Chapter 7

It’s about two in the morning when Kendra stirs next to me in my bed and says, “I better go.”

I don’t respond because I’m not sure what to say. I don’t want her to leave. But staying all night seems a little too relationshippy. That’s probably not a word, but you know what I mean.

“I’ll drive you back to the hotel.” I push the covers aside.

“No, don’t get out of bed. You don’t have to. I’ll call a taxi.”

“No way.” I sit and throw my legs over the side of the bed. “You’re not going out there alone at this time of night.”

“Don’t be silly. I’m a grown woman. I do that all the time.”

“Not when I’m around.”

“No, really. You don’t have to.”

I look at her over my shoulder. “Why don’t you just stay? I’ll drive you back tomorrow. I have a yoga class at nine-thirty.”

She tips her head to one side, also sitting, the comforter held to her breasts. “Yoga?”

“Yeah. Part of the training torture. I’ll drop you off on my way.”

“Are you sure?”

We both know it’s pushing whatever this is. So I give a casual shrug. “Yeah. No big deal.”

Her chin lowers a little and she nods slowly. “Okay, then.”

She slides back down into bed and I flick off the lamp that’s still on and join her in the darkness. I can’t stop myself from reaching for her…she’s like metal to my magnet. Ugh. I suck at poetic shit. But I feel like I have to have her warm, soft body in my arms, against me. She doesn’t resist, and we spoon together, my nose close to her hair so I can breathe in the scent of it.

I don’t want to go to sleep because it feels so good, but it’s not long before I’m out.

In the morning I wake up next to her. We’ve unspooned at some point but are still touching, both of us on our stomachs, my arm across her, her hand curled over my other arm. She’s still sleeping and I blink a few times to clear my blurry morning vision and then study her. She has really long eyelashes and her mouth looks so soft. She may hate her freckles, but I find them adorable, emphasizing how smooth her skin is. I lift my head to kiss the freckles on her shoulder. She gives a soft little snuffle and sigh that make me smile.

I’m not one for lying in bed once I’m awake but I keep looking at her, taking in all the little details like the row of piercings up the side of her ear, the delicate script of the words “From struggle comes strength” tattooed on the back of her neck, the curve of her eyebrows. Is this creepy? Nah.

Her eyelashes flutter and she rolls to her back, her mouth open. The duvet slips down and I have a view of those perfect breasts. Of course I look. Who wouldn’t? They’re fucking perfect, round and firm, her nipples soft and pink. My morning wood takes notice and stiffens even more as she lets out another sigh, closes her lips and puckers them, then yawns.

My alarm goes off then and her eyes fly open, her head jerking up.

I stretch my hand out to smack the button that turns it off. I usually wake up before it goes off, but it’s always set for eight just in case. “Sorry.”

She blinks drowsy eyes at me, then smiles, tugging the covers up. “S’okay.”

Her eye makeup is smudged around her eyes and with her messy hair, she’s sexy as hell. I sigh regretfully that I have to go and be physically tortured again today, first with yoga. Later today we’re on the ice, which I look forward to. I fucking love to skate and shoot the puck. “Sorry we don’t have more time.” I reach out, unable to resist touching her hair, and I smooth some wayward strands back off her face.

She lifts her head to peer at my alarm clock. “Hmm. We have time.”

My dick likes the sound of that.

Then she covers her mouth with her hand. “But nothing is happening until I get my toothbrush.”

“You brought a toothbrush with you?”

“Of course.” She tosses her hair back. “It’s in my purse.”

I have to laugh as I throw back the covers and stride out to get her purse for her. “Ask and she shall receive,” I say to her on re-entering the bedroom with her bag. She digs around and pulls out the toothbrush.

And yeah, I watch her again as she slides out of bed and pads naked across the rug. Her ass is truly amazing. As she enters the bathroom, I hear a squawk and some muttering. She may have caught sight of herself in the mirror. I grin as I dive back into bed to wait for her.

My dick is a throbbing spike so I give him a little attention, a few strokes, a little tug to my balls. I swallow a groan. Luckily she returns quickly. “Better?”

“Much.”

Now I can’t hold back my groan as she slides in next to me, and over me, all silky heat and minty-fresh breath as she finds my mouth. I slide my hands over her ass and pull her closer still, opening to her, sliding my tongue into her mouth.

I roll her to her back, because much as I like her on top, I want to press her into the mattress and kiss the breath out of her. I want to love her breasts, suck those soft nipples into hard little points and make her wet and writhing for me.

And it’s not long before she is as I slip a hand between her legs to explore.

We’re efficient…despite the number of times we had sex last night, we’re both hot for more, and it doesn’t take long to coax a gorgeous orgasm out of her while my cock plunges in and out of her tight channel. Then I come, too, nearly blowing the top of my head off, melting my spine, my muscles softening to the consistency of mud.

“Christ,” I gasp moments later. “I hope I haven’t ruined myself for my practice today.”

“Oh, no.” Her hands glide up and down my back. “Aren’t athletes supposed to abstain from sex before a game?”

“That’s a myth. We conducted a study.”

She giggles softly. “Who’s we?”

“Me and some of the guys. It was a few years ago. We kept track of which games we had sex before and which we didn’t, and how we played. This went on for months.”

She laughs louder. “No way.”

“Way.” I rub my stubble over her jaw. “We were very focused on it. We proved there’s no truth to that.”

“You probably just liked bragging about how much you all had sex.”

“That, too.” I smile. “There’ve been studies done, but most of them rely on anecdotal evidence, kind of like the one we did. I like the one that came out recently that says sex before a game can actually boost your performance.” I frown. “But it has to be two hours before. What time is it again?”

She smacks my shoulder. “Ha.”

I grin. “Lots of time to recover.”

In the back of my mind, the vague thought forms that this is really weird. I barely know this woman and we’re joking around in bed after banging each other nearly blind several times, and a sleepover. It feels comfortable and normal and fun.

I don’t really want to think about that much, though, so I push it away and give her one more smooch on the mouth. “Okay, spice girl, we gotta hit the shower.”

She blinks at me. “Oh.”

I lift an eyebrow. “Problem?”

“I don’t have any makeup with me. Or shampoo or conditioner, or my curling wand…”

“Wait, wait. Weren’t you telling me at the wedding that you really aren’t high maintenance?”

Her lips twitch. “Well…our definitions of high maintenance might be a little different. Oh, what the hell. I’m just going back to the hotel. I’ll sprint through the lobby, even though I won’t likely see anyone I know.”

I grab her hand and drag her into my shower, which I have to say myself is awesome—big, stone-tiled, enclosed on two sides with glass. Lots of room for a big guy like me and one more person, which I have to admit was the last thing I was thinking about when I bought this place.

A small wave of sadness washes over me, and I’m not even sure why. I guess I’m thinking about that guy who bought this condo…a widower, alone, with no thoughts of ever being with another woman. I’m not sure if I feel sorry for him…or guilty…

Again, I ignore that and focus on the sexy woman with me. With her makeup washed off, she looks young and innocent, her eyes bare and vulnerable. We help each other wash but sexy as it is, it’s more about being efficient. I hand her one of my big brown towels—thank God I changed to clean ones—and grab one for myself to towel off.

Once dressed, Kendra carries her big purse into the bathroom while I head to the kitchen. I need food in my belly before I practice. Today’s breakfast: three soft-boiled eggs, two pieces of wheat toast with organic butter, and Greek yogurt mixed with fruit and flax seeds.

I’ve got the water on to simmer and everything out of the fridge when Kendra appears, her damp hair pulled up into a high ponytail and her lips slicked with shiny gloss. She drops a small hairbrush back into her bag and sets it on the counter.

I eye the purse. “You could have a whole bathroom full of toiletries in there.”

She grins and pats the leather. “Just about. Luckily I do carry a few things with me at all times.”

“D’you want breakfast? I have to eat.”

“Right. The diet.” She doesn’t say it like she’s mocking me; she says it like she respects it, and I appreciate that.

I tell her what’s on the menu for me.

“Gross.”

I lift an eyebrow.

“The soft-boiled eggs.” She wrinkles her nose. “I can’t stand runny egg yolks.”

“Oh. I could scramble some eggs.”

“That’s okay. I’ll have some yogurt. That sounds good.”

She mixes the yogurt with the fruit and seeds in two bowls while I cook my eggs. Then we sit and eat.

“I need coffee,” I say. “I’ll stop at Starbucks on the way to your hotel.”

“That would be great. I do love my coffee in the morning.” She peers over at my eggs and makes a face.

“Do you like fried eggs?”

“As long as they’re over easy. Not sunny side up.”

I grin. “Hard-boiled?”

“I love hard-boiled eggs.”

“Huh. What other weird food preferences do you have?”

She sticks her tongue out at me. “That’s not weird. There are probably things you don’t like.”

“Yeah. Flax seeds.”

She laughs. “Okay, I don’t like mushrooms. They’re disgusting. And I’m allergic to shellfish.”

“That sucks. No lobster?”

“Nope.”

“I don’t like mushrooms, either.”

“So if you don’t like it, it’s not weird.”

“Right.”

She shakes her head, smiling, and spoons up more yogurt.

As I pull up in front of her hotel a short time later, I ask, “Why’d you move hotels?”

“Are you kidding? I can’t afford the Peninsula.” She smiles. “Lovey and Marc paid for rooms for the guests and they said to keep the room as long as I want, but I felt like I was taking advantage of them to stay there until Thursday. I usually stay here when I come to town on business.”

“Nothing wrong with this.”

“Nope.” She unfastens her seatbelt, leans over and kisses me. Our mouths open and cling together, then slowly part. I ease my eyes open and stare into hers. “Thanks for last night. The quinoa was to die for.”

I chuckle. “I bet you say that to all the guys.”

Her eyes glint. “Oh, yeah, yeah. All the time. I can’t tell you how many men lure me into their lair for quinoa.”

Last time I said goodbye to her, I thought I wouldn’t see her again. And that was okay. This time…I have a weird twinge in my chest. I rub the heel of my hand over my sternum.

“What are you doing tonight?” The words pop out of my mouth without even thinking.

“I was thinking of walking over to Navy Pier to watch the fireworks.”

I nod. Navy Pier is easy walking distance from here. “Alone?”

“Yeah.”

I shouldn’t do this. I don’t know why I am. “Want some company?”

She doesn’t answer right away. My insides tighten. “Sure. I’d like that.”

“I’ll come here. Maybe around seven? We could go to the pier and grab something to eat.”

“Okay. I’ll see you then.”

She slides out of my SUV with her big purse over one arm and her coffee in the other hand. I watch her walk in and then disappear when she turns left toward the elevators. Then I put my vehicle in drive and pull out onto Ohio toward the lake to loop around to go to my yoga class.

I arrive back at the hotel just before seven.

Yoga class was painful, not just because I’m not very flexible but because it’s soooooo slow-paced it makes me crazy. Sitting there holding those poses for fucking ever bores the crap out of me. But it’s part of the training so I do it, and I know in the end having extra flexibility and better balance will help me play better hockey.

Our ninety-minute session on the ice felt great, though. What felt even better? The massage after and then the two-hour nap I took when I got home. I feel energized and buzzing as I leave my vehicle in the parking garage and walk into the hotel lobby. I texted Kendra a few minutes ago and I pace around the arrangement of furniture until she arrives.

As usual, she’s gorgeous, her hair flowing around her shoulders. It’s super-hot today, so she’s wearing a strapless lime-green dress, but she’s carrying a sweater. Instead of her big purse, she has a little one that she’s wearing with the strap across her body. She smiles at me when she sees me, and her flip-flops smack softly on the floor as she walks toward me. “Hey.”

“Hey.” I smile back. “Ready?”

“You bet.”

We leave the hotel and cross over to Illinois Street, which will take us under Lakeshore. There are throngs of people on the sidewalks on this hot holiday evening, many of them headed the same direction we are.

“How was your yoga class?” she asks as we walk.

“Ugh. I hate it.”

“Let me guess…it’s part of your workout plan.”

“Yep. Not my idea.” I grimace. “Although I’ve heard some of the other players go to yoga classes voluntarily. Do you do yoga?”

“I have. Maybe it’s me and I’m doing it wrong, but I don’t find it much of a workout. But it is relaxing.”

“No, it’s not. It makes me crazy. The best part was when the lady behind me farted.”

Kendra chokes.

“I nearly died from trying not to laugh out loud.” I grin. “But that wasn’t relaxing. Sorry. It’s the twelve-year-old boy in me. Farts are hilarious.”

“Oh, my God.” She’s giggling and doesn’t seem horrified by my talk of farting, so that’s good.

As we walk onto the pier, I take in the crowds. “It’s busy here.”

“It really is. We might have a hard time finding somewhere to eat.”

“The harder part will be finding something I can eat without cheating.”

We study the menu posted outside one of the nicer restaurants.

“Crab,” Kendra murmurs.

“Right. You’re allergic.”

“We can still go here. There are other things on the menu.”

“And there are a few things I can order.” I laugh. “We’re both high maintenance.”

Kendra grins and links her arm with mine. “Well, as long as it’s both of us and not me being a diva.”

Miraculously, when we approach the hostess she recognizes me. “Hi! Welcome, Max!”

I smile back. “Thanks.”

“I hear you’re going to play this year.”

“I sure hope so.”

“That’s so great. We need you.”

“Thanks.” I catch Kendra’s raised eyebrow. “Uh, do you have a table for two?”

“We’re really busy, but let me see what I can do.”

Moments later we’re led to a small table in a corner, but next to the big windows looking out onto the pier. “This is great, thank you.”

“Well,” Kendra says when she’s seated. “That was something.”

I shrug. “I’m surprised our fans haven’t forgotten me.”

“Apparently, they haven’t.”

I stick with water, Kendra orders iced tea and we look over the menus. I already know I’m going to have grilled fish and vegetables, but it takes her a few minutes to decide on a pasta dish.

“What did you do today?” I ask her once our food order is taken.

“I went back to bed,” she admits with a sheepish smile. “You wore me out last night.”

Heat builds in my chest. “Well, if it makes you feel any better, I had a two-hour nap when I got home from the rink.”

Our eyes meet in a moment of connection. Sizzling, electric connection. What the fuck is this?

“Then I went out and did a little shopping and went to the beach,” she continues lightly. “Mostly people-watching.”

“People-watching.”

“People are fascinating.” She leans her elbow on the table, chin on hand, and regards me as if I’m fascinating. I have to say…I like it.

“I guess they are.”

“My flight leaves early in the morning.” She wrinkles her nose.

“Duly noted.”

I have another one of those moments of weirdness…the almost out-of-body feeling that this isn’t real. This is sort of like a date with a woman. Sex is one thing…that whole biological need thing I keep telling myself. That doesn’t mean anything. But a dinner date…that’s different.

I’m not supposed to be doing this.