he said yes, she would have slept with him and had no regrets. That was the problem. They weren’t in a relationship, but still she wanted him. She must have left her conscience in Montreal.

  The pillow smelled like him as she buried her face in it. She lay there, trying to collect her wits and think about how to best approach him. Saying sorry I tried to seduce you seemed wrong because she wasn’t sorry. He had sent mixed messages. While she probably shouldn’t have gotten naked in front of him, he didn’t turn away. In fact, he cuddled with her afterwards. It could have been a dream, but at one point she awoke with Martin’s very obvious erection sandwiched between her legs.

  The attraction wasn’t one sided, but what could she do about it? Hiding in bed wouldn’t provide the answer. The other question warring inside her was should she do something about it. She shook her head and yelled into the pillow. “Give me strength!”

  Sylvie trudged to the bathroom. Last night’s makeup had smeared, but she didn’t look that bad considering. Whatever pills Martin had given her had worked because she didn’t feel bad either; slightly woozy, but no massive hangover. She tied her long hair back in a braid, removed the fake eyelashes and washed her face before braving the fallout of her antics.

  “Good morning,” she said, taking a seat at the breakfast bar. Martin had his back to her as he flipped what smelled like bacon over the stove.

  “You sleep well?”

  “Like the dead actually.” She watched him cook and every dirty fantasy she'd ever had raced through her mind. Any hope she had that the attraction would disappear vanished. Damn. He looked delectable, wearing loose sweats and a t-shirt.

  “That explains why you didn’t push me away. You’ve told me a million times how you hate cuddling, but we snuggled all night,” he teased, switching off the burner before facing her. He looked amazing, even with the bedhead. “I slept great; best sleep in a long time, thanks to you.”

  “With the amount of alcohol in me, a nuclear bomb wouldn’t have woken me. Don’t get used to the cuddles; I don’t like getting too hot.” She might consider making an exception for him. Especially, if he wanted to drop on the floor and take her right there.

  “Might not be the heat; ever think you just didn’t like having Renny pressed against you.”

  Her eyebrows shot up. “No. Why would you say that?”

  He reached into the cabinet and grabbed two plates. “Never mind, I’m not trying to offend you. You’re fun to cuddle with is all.”

  “Oh. Thanks.” That was a nice thing to say. “So, about last night… We should talk about my behavior. More like I should grovel at your feet for you to forgive me.”

  His smile turned from sincere to ominous. “There’s nothing to discuss. You were drunk and acted as anyone else given your state. There’s nothing to forgive.”

  “I… The fact that I got naked and propositioned you,” she whispered. “Um… that doesn’t bother you?”

  “You didn’t get fully naked. There’s no way I’d take advantage of someone who’s drunk. So, we’re cool.” He pulled a pan out of the oven, dished the omelets onto the plates and added slices of bacon to each.

  She didn’t want to be cool she realized. “What if you weren’t taking advantage of me? Maybe I wanted you to touch me.” She knotted her hands, waiting for him to respond.

  “Sylvie, you told me you’re lonely. It was obvious, you didn’t really want me, and that any hot-blooded man would have done.” He wasn’t wrong about her being lonely, but he was dead wrong about thinking any man would do.

  “Don’t you ever get lonely? I mean it’s been a few years since Marianne, and you have dated no one. Aren’t you ready to move on?” She wasn’t suggesting he date her, and she hoped it didn’t come across that way.

  “Always worried about my heart when you shouldn’t be; I’ve got hockey, and that’s all I need. Marianne was a prime example of the distractions I don’t need in my life.”

  The same debate they’d been fighting for years. “Not all women are distractions. She’s not the reason you got traded. Stop blaming her.” In his mind, it was his ex’s fault he no longer played for the Canadians. “It turned out good for your career.”

  “Sure, now. But my game fell apart at the same time as my relationship. I doubt that’s a coincidence. She wouldn’t come here unless she had a ring on her finger. Best thing I ever did was walk away from her and leave love in the dust.”

  “You don’t mean that.” Even though love sucked, she still wouldn’t trade a minute of her happy memories.

  “I do. She wasn’t the one for me because she didn’t get that hockey is my life. She always made me feel bad about not spending enough time with her. Marianne’s not too heartbroken. Last I heard, she’d gotten married and has a baby on the way.” His jaw snapped as he said the last bit.

  “Seems to me like you’re not over her. You know you sound jealous, right?” Her volume increased as she got worked up over an old conversation. He pushed a plate of food in front of her. It looked good.

  “Hell no. I don’t want to be married or have babies with her. Ever. I’m perfectly happy with my life. I fuck when I want and nothing gets in my way.”

  “Forgive me if I don’t believe you.” She crossed her arms over her chest.

  He handed her a fork. “Believe what you want, but it’s the truth. You don’t need love to be happy.”

  “So, you think I need a distraction to move on and get over my belief that love conquers all?”

  “Maybe,” he said, and his tone sent her pulse racing. “After we eat, I’ve got the perfect distraction in mind.”

  She’d never eaten so quickly. The bacon and eggs were washed down with a cup of coffee. Martin switched subjects and talked about his upcoming game against the Wild. He had to check in with one of the trainers, and then he’d be home briefly before his flight out later that afternoon. She welcomed the change in topics, but she eagerly anticipated what he had in mind to distr
act her from love. Rolling around in his bed together naked topped her list.

  After they finished their meal, he tried to clean, but she stopped him. She had all day to do the dishes. He relented, but she could tell he itched to put things in their rightful places.

  “Time for distractions.” She rubbed her hands together.

  When he pulled out another deck of cards, her heart sank. She’d thought perhaps… it didn’t matter because they were better off as friends. Considering what she’d done the night before, there had been no awkwardness between them. It showed her the strength of their friendship.

  “Place your bet,” he said, shuffling the cards.

  “Loser wears a clown wig for the entire day. I saw one in your closet.”

  He leaned forward, putting his elbows on the table. “Good thing I play to win, because there’s no way I can wear that on the ice.”

  She laughed. “You will look mighty silly. But I don’t lose twice in a row.”

  He raised his eyebrows and dealt the cards. Turned out she was a two-time loser. He pulled the rainbow colored frizzy haired wig from the closet and placed it on her head.

  “Thanks. Are you sure we can’t do best two out of three?”

  “Might make me a twisted guy, but I think you look sexy in that. Remember, you can’t take it off all day and I want to see pictures of you wearing it around the city.”

  Her cheeks heated at the compliment even though she felt foolish. “There is no way that’s happening. I’m not leaving your condo in this thing,” she said, standing and planting her hands on her hips.

  He gave her a hug and put on his jacket. “Yes, you will because I said so. Winner decides and the loser has to do it; it’s not optional.”

  “Remember that retribution is a bitch.”

  “I don’t know her and don’t plan to meet this retribution person any time soon.” He pulled out his phone and took a picture of her standing there frowning at him. “Later, ma belle.”

  His beauty. He’d never called her that before. Another change. She’d be mad at him for making her go out if it wasn’t so damn funny. The man was too clever for his own good.