TYLER

Before I’d bought Roxie from my neighbor, my friends would tell me how much I’d score if I had a dog. Not that I needed a distraction to get laid, but shit, they were right. Women love seeing a man with an animal. But no one ever told me my dog would end up being the biggest cock blocker.

When I kick open the door to my bedroom, Roxie nibbles at my ankle and jumps up to lick Kennedy before I have the chance to set her down on the bed. Sliding Kennedy down my chest, I lower her to the ground in case Roxie also wants to take a bite of her perfect ass. For someone who dresses as if she stepped out of another decade, she has a smoking hot body underneath all those layers.

I haven’t even seen her tits yet, too busy licking and fingering her pussy. The way she screamed my name when she came was so fucking hot I’m surprised I didn’t nut in my pants. Now, I’m sitting on the floor while Kennedy plays with Roxie, laying flat on her back as Roxie jumps on her chest. She might be a puppy in the sense of her age, but my dog has been growing like a champ and way too heavy to be pouncing on her stomach.

Kennedy doesn’t seem to mind, and I like watching the two of them together. This is the first time I invited a woman into my bedroom. I usually have sex on the couch or in one of the spare bedrooms. But I never invite them to where I sleep. The house is so unlived-in from me never being home that women never seem to notice they’re not even in my bedroom—if we even make it that far.

With Kennedy, I found myself walking to my room without a second thought. Not until Roxie cock blocked me did I regret my choice.

Kennedy has her legs spread open wide, giving me a nice view of her wet pussy. I stroke my cock a few times, so fucking hard I am in physical pain. Needing to be inside her, I crawl across the carpet to close to the distance between us and lift Roxie from her chest.

“Hey, what are you doing? Give her back. I’m not done loving her.” Kennedy holds out her hands to take Roxie back as if she weighs five pounds and could fit in the palm of her hand.

If I didn’t already like this woman more than any woman I’ve been with in a long time, her love for Roxie only added to what I’m feeling. She’s cool, smart, funny, loves sports, and has a mouth on her that makes my dick hard every time she gets wise with me.

“She’s getting in the way of me and your pussy,” I say, setting Roxie down to slip between her legs.

Roxie licks the side of my face at the same time I lean down to kiss Kennedy, killing the moment. Nothing is more unappealing than trying to have sex with a girl when you have slobber on your cheek. Like I said, Roxie is a cock blocker.

“Rain check,” she asks, running her hands through Roxie’s dark coat. “I think this one has other plans for us.” Kennedy nuzzles her face against Roxie’s, the two of them adorable together.

I nod, unable to hide a smile. “Of course.”

After deciding I should get dressed, I get up and open the drawer behind Kennedy to pull out a pair of mesh basketball shorts and a black and orange Flyers T-shirt. “Are you hungry?”

Roxie jumps up and barks, thinking I am talking to her. I make a goofy face at her. “I’ll feed you too, girl, but I wasn’t talking to you.”

Kennedy looks up, her eyes darting straight to my erection and bites down on her bottom lip. She stares at me for a few seconds before she snaps out of it. “Yeah, I guess I could eat.”

“I’ve got something you can eat,” I quip.

She blushes, turning her head away from me to play with Roxie. “I meant food, stupid.”

I slip into my boxers and pull them over my hips, peeking down at her and that pouty lip, which is not helping me get rid of this hard-on that will not quit. “I don’t often cook so your options are limited to pizza, frozen burritos, and Gatorade or water. I can order us something. What are you in the mood to eat?”

“Pizza is fine with me. Whatever.” She shrugs her shoulders, nonchalant. “I’ll eat just about anything you put in front of me. I’m not picky.”

This woman is so low maintenance. And I like that. I have trouble remembering the last time I was with a woman who didn’t expect me to wine and dine her as if I need to pay for pussy. Models and actresses are worse than puck bunnies. They expect the world served to them on a silver platter.

At least with bunnies, I can go into it knowing they only want to fuck me because I play hockey. Some of them have been more clingy than others, but they’re a lot easier to deal with if I’m looking for a booty call than some prissy model who eats celery sticks and water and still expects me to take her to a Michelin-starred restaurant just because I can afford it.

After I finish changing into my shorts and shirt, I help Kennedy to her feet, her tits pressing against my chest and making me hard all over again. I want to bend her sweet ass over the bed right now and fuck the smile from her face. But Roxie is too obsessed with her new friend to give me a second to touch Kennedy before she’s already rubbing her wet nose against her bare leg for attention.

“Let’s take this downstairs,” I say, releasing her from my grip and wishing I could spend five minutes alone with her without Roxie interrupting us.

As we descend the stairs, Roxie forces her way between us, almost knocking Kennedy over and taking the stairs so fast she’s already at the bottom landing and barking at us by the time my feet hit the middle of the long staircase.

I lead Kennedy into the kitchen and hit the buttons on the oven to preheat. Frozen food directions are about all I know how to follow when it comes to cooking. I have fancy pots and pans the interior designer I hired hung from the ceiling on metal racks. At the time, I had assumed it was for decoration, and since I don’t cook, I left them in the same exact place she had left them.

Like the rest of the house, the kitchen has high ceilings, marble floors, a long wall of windows with plenty of light, and large cabinets that reach up so high I have never even bothered to put anything on the top shelves. And it’s not like I had put anything inside. There might be a bag of stale chips or canned soup in there somewhere but nothing that will save us from the apocalypse. I have a poor man’s pantry inside a rich man’s house.

Most of the time, I reach into the drawer where I keep the menus and call the first place I can find that will deliver.

Hoping to catch a few minutes alone with Kennedy while Roxie eats, I open a can of dog food and empty the contents into her bowl on the opposite side of the room. She dives right in without acknowledging me. Roxie is taking to Kennedy in a way that I haven’t seen before with anyone other than Donovan. She loves him to death, but that’s also because he was with me when we picked her out from the litter.

Our last twenty games of the season were hectic. I didn’t have much time for a personal life outside of hockey, but the few women I brought home with me Roxie either growled at until we went upstairs or had their shoes bitten.

The Louboutin model was not thrilled about her limited edition runway shoes ripped to pieces by my jealous puppy. That was the reason I knew about Kennedy’s shoes the day we had coffee together. The girl gave me a lecture about her shoes until I called a car to take her home.

Kennedy helps me unwrap the pizza and organize it on the tray, offering to put the baking sheet into the oven, all while giving me a perfect view of her ass. After she spins around, my hands are all over her body. Slurping her water and chomping down on her food, I know we have about another minute or so before Roxie finishes eating. If we’re lucky, she’ll be full and tired and go lie down on her doggy bed in the living room.

She rests her palms flat against my chest and looks up at me with those beautiful blue eyes I could stare into for hours. I want to kiss her, but after being licked by Roxie, I don’t want to gross her out, so I reach around her and grab a paper towel from the roll on the counter, pressing her back into the island as I turn on the faucet and wet the paper.

Kennedy slides her hand up my chest and hooks her arm around my neck, standing on her toes to kiss me. But she’s not tall enough, so I wipe my face with the towel and throw it on the marble, making sure my face is dry before I bend down to scoop Kennedy in my arms and kiss her.

She moans against my lips and slips her tongue into my mouth, her fingers digging into my hair as she pulls me closer to deepen the kiss. Fumbling with my shorts, she stops teasing me and pulls them down just far enough to slip her hand between the slit in my boxers, taking my cock in her hands.

“It’s your turn,” she says, using both of her hands to jerk me off.

It feels so fucking good I doubt I will last long after being tortured. Kennedy makes eye contact with me the entire time, and after Roxie makes her way into the living room to take her after dinner nap, she drops to her knees in front of me. Continuing the same motions as she opens her mouth, she fits as much of me as she can manage, not stopping until I can feel the back of her throat.

“Jesus, woman,” I say, grabbing her head and planting my other hand on the counter to stabilize myself.

Kennedy peeks up at me, still stroking my length with one of her tiny hands as she moves the other to my balls to massage them. “Shit, Kennedy.”

Words that make any sense fail me. Everything that shoots out from my mouth sounds like I am gurgling mouthwash, choking on my words. My body trembles, causing me to hold on tighter to her head, tugging at her hair as I come. I mutter a series of random crap in the process.

She lets me come in her mouth, which is ten times hotter and makes this one of the best blow jobs I have ever had. Her performance deserves a fucking standing ovation. I want to give her a high-five, a slap on the ass, something that says good fucking work.

After she swallows and wipes her mouth with the back of her hand, she stands with her eyes fixed on me. Her eyes have not left mine since the minute she got on her knees. There was something about the way she looked at me the first time we met that had helped me to see past her odd choice in clothing, and this look, the one she’s giving me now, is the reason. It’s innocent but playful, sexy but cute.

She giggles when I lift her up by her tight ass and set her down on the counter, her legs spread open and her pussy glistening with her juices.

Kennedy leans back on her palms and lifts her hips. “I think it’s about time you fucked me, Tyler.”

I smile and slip between her legs, running my hands up her thighs as I lean in to kiss her lips. “Are you planning to write about this on your blog?”

“I don’t know.” She tilts her head to the side, a tiny smile forming on her beautiful face. “I must say you have given me a lot of material to work with today.”

“Well, I already know you won’t be writing about how my stick ain’t all that.”

“No. Your stick is a lot bigger than the average stick. Maybe I’ll write about how you killed me with it.”

We laugh.

“I like you,” I blurt out because it’s the truth.

“I like you, too,” she says, almost sounding confused.

“I want to see you again, but first, I’m going to fuck you.”

She wraps her legs around my back, pulling me closer. “Then stop talking about it and just do it already.”

And that’s when I realize the pants I had on earlier had my wallet in them…and condoms.

I have to move out from between her legs to get to the drawer on the island where I keep takeout menus and random things and hope for a condom. Sifting through the drawer, I can feel her watching me as I look through the junk. When it comes to women, I am always prepared, and for the second time today, the mood is somewhat killed because I have to excuse myself from the kitchen and head into the living room to find my track pants.

But Roxie, the Queen of the Cock Blockers, leaps off her bed the second she sees me, her mouth hung open and panting hard with excitement. If I ever plan to have sex with Kennedy, we may need to find another location. Because as long as she knows Kennedy is in the house, we will never have any peace.

Roxie jumps up for me to pet her. I tell her she’s a good girl and that’s enough to break away for a few seconds to find my pants and dig through the pockets before she follows behind and rubs her side against my leg. I pull out my wallet to remove a condom, about to go back into the kitchen when Kennedy walks into the living room.

She has her dress hiked up her thighs and a black potholder in her hand. “Pizza is ready.”

Annoyed by another interruption—like eating—I drop my pants onto the couch, sighing. But I like the sight of Kennedy, looking sexy and domestic in my house. It has been far too long since I have had this type of attraction to a woman, which also freaks me out. The last one ruined my life.

After she cuts the pizza, we take our plates into the living room to eat on the couch. Roxie has to squeeze herself between us to ensure she is always the center of attention.

“This didn’t go as planned,” I say to Kennedy and nodding at Roxie.

She finishes chewing her slice and wipes her mouth with the napkin on her lap. “I came over here to interview you. I’d say this wasn’t what I had in mind either. I didn’t even like you very much before you kissed me.”

“But you didn’t push me away.”

“Nope,” she shakes her head, “but I should have.”

Somewhat deflated, I sink into the couch and shove the rest of my slice in my mouth to hide my disappointment.

We eat for a few minutes before she speaks again, breaking the silence. “You offered me an interview, and I plan to collect on that offer, so you better spill your guts and give me something to write about.”

“You mean my stick isn’t newsworthy enough for you?”

She smiles. “On my blog, maybe, but not on Sports Buzz. I need a real story to report, and while fitting your dick in my mouth was a challenge, I’m not quite sure how I’d write about it unless I plan to write an advice article called, Deep throating: Taking one for the team.”

Her comment takes me so off guard that I laugh, hard, and end up snorting, which is somewhat embarrassing. “Shame you can’t write that article. I would love to read it.”

She rolls her eyes at me and sets her empty plate on the coffee table. “Sorry to disappoint. I’m serious about the interview. After all, that is the reason I came to your house, to begin with.”

“What we did was better than a stupid interview,” I interject, running my hand down her bare arm.

“Yeah,” she blushes, “it was pretty damn good.”

“Pretty good? Nah, babe, it was fucking incredible, and you know it.”

“I guess it was,” she agrees, smiling. “Now, it’s time you start talking to me.”

“What do you want to know?”

“Anything…everything. I want to write about the Tyler Kane that no one else gets to see and not just the player.”

“I already showed you that side of me.”

She reaches across Roxie to touch my forearm. “You’re holding back from me. When I asked you about your family, you acted weird. When I asked about girls, you shut me down.”

I look away from her, unsure what to say next without pissing her off. My personal life, at least the parts she wants to know about, is off-limits to anyone outside of my inner circle, and by the inner circle, I mean Donovan. He’s the only person who knows about my parents and Payton.

“This is what I’m talking about,” she says, but her voice is soft and quiet, not an ounce of irritation. “Something is there. You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to. It’s not like a blow job warrants me an all access pass to your life.” I thought she would be pissed, but instead, she seems to understand.

“Trust me, babe, that blow job was worth a lot more than an interview, but I’m just not…”

“Ready,” she finishes.

“Yes, I guess you could say that.” I squeeze her hand, turning to face her so I can look into her eyes. “But I’d like to see you again. I can’t give you what you want, but maybe I can help you in other ways.”

“What did you have in mind?”

“How about a tour of the Wells Fargo Center? I could arrange a meeting for you to meet with Mike Turner.”

“Yeah, that would be great.” She’s radiant, glowing as she speaks. “I’d love to talk to your GM about some of the trades last year and how he thinks it will impact your next season. I have so many questions I’d love for him to answer.” Kennedy leans over Roxie to hug me, but with my dog in the way, it’s more like a pat on the shoulder. “Thank you, Tyler.”

“I’m sorry I can’t give you more.” And I mean it. I wish I had the guts to tell someone other than Donovan about my past. But I’m afraid no one will understand the way he does. I don’t want to be judged by a woman I am beginning to like.

“It’s a start, a compromise, right?”

Roxie hops off the couch and does her pee pee dance in front of the coffee table, spinning around in circles and chasing her tail.

“I need to take her for a walk. Do you want to come with us?”

She shrugs against the couch, a tiny smile on her lips. “Sure.”

Roxie runs across the room and jumps up in front of the fireplace, not yet tall enough to reach the leash dangling from the corner of the mantle.

“Calm down girl,” I say, reaching for the dog collar.

Excited, she clamps down on the black fabric, knocking a picture frame from the mantle that crashes to the floor, the glass shattering into tiny pieces.

“Damn it, Roxie. Look what you did.”

She steps forward, her head lowered in apology, but I have to move her out of the way before she steps in the glass.

“Here, let me help,” Kennedy says, sinking to the ground to pick up the frame along with the bigger shards.

She flips over the picture and studies it for a few seconds. Something flickers in her eyes as she glances up at me, her gaze flipping back and forth between the picture and me. Smart women are always a problem. And Kennedy is not just smart, she’s a reporter who I assume has put two and two together with one look at Blake’s picture.

She comes to a standing and notices the rest of the frames of Blake. “Who is this boy? You have a lot of pictures of him.”

“That’s Blake.” I have no idea what to say because no one ever asks me about him and because no one knows he exists except for Donovan.

“He’s adorable.” She holds the picture up next to my face, inspecting it. Her mouth widens when she makes the connection, but she’s not sure if her assumption is correct, so she keeps digging for information. “Why do you have so many pictures of him?”

“I just do. Can we leave it at that?” I walk away from her, calling out for Roxie to follow behind, not giving a shit about the mess on the floor. I need to get out of this room, away from her questions.

Before I reach the end of the huge living room, her words cut through me like a blade slicing into my chest. “The boy is your son.”

I turn on my heel, angry, frustrated, and no longer wanting to be around her. “I think it’s time for you to leave, Kennedy.”

“I’m…” She’s at a loss for words, and I feel horrible, but I need to be alone. Just the mention of Blake already has my stomach in knots and my entire body on high alert. I want to sink to the ground, curl up into a ball, and try to forget about my life, the secret life I live that Kennedy does not need to know about. All of this is too personal for me.

“Tyler, I didn’t mean anything by what I said.” She sets the broken frame on the coffee table, closing the distance between us. “It’s just he looks so much like you. If he’s not your son, then he must be related to you somehow.”

“I thought we had a deal.”

She reaches out for me, but I take a step back. “We did. We do. Look, I’m sorry. Can we pretend like this never happened?”

“Easier said than done, babe. Consider this forgotten.” I am such a fucking jerk. But I want her to go home, and the only way to get rid of her is to be a dickhead.

“Oh, okay. Right.” Her gaze shifts to the ground for a few seconds, before she walks over to the couch to retrieve her bag from the floor, gathering her things and slinging the strap over her shoulder.

She bends down to pet Roxie and says goodbye to her, without bothering to as much as look at me as her heels click down the long hallway. The front door slams hard behind her, the sound rattling the house.

I feel like a piece of shit because I am a piece of shit. My secrets are not just mine to keep. As much as I was beginning to like Kennedy, I would have ended up disappointing her or she would have stabbed me in the back. That’s how relationships work with me—one extreme or the other. And I am nowhere near ready to let someone into my life, not when I can’t sort out my shit.