Chapter 18

“You really don’t have to do this.”

Since Kendra arrived yesterday, she’s picked up groceries, cooked meals for me, brought me painkillers and fresh ice packs, and, yes, helped me shower. That’s probably the best part. No, wait. The blow job…no, wait…okay, it’s all good.

But it’s troubling me a little.

“I know.” She smiles as she removes my warmed-up ice packs to put them back in the freezer.

Maybe I feel a little guilty because she came all the way here to help me. She got her laptop out this morning and made a couple quick calls while I was watching Sports Week. It was cool listening to her on the phone, sounding all professional and knowledgeable.

“I’m going to do an upper body workout,” I announce.

She frowns. “That’s okay?”

“Yeah. They said I can do anything that doesn’t hurt. I’m sure a few bicep curls will be fine.” My jaw tightens, thinking about the time I’m losing when training camp is so close.

She actually helps me get set up, and I appreciate that she realizes how important this is to me. I go through a routine with the heaviest weights I have, anything that I can do sitting, even standing, if I don’t have to move much. I really use my core muscles to stabilize myself and take the pressure off my legs. It feels good to have that burn in my muscles, that sweat on my skin, my heart rate and breathing accelerated. At least I’m not lying around doing nothing.

Then I stretch out on the couch with more ice packs and a book Kendra brought me, Mental Training for Performance Excellence. I have no idea when she had time to do that, but I fucking love it. This is exactly the kind of thing I enjoy reading, and I start it while Kendra gets ready for her conference call.

“Use my office.” I wave at the den. “You can have some privacy for your call.”

“Oh, I didn’t realize you had an office.”

“Well, it’s not much of an office. But there’s a desk in there, so probably better if you’re making notes or something.”

“Thank you. That would be great.” She carries her phone and laptop in there.

I continue reading my book. I hear her talking in the other room as well as a couple of disembodied male voices, although I can’t make out exactly what they’re saying. An hour or so later she emerges.

I look up. “All done?”

She gives me a wan smile. “Yes. Thanks for letting me use your office.”

I frown at her. “Did it not go well? You look…upset.”

“Um, it was okay.” She sets her phone and computer on the coffee table and rubs her temples. “I have a little headache.”

“Well, I have lots of painkillers if you need something.” I shoot her a wry smile.

Her smile in return is stiff. “Yes, you do. I’ll get some. Need anything?”

“I’m good right now.”

She goes into the kitchen and I watch her grab a bottle of water from the fridge and shake out a tablet from one of the small containers on the counter. I don’t like seeing her stressed like this.

She runs a business and I know she works hard. She’s shared some of the challenges and problems they have. I admire her for how she’s become such a businesswoman when her background is so different. But then, maybe that psychology background helps her when she’s talking to potential investors or customers. And she’s super-smart.

“Why don’t you go have a bath or something?” I call to her.

She blinks at me and slowly walks back into the living room. “A bath?”

“Yeah. You seem tense. You’re dealing with work and you’re here looking after me. You can take some time for yourself.”

One corner of her mouth lifts. “I’m fine. What would you like for dinner?”

I sigh. “It’s not what I’d like, it’s what’s on the goddamn meal plan.”

“You can eat more things now.”

“True.”

Kendra decides to make chipotle chicken burrito bowls. With quinoa. When she goes back to the kitchen to start cooking, I feel another twinge of guilt. “I can help.” I swing my legs off the couch and grab the crutches.

“No, you should rest.”

“Fuck. I’m fine.”

We both give each other a long look, her assessing, me defensive. Then she says, “Okay.”

I help her find things and shred some cheese while she chops lettuce and dices an avocado.

“Why don’t you have a glass of wine,” I suggest. “No reason you can’t drink.”

“I guess that’s true.”

Again, I don’t know why I feel guilty. She’s definitely not complaining, seeming happy to look after me, even though she did call me a big baby when she first arrived. So I don’t know where the guilt comes from.

Maybe it’s because I have these thoughts floating around the edges of my conscience that this is more than just…sex. This is how someone acts when they really care about someone…selfless, kind, thoughtful. But then again, that’s just Kendra. That’s who she is. I’ve seen this side of her before…her affection for Army’s puppy and how tender she was with him; the way she helped around the cottage that weekend; her care for Zyana; the way she helped around my place trying to look after my parents until Mom made that comment that hurt her feelings. But she got over that and treated Mom and Dad so nicely, laughing at Dad’s bad jokes, finding out what Mom’s favorite wine is and buying a bottle of it.

And yeah…she’s always like that with me, even when we’re teasing each other. She’s always been kind and generous. So this doesn’t mean anything. It’s just her.

And I have to admit…I like it.

I mean…I’m injured, but I’m not that injured. I’d survive if she wasn’t here. Rupper and Rosser have both texted me to see how I’m doing and if I need anything. But it’s…nice having Kendra here. Sharing the couch while I watch TV and she works on her laptop. Helping her find her way around my kitchen. Her sleeping in my bed with me last night.

She’s quiet as we make dinner, and normally I’m good with that. I’m not a super-talkative guy, but usually Kendra chats so easily and gets me talking, too. Tonight I feel something in the air, a tension.

After we eat and load the dishwasher, she says, “You know, maybe I will go have that bath.”

“Sure. Help yourself to whatever you need.”

I channel-surf and watch some news. A while later Kendra returns, dressed in a pair of cropped yoga pants and a thin, loose hoodie, her hair still in a messy knot on top of her head. She has no makeup on and her skin is glowing, her eyes soft and vulnerable-looking without shadow and mascara. Her smile seems easier as she sits cross-legged on the other end of the couch and pulls a cushion onto her lap, watching the news show I have on.

“How was your bath?”

“It was very nice. Thanks for the suggestion.”

“Good thing I didn’t get a dog.”

One eyebrow lifts. “What?”

“I was thinking about getting a dog. After that weekend at Army’s house. I like dogs.” I shrug. “But if I had, I’d be having a hard time walking it and looking after it right now.”

“Hmm. I guess. What would you do during the season? You’d need someone to look after it while you’re on the road.”

“This building has a pet concierge.”

“You’re kidding me.”

I grin. “Nope. They’d take him for a walk and feed and water him.”

“Him? Why not a girl dog?”

“I need a manly dog.”

She laughs. “Of course you do.”

“Actually, I have no idea what I want. Could be male or female. I don’t want a dog that’s too big…but not a pocket dog, either.”

“I like dogs.” She smiles a little wistfully. “I’d like one, too, but you’ve seen how small my apartment is.”

“I guess it’s a ‘one day’ thing for both of us.”

“Yeah.” After a brief pause, she nods at the TV. “What are you watching?”

“Eh. Some news. There was an earthquake in South America. Some Olympic athlete just got stripped of his gold medal for doping.”

“Really? Who?”

We have an animated discussion about the stupidity of drugs in sports.

“I guess it’s hard to compete when everyone else is on some kind of performance-enhancing drugs,” she says.

“Not everyone.” I frown. “I refuse to believe that all Olympic athletes are on drugs.”

“Well, not just Olympic athletes. What about professional sports? What about that…that baseball player?”

I smile. “I think there’ve been more than one baseball player caught.”

“How about hockey players?”

I scrunch up my face. “Not gonna lie, it probably happens. I mean, I don’t know anyone personally who takes drugs to enhance performance. Guys usually get caught up in addictions like prescription painkillers or—”

She gasps and stares at me in horror.

“Don’t worry. Not gonna happen to me. One of my teammates ended up in rehab because of that. I try not to take drugs.”

“Right,” she murmurs. “I remember that from the night we met.”

“A memorable evening,” I say drily.

Her smile goes crooked. It’s sweet.

“Besides, those pills I’m taking…” I jerk my head toward the kitchen. “Are over-the-counter meds. No narcotics. But some guys also get into recreational drugs.” I make a face. “That doesn’t help your career. It destroys it.”

“Yeah.” She wrinkles her nose. “But like I was saying…there has to be a lot of pressure on those athletes when they get to that level, and even if not everyone is using drugs, there are a lot, and it’s hard to compete against them.”

“That’s no excuse.”

“I’m not excusing them, just trying to understand.”

“They’re cheaters,” I say firmly.

She tips her head and gives me a slow smile. “Not everything is black-and-white.”

“Sure it is.”

She laughs. “Max. I know you’re not that rigid.”

“Maybe I am.”

“I know you’re very goal-oriented and disciplined. Competitive.”

I smile.

“Maybe a little stubborn. And you come across as unfeeling.”

My smile turns to a frown, which I quickly erase. Because it’s true. I want to be unfeeling. Feelings hurt like a motherfucker.

“But you’re not,” she adds softly. “I saw you with your parents. I see how your face goes all soft when you talk about your sisters. And…” She leans closer. “You want a dog. People without feelings don’t want a dog.”

I shift on the couch, uncomfortable with her accurate analysis. Fuck. She’s known me how long? Two months? Sometimes I think she knows me better than I know myself.

“Take it off,” I murmur. “Everything.”

I’m on the bed, propped up on pillows, wearing my black boxer briefs, legs stretched out and spread. Kendra stands at the foot of the bed in her cropped yoga pants and hoodie. She reaches for the hem of the hoodie and slowly lifts it…revealing an inch of smooth skin above the edge of her leggings…and another inch…taut muscles, the hollow of her navel, the groove that bisects her abs…and then yes, her bra…It’s not fancy lingerie, it’s white cotton in a racerback style but damn, it looks good on her.

She drops her top to the floor, slowly tugs the elastic band from her hair and shakes the long waves down her back. I stare avidly, my gaze roaming over her curves as she reaches for the front clasp of the bra. She unclips it, holding her hands over the cups. Desire surges through my body and I press a hand to my raging hard-on. Kendra’s gaze drops there and her lips part.

The little tease turns her back on me to slide the straps of the bra down her arms and then let it fall loose. It slides down her body to the floor and she peeks at me over her shoulder with a tantalizing smile.

This is the sexiest fucking striptease I’ve ever seen.

Now she hooks her thumbs into the waistband of the pants and lowers one side, then the other, revealing more golden skin…the shadowy cleft of her cheeks and then their perfect smooth roundness.

Christ. My legs shift on the bed and my dick throbs.

She lowers the snug pants even more until they fall to the floor and she steps out of them. Slowly she turns to face me and I can’t even take it all in, her round breasts with perfect peachy nipples tightened into buds, her sleek curves, the neat patch of dark auburn curls at the juncture of her thighs. She cups her breasts, and heat explodes through my body. I have to curl my fingers into my palms at the need I feel to cup those beauties myself.

Her hands skim down over her waist and hips. My skin burns and my balls ache.

Her gaze fastened on mine with erotic intensity, she moves toward the bed and crawls on.

“Fuck, you’re hot,” I manage to rasp out.

She smiles. “I was thinking that about you.” Her gaze roves over me. “Look at you. I can’t even…” She bites her lip. “All those muscles. That tanned skin and dark hair.” She runs her hands down my quads. “Your thighs. God, Max, your thighs.” Then her eyes move to my groin. “And this.” She reaches out and caresses my hard length through the stretched cotton of my boxer briefs. “This…so beautiful.”

The way she looks at me, Christ, I feel like I can do anything…make the team, win the Stanley Cup, fucking rule the world. It’s intoxicating. I’m drunk on her.

She tugs my briefs down lower. My dick springs up enthusiastically. Kendra licks her lips and my dick twitches.

I lift my hips to help her drag my underwear down my legs and she’s watching me the whole time, still with that heated admiration that makes my chest swell. She tosses them aside and moves over me between my legs, lifts one knee to the outside of my hip and then the other to straddle me. I lift my hands and cup her face, so soft and small. Our eyes meet and heat expands around us.

She moves, rocking her pelvis, and my dick is lined up perfectly with her slit. She slides her wet pussy back and forth over it. My skin tingles everywhere, fiery sensation burning and twisting inside me. A groan climbs up my throat as she lowers her mouth to mine. Our lips cling and I slide a hand around to hold her head, my other hand moving to her ass to grip her there. We kiss in long, slow, wet kisses as she glides her slickness over the length of my shaft, back and forth. Excitement builds and pulses in my veins.

“Smooth and wet,” I moan against her mouth. “Your pussy on my dick…Jesus, that’s hot.”

I grip her waist with both hands, our noses still touching, our eyes glued on each other. She keeps moving…sliding, gliding, slick and wet. Pleasure expands inside me at the delicious friction. I curve one arm around her waist and reach down to grasp my cock, starving for me, desperate to be inside her. She lets out a hot little moan and rises up to help me find her entrance. The head of my dick meets wet heat, so beautiful…and so bare.

Fuck.

“Condom,” I rasp.

She holds my gaze. “Do we need it?”

I know she’s on the pill, and last night we talked about her not having slept with anyone since her last boyfriend and having been tested after they broke up. I’ve only had one partner in the last five years. “No.”

She closes her eyes and lowers herself onto me.

“Fuuuck. That feels amazing.” The intense heat, the slick grip of her…fuck.

“Yes. I love it.” Her breath hitches and she rises, then lowers again and again, each time taking me deeper into that hot, tight embrace. I reach for her breasts, cupping, squeezing, caressing. Her nipples are delectable, her soft, firm curves magnificent.

She slowly lowers herself and rises, lowers and rises. I give her breasts one more squeeze, then slide my hands down to her waist and help her lift up and down on my shaft. One of her hands presses into my shoulder, the other braces in the pillow next to my head.

My ass and thighs clench and my hamstring protests, but damn, I can’t help it. Kendra’s on top, doing all the work, and it’s fucking fantastic—my body is reacting to it and despite a little pain, I’m on fire.

She pushes herself up straight then, both hands on my chest. I clasp her waist, watching her face—her mouth open, hair falling down around her shoulders.

“Fuck, you’re beautiful,” I say hoarsely.

She tucks her feet on top of my thighs and I raise and lower her faster and faster. My breathing accelerates, my heart explodes in wild pounding, and electricity burns over every nerve ending. I bend my knees and push my heels into the bed to pump up into her, holding her still, our flesh slapping together in an ever-quickening tempo. Her face above me, so close, is gorgeous and she cries out as I stare into her eyes and fuck her faster and faster. The bed bouncing, I wrap an arm around her waist, and bring her mouth down to mine again for another hard, hungry kiss. Fuck, she tastes good, and her little whimpers inflame me even more.

She straightens, fingertips on my chest, then moves her hands behind her to my thighs, her breasts bouncing, hips rolling in needy surges. “Look at those sexy tits.” I stare in fascination. “So beautiful.” I run my hand up between her breasts, then squeeze both of them again. Their lush softness makes me lose my mind.

Her fingers slip down to where we’re joined. I watch her there as she strokes herself, pumping into her, then I lift my gaze to her face. Her eyes meet mine and her lips part again. More sexy little noises fall from her lips, and her body tightens around me, so fucking hot I nearly lose it then. “Yeah,” I grunt. “Do it. Come, baby. Come on my cock.”

She lets out a little wail then, squeezing me, rippling around me, her head falling back. I grip her waist and hold her as I drive into her, faster, harder, my own orgasm bearing down on me fast and hard and dark. I shout as I give one last thrust, holding her hard against me, so deep inside her. I own her.

The fire low in my belly erupts and shoots out of me, into her, and Jesus, she’s all hot liquid around me, even slicker now, both of us staring at each other with a sort of stunned intensity that makes my heart lurch against my sternum.

We’re both breathing hard, the sounds filling the quiet room, still watching each other with that staggered feeling. Her eyes are full of emotion that I’m not sure how to read—a worshipful reverence, an awe…

I have to close my eyes against the feelings that swamp me. She’s looking at me like…fuck.

In the morning Kendra comes out to the kitchen wearing tiny, tight black shorts that stunningly display the curves of her ass and her long legs, and a form-fitting tank top. Her hands are at her hair, wrapping an elastic band around it in a high ponytail.

“What are you doing?” I drop my gaze to the hot-pink-and lime-green shoes on her feet.

“Going for a run. Before it gets hot.”

I slump on the stool. “You’re going for a run? Without me?”

She pats my cheek. “Sorry, big guy.”

“That’s just cruel.”

She studies me. “Feeling sorry for yourself again?”

“Yeah.” I try not to pout. This is really pissing me off.

“I won’t be long. Then we can do whatever you want.”

“Like what?” I cross my arms. “I can’t do anything.”

“I wouldn’t say that.” She winks.

Okay, yeah, we found ways to make sex work. Her on top is spectacular, I must say.

That doesn’t make me feel much better right now. “I’ll go lift some weights.”

“Great idea.” She straps her phone to her upper arm and plugs earbuds in, then disappears out the door with a wave.

I sit there and sulk for a while, then grit my teeth and go to the spare room where my weights are. My leg feels better today, which is a good sign that there isn’t a tear. Maybe they were wrong about it taking weeks for me to get back to normal. Hell, I’ll be fine by Tuesday.

I’ve pumped and huffed, panted and sweated, showered and shaved, and I’m dressed in shorts and a T-shirt but Kendra’s still not back. Should I be worried? I don’t really know how far she runs. What if she got lost? Or mugged? Or hit by a car…

I pace until my leg protests, then make myself sit. I try to find something on TV.

I check the time, even though I’m not sure exactly what time she left. Pretty sure she’s been gone for over an hour. Probably an hour and a half.

Finally, I hear her key in the lock, and her voice talking to someone. She enters the condo, laughing, flashing that gorgeous smile at my neighbor Michael.

He’s smiling back at her, his eyes warm and admiring.

He’s an okay-looking dude, I guess. What do I know? But he’s a doctor, which means he’s smart and rich (not as rich as I am, though) and probably has a lot in common with Kendra.

“Hey, Max.” Michael greets me. “I hear you’re laid up.”

I shrug, scowling at him. “Just a muscle strain. I’m fine.” I stand, without my crutches, to prove my point.

Kendra snorts. I give her a look, taking in her glowing, flushed face and chest gleaming with perspiration. Even like that, she looks beautiful. No wonder Michael was looking at her. Fucker.

“Need me to check things out?” Michael lifts an eyebrow.

“No. Thanks.” I try not to scowl. “The physical therapist at the gym did that.”

“I ran into your neighbor in the lobby,” Kendra says. “He knew I was staying with you and introduced himself.”

“Nice of him,” I mutter.

Michael ignores me, all his attention on Kendra. “I can run with you while you’re here. So you don’t have to go out alone. I can show you around.”

“I’m sure she doesn’t need a babysitter,” I say, even though twenty minutes ago I’d been worried about her.

Kendra laughs. “Babysitter! Too funny. I might go for another run on Saturday if you’re around, Mike.”

My mouth drops open in disbelief.

“Would you like some coffee, Mike?” Kendra calls as she walks into the kitchen. She opens the fridge and pulls out a bottle of water.

Michael glances at me, then blinks as he sees my face. “Uh…I should get going, I guess. Nice to meet you, Kendra.” He turns back to me. “Let me know if you need anything, buddy. I’m right next door.”

“Sure.”

Kendra wanders back in with the bottle in one hand, the cap in the other. When the door closes behind Michael, she says, “Why were you so rude to him? He told me you two are friends.”

“I wasn’t rude.”

“Yes, you were.” She sighs. “Are you still pouting?”

“I’m not pouting!”

“Mmm…okay.”

“And anyway, my leg feels better today. I think it’ll be fine by Tuesday.”

She cocks her head. “Ooookay. Sure. So. I have work to do this morning, but we could do something this afternoon. What about going to a movie?”

Huh. “We can do that.”

“Why don’t you see what’s playing where, while I go shower.”

I limp into my office and drop into the leather chair at my desk to wake up my computer. My eyes fall on the framed pictures of Ariana.

How do I keep forgetting about her?

I close my eyes as guilt washes over me in a scalding wave. What is wrong with me? I’m such a shithead. It’s like I’ve just erased her from my life. That’s so not fair to her. To her memory.

“I’m sorry,” I choke out, my eyes on hers in the photograph. Her solemn eyes don’t change.

I don’t know much about heaven or hell. I think believing in heaven and some kind of afterlife makes us feel better about dying, but I don’t know if it’s real. I guess I won’t know until my time comes. Is Ariana somewhere watching down on me, crying because I’ve forgotten her and I’m with another woman? I can’t bear thinking about that. I loved her. I don’t want to hurt her.

What am I supposed to do, though? Kick Kendra out?

I don’t want to hurt her, either.

Something bursts inside me, hot, hard, a feeling of intense pressure that makes my skin buzz and my muscles twitch. So many things are bugging me. I know I’m already stressed because of this stupid hamstring strain. I’m worried about why Kendra is here. For fuck’s sake, I’m jealous because she was talking to Michael. And now I’m guilty because I once more feel like I’m betraying my wife.

I squeeze my burning eyes shut, my hands in fists on the desk. I have to get my shit together. I’m not supposed to be feeling all this crap. I’m trying to get on with my life. All I want is to make the team. Really. That’s all I want.

My gut is twisted into knots and my lungs are straining to fill with air. I think I’m having a fucking heart attack.

Get a grip. Get a goddamn grip.

I suck in a long, slow breath and let it out. Then another one. I relax my hands and lower my shoulders. One more breath. Okay.

Movie listings. I need to find movie listings. I got this.