A balled up piece of paper hit the side of my head and I turned to catch Bryson staring at me with a scowl.
“The fuck?” he whispered, and I shrugged, not sure what the hell his problem was.
My teammates and I had been huddled on the floor watching game tape for an hour, and as important as this was, I couldn’t stop my foot from tapping, or my mind from worrying about how late I would be getting back to the hotel. Stevie had landed about thirty minutes ago, and she’d texted to let me know she’d heard my voicemail, and to not stress out. I was stressed regardless. I’d called Stevie during a break and left her a message. I told her practice had run late, and we hadn’t watched game tape yet, but I’d sent a car to pick her up at the terminal. I’d given her instructions on how to obtain a key at the concierge and to make herself comfortable. I debated on slipping out for a second to call her, tell her I planned on bringing a late lunch, see if she’d wanted anything, and maybe tell her comfortable meant naked, but I didn’t want to sound like a presumptuous asshole.
Bryson scooted closer to where I was sitting and knocked his shoulder into mine, pushing me off balance. He spoke in a low, irritated tone, “Are you even watching this shit?”
My eyes flicked to the wide screen. Coach had pressed pause and listed off stats on L.A.’s special teams. Maddox hadn’t been impressed with my line this morning, and he definitely wasn’t thrilled with our penalty kill percentages from the last game against San Jose. I shifted my gaze back to Bryson once Coach pressed play again. I should be paying attention, but my head was already between Stevie’s legs and not in the game.
“Please tell me you’re getting laid tonight so you can fucking focus?” he asked, quiet enough only I could hear.
My shoulders stretched into a rigid line. Fucker was too intrusive sometimes, even if he hit the nail on the head, he should mind his own damn business. “Shut the fuck up, Jensen. I’m focused.”
“You’re not, man.” He dipped his head. “I get it, but don’t let your lucky charm turn into a crutch.”
I narrowed my eyes as a few of the guys turned to look at us over their shoulders. My voice was clipped and low as I said, “I told her I’d pick her up, and I didn’t want to be late. This is the first of many promises I’ll inevitably break, and I guess I didn’t want it to be this soon.”
“This is fucking hockey, shit happens.” He turned to face the screen. “She’s a chick, Melo… she could be here today and gone tomorrow.”
The muscle in my jaw twitched as I lifted my eyes to watch the tape. He hadn’t the faintest idea about what it was like to have a relationship. Maybe I had let Stevie into my head today at practice, but when game day came rolling around, I always shut that shit down. The only exception had been Mia and Tyler, and I swore I’d never let that happen again.
“She’s not going anywhere, Bryson. Shit… you’re right, okay, my head was up my ass this morning. I’ll keep myself in check.”
He nodded his head at the screen. “Number twenty-eight, his footspeed is sick as fuck.”
“Yeah, but I’m faster.”
He chuckled. “Damn straight.” Bryson turned again and whispered, “I know you like her... you wouldn’t have brought her all the way out here if you didn’t, and I get you don’t want to break promises, but don’t break the promises you’ve made to your teammates either.”
I swallowed down my smart-ass remark because this was Bryson at his best. The leader. He led by example, and if he was on his game, in his mind, we all would follow suit. Last night, when Maddox pulled Karlsson from the net he blamed himself. He’d said it was his fault, by his logic, he played sloppy, and therefore we all played sloppy. In reality, we were all fucking beat from the back-to-back schedule, and playing in San Jose had never been an easy win for us. But that was who he was, and the logic may be flawed, but there was truth to it. When he played to win, we usually did. It also helped if one of us was falling out of line, he’d always made sure to set us right again, like he was with me on the media room floor.
“I won’t.” Letting my teammates down wasn’t an option.
“I know. I was just reminding you.” Bryson gave me a smirk before he gave his full attention to the screen.
I’d always been good at balancing my real life and my hockey life. Stevie was different. I fucking loved having her in my headspace. I loved that she wasn’t a part of the hockey world, it was refreshing. But, this was my job, and I owed my teammates better. I owed myself better. I wouldn’t fall short again because I couldn’t compartmentalize my life like I should have. I pulled my phone from my pocket and powered it down. I’d see Stevie as soon as I could. She’d told me not to stress and I needed to listen. I let my eyes wander to the clock one last time. I took a deep breath, turning in time to watch L.A.’s goalie smother a blistering slap shot like it was a walk in the park.
My team migrated into the hotel lobby about thirty minutes after I’d sent a text to Stevie letting her know I’d finished up at the rink and that we could grab some lunch when I got there. It had gone unanswered. We were staying only a couple of miles from the arena, but downtown L.A. traffic was a bitch. Once we were all inside, the guys dispersed, some heading to grab lunch at the hotel’s bar and grill, while the rest of us said our goodbyes until dinner. A few of us wanted to check out this wine cellar-themed restaurant about three blocks from the hotel and had planned to meet there around six, giving me a little less than five hours of one-on-one time with Stevie.
My anxiety about tomorrow’s game dissolved as I thought about all the possibilities this afternoon had to offer. Being away from home ice was mentally fucking taxing, but I’d always promised myself when I stepped out of the rink and out of my skates, even when we played road games, I had to clear my head. Remember the real world. Today and tonight, I’d make Stevie the center of it.
Immediately, I was assaulted with the sound of loud guitars as I unlocked and opened the door to my room. Was that… Stevie? She was singing along to some punked-out version of I Melt with You, and as I followed the sound of her sexy voice to the back of the suite, my lips spread into a broad, goofy smile.
I’d upgraded my room once she’d agreed to stay with me. We were on the fifteenth floor, and as I walked into the large bedroom, sunlight flooded through the floor-to-ceiling windows and across the crisp white down comforter. The Los Angeles skyline stretched and yawned toward the horizon. Stevie stopped singing and it pulled me from the view, leading me to the attached bathroom. As I neared the entry, her distinct fruity smell hung heavy in the damp air.
The music was almost too loud as I opened the door fully, but I couldn’t give a shit. Stevie stood in front of a fogged-up mirror, wrapped in a white cotton towel, swaying her hips in a little dance as she bent over the sink brushing her teeth. I was paralyzed in the doorway watching her. Her hair was piled on top of her head, and a few loose strands spilled down the creamy skin of her neck. The glass enclosure beaded with the remnants of her shower, and I wanted to kick myself for not getting here sooner. I would’ve loved to join her, all that skin, wet and hot under my fingers. I swore under my breath but it was loud enough to get her attention.
She jumped, dropping her toothbrush to the counter and spun toward me. Stevie’s hand shot to the hem of her towel as she tried to draw it closed. Her eyes were big and alarmed as her round cheeks stained with pink. It took her a second to catch a breath, to realize it was only me, and she exhaled. A slow smile worked its way to her dimples.
“Hey,” I managed to say as I swallowed.
My worries about being late, about not meeting her at the airport, faded as my gaze indulged in a deliberate perusal of her body. She obviously didn’t mind, standing here in a towel, too small to cover her full hips. She licked her lips. The pupils of her eyes blown wide as she silenced the music playing from her phone.
“You seriously almost gave me a heart attack.”
“I’d say I was sorry, but…” I took a step into the bathroom, and then another, closing the distance.
“But you’re not.” My fingers spread the towel open a little more. Her breath stuttered as my hands slid along her bare rib cage and down to her hips. “Your hands are cold.”
“Mmm.” I hummed as I brought my lips to her cheek, her jaw, and as she tilted her head to the side, I placed open-mouthed kisses to the decadent dip of her neck. “I’m glad you’re here.”
“I hope it’s okay I showered? Five hours on a plane—”
I kissed her lips not meaning to interrupt her, but I was greedy, enjoying the taste of mint and something just Stevie. Her flesh puckered under my fingertips as my hands explored her curves. She wrapped her arm around my neck and the towel fell to the floor. Lucky me. My hand trekked a path up and down her back before I palmed her ass. Her quiet moan sent a pulse down to my groin, my hips driven by need, seeking friction, pressed against her.
She leaned back with a deep breath, her eyes centering me as she said, “I’m kind of nervous.”
I cupped her cheeks with my palms and her hands trailed down my chest, resting above my thundering heart. “Don’t be.” My thumbs brushed along the satin skin of her jaw. “This weekend… I wanted you here with me, I wanted time with you, but we don’t have to—”
“I want to.” She laughed, a deep blush rising in her cheeks. “We practically did the last time. I guess, I’m worried that if it’s not what you expect, or…. It’s not like I can head home after.” She dipped her eyes to my mouth, gravity building, pulling, feeding that light feeling in my stomach.
“All I want to do is take care of you, make you feel good. Stevie, I’m a guy, and fuck, just looking at you is doing it for me, I’m easy.”
She pressed her forehead into my chest, her hands slipping under the hem of my shirt. Her fingers exploring the ridges of my stomach, and when she leaned back, her kissable lips parted into a shaky smile. “You have on way too many clothes.”
I dropped the hold I had on her and grasped the collar of my shirt at the back of my neck, pulling it over my head. Stevie’s eyes skated over every inch of my chest and my arms. My smile was cocky as she reached for the waistband of my joggers. I clutched her waist, drawing her in for a deep kiss, only breaking the rhythm to utter a low and breathless command, “Bedroom.”
Without hesitation, I took her mouth, our lips seeking and fighting and tasting as I lifted her effortlessly by the hips. She squeaked out a giggle as her thighs gripped my hips, and I walked us both, our mouths fused as one, to the bed. Her fingers were tangled in my hair as she lowered her legs. Stevie’s feet found the floor and her hands were desperate as they fell down my neck, past my chest, and under my waistband. I growled as she touched the tip of my dick with her fingers. She raked my bottom lip through her teeth as the pad of her thumb swept across the head. My fingers dug into the flesh of her hips, breaking my hold long enough to shrug down my pants and underwear.
Seconds later, my clothes were kicked to the side along with my shoes. I let my gaze fall between us. The hard edges of my body seemed to fit along the soft curves of hers. Taking her wrist, I lifted her hand and let her arm fall to the side. I tickled a path of goose bumps along the length of both of her arms before I backed her into the edge of the mattress. She tried to reach up and touch me, but I had other ideas.
“Lie down for me.”
I admired the marked way her chest had begun to rise and fall as she raised her hands and pulled the black elastic from her hair. Chocolate waves fell over her shoulders as she sat on the bed. She slowly moved to the center, and holy fuck, she watched me with dark eyes, her lip pinned in her teeth, wanting. Want. I had the urge to grab my dick and stroke away the ache she’d easily created inside me. She was fucking perfect, cream against the white of the blanket, and I wanted to feel the solid plane of my stomach sink into the curve of hers. I crawled over her body, pushing my knee between her legs. I held my weight, placing both hands on either side of her head. I tipped my lips to hers and her hot breath washed over me as her tongue swept across the seam of my mouth. Drinking her in, we kissed like there was no end to this day, like the sun would never set, and tomorrow’s game wasn’t looming. I ignored my sore muscles from my grueling practice. She made all that shit disappear as she lifted her hips, the skin of her belly brushing against mine.
“Fuck, you’re so soft.” I bit the tender skin of her ear lobe. I moved my mouth down her body, leaving kisses until I’d found what I’d been craving since I’d left Tampa. Desire pulled and pushed and I couldn’t help but bury my tongue between her legs with hurried licks. Stevie’s fingers twisted into the curled strands of my hair as she moaned my name. “Oh God, Mark, I’m—”
She went off like the firecracker she was, panting, and writhing under my touch. Watching her come, feeling her body give itself over to me, she was loose limbs and quaking breaths, and I questioned how any man could’ve denied her this. I kissed her and she licked the taste of herself from my lips. My jaw clenched as she whispered a quiet and satisfied little sound into my ear.
I fell onto my left forearm, my right hand walking the length of her body down to her shaking thigh and grasped the back of it. I wasn’t gentle as I hiked her leg up, allowing my body to fall into hers. She whimpered as I pressed against her. The length of my dick riding the bow of her pubic bone, the stickiness of her arousal brushing along my flesh. I groaned as her nails pulled down my back, our lips wet and sloppy as we both gave ourselves over to the pulsing need between us. Every breath I took was filled with her scent, and I was transported to the night I’d met her. The smell of the ocean in her hair and I was home.