Kylie

“Thanks for the help, Rita.” I gave my new boss a small smile. Thankfully, my advisor at Georgetown called in a few favors and scored me the ultimate in journalism internships. I got to work—okay, for free, but still awesome—as a junior researcher at CNN.

“You're welcome, Kylie.” Rita checked her platinum and diamond watch and frowned.

Rita Weissburg-Smith embodied everything I hoped to one day become. Strong, confident, and at ease in her own skin. Women in positions of power inevitably got slapped with labels like “bitch” or “emotional” or “harpy.” When it happened to Rita, she let the hatred and insults slide right off her custom-tailored Valentino suit. The woman was brilliant, talented, and didn't care what anyone thought. She was amazing.

“It's late, so I'm heading out. You have a good weekend,” Rita said as she tucked a lock of her shoulder-length dark hair behind her ear and effortlessly strode across the newsroom floor in three-inch heels that probably cost more than most people spent on clothes in an entire year. I sighed with envy. Rita looked every bit the role of powerful corporate executive.

“I will,” I responded. The fib left a bad taste in my mouth. “You have a good one, too.”

Rita disappeared and the click of her heels grew fainter with each step. I turned to gather my things from the drawer of my newly assigned cubicle on the huge newsroom floor. Piper Rigsby, one of a half-dozen interns who sat in the cluster of cubicles around mine, stopped typing to peer up at me.

“You could at least try to be convincing when you say that,” Piper said.

Confused, I looked down at the pretty brunette who occupied cubical next to me. “Say what, exactly?”

Piper rolled her eyes and grinned. “If you're going to be a journalist, you need to sound confident and truthful. That…” She shook her head. “That was pathetic.”

I scrunched my forehead. “I don't know what you're talking about.”

“Exactly.” Still smiling, Piper leaned back in her chair with an annoying smug look on her face. When I didn't respond, her smile slipped. Piper stood to meet me eye to eye, her expression sympathetic. “Hey, I know we’re all journalists and everything,” she waved around at the other interns, none of whom paid us any attention. “But I'm a good listener and I don't gossip. If you ever wanted to hang out, go get a drink or whatever, I'd be up for it.”

It took me a few seconds to catch on. Wow. Piper was able to see right through my act. She knew everything I said was a front. Knew my smiles and attempts at making small talk were forced. In the weeks since I left DC, I realized the one thing I really missed was Nat. Having a best friend I could count on. Someone to talk to, spill my guts and know I would never be judged. Piper was offering to be that person.

Her background actually made her the perfect confidant, what little I knew, anyway. She graduated from Columbia and I remembered someone saying that when Piper lived in New York, she briefly dated one of the Yankees. It wasn't hard to believe. Piper was gorgeous, friendly, and perpetually happy. Easy to talk to and accepting of everyone, faults and all.

Maybe Piper was exactly what I needed. My moods had been all over the place since I spent the night—an amazing, thought consuming, life-changing night—with Sebastien St. Clair. I had been distracted and restless, like my skin shrank a size too small. Not unhappy, exactly, but not content either.

“You mean like tonight?” I shifted from one foot to the other, nervous.

Piper giggled. “Yes, like tonight. So what do you say?” She put on her coat and grabbed her bag. “Want to get out of here?”

I relaxed and gave her a small smile. Piper had a talent, an innate ability to make people comfortable, less tense. What made it special is that she didn’t do it because she wanted something. It was simply Piper being herself.

“Desperately,” I admitted.

“Come on, then.” Piper jerked her head toward the exit. “I know just the place. We can walk.”

For the first time in the seven or so days since I snuck out in the early hours of the morning and left Seb asleep in his hotel room, I laughed. The surprising part, is that it was genuine.

* * *

"So that's the gist of it.”

I could tell Piper was trying not to let the shock show, not that I blamed her. It wasn't every day a coworker you hardly knew dropped a live grenade in your lap, then left you to fumble your way through putting the pin back in. But to Piper’s credit, she remained calm and composed throughout my entire unbelievable story—Sebastien St. Clair, the bizarre gift, his proposition, and me ultimately agreeing to meet him at a hotel for sex with little to no hesitation.

Oh, believe me, I left out a ton of details. No one needed the skinny on exactly what went down in that hotel room. What Seb did to me. What I let him do. Those details would forever remain a secret between Seb and me. I still couldn’t believe I shared my darkest desires with him, out loud. Not that I had any regrets. Seb turned my fantasies into the best night of my life.

“Well… That's, umm… Wow, Kylie. Just, uh, wow.” Piper shook her head and slugged back the rest of her vodka tonic, then slammed the empty glass on the table.

I fidgeted and stared at my hands. Crap, I probably should have kept my big mouth shut. The prolonged silence that followed made me squirm until I glanced up at Piper only to find her lips pulled into a lopsided grin. She shook her head again, eyes sparkling.

“Girl, I don't know if I should high-five you for being amazingly awesome, or lecture you for being unthinkably stupid.”

Relieved she wasn’t judging me, I let out a huff. “I prefer the high-five, but I totally get why you think I'm stupid.” Piper opened her mouth, but I held up a hand. “No, I get it. I don’t know him, like, at all. Certainly not enough to meet him alone in a hotel room, especially since I didn’t tell anyone where I was.”

Piper gestured for the server and requested another round. After putting in our order, she turned to face me, giggled, and stretched her arm over the table, hand up, palm out. I stared at it until she cleared her throat.

“Seriously? You're going to leave me hanging?”

“Oh, umm. No.” I touched my palm to Piper’s in what would go down as the lamest high-five in the history of mankind. Piper laughed again and thanked our server when he deftly slid our drinks in front of us and cleared the empties. Piper lifted her full tumbler in the air and shook it, rattling the ice.

“I, for one, think this moment deserves a toast.”

I squinted. “A toast? I thought you said what I did was stupid.”

“Oh Kylie, believe me, what you did definitely fulfills the criteria for stupid.” Despite the insult, Piper’s wide grin was addictive, and I couldn't help but return it. “Just not for the reason you think.”

Huh? I tilted my head and wrinkled my brow. “I don’t get it. If it’s not the obvious, what’s the reason?”

With her free hand, Piper took hold of my wrist and raised my drink for me. “First, the toast.” She clinked our glasses and leaned close. “You’re stupid because…” Like a secret agent in an old spy film, Piper peeked to her left and right to check if anyone was listening before she continued. “If the sex was that great, you should have stayed long enough for round two.” As I picked my chin up off the floor, Piper loudly announced, “To round two! It's always twice as nice.”

If they weren’t before, our neighbors were definitely staring now. My face burned with humiliation, but I couldn’t be mad. Piper had this way of disarming people, of turning an uncomfortable situation into a lighthearted one. Instead of dying of embarrassment and wanting to crawl under the table, I laughed along with her. Once the hysterics calmed down, I clinked to my glass to hers—willingly this time—and took a long swallow.

“I’ll drink to that.”

“Cheers,” Piper proclaimed, lifting her vodka to her mouth.

We talked for hours, drinking and laughing until tears streamed from my eyes and my cheeks ached from smiling so much. Piper told me about her time in New York. What it was really like to date a famous athlete, all the way down to the dirty details and I ate up every last one.

“The scrutiny,” she said with a wistful twist of her lips. “It sucked. One thing I learned is that people can be really mean.”

My eyebrows rose. “Mean? Like how?”

Piper leveled a flat stare. “Puh-lease, Kiley. You must know what I'm talking about. Your brother plays for the freaking NHL.”

I glanced around, hoping no one heard her mention Rocco. Everyone was absorbed in conversation. Satisfied, I shook my head. "Rocco doesn't date. I mean, I know he's not celibate or anything.” The thought of my brother having sex made me shudder. “Never a serious girlfriend, though.” I shrugged. “The press doesn’t really write bad things about him.”

Piper nodded. “Because he's one of the smart ones. Dating is hard enough for regular people. For those in the limelight, it's a freaking nightmare.” She played with her drink, jabbing the half-melted ice cubes with the plastic stirring stick. “When I dated Brad, you know, the Yankee…” Piper’s voice hitched and her eyes glistened. “The gossip columns and papers, and even people on the street, the things they said about me…" She blinked back tears and my heart ached for her.

“They trashed you?”

“Yeah, they did.” Her voice was ragged and her cheeks flushed. A rush of sympathy welled up inside me for my friend. I reached across the table and took her hand.

“That sucks, Piper. I’m really sorry that happened.”

She looked at me, her stare serious. “I hope you never experience it.”

“I won’t,” I said a little too quickly. “I’ve been going to Rocco’s games since I was fourteen. If anyone wanted to write about me, they would have by now. New York is different. It’s like a fishbowl, all self-contained, and I’ve heard and seen how intense the fans are.” I finished my drink and cupped the empty glass between my palms. “The… thing, whatever you want to call it, that I had with Sebastien,” I waved my hand in the air to find the right words. “It was a one-off. He doesn't have my number and I don't have his. We didn't make plans to see each other again and I have no intention of doing so.” I lowered my voice. “He can’t ever know who I am. Like I said, Rocco would literally kill us both if he found out."

Elbow propped on the table, Piper rested her head on one hand and sighed. “You’re so lucky. I always wanted a protective older brother.” Her lips contorted into a puckered frown. “I’m an only child.”

“Yeah, Rocco's great. Sometimes though, he can be smothering. Way too intense, you know? I guess I just wish he would give me the space to grow up and make my own mistakes.”

Piper smirked. “Mistakes like Sebastien St. Clair?”

I winked. “Yeah. Mistakes like him. Totally worth it.”

She threw her head back and laughed. “I know exactly what you mean.” Her eyes sparkled with mischief. “Totally. Worth. It.”

Seb

Try as he might to ruin my day, Rocco Calloway slammed into me over and over during practice, but not even Sasquatch could wipe the smile off my face. At the time, I felt like a jackass, but sending that note to Kylie ended up being one of the best decisions I’d ever made. I’ve had sex before, lots of it, in every way imaginable. But nothing compared to the utter rapture I felt when I thrust my cock into Kylie’s tight pussy.

“Ow.” I winced as my dick throbbed inside my cup. Hard-ons and protective gear don’t mix well. The sharp pain in my groin made quick work of my swelling cock and I reached down and adjusted it.

Evvy’s skates scraped ice as he came to a stop. “Problem?” He glanced at my junk and back up, grinning like an idiot. I yanked my hand away like it was on fire.

“Fuck off.” I gave him a half-hearted shove. Bastard didn’t move an inch. Evvy chuckled and shuffled close enough that none of the guys could overhear.

“Thinking about your Hot Blonde?”

I rolled my eyes. I knew telling Evvy about meeting up with Kylie was a mistake. Not that I gave him much. Just the basics—I propositioned her, she agreed, we fucked. Nothing else. Not even her name. For whatever reason, I wanted to keep her for myself, every last detail, the way she tasted, her scent, the sounds she made as she came. They were mine. Only… they weren’t, were they? For all I knew, she was fucking someone else this very minute.

“Dude. What the fuck is wrong with you?”

Evvy’s voice snapped me out of my own head. I blinked and realized not only were we alone on the ice, everyone else having disappeared down the tunnel, but my jaw was clenched and I gripped my stick so hard with both hands, I was lucky it didn’t snap in half. It took immense concentration, but I managed to relax my muscles as I shrugged off Evvy’s concern.

“Nothing. I’m fine.”

“Riiight. Okay, Sebby. Whatever.” Ev pushed off and skated toward the tunnel.

“I told you not to call me that!” I shouted after him.

He held up a gloveless hand and flipped me the bird.

Asshole.

Coach instructed everyone to hang out after showering. He had an announcement to make. I already had a hunch as to what it might be, and if the lead cannonball in my stomach meant anything, I was right.

We gathered around our lockers, some of us sat, some didn’t. I stood in front of mine, shoulder to shoulder with Ev. My job was awesome. I was a lucky bastard to get to play hockey for a living and I knew it, except for when shit like this went down.

“Shut the fuck up.” The room fell silent at Coach’s gruff bark. Frank Vernon commanded a room like no other. He was hands down the best coach I’d ever played for, even if he could be a total prick at times. His sharp gaze wandered, making eye contact with each of his men. “Management gave me the date for the annual team dinner.” A chorus of groans and grumbles erupted. “I said, shut up!” Hands on hips, Coach shot everyone his death glare, perfected by years of dealing with young, stubborn hockey players. “I don’t like it any more than you, but they’re the ones that pay us and we hafta do what they say. Period.” One of the veteran players mumbled under his breath. Coach’s head whipped around and he literally snarled. “Franzie, got somethin’ to say?”

Franzie shook his head, eyes wide. “No sir, Coach.”

I hid a smirk behind my hand. Amazing. Coach V. could even make a bad ass future Hall of Famer like Dominic Francola tremble in his skates. While Coach gave out the details, my mind drifted back to Kylie. For the millionth time since that night, I wondered what would have happened if she stayed? Part of me wished she had, just so I could wake up, roll over, and take that pussy again. The other part of me was annoyed she beat me to the punch. I was the one who left someone in bed, not the one who got left. Hell, I probably only dozed off for a couple minutes, but when I woke, Kylie was gone. There hadn’t been another home game since, so I didn’t have a chance to see her, though I was undecided on what to do when I did.

Sending another note seemed desperate, and Sebastien St. Clair wasn’t desperate. But I’d give my left nut to have her in my bed again. God, she was so damn responsive. Everything I did to her resulted in an amazing reaction, every slap, every thrust of my hips, fuck… I’d never made a woman come by playing with her tits before. That was the hottest thing I’d ever seen.

Evvy’s sharp elbow dug into my side as Coach asked a question.

Oh shit.

“Sorry, Coach. I didn’t hear you.”

Coach frowned, jowls looking… well, jowl-ier than usual. “I know, St. Clair. That’s why I’m telling you to fucking pay attention!”

I straightened up and ignored Evvy’s low chuckle. Bastard. Coach continued to explain that the dinner was mandatory, blah, blah, blah, same old bullshit as last year. And the year before. And the one before that.

He was almost done when the hairs on the back of my neck pricked. My gaze slid past Coach to land on Calloway. The look he was giving me was so dark, so menacing, so filled with loathing, I nearly flinched. Nearly. I would never give Bigfoot the satisfaction of thinking he got under my skin.

I glared back wondering what the fuck his problem was this time. I was the one who was black and blue from getting bashed into the boards over and over during practice. In fact, I was so caught up in everything Kylie, I didn’t even bother to retaliate against the jerk. Not once.

When Coach turned his back to me, I mouthed, “Fuck you,” to Calloway. Sasquatch didn’t react, but I noticed his shoulders crank another notch higher. Dude was wound as tight as a nun’s asshole. If he got any tighter, he’d shit fucking diamonds. Before Calloway had a chance to reply, Coach clapped his hands.

“Get out of here. Check your emails for directions to the restaurant, and for fuck’s sake, look presentable.” A quick exchange of glances with Evvy and we bolted for the door. As it closed behind us, I heard Coach tack on, “I’m talking to you, Lebedev, you goddamn slob.”

Evvy and I cackled all the way to the parking lot. I might have been laughing, but inside I wondered what the hell was stuck up Calloway’s ass this time. Knowing him, I was sure I’d find out soon enough.

* * *

“Then we took the kids to the aquarium. Oh man, you should have seen them. It was so much fun to watch them press their cute little faces against the glass. I took a ton of pictures, see?”

My vision blurred around the edges as I zoned out in an attempt to protect my brain from the bombardment of three dozen identical photos of two small blonde children I couldn’t tell apart, even if someone held a gun to my head. My idiot teammate went on and on about his rug rats, eagerly flipping through his phone to show me all the adorableness. Rude as it was, I couldn’t gather enough energy to pretend to give a shit. Anyone who knew me should have a fucking clue, I’m not the type to give two shits about their kids. Or any kids. Or the aquarium for that matter.

The only thing that kept me from either dropkicking the guy’s phone or dropping to the floor and convulsing, was the Jack and Coke in my hand.

Speaking of which…

I glanced behind me and noted the previously long line at the bar had dwindled.

“I gotta grab a new drink, Hallzy.” I held up my empty glass and rattled the mostly melted ice.

“Oh sure. No problem.” Second line center Jake Hall lowered his phone. His eyes glistened with disappointment.

Too bad all I could think as I turned on my heel was, thank fuck, I’m free.

The opportunity presented itself and I booked it, unable to get away fast enough. Another clutch of people I didn’t want to talk to had gathered around the bar. Thankfully, most were immersed in their own discussions. Probably about more shit I was one hundred percent certain I didn’t want to hear about. Aside from the impromptu family slide show, it was my lucky night, because I squeezed between two people unnoticed and had another Jack and Coke in my hand in less than three minutes.

Christ, my head ached. Pounded into submission by inane small talk. I despised small talk. Give me Evvy and a couple rowdy friends, a pitcher of beer, and a game on TV to argue over, and I was content. Ask me to stand in one place for more than five minutes and discuss traffic, gardening, or someone’s mother-in-law’s second bunion surgery, and I went catatonic.

I took a sip, turned, and leaned back, elbows propped on the bar. I made sure to tilt my body away from the crowd so no one would approach, but positioned myself so I could still check out the room. If I finished my drink fast enough, I could order another without having to move.

I did just that and it wasn’t long until a pleasant warmth trickled through my veins and my muscles relaxed. A half-hour later I was thoroughly buzzed. Enough to think I might actually have a sporting chance to survive the next two hours without clawing my own eyes out. I didn’t drink to excess often. Not only did it remind me of my useless parents, but it always seemed to lead to fists flying and blood spurting. A few Jack and Cokes wouldn’t get me sloshed, but damn did I feel good.

Starting that very morning, we had an unheard of six days off in a row, so naturally, management went and fucked it up by deciding it was the perfect time to hold the team’s annual dinner, or as I liked to call it, “A night of forced torture that happened to involve fancy clothing, inane chatter, and thank fuck, alcohol.” The restaurant they booked was decent, run by the owner of a local brewery, which stood next door. It was a popular place, and I’d eaten there before. A lot of my teammates and most of the higher ups brought wives or dates.

Which reminded me… I scanned the room and exhaled. No Amanda, yet. If there was anyone looking out for me, she wouldn’t show. I really didn’t want to see her. Not after the ugly way I left things a month or so ago. Plus, no way did I want my personal life anywhere near my bosses. That was why I didn’t ever bring a date to these things. I lifted my glass to my lips and snorted.

Date? I didn’t even need a reason to not bring a date. Why the fuck would I want to bring a woman? Not only did I not date, I’d have to deal with her boring chitchat. It would be my job, and mine alone, to entertain her ass and introduce her to everyone. That meant more small talk.

No fucking thanks. Even the possibility of a quickie in the restaurant crapper wasn’t temptation enough to make me endure the misery of bringing a date.

I spotted Evvy halfway across the crowded room, chewing the fat with one of our corporate managers. Per usual, Evvy’s hands gesticulated wildly as he spoke. Even though I’d much rather sulk alone at the bar, I decided that joining Evvy was my best option if I wanted to keep people from approaching me and, at the same time, remain somewhat sane.

With a heavy sigh, I pushed off the bar. As I took my first step toward Evvy, out of the corner of my eye a cascade of gold hair caught my attention. I sucked in a breath and held it.

No fucking way.

I stopped dead in my tracks, my gaze glued to a blonde woman on the far side of the room. No, not a blonde. The blonde. Kylie. Hot Blonde. The very same Hot Blonde I sent the gift to. The one I’d propositioned. The one I had a near-religious experience with. A spark zapped my momentarily still heart and I exhaled.

Kylie was at the Comets’ dinner. Stood only a few yards away. But why? Who did she come with? She wasn’t an employee. I knew that for sure. I’d asked around in what hopefully came across as a non-creepy, non-stalkery manner. In retrospect, I should have realized Kylie’s front row seat meant she knew someone in the organization. Seats that good didn’t hand themselves out.

I twisted around to check out the rest of the room, not that I’d figure out who Kylie came with that way. I didn’t see her arrive, therefore, had no way of knowing which bastard I’d have to maim in order to get her all to myself.

Again, just the thought of some slimy douchebag putting his hands on her flawless skin made my pulse thunder in my ears. The one important detail I did notice, was the lack of a ring on her finger. Any of her fingers, actually. If she came with a date, they weren’t married. That meant I could, and would, do whatever necessary to ensure the mysterious Kylie didn’t want anyone but me by the end of the evening.

I returned to my spot leaning on the bar and waited for the perfect moment to present itself. My gaze never left Kylie’s stunning face. When she excused herself from a conversation with one of the wives to slip out a side door, a door I happened to know led to a sprawling stone patio, I made my move. A few people tried to stop me, pull me into some inane conversation. Good thing I didn’t mind being rude. I refused to be deterred. I was a man on a mission and no one would get in my way, not unless they wanted a knuckle sandwich to the eye socket.

Without looking back, and disregarding a woman who muttered unflattering comments about me under her breath when I wasn’t wowed by her flirting, I pushed through the crowd and exited the same door as Kylie. Blood thrumming and stomach fluttering in anticipation, I stepped out into the crisp winter night to claim my prize.

Except… shit! I didn’t see her. To my knowledge, there was only one way in and out of the patio area, so Kylie had to be somewhere. I stalked to the far end of the patio, turned the corner, and sucked in a lungful of icy winter air. Saint cibore, from far away Kylie was gorgeous, so how did I forget how beautiful she was up close, without a half-inch of scratched plexi between us?

She was positively stunning.

Kylie stood, alone, with one hip resting against the twisted metal railing, which meant that, thanks to her amazing dress, the exposed, bare expanse of her spine faced me. My breath hitched. That fucking low-slung dress would be the death of me.

She would be the death of me if I didn’t stop obsessing.

I wondered what would it be like to have the liberty to walk over and press right up against Kylie’s body. To feel the searing heat that came off her skin. To rub my stiffening cock against that fantastic ass. An ass that looked even better with my bright red handprint across it.

I approached casually, not hiding my presence, but not announcing it either. Kylie must have been deep in thought, because she didn’t notice me until I put my hands on the railing next to her and even then, she didn’t so much as twitch until I spoke.

“Nice evening, don’t you think?”

“Oh my god!” Kylie jumped and her wine glass slipped from her hand. I winced when it shattered with a pop in the parking lot two stories below. Mouth forming a perfect ‘o’, she bent over the rail and gaped in horror. “Oh no.”

“Whoops,” I said with a grin. Kylie looked distraught, worried about breaking one little glass. I thought it was fucking adorable.

Adorable until Kylie straightened and aimed her intense stare directly at me. Merde. Her gaze was so heated, so focused, my brain stuttered and stalled. The electrical signals shorted out and the gray matter went offline, rendering it completely useless. My pulse raced and I felt the painful hammering of my heart against my ribcage. The wisecracking, smooth talking Sebastien St. Clair had up and left the building, and the inconsiderate bastard left behind a bumbling, speechless dumbass. I literally couldn’t come up with a single intelligent thing to say in the face of such beauty. I was pretty sure “ummm” or “duh” didn’t count.

Kylie’s gaze narrowed as if annoyed, or secretly wishing she could burn me to a crisp by shooting laser beams from her eyes. As she studied me, Kylie’s harsh expression softened and began to morph into something more familiar. Something I could definitely work with. I watched as the pupils in the center of familiar, rich golden-brown irises dilated. It didn’t escape my notice when Kylie snuck a quick peek at my body. Maybe refreshing her memory?

My brain rebooted and came back online as her attention returned to my face. The winter night was so quiet, I could hear the slight hitch as Kylie inhaled. I put the pieces together one by one and when I had enough in the proper place, comprehension zapped me like a Taser to the balls.

My out of control desire wasn’t one-sided. Kylie wanted me. I might be the only one with an unhealthy obsession, but the fact that she was still interested was good enough for now.

“You made me drop my drink.” The way her lip pouted out, combined with the irritation in her voice, made me want to laugh out loud. Yeah, she definitely sounded annoyed, but I didn’t miss the simmering hunger or blatant interest that betrayed her.

Pretending not to care, I shrugged, and tucked my hands in my pockets. “Yeah, sorry about that.”

“Hmph.” Her cheeks flushed and she looked away. Kylie shivered and wrapped her arms around herself.

“Where’s your coat?”

Hell, she was practically naked, not that I was complaining, but it was cold out and the only thing she wore was a slinky, black cocktail dress. One with no back and a skirt that ended way above her knees to show off long, toned legs. Legs that had been wrapped around my waist as I pounded into her. I silently thanked whoever inspired her to wear that minuscule dress. I wasn’t knocking it, believe me. It was fucking fantastic. And as much as I hated the thought of covering her up, she shouldn’t be outside in January wearing a tiny scrap of fabric.

“I left it in the car.” Kylie ducked her head and pulled that sexy, full, lower lip between her teeth, invoking a couple of smoking hot memories. Her high cheekbones blushed a shade darker, and the beautiful rosy color spread to her ears.

Holy sexual torture.

I needed to adjust the painful semi in my slacks, but figured that would be crude. Or hey, maybe she would be impressed by the size of my package? A nice reminder of how talented I was with it. Yeah, no. Bad idea. I kept my hands off my dick and suffered in silence. I couldn’t manhandle my cock, but I could find out more about Kylie. In spite of my hatred of small talk, I dove in head first.

“So, I didn’t expect to see you here. Who in the organization do you know?” I clenched every muscle in my body as I waited to hear the name of the guy I was going to pound into a bloody pulp.

Her eyes glittered and narrowed to slits. “Why do you want to know?” Kylie smirked and that was the moment I knew I was fucked. If I wasn’t careful, she would absolutely own me. A simple snap of her fingers and I’d gladly do whatever she asked, up to and including rolling over and begging at her feet.

Like before, the sound of my name coming from those sinful lips, in that husky voice, made my balls tingle. Instead of grabbing Kylie and slamming my mouth down on hers like I wanted to, I laughed.

“You’re a trip. You know that?” Two could play this little game. With a shameless grin, I leaned in until my mouth touched the curve of her ear. The falter in her breath made my cock swell against my zipper. “I want to know the name of the man I have to teach some manners to, since he didn’t take proper care of you, and left me to lend you my clothes.”

Kylie frowned when I retreated. “I’m not wear—”

I shrugged out of my suit jacket and draped it over her shoulders. Yeah, yeah, it was chivalrous and all that, but to be clear, I’m not a gentleman. Far from it. Case in point, I couldn’t help but brush my fingertips across her creamy skin as I pulled my hands away. Sneak in a little grope. Light as the touch was, the heat of her flesh was like a third-degree burn. Kylie shivered again, only this time I was pretty sure it wasn’t from the cold.

Hmm, she could try to hide it, but I knew she wanted me.

Kylie grinned, a wicked, sexy, fuck me grin that made all the blood in my body head south.

“I plead the fifth,” she said.

Fucking hell, that voice. Undoubtedly feminine, with a hint of smoldering rasp woven through it. She may as well have been jerking me off.

I smiled, even though I wanted that goddamn name. Kylie was dangerous. I had to play it right or I risked pissing her off. Then I would have nothing. No name, no flirting, and no Kylie.

“Alright,” I said reluctantly as I made sure the fake smile stayed pasted on my face. I held out my hand. “Nice to meet you. Again.”

Kylie hesitated, but eventually slipped her small hand into mine. If I thought the tingle from the stroke of fingertips on her shoulder was amazing, full hand to hand contact nearly made me blow in my briefs. Somehow, the minimal touch sizzled almost as strong and scorching hot as full-blown sex, the sensation akin to a static shock, only more intense. Electricity hissed and popped at a cellular level, the sparks lighting up every last one of my erogenous zones—and with Kylie, I discovered there were a lot more than I previously thought.

With a layer of thick, potent desire that roiled just below the surface of my skin, I never wanted to let go. Somehow, I managed to keep the handshake brief, though I held on a little too long. Long enough to be awkward. Kylie frowned and when she tugged to free herself from my grip, I reluctantly released her.

She immediately used her reclaimed hand to clasp the front of my jacket closed, to shield her bare skin from the bitter wind. The air between us went from inferno to glacial, comfortable to cumbersome, like two total strangers who fucked once then bumped into each other unexpectedly.

No surprise since that was exactly what we were.

Kylie looked down, thick lashes fluttering against her rosy cheeks, then glanced up to meet my gaze. The unintentional, yet undeniably seductive move made my mouth go dry and the static shocks returned with a startling jolt.

“So,” she said, “I never asked. What’s the deal? Why did you send me your jersey?”

Even wearing what looked to be fairly high heels, I stood a lot taller than Kylie. So much so, she had to tilt back her head to meet my eyes. I loved smaller women, but they couldn’t be breakable. If they were too fragile, they couldn’t take the rough manhandling I preferred. I had specific needs, most of which required a partner who wouldn’t crack under stress. After putting her through the motions, Kylie passed the test with flying colors.

I had to smother a groan at the memory of pinning Kylie down, making her stay still as I pleasured her. I shook off the images and refocused on Kylie, who continued to peer up from under those impossibly long lashes. She had no idea how sexy she was, innocence and seduction in one irresistible package. The material covering my groin tightened and my gaze dropped to Kylie’s amazing mouth, full and thick and painted an alluring shade of red. I thought about how those lips tasted, and how I would love to taste them again, currently painted the color of fresh strawberries. Then I pictured those same lips stretched wide around my dick.

We never did get around to that.

That would be… I practically shuddered. There were no words to describe Kylie’s mouth. My cock strained for release, letting me know its demands.

Ignoring the hard prick poking at my slacks, I gave a casual shrug and hoped I acted as if I wasn’t fighting a rock hard boner.

“First, it’s called a sweater. Only Americans say jersey, which is wrong.” She narrowed her eyes as I continued. “Second, I figured you could use a few pointers, you know?”

“Jersey, sweater, whatever,” Kylie said with a wave of her hand, and a bit of the boldness I first encountered on the patio returned. She met my stare, looking unamused. “You think I need pointers?” she asked, her tone flat. I grinned.

Feisty. I liked that.

“Yeah. Clearly you need help, you know, like making sure you don’t embarrass yourself by wearing the sweater of a less than awesome player. Which, for your information, is anyone but me.” I tossed her a wink.

Kylie’s brow pinched adorably and she stammered. “Wait, what? Y-you… you… ugh!” Frustrated, she stomped her foot.

Luckily, I caught the subtle upward curve at the corner of her mouth. That one tiny gesture let me know I was golden. I wondered if it would be too much to pump my fists and let out a whoop. Probably. Kylie giggled, and the lightness in her voice sounded amazing. I was enthralled… until she finished her thought.

“You’re kind of a pompous ass.”

Right.

“So I’ve been told.”

I couldn’t tear my eyes away and didn’t care Kylie called me out. I am a pompous ass. My easy acquiescence made her smile and the action lit up her face. She shone so bright it was as if the dark skies turned sunny, a beam cutting through the clouds to spotlight her smile. My dick gave another restless twitch, reminding me that Kylie was smoking hot and a wildcat in bed. On top of that, she proved she was fun to talk to, and most important, stood within reach. My fingers itched to touch again.

“Hmmm.”

When she didn’t elaborate, I frowned.

“What’s hmmm supposed to mean?” I asked, then winced at my whiney tone. Yeah, that came out sounding kind of pathetic.

Kylie’s smile grew wider and she shook her head.

“Nothing. It’s nothing.”

I crossed my arms over my chest and stared. “Fine. Don’t tell me. Just remember, if you were wearing your new sweater right now, you wouldn’t be freezing and therefore, wouldn’t need me to rescue you from hypothermia.” At least I didn’t stomp my foot, though I might have thought about it.

Kylie raised a perfectly arched brow. “But if I was wearing the jersey you so kindly gifted me with, I wouldn’t get the chance to experience such unexpected chivalry from the man they call The Sinner.” She raised a hand and oh fuck, the little minx skimmed her hand down her chest, fingering the plackets of my coat while simultaneously biting that sexy lip. I had no doubt she knew exactly what she was doing, a reminder of when she bit that lip as I spanked her pert ass. “Thanks for the jacket, by the way… Seb.”

Holy shit. I was ready to give her whatever the fuck she wanted as long as she kept talking. My mind already categorized Kylie’s raspy voice as pure sex. Toss in her seductive flirting, and it only made it worse. I wanted to hear her shout my name again and again as I shoved my cock deep inside her. She was taunting me. Trying to get a reaction. And fuck, she got one all right, only I don’t think yanking down my fly and pulling out my cock was the reaction Kylie was going for.

I should only be so lucky.

“Uhh,” I cleared my throat. “You’re welcome,” I eventually choked out.

During the course of our conversation, we drifted closer. By the time I noticed, our hips were nearly touching, as were our arms.

I couldn’t pass up the opportunity. Knowing how Kylie felt, meant I couldn’t to keep my hands to myself. I lightly touched the sleeve of my jacket, wishing to god it was her bare skin.

“I’d like to see you again, but you left before I could get your number.” At my admission, Kylie’s eyes nearly bugged out of her head. I hated having to ask for her number, but her surprise amused me. “What? Why wouldn’t I want to call you? I mean, I did give you a gift and all. After what we did last week, we’re practically dating.”

What the actual fuck? Why did I say that?

Kylie sputtered, then smothered a laugh. “We are definitely not dating.”

“Once you give me your phone number, and I call you, we’ll get together again. Then we’ll be dating.” I shot her a confident grin.

Date? I don’t date. What the hell are you doing, St. Clair, you dumbshit? Fuck the date. Ask her to come home with you right now.

It was too late. I already started down an unknown path and there was no way I was pulling a U-turn and ruining my chances. More than anything, more than the Stanley Cup, I wanted Kylie naked and chained to my bed, properly this time, and was damn determined to get it, no matter the cost. If it meant pretending we were going to date, promising fucking flowers and dinner and all that romantic shit, then that’s exactly what I’d do. Didn’t matter, as long I got to be with her again. For whatever reason, my gut told me if I pressed for sex, even if she accepted, it would be the last time. After that, I’d never see her again. And god, did I want to see her again.

“Why on earth would I give you my number?”

I shifted until I pressed against Kylie from shoulder to hip. Still touching my jacket, I slid my hand up and down, the lapel between my thumb and fingers, and gave a gentle tug.

“You’re already wearing my clothes. I’ve seen you naked. You’ve seen me naked. We both enjoyed it. Why not do it again?”

I bent down until our eyes were level, my mouth so close to those tempting lips I struggled not to close the distance, pin her hands behind her back, and devour every last one of her moans. I maintained eye contact, and caught the exact second the wary look in Kylie’s eyes changed to something much more promising.

“Give me your phone,” she instructed, her eyelids at half-mast and her sexy rasp even deeper than before.

The dichotomy between vixen and ingénue, naive girl and temptress, feisty and nervous, fascinated me. Yes, I wanted to have sex with her again, but more than that, I wanted to know what made Kylie tick. A first for me, I admit.

I pulled the brand-new device from my pocket and prayed it wouldn’t spontaneously combust in my hand. Without pulling away from her eyes, I offered it to her. Our icy fingers grazed and this time I was the one to shiver and fuck, I one hundred percent knew it wasn’t from the temperature. It was cold outside, but there wasn’t a single part of my body that wasn’t on fire—burning and smoldering as white-hot flames licked their way up and down my spine. My insides scorched to ash and my nerves pulsed with electrical charges, ready to detonate. The sensation was eerily similar to the pressure of the uncontrollable, heated rage that would push outward when my temper flared, only it was… different. Before I could overthink it, Kylie handed back the phone, thankfully unexploded.

“What did you put your number under?” I asked as I scrolled down the contact list. Messing with the device was risky. My tendency to ruin anything electronic meant there was a chance I could lose her number simply by screwing around with the damn thing. But curiosity won out. I wanted to know Kylie’s last name and more than that, needed to know how to find her. With her teasing behavior, the way she easily tossed every one of my smartass remarks right back at me without missing a beat, the way she ducked out on me at the hotel, I figured whatever Kylie put her number under would be totally unexpected.

She didn’t disappoint.

Kylie grinned and I just about incinerated from the flirtatious spark in her chestnut eyes. She was a study in contrasts—brave one moment, shy the next, then a screeching, clawing banshee as she came on my cock. I loved not knowing what to expect. Kylie took a confident step toward me and became the pursuer instead of the pursued. She crowded my space until my lower back pressed against the rail. My cock jerked again and I honestly feared I would bust a nut right then and there.

Oh god.

Bold as fuck, Kylie reached out and drew her index finger down the front of my dress shirt, stopping right above my belt buckle. I hissed and held my breath. No way could she miss the obscene tent formed as my cock pounded against my fly, all but begging to be released from its cloth prison. My eyes drifted shut and I concentrated on not shooting my load.

“I put it under N.”

“N? Why? What for?” I felt giddy. Almost, drunk.

Kylie moved closer until we touched. I groaned, only half paying attention to the conversation. How could I with her spectacular body pressed against me, the soft curves of her breasts flattened against my pecs? I couldn’t hold back the sounds of pleasure that rumbled out of me. Eyes still squeezed shut, I felt her hot breath gust across my ear and damn if I didn’t shiver again. I vibrated with sexual tension while blistering heat shot straight to my groin. It gathered and grew in my tight, aching balls.

“For Not A St. Clair Fan, of course.”

So damn sexy—Wait? What?

By the time my eyes flew open, Kylie was gone.

A slow grin spread across my face. The sexy little vixen was going to pay for that, but fuck it was so goddamn hot. I pressed the heel of my hand on my raging hard on and grimaced. I would have to do something about it, and soon.

I scrubbed my hands down my face. Saint ciboire. Kylie was sexier than I could ever imagine. Even more than both my memories and my fantasies, and I spent a lot of time fantasizing about her, in many, many dirty, nasty, filthy, and depraved ways.

What could I say? I was The Sinner after all.

Kylie threw down the gauntlet, one my darker side couldn’t wait to scoop up. I hoped she had something to hold onto, because this ride was about to get real bumpy.