He should have gone home.
Instead, he walked into the Grumpy Stump and straight toward the bar.
“Hey, Jackson, what can I get you?” Alan, the bartender, asked, stacking glasses behind the bar.
“Whatever she’s been drinking seems like a good time,” he said, leaning one elbow on the bar and nodding toward Abby. In the middle of the dance floor—alone—she seemed completely oblivious to anyone else in the bar as she belted out the lyrics of a current hip-hop song about being fancy he’d never heard before. And never wanted to again. “And what’s with the music?” They usually played a mix of rock and country, not this crap.
Alan shrugged. “She requested it.”
Jackson sighed as he looked at the fruity-looking drink Alan placed on a napkin in front of him. The lime-green liquid was in a martini glass that he wasn’t even sure how to hold without spilling the contents, let alone drink with the excessive sugar rim along the top. “What is that?”
“An apple-lime-tini,” he said.
“I’ll have a beer—whatever’s on tap,” he said, tossing enough cash onto the bar for both drinks before turning to watch Abby again.
She didn’t notice him, busy in her own little rock concert, long hair flying out around her as she danced, her hips swaying tantalizingly to the beat, unaware of the hard-on inducing effect she was having on every man in the place, including him.
“How many of these has she had?”
“Four.”
Wow. “How long has she been here?” He’d left the school, dropped Taylor off at home, then went home to change and here he was…She’d been chaperoning the event that evening, and it was only nine thirty. She must have arrived fairly recently herself.
“About forty minutes ago.”
Four drinks in forty minutes; that explained things. No doubt she’d skipped buzzed and went straight to drunk.
He should mind his own business. Drink his beer and leave. Better yet, forget the beer, resist the urge to find out why she was partying like a college girl on spring break, and just get the hell out of there while he still could. After seeing her with Dean that evening, he had his own feelings to sort out, and that wouldn’t be happening if he stayed.
Damn.
He grabbed the beer, guzzled a mouthful, then headed toward her.
She didn’t even look at him as she said, “No, thank you. I just want to be left alone.”
“Well, maybe you should have gone home,” he said.
Her head snapped toward him, and at first she smiled, but it faded as fast as it had appeared. “You,” she said, pointing a finger at him.
Well, this should be interesting.
“This is all your fault,” she said, moving closer. The smell of apple-rini-mini-tin-whatever lingering on the air between them.
“I just got here.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Don’t pa…pat…patro…” She paused. “Is the word pronounced pay…tronize or pa…tronize?” she asked, mumbling the words again both ways.
He reached for her arm. “I don’t know. Why don’t we go sit and get you some coffee and Google it?”
She yanked her arm away. “No. I’m dancing.”
“How about sitting the next one out and talking?”
She shook her head. “You’re the last person I want to talk to. I told you—I’m pissed at you.”
Actually, no, they hadn’t gotten that far. Her fascination about pronunciation had distracted her. “Okay, what did I do?”
“As if you don’t know.”
He sighed. He’d rather not play mind reader with drunk Abby. He reached for her waist as the DJ finally switched back to the regular country music and a slower ballad started. “Okay, we’ll dance and talk.”
She looked ready to argue, but then leaned against him, resting her head against his chest. “I do like this song…and you do smell good…”
He swallowed hard as her arms went around his neck. All evening, he’d wanted nothing more than to have her in his arms, and now that she was there, he held on tighter. But before his lips could take what they’d been craving, he had to know what was bothering her. He had no idea what had happened at the dance after he’d left, but obviously it hadn’t been great. “So, why are you here?” he asked as they started to sway to the music.
“I didn’t want to go home. Dani’s with Dean tonight.”
An empty house and all night ahead of them. His body reacted to the thought, and he shifted slightly away from her, afraid she’d slap him for the effect she was causing in his jeans.
She’s drunk, his voice of reason reminded him.
Damn, he wished he’d arrived four drinks ago.
“I’m sure it’s a normal parenting thing to be worried, but you know she’s fine.” His friend may in fact be the womanizer, cheater, and heartbreaker the media had splashed all over their front pages, but he’d shown up that evening for his daughter. Or at least that was part of the reason. His jaw clenched again thinking about what Dean had said about wanting Abby back. He’d have to pry her from his cold, dead arms.
“I’m not worried about her—she’s fine. It’s me I’m concerned about,” she said, burying her face into his chest. “And what are you wearing that smells so good?”
“Soap,” he said. “Look, why don’t we get out of here? I’ll drive you home.”
She pulled away and wagged a finger at him. “Oh no. Just because I’m stupid drunk and crazy vulnerable right now doesn’t mean I’m going to sleep with you again,” she said, just a little too loud.
“Shhhh,” he said, taking her hand and leading her away from the couples who were dancing far too close to them.
“What? Don’t tell me you’re afraid of small-town gossip?”
“No. You should be. I’m not the one who just got divorced. Besides, remember who your husband was.”
She nodded. “Exactly. Thank you for reminding me. I’m pissed at you, and I’m not going anywhere with you. I’ll call a cab.”
“Let me drive you home and you can tell me what I did wrong. I promise I won’t come inside.” He held up a scouts’ honor sign, hoping she didn’t remember he’d never actually been a Boy Scout.
“Fine,” she mumbled.
Two minutes later, he waited for her to climb into his truck, trying to keep his eyes off of her ass and failing miserably. What was he thinking promising to behave himself? Looking this good, she was asking to be kissed even more senseless.
He sighed. But he had promised, and while talking to her when she was drunk may not be the most productive, they needed to talk.
He climbed into the driver’s seat and started the truck. “Okay. Now, do you want to tell me why you’re mad at me?”
She folded her arms across her chest and stared out the window. “It doesn’t matter.”
He sighed. “It does to me.” Reaching across, he touched her shoulder, and she turned to look at him. “Look, if it’s still because of Dani seeing the kiss, I’m sorry.”
She shook her head. “That’s not it.”
“Well, what is it?”
She rested her head against the seat. “I just wish you’d told me before, how you felt.”
“Before when?” She’d been in love with his best friend since high school. When was he supposed to have told her?
“Before I fell for Dean…before I married him and had my heart broken…This is all your fault,” she mumbled, her eyes drifting closed.
He touched her cheek softly before turning his attention to the road. “Maybe it was all my fault.” He just hoped going forward he could make things better.
Pulling into her driveway minutes later, he cut the engine, then going to the passenger side, he opened the door.
She was out cold. Great.
He climbed up into the truck and unbuckled her seatbelt, carefully lifting her out. At the door, he rummaged around in her purse for the keys, his arms aching as she grew heavier the longer he held her.
Finally, he unlocked the door, went inside, and carried her straight to her bedroom. He placed her on top of the covers and reached for the quilt draped over a chair in her room. But as he went to cover her up, her eyes opened.
“You’re awake.”
She grinned. “I just wanted you to carry me in,” she said.
“Well, you’re home safe and sound, so I’m going to go.” He headed toward the door, and she followed him out into the hallway.
“Will you stay for a while?”
No. Definitely not a good idea. He sighed. “Sure.”
She smiled. “I’ll get changed. I’ll be out in a minute.”
Going into the living room, he sat on the edge of her couch. He really should go. He could tell himself he could stay and nothing would happen between them, but he knew that was a lie.
He ran a hand through his hair, the conflicting emotions inside of him making him crazy. He wanted Abby. He knew he could make her happy. He stood. He had to figure things out with sober Abby before this thing between them went any further, got even more complicated. “Abby, I’m going to go,” he called down the hall.
“No! Wait…”
“We’ll talk tomorrow, okay?”
“No, wait, please, I need your help,” she said through the bedroom door that was slightly ajar. “The zipper…on…this…stupid dress—aghhh.”
Jackson closed his eyes. No way. There was no way he could help her out of that dress and still stick to the man-code rules of not taking advantage of a drunk woman.
He hesitated, listening to her swear under her breath as she continued to struggle, hoping she’d solve her own zipper problem without his help.
“Oh, great, now I’m really stuck,” she said a moment later, her voice muffled.
Shit. “What is the deal with the dress?” he asked, moving closer but still standing outside the door.
“It fit a few months ago, now just barely, and I tried pulling it off without unzipping it…” Her voice trailed. “You’re going to have to help.”
Damn it. He should leave her stuck. Maybe she’d learn a lesson about wearing such tight fabrics that clung in all the right places, making it impossible for a man who was desperately trying to do the right thing by suppressing his feelings—once again—a little easier.
Pushing open the door, he almost laughed at the embarrassed, pathetic expression of hopelessness on her face.
“I’m stuck,” she said.
“Yes, you are.” The dress was pulled up around her waist, barely covering the thin white seamless underwear she wore underneath, and the majority of the fabric gathered around her shoulders and neck. Her arms were poking through the top of the dress, her head sandwiched between them in an uncomfortable tangled mess.
Well, as tempting as it was, he couldn’t leave her like that. “Let’s try pulling it back down,” he said, walking toward her.
“Okay,” she mumbled. “Be careful, this dress cost a small fortune.”
“Do you want to get out of it or not?”
“Yes,” she said with a sigh.
“Fine. Stay still.” He reached for the edge of the dress that was plastered against her upper thighs, and as his fingers brushed against the soft, satiny smooth texture of her skin, his mouth went dry. Stuck in a heap of fabric, Abby still had an intoxicating effect on him.
Trying to focus on the task at hand, he tugged on the fabric. It slid part of the way back down, then stopped. He frowned. “What happened?” He tugged harder.
“You’ve reached the part of the dress that cinches in at the waist. Trying to get it down over my ribs will be the hard part.”
“How were you able to get it up over your ribs?” he asked.
She huffed. “Just tug really hard.”
“I’m warning you, it might rip.” Oh God, his fantasies about tearing her clothes off had never started like this, ever. Ironically enough, this was still turning him on.
“I don’t care anymore,” she said through a yawn. “I just want this off so I can go to sleep. I’ve had enough of this day.”
“Okay, ready?”
“Jackson!”
He tugged as hard as he could and the dress moved. One more tug and it fell back into place.
“Oh thank God,” she said, sliding her arms back into the holes. “Okay, let’s try the zipper.”
“You really are a pain in the ass when you’re drunk. You know that, right?” he grumbled.
She turned and lifted her long hair. “Please.”
He’d given up his dream home to the woman, he’d given up his heart—what was one more favor, he thought. Reaching for the zipper, he fumbled with the persistent metal for a few seconds, before it gave way. He quickly zipped it halfway down her back, just until the top of her bra clasp appeared, then let go and stepped away. “There. Do you think you can manage from here?” He had to get out of the room.
She nodded. “Yes, thank you.”
“Sure. Okay, then. Sleep tight.”
“I thought you were going to stay,” she said, a look of disappointment in her eyes.
She was going to be the death of him. “I can’t.”
“I have an idea.”
“No.”
“You haven’t heard it yet.”
He sighed. “What’s the idea,” he asked, terrified he wouldn’t be able to say no to any request.
“Stay and let’s order pizza.”
He smiled, as he shook his head. She was impossible.
“See, good idea, right?”
He was hungry, but not for pizza. But it wouldn’t be the first time he’d settled. “Yes, it’s a good idea.”
* * *
“I uh…wanted to thank you for what you’re doing for Becky,” Jackson said a little while later. The fireplace flames served as the only source of light as well as providing a warm, comfortable feel as they sat on the floor around the coffee table, eating pizza.
The crust was thankfully soaking up the alcohol in her body, and Abigail was at least able to speak without having to focus really hard on her words. She still hadn’t reached the sober point where she was feeling embarrassed by the drunken state he’d seen her in or the dress mishap, but she knew she would get there…for sure by morning.
For now, she felt…good. Having him there with her made her feel much better about Dani being with Dean. “I’m not doing anything. All I did was place a call. Her designs sell themselves,” she said through a mouthful of cheese and pepperoni.
“It’s funny. I remember telling her years ago she should do something like this, but she just laughed.”
“You’re too close. Sometimes it takes someone on the outside to tell you the same thing you’ve heard from family for it to really sink in.”
He nodded, tossing his crust onto his plate. “Well, thank you. She’s been really excited about the opportunity.”
Abigail stared at his collection of crust. “What’s going on there?”
He shrugged. “I don’t eat the crust.”
“It’s the best part!”
“No way. There’s no sauce on it, or cheese, or meat. I’m not wasting space in my stomach for just dough.”
“I will,” she said, reaching for one. Again, probably not something she would have done if she were just a little bit more sober.
He looked surprised, but then laughed. “You haven’t changed at all, you know.”
“What are you talking about? Sure, I have.” She felt as though she’d aged a lot more in the last ten years than she actually had. The last year in particular had been a lot of growing, changing, and maturing.
“Not at your core. You are still smart and ambitious…”
She swallowed the pizza. “I just got my first real job two months ago.”
“But you were active in charities and stuff in L.A.”
That was true.
“And you’re still funny.”
“No, I’m not. I can’t tell a joke to save my life.” She’d always envied people who were naturally funny. The ones who could entertain a room full of people without even trying.
“Give it a shot,” he said, popping the last of his pizza into his mouth and sitting up onto the couch.
She hesitated, chewing slowly. She had to have one good joke she could deliver. She nodded, swallowing the dough and sitting next to him, folding one leg beneath her. She turned to face him. “Okay, I got one.”
He smiled. “Hit me.”
“What does a walrus and Tupperware have in common?” she asked.
“What?”
“They both like a tight penguin,” she said with a grin. “No, wait…Seal—they both like a tight seal!” Damn it. So close.
He stared at her, an amused look on his face, but not laughing.
“Well?”
“You’re right. You’re not funny.”
She picked up a throw cushion from the couch and hit him with it.
He grabbed it, tossed it aside, and holding her hands together, he tickled her. “I wonder if you’re also still as ticklish as I remember.”
She laughed so hard she couldn’t speak as she wiggled and fought to escape his hold. “Stop…please…” Putting her feet against his chest, she was finally able to kick free. She tried to scurry away, but his arms were around her in a flash. “What are you doing?”
He pulled her onto his lap, and gently moved her long hair away from her neck. He placed a soft kiss at the edge of her collarbone and suddenly the heat from the fireplace was too much. She was suffocating.
“Now that you aren’t fall-on-your-face drunk anymore, I’m giving in to the urge I’ve been fighting all night,” he murmured against her skin. His hands traveled the length of her thighs, gently massaging.
“Jackson…”
“Abby, I’ve never gone after the things I want because there was always an excuse—someone else was in the way or the timing wasn’t right. But for the first time, I don’t care that you were married to my best friend or that you might need some time after the divorce. I’m done making excuses that let me sleep at night, okay with my own inability to go after what I want.” He turned her face to look at him.
She gulped. What he wanted was clearly written on his face, and she couldn’t find her voice to argue. She didn’t want to argue. And she couldn’t blame it on the alcohol. The look in his eyes, his words, and his touch had an amazing sobering effect.
They also made her hot as hell.
They really should move away from the fireplace, she thought, as his lips moved toward hers.
Her cell phone rang on the coffee table, hidden beneath the lid of the pizza box, and she jumped up, startled. “That’s Dani’s ringtone,” she said, all traces of their exchange seconds before melting away to panic. It was after midnight.
Handing the cell to her, Jackson ran a hand through his hair and started to clean up their plates and napkins.
“Hello? Dani?” she answered.
“Mom…” Her daughter’s voice was quiet, but she was clearly crying.
Abigail’s heart raced faster than it had sitting on Jackson’s lap. “What’s wrong?”
“I…I woke up…and I don’t know…Dad’s not in the room.”
Anger was the only emotion coursing through her as her left fist clenched at her side. That asshole. “How long has he been gone, sweetheart?” She’d give him the benefit of a doubt—a tiny one. He might just be at the soda machine.
“I’m not sure. I’ve been awake now for about ten minutes waiting. There’s a lot of noise coming from the rooms next door…”
The hockey team was staying in the hotel that evening. Dean couldn’t even have gotten a room away from them and their partying?
“I’m scared…I want to come home,” Dani said.
She was already in the hallway, reaching for her coat, when Jackson appeared from the kitchen.
“What’s wrong?” he asked.
She ignored the question, instead saying into the phone, “Don’t worry, sweetheart. I’m on my way. I’ll be there as soon as I can. We can keep talking, okay?” She checked her battery life. Full charge. She’d put the call on speaker as she drove.
“Abby, where are you going? What’s wrong?” Jackson asked, taking her keys from her.
“Is that Coach Westmore?” Dani asked, hearing him in the background.
Shit. “Yes, sweetheart.” She covered the mouthpiece. “Give me the keys, I have to go get her,” she hissed at Jackson.
He shook his head. “You’ve been drinking. I’ll drive. Let’s go,” he said, out the door without stopping for his jacket.
Abigail felt a small sense of relief to not have to drive the hour to Denver alone. She hadn’t even stopped to consider the fact she shouldn’t drive. Gratitude for Jackson helped to numb some of the anger she felt for Dean and worry over Dani, but just a little bit. “We will be there really soon, just stay on the phone with me,” she said, closing the door, and jogging toward the truck, where Jackson was already behind the wheel.
* * *
They made it to Denver in less than fifty minutes.
“She’s in room 406,” Abby said, disconnecting the call with her daughter as they rushed into the hotel lobby.
“Okay, you go get her, and I’ll go find Dean.” It wouldn’t be hard. The noise coming from the hotel’s lounge made it a safe bet. He clenched his teeth and willed himself to stay calm. His irritation with Dean at the dance paled in comparison to the anger he felt now. Dani was a child. In a strange city. In a hotel full of drunk, partying hockey players. Dean should have known better than to leave her alone.
“Thank you,” Abby said, shooting him a look of gratitude as she took off down the tiled hallway toward the elevators.
He headed toward the lounge.
Damn it. So many familiar faces—players he’d once played with, others he’d idolized, all laughing and having a good time. The hotel lounge, which was normally quiet and laid-back, was full of women falling over the hockey stars.
He shook his head. This right here was his brother Ben’s idea of a perk of the job. He knew Asher tended to avoid the partying and drinking and late-night womanizing, but Ben enjoyed every minute of it.
So did Dean, by the look of things.
His buddy was sitting in a far corner booth with another right wing from the team and three women. The table was covered in empty glasses, and Dean had an arm draped casually over the shoulders of the blonde sitting next to him.
His friend obviously still had a type.
Unfortunately he was too stupid to realize he’d had the most fantastic one on the planet and he’d messed it up, thrown it all away, and for what? A different body in his bed every night?
Feeling his annoyance start to climb to an unhealthy level, Jackson forced a breath as he approached.
“Hey, man. What are you doing here?” Dean asked, looking not as surprised as he should.
“Can we talk for a sec?” he asked, nodding away from the group of adoring admirers.
“Sure. Have a seat,” Dean said, gesturing to the other side of the booth.
“In private.”
Dean’s stare was hard. “I’m with friends, Jackson. You’re welcome to join us.”
Friends. Right. The people who were here today, gone tomorrow. The ones who only cared about his MVP status on the team and the money in his wallet. One day hockey wouldn’t be there for his “friend,” and neither would these people.
And neither would he anymore.
But, if that’s the way Dean wanted it—Fine. He sat in the booth and leaned across the table. “I’m here with Abby.”
Dean’s expression turned steely. “What?”
“Abby, your ex-wife,” he said pointedly, shooting a glance toward the blonde who looked annoyed at the sudden mention of another woman.
“I know who Abby is. Why the hell are you two here?” he asked, removing his arm from the woman and leaning on his elbows.
The smell of beer on his breath made Jackson even more determined to set him in his place. What had his plan been? To get completely wasted and then drag this woman back to his room, where his daughter slept?
He didn’t know this guy anymore. Any loyalty or guilt he may have been struggling with over his feelings and intentions with Abby disappeared. Any question in his mind about who the better man for her was vanished. “We came to pick up Dani. She called, said you’d left her in the hotel room alone.”
Dean’s eyes narrowed.
The blonde looked confused. “Dani? Isn’t that your daughter?”
Well, fangirl had done her research at least. And to her credit, she moved away from him, looking disgusted.
“Yes. My daughter is staying with me tonight, which is why I told you we couldn’t go up there,” Dean said, shooting the words directly at Jackson.
Okay, so half a point for having that much common sense at least. He still was a jerk for leaving the little girl alone. “Well, you can soon enough. We are taking Dani home.”
Dean climbed out of the booth and Jackson stood to block his way out of the lounge. “What do you mean, we? What does any of this have to do with you, friend?” Dean spat the word, stabbing his finger into his chest.
Jackson didn’t flinch. “I care about Dani and Abby.”
Dean laughed. “That’s right, I forgot. You’ve had a hard-on for my wife since junior high.”
Elementary school. “Ex-wife.”
“Well, man, she’s all yours, but Dani is still my daughter.”
“A daughter you wanted nothing to do with. You still don’t. This dad of the year bullshit—arriving at the last minute to take her to the dance, looking like a hero—save it. No one’s buying it. You only did it to impress Abby, and she’s not fooled by you.”
“No? She’s moved on to you, huh?”
“It’s none of your business anymore,” she said, behind him.
Jackson turned to see her and a tearful Dani, holding her mother’s hand.
He hesitated. There was so much more he wanted to say to Dean, but it wasn’t worth it. The guy wasn’t worth it.
“Let’s go,” he said to them.
Abigail too looked ready to tear Dean’s smug expression from his face, but she nodded. “Come on, Dani.”
“I’m going back to court, Abigail. I want time with Dani—she wants that, too,” Dean said behind them.
Abby turned and Jackson placed a hand on her arm, glancing quickly at Dani. There was nothing he’d rather do than take the guy out, but the little girl had already had a crappy evening and she didn’t deserve to be seeing, hearing, or witnessing any of this. “It’s not worth it,” he said quietly.
At her side, Dani let go of her hand and walked back toward her father.
Oh no. She couldn’t possibly be changing her mind about leaving, was she?
“Dad, I used to think you were the greatest hockey player ever, and I wanted to be just like you, but Mom’s the real hero. She’d never put anything else before me,” she said.
Tears gathered in Abby’s eyes as Dani turned and headed back toward them. “Can we go home now?” Dani asked.
Abby nodded, and Jackson shot one final look at his former best friend before following the girls out of the lounge.
* * *
Abigail closed Dani’s bedroom door quietly an hour later, after Jackson had carried the exhausted little girl into the house.
“She okay?” he asked.
“She’s asleep,” Abby said with a nod, smothering a yawn with her hand. “Thank you again. I’m glad you were here tonight. I wasn’t thinking straight, and I would have driven out there to get her.”
“Of course you would have. You might have also punched Dean in the face,” he said, rubbing her arms.
She managed a weak smile. “It was certainly tempting.”
He pulled her toward him, wrapping his arms around her. She didn’t fight; she was too tired to keep fighting the feelings she had for him. She was finally seeing him exactly for who he was, and the excuse that she wasn’t ready for another relationship was falling short the harder she fell for him. The way Dani had hugged Jackson tight and thanked him for being there that evening made it obvious the little girl was no longer annoyed by their growing attraction, either.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered in her hair.
“You have nothing to be sorry for.”
“I do. I was so quick to judge the situation, to believe Dean and not give you any credit. And then tonight, after seeing you both at the dance with Dani, I thought maybe I needed to back away, that maybe you still had feelings for him.” He smoothed her hair back from her face. “But I just couldn’t do it. This time I was fighting for you, fighting for us.”
“I’m glad you had a change of heart,” she said, leaning on tiptoes to reach his mouth.
“That’s the thing, Abby. I’ve never had a change of heart. It’s always been you.”
“Make love to me, Jackson,” she whispered against his lips.
This time there was no questioning whether or not she was sure. Pushing open the bedroom door, they stumbled inside and Jackson fell back against it as it closed, drawing Abigail’s body toward his, his hands gripping her ribs as he kissed her exposed neck.
She shivered and pushed her hips back against his already full erection and turned her face toward him, claiming his mouth with her own. Her hips rocked forward and backward, teasing his cock, forcing his grip on her waist to tighten even more. “If you don’t stop moving that way, I can’t be held responsible for the bruising your ribs may suffer,” he murmured.
She bit his lower lip and he swung her body around until her breasts were pressed firmly against his chest as he deepened the kiss. His hands slid down the length of her back and cupped her ass, lifting her slightly until his cock pushed against the fabric of her yoga pants between her legs.
God, she could barely contain her desire for him. That evening she’d felt so many different emotions, and they all cumulated in this crazy need.
Unzipping his jeans, she lowered herself to her knees. Tugging his underwear down over his hips, she gently slid her tongue from the base of his cock all the way to the tip, licking the pre-cum that glistened at the head. He groaned and she continued the flicking and licking, circling his cock slowly, massaging his balls with her right hand.
“Abigail, you are driving me insane,” he growled.
“That’s the point,” she said with a teasing smile at him.
Gripping the back of her head with one hand, he separated her lips with the other, forcing the length of himself into her accepting mouth.
Immediately, she closed her lips over him and began sucking and licking hungrily. He tasted so good, and she felt her own body ache with desire as she dared to glance up at him. The look of pleasure on his face as he leaned his head back against the door made her even more eager to make him feel incredible.
But placing his hands on her shoulders, he reluctantly and gently stopped her. “I’m going to come. Let’s slow things down,” he said, his voice strained. Pulling away, he helped her to her feet and carried her to her bed.
“What if I don’t want to take things slow anymore?” she asked, cupping his face with her hands and staring into his eyes. She didn’t. She was ready to be with him. She couldn’t stand not being with him anymore.
“We will go fast tomorrow. Tonight, I’m savoring this.” Setting her down gently, he lowered himself on top of her and, starting at the base of her neck, he rained kisses and soft little bites from her ear, over her neck and across her shoulder. Shivers danced down her spine and she trembled. It felt amazing being with him with no reservations, no doubts, no fears.
His hands cupped her breasts, squeezing her erect nipples until she moaned in a mix of pleasure and pain. He was far too sexy, and everything he was doing felt far too amazing to take it slow the way he wanted. Her body craved his touch everywhere, all at once.
Removing one of his hands from her breast, she forced it down, inside her pants, and between her legs. “Touch me, please,” she begged as she spread her legs and arched her body toward him.
“I can do better than that,” he said with a slow smile. Moving downward, he knelt between her legs and removed her pants and the thin white thong, tossing it aside.
Exposed and completely vulnerable, her legs trembled on either side of him, and the anticipation of his touch was almost too much. She needed him, wanted him. “Jackson…”
He gently touched her, opening her folds, tracing the shape of her and licking the wetness from his fingers. “You taste so good, Abby,” he said, continuing to tease and torment her throbbing, aching body.
She whimpered as she stroked her own breasts. “Please, Jackson, I need you inside me…please,” she begged.
When he slid two fingers inside her at once, pressing the palm of his other hand to her pelvis, she cried out.
“Shhhh…” he whispered, leaning forward to kiss her flat stomach. “Think you can take another one?”
She bit her lower lip as she nodded. “Yes, please…” she said, tightening her interior muscles around his fingers as he inserted the third. The pressure was so intense, she knew she wouldn’t last much longer. “Jackson, Jackson, Jackson…” she repeated his name over and over, clutching at his shoulders.
He left her then, and she trembled, her breath labored as she watched him remove a condom from his wallet. Returning to the bed, he ripped it open and slid it on quickly before lying back down between her legs. He paused briefly before entering her. “Ready?” he asked.
Oh God yes. She nodded eagerly, lifting her hips as he plunged deep inside her. His moan of satisfaction as his hips pressed against hers drove her close to the edge. She gripped his shoulders as she rocked her pelvis back and forth, searching, fighting desperately for release. “You’re so incredible,” she whispered, as a whirlwind of emotions brought her to climax. Her body shuddered and she held him tight, enjoying the intense sensations rippling through her. Jackson Westmore was perfect.
“You’re the incredible one,” he said, raising his body to look at her. He touched her cheek softly. “I’ve loved you for so long, Abby.”
Her breath caught as his lips crushed hers, preventing her from answering. He loved her. He’d always loved her. Happiness filled her heart and because she couldn’t say it, she poured every emotion she had for him into the kiss.
He held her against him as he pushed deeper, faster, quickening the motions with his hips, his lips never leaving hers, his heart beating in rhythm with hers.
She loved making love to him. Loved watching him make love to her.
She wrapped her legs around him and pressed her body closer, until every inch of him was touching every inch of her.
He groaned as he came, and she moaned in pleasure as she felt him throb inside her. Resting his head against her forehead, he struggled to catch his breath. “Okay, so maybe that wasn’t exactly slow,” he said with a smile.
“Slow is completely overrated,” she said, as she hugged him tighter, never wanting to let go, terrified by what that meant, but ready to trust her heart, which was leading her to him.
* * *
Jackson lay wide awake in the dark room, his arms wrapped around Abby as she snuggled closer. He kissed her forehead and she glanced up at him with sleepy eyes. “Thank you again for everything tonight,” she said quietly.
“Thank you, pretty girl. That sex was pretty awesome,” he said kissing her nose.
She hit his arm. “Yes, it was, but I actually meant for everything else.”
He nodded. “Of course, Abby. I’m glad I was here.” He knew she was strong enough to have dealt with the situation herself, but he hoped his support had shown her just how much he cared about her and Dani. How much he wanted to be there for them—always.
“Do you ever wish you had that life—the one Dean has—with all the women and partying, being a local god to the sports fanatics?”
He traced a hand along her bare arm. “The only life of Dean’s I envied was his life with you.” The scene in the hotel bar that evening had been empty and meaningless. These guys never knew if the women liked them for who they were or if they liked the idea of being with a star athlete.
“Do you still wish you were playing hockey?”
That was a tougher question to answer. “Some days I do. Other days I don’t. I quit the Eagles for a lot of reasons. But mainly, it was because when Dad got sick I couldn’t deal with not being here. Even just a couple hours away, it was impossible to get back here to see him or to help Mom often enough. The training and game schedules were exhausting, and my mind wasn’t in it anymore after I’d gotten sent back down from the majors. I was starting to wonder if chasing the dream was worth missing out on the last few months with him.” He’d decided they weren’t.
“Dean missed a lot: birthdays, anniversaries, Christmas…I never let him see how much it bothered me, but it was tough. Nine months a year, Dani and I were essentially on our own, and then when he was home, it was hard to integrate him back into our routines, our schedules…”
“Ben says that’s why he’s never settled down, and Asher is so caught up in the game, I’m not sure he even realizes there’s more to life,” he said, playing with a strand of her hair. “So, I guess the answer to your question is I think everything happens for a reason, and there was a reason I didn’t make it as far as my brothers and Dean.”
She kissed his chest. “Well, I can’t say I’m disappointed. I really don’t think I could ever live that life again…love another pro hockey player,” she said through a yawn, snuggling closer, her eyes closing.
He held her tight, replaying her words in his mind as she drifted off to sleep. Everything happened for a reason, and maybe he’d finally discovered the reason he’d never made it to the NHL—life had other plans. Plans that suited him just fine.