Instacrush (A Rookie Rebels Novel)

by Kate Meader

  “To be getting down and dirty with your grocery-wielding, lunch-cooking, next-door neighbor?”

  “Well, no.” Nice of him not to mention hockey-playing or underwear-hawking or Instagram-influencing.

  He pulled off his sweater. “Put like that, it sounds like a porn plot.”

  “If it was, we would have done it in the kitchen or on the sofa or even at the door. Instead of vanilla in the bedroom.”

  He smirked. “Vanilla? There will be nothing vanilla about what’s happening here.”

  She didn’t care if was vanilla, chocolate, or rocky road. She just wanted to be fucked thoroughly for Christmas.

  Soon he was down to his dino-briefs and she was faced with all that man.

  “Up,” he said in a tone that sounded like … an order? From nice guy Theo Kershaw? Not expecting that.

  She stood and let him undress her. First her hoodie, which made her consider for the first time what she wore beneath. A plain black bra wasn’t exactly thrilling for him but she figured they were beyond this. Anything would suffice after the sexual tension she’d barely survived this afternoon.

  Before he went further, those green eyes perused her body with a hunger she didn’t expect. She’d known he was turned on—guys turned hard at the slightest thing—but she hadn’t foreseen this level of intensity from Theo.

  It surprised her so much she felt self-conscious. She pushed at her PJ bottoms to distract him.

  He stopped her hand. “Hold on, let me savor this.”

  Savor? Wasn’t this supposed to be a quick roll, happy holidays, then be on their way?

  “Oh, okay.”

  He grazed the tops of her breasts with his knuckles, gently teasing, and her entire body goosefleshed. “Beautiful.”

  She swallowed, uncomfortable with the complement. She wasn’t the beautiful one. He was perfection and she was convenient, though that was unfair to both of them. She knew he wanted her, but she wasn’t sure there was more to it than geography.

  He captured her breast in his big hand and squeezed, causing her to shiver with pleasure.

  “You feel really good, Ellie.”

  “Grrr …” This was the sound that emerged from her mouth. His hand on her breast had rendered her a savage.

  He chuckled and captured her lips in a kiss. So good, like wine and cinnamon, a festive party in her mouth. She pulled his body over hers, loving the weight of him, the solidity of all that muscle, a comforting blanket with sexy intentions.

  He fed kisses down her throat to the V of her bra and sucked through the fabric. Then he continued blazing a path down her rib cage, stopping to dip his tongue in her belly button before tugging at her PJs.

  “I’m—oh, shit.”

  He looked up, his eyes smoky with lust. “What?”

  “It’s a little disheveled down there. I wasn’t prepared for this.”

  “Don’t care. Any guy who says he does is a fucking liar.”

  Within five seconds her PJs were off. Within twenty, she was halfway to heaven as Theo demonstrated one more spoke in his wheel of perfection.

  She couldn’t help her hip swivel, her begging with her body for him to taste and suck and lick. She clamped her mouth shut, letting her hips do the talking. Better that than cry out his name, give voice to this fantasy coming to life. Trapped in her throat, that one word struggled to break free. Tee … Tee … Tee-Oh!

  His fingers got in on the act, slipping, sliding, while his tongue lapped and licked. The flood of pleasure caught her by surprise and she screamed out …

  … something that was not his name.

  Surely not.

  Theo was still below deck, his cheek resting against her inner thigh. His shoulders shook with ... laughter.

  “Did you just call out T-Rex when you came?” Before she could answer, he collapsed in hysterics.

  She’d been trying so hard not to say his name that she said the first thing that occurred to her. Blame the dino-briefs.

  “What? You’ve never had a girl invoke her favorite dinosaur when she gets there?”

  He crawled up her body and kissed her thoroughly. “No, that’s a first. You’re a first, Ellie. A complete original.”

  Because he was being such a good sport, she figured she owed him an explanation. “I didn’t want to say your name because your head’s already big enough.”

  “I have no problem being compared to the king of the Cretaceous period.”

  “But he had such tiny … hands.”

  He laughed. “Pretty sure no correlations can be made in that area. I’m plenty big enough to satisfy you, Ellie.”

  “Oh yeah? Let’s see.” She cupped his cock through the dino-briefs, the proof in the prick. His thickness expanded in her hand, so she stroked hard and let all that leashed power thrill through her.

  He closed his eyes in ecstasy, then opened them lazily. “Condoms? I have some but they’re back in my apartment.”

  She leaned over to her nightstand, pulled open the drawer, and withdrew a three-pack.

  “Army issue?”

  “I bought them at the base, so yeah.”

  “Thanks, Uncle Sam.” Bye bye, dino-briefs. Hello, rubber friend. And then he kissed her again, so sweetly. “You ready?”

  “Yes.”

  He pushed inside her, slowly, testing her ability to take him.

  “Christ, you feel so good,” he murmured against her mouth.

  She wanted to scream, No, you do! She’d loved his tongue on her, bringing her to orgasm (T-rex! Would she ever live it down?) but this fullness felt so much deeper. Connected.

  He withdrew an inch or two, then moved inside her again. Further, fuller. His hand trailed down her arm until it found and interlocked with her fingers. There was a sweetness about that gesture that unlocked something in her chest.

  It was too much. Too real.

  “That’s it, Dino-Boy. Just like that.”

  He chuckled, thrust again, squeezed her hand tighter. “Whatever you need, Ellie.” His eyes remained focused on hers, telling her he wasn’t buying her efforts at distance. He knew her game and he could play it better than her.

  So she stopped playing and started feeling. Let herself enjoy Theo’s singular attention. With each stroke and molten look, he touched a private and usually inaccessible spot inside her. Joking Elle would say it was her cervix, but that version wasn’t here. In her place was a woman moved by how good it felt to have another person inside you, a man who looked at you like you were the center of his universe, if only for a little while.

  The time for jesting was over. Racing toward a peak was her only goal, and Theo knew what she needed. Gave it to her so good. He thumbed her clit and drove her over the edge, and this time she whispered his name into his shoulder, a soft sound that was all she could manage in the wake of such relief.

  But Theo’s sounds weren’t soft or gentle—he was loud and lusty and possessed of a pretty filthy vocabulary that his brownie-baking grandma would most definitely not approve of.

  Elle awoke in the middle of the night, or maybe it was the middle of the morning. Time seemed to have no hold here in the warm, blanket-shrouded dark.

  A large hand was positioned between her legs.

  Oh.

  She adjusted her thighs. The hand twitched, then stroked with a light, lazy motion. Ohhhh.

  A whimper escaped her. Encouraged, the hand clamped tighter, cupping, drawing her body back into the cradle of his.

  Theo.

  This was crazy, but then her life right now was crazy. Unconnected, loose-limbed, no traction.

  “You have to go,” she murmured, in direct conflict to her basest needs.

  He buried a groan in her hair. “Too comfortable. Too turned on.” Then he pulled a groan from her—easily—with that sensuous tease of the sensitive flesh between her thighs.

  “You have to start your trip,” she said at the same time she opened her legs to give him better access. “Be home before grandma gets up.” She didn�
��t want him to leave, but he’d already stayed long past his initial promise of breakfast and lunch. Dinner was cereal and popcorn, dessert was sex on the sofa while Hallmark movies played in the background (sacrilege, and so deliciously naughty).

  But she couldn’t have him here with her on Christmas Day. He had a family he needed to see and she had a family she needed to hide.

  His fingers continued their maddening torture, and after a few more strokes he had her on her back and his mouth stamped over hers. “Holiday delivery. Right here.” Two fingers now, a luxurious stretch. A few more minutes wouldn’t hurt, even though she knew every passing second dragged her deeper into the lure of him.

  More rubbing and stroking and there, so good, yes, yes, yes and she could feel that perfect coil of pressure tightening.

  “More,” she urged.

  His big palm spread her wide. “I’ll take care of you, Ellie. I’ll take care of you so good.”

  His voice was thick with lust and she could feel him, huge, urgent, against her thigh. She needed to be filled. She needed something she couldn’t articulate properly. Him, but more.

  “Please. Oh, please.”

  The crinkle of the condom wrapper registered in her ears, and he gave her what she needed. She fell asleep wrapped in Instagram-worthy arms.

  When she woke again, he was sitting on the bed, leaning over her. She could make out bright eyes, white teeth. Could hear his fertile brain ticking over.

  “You know, Ellie, you could—”

  “Let’s just leave it at this, Kershaw. Lovely night, morning delight, and no strings.”

  “I was going to ask—”

  She touched her fingertips to his lips. “I know what you were going to ask.” Come home with me. You’d be welcome in Saugatuck. I’d feel bad leaving you here alone. “But like I said yesterday, this is a one-off.”

  “Several orgasms delivered is more like a five-off. But I’m not counting or anything.”

  One last ego stroke wouldn’t hurt. It had been a perfect day and night after all.

  “You rocked my world, Superglutes. Now go home to your granny.”

  8

  Six weeks later

  Theo grabbed a Henley from his locker then switched it up for one of his team jerseys. He shut the door and put his foot on the bench to Velcro his sneakers.

  A seated Levi Hunt looked up and delivered the Special Forces squint. “Wearing your own jersey off the ice is a bit much even for you, Kershaw.”

  “Funny. Not leaving just yet. I need to do a meet ‘n’ greet with some kids who won a contest on my Instagram.”

  “Is that what we’re calling them now?”

  Theo grinned. “You just wish you had fans.”

  “Regular, mind-blowing sex is preferable.” At Theo’s pained expression, he patted his arm. “Sorry, sore spot?”

  “Blue spot, as in balled.”

  “You mean to tell me a good-looking guy like you with a zillion fans on Facebook—”

  “Instagram, dude. Facebook is for my grandmother and her posse.”

  Hunt waved that off. “So what’s up? Or not … up?”

  “Just going through a dry patch.” Since he’d unwrapped a sexy package on Christmas Eve and proceeded to wrap himself in the body of his hot, gorgeous neighbor.

  Tonight Theo was going to see her for the first time in several weeks. He wouldn’t go so far as to say that he’d been avoiding the Empty Net bar. Rather, he’d been selective about his coming and goings. He had good reasons, mostly to do with Elle.

  Fine, all to do with Elle.

  Why subject the poor woman to the potentially hurtful sight of a hockey god in his prime being pounced on by his considerable fandom? Since that fabulous night, she’d moved out of Hunt’s place and into her own apartment above the Empty Net where she worked. Theo flaunting his assets in front of a former fling seemed less than classy, even if the former fling had made it clear she was not interested in him beyond that one night.

  Someone else—Theo didn’t have a name for this exceptionally irritating someone—might have come up with an alternative theory on his absence.

  Avoidance cut both ways.

  Theo didn’t want to inflict his fans on Elle, and likewise, he wasn’t in the mood to watch her flirting with the male clientele. Sure, she was just being friendly, doing her job, working it for a better tip. He knew that, but it was tougher than he’d expected to be a fly on the wall. He hadn’t had a crush like this since Janie Michelson in the sixth grade. (And that had ended terribly with Janie sending a Valentine’s card to Kevin Corrigan because his family owned stables. Hard to compete with horses.)

  However, today was their goalie, Erik Jorgensen’s birthday, and he’d asked to celebrate this joyous occasion at the Empty Net. We could head to a club downtown, Fish. Meet a couple of hot girls. But the Swede had his heart set on the local drinking establishment, and the birthday boy would get his wish.

  Later. First some fun with his fans.

  Shondra, the team’s publicist, appeared with a gaggle of wide-eyed youngsters, mostly boys in the ten to fourteen-year range, though a couple of girls were there, too.

  Theo loved meeting junior fans. Some of today’s guests had brought parents with them for a backstage tour. It was like Willy Wonka—and Theo had the keys to the chocolate factory.

  “Hey, guys! Great to see you. Welcome to the Rebels locker room.”

  The kids blinked, looking around in awe, pointing at the names of their favorites above each cubby.

  “Any hockey players here?”

  They all raised their hands, even the girls, which was awesome.

  “Cool! We can start the tour here. First up is this marble statue beside me depicting a cross between grumpy guy who really needs a cupcake and too-old-and-barely-hacking-it hockey player who wishes he’d left five minutes ago. Anyone want to guess who this is?”

  “Levi Hunt!” Several of the kids shouted as if this was a valid question, and Levi was actually an immobile statue who was part of the tour. Animatronic legends in the Hockey Hall of Fame? Theo filed it away.

  “Hey, there.” Misery guts Hunt’s attempt to persuade the group he was actually a real, live man. “You guys enjoy the practice?”

  The kids asked about the drills and plays they’d just seen. One of the dads queried Hunt about his military service, which was always guaranteed to kill a few minutes. People were pretty obsessed with that shit. While Hunt yammered on about ripping up trees and chopping firewood with his bare Special Forces hands (Theo assumed this is what he talked about, he usually tuned out), Theo spotted a kid arriving late to the locker room. Something familiar about him pinged his chest. A woman’s hand landed on the kid’s shoulder, pushing him forward and guiding him in place.

  Theo recognized her. Shit.

  Jenny Isner, wife to Nick Isner, Chicago alderman, and more important—to Theo anyway—his biological father.

  He’d seen pictures of them online, all American smiles and family values, and while Nick knew Theo existed, he’d made it clear that his oldest son wasn’t welcome to join Team Isner.

  Theo had made peace with that years ago. He had people who loved him and he wasn’t going to beg for more. Occasionally he checked out the guy’s Facebook page looking for mentions of Nick’s other sons. Wondering if they were happy and safe.

  His eyes latched onto the kid, the spitting image of Nick. Mid-brown hair, freckles splashed on his nose, green eyes the same as Theo.

  Did Nick even know they were here? Probably not, because there was no way he’d condone this visit. Theo smiled at the kid, certain it came off as weird because it felt like he’d never smiled before in his damn life.

  The kid—his half-brother—returned a funhouse mirror version of Theo’s smile, then looked shyly at his mom.

  “Right, Kershaw?”

  He turned to Hunt who must have been trying to get his attention for a while. “Uh, what’s that?”

  “Just telling them that
Boston’s defense could give us trouble.”

  Theo tried laughing off his discomfort. His kid brother was here—and he had no idea who Theo truly was. “That’s your problem, Hunt. I’ve got my zone covered. Okay! You guys want to see the equipment room?”

  A chorus of shouts went up, and in a daze, Theo led the kids to the next stop. They donned shin guards and elbow pads while Shondra snapped pics for Theo’s and the team’s social.

  “Hey, try on these shoulder pads,” he said to his brother, who looked like the younger one. “What’s your name?”

  “Jason,” he said while pulling the pad frame over his head. The pads swamped his small body.

  “You play hockey, Jason?”

  “Yeah. I want to be a defenseman but my coach thinks I’m too short.”

  “It seems dangerous out there,” his mom said.

  “Not if you’re padded right.” Theo patted the sternum plate. “And maybe develop a few muscles. How old are you?”

  “Almost twelve.”

  “I was about your size when I was twelve but then I had a growth spurt.”

  Jason nodded wisely, then eyed his mom. “See?”

  The lady Isner remained unmoved. Her nose twitched, probably at the equipment funk which Theo was well used to. A mom of tweens should be used to it, too, but maybe that’s not how it went in their household.

  “You’ll want to make sure you’re eating a sh—a whole lot of fruits and vegetables. You set good habits now and the muscles will follow.” He smiled at Nick’s wife, who smiled back, liking anything that encouraged her kid to chow down on greens.

  “Listen to Mr. …” She looked lost.

  “It’s Theo. Theo Kershaw.” One. Two. Nothing. No apparent recognition at the mention of his name, so still the dirty secret. Nice.

  “You always have those protein shakes in the morning,” Jason said to Theo. “But Mom said I’m too young for that.”

  “She’s right. That’s a special diet planned by the team here. But you can get a lot of the same benefits if you listen to your mom and eat everything she tells you. She knows best.”

  Obviously bored with the food talk, Jason fingered the straps of the padding. “Could I see your hockey stick?”