Chapter 9

Magnus

Eight Ball was none too happy with me by the time I got home, and she wasn’t likely to get any happier when I went out again. I tried to head the vengeance she’d wreak in my absence off at the pass by giving her a special treat while I was there. She’d still shit in something while I was gone, though. I was sure of it.

“Hey, girl. I got you some catnip.” I had snipped a fresh piece off the plant that I kept locked up in my guest room. I’d tried leaving it out on the kitchen counter once. That didn’t work out too well. She didn’t eat it, she just rolled around with it and sniffed it. She’d been high as a kite when I’d gotten home. That was back when I’d attempted to have houseplants. Eight Ball convinced me to give up on that idea right quick. They were the perfect ammo for my welcome home surprise.

She eyed me with suspicion but accepted my gift. Giddy with joy, she rolled over and over the plant. Every now and then, she’d pick it up, drop it down again, and pounce on it repeatedly. Crazy cat, but she was mine. She was so old it made me feel good to see her act like a playful kitten. Sometimes she acted like seventeen going on seven. I was hopeful that she’d be one of those cats who lived past twenty. As long as she was healthy.

Knowing the catnip would keep Eight Ball entertained for a while, I slipped back into my bedroom to get changed—and drop a few condoms in my wallet, just in case. It was probably too early in our relationship for her to sleep with me, but by God, if she was willing, I was going to be prepared.

***

I arrived at Jennie’s just before seven that evening. The flowers I’d bought her earlier rested on the seat next to me. When I reached over to pick them up, I wound up missing the stems and sweeping them onto the floor of the cab. I knocked the flowers hard enough for them to be just out of my reach from my position at the steering wheel.

My foot found purchase on the rest next to the brake and I stretched out, blindly grabbing for Jennie’s gift. I should have been more delicate, because when I hauled them up, about half of them were smashed and missing petals. Shit. I hoped that wasn’t an indication of how the rest of the night would go.

I wore a sheepish grin as I held the mangled flowers and waited for Jennie to answer my knock. Her hand covered her mouth as she took in the state of the bouquet I presented her with.

“Wow. These look a little different than they did earlier. Should I even ask?”

I kissed her cheek and stepped inside. “You’re welcome.”

She tilted her head to the side and then signed to me. I think you misunderstood me. What did you think I said?

I got what you said, Jennie. You said thank you for the perfectly beautiful flowers. And that I shouldn’t have, but you’re so glad I did. And that you owe me lots of kisses tonight anytime I want them. Did I leave anything out?

She fanned herself with her hand as if she’d like nothing more than to lock lips with me again. Nope. That’s exactly what I said.

I closed the door and then took the ruined flowers from her hand, dropping them on the floor at our feet.

She stared at them for a second before she looked back up at me. What are you doing?

I want both of your hands free for this. I pulled her toward me so our bodies were flush and gave her a proper greeting.

No sooner had my mouth descended upon hers than she parted her lips for me. I took my time exploring every nook of her sweet mouth. When her tongue darted out to tangle with mine, heat filled me. It especially filled parts down yonder to bursting. I thought of those lovely condoms I had right in my back pocket, hoping like hell I’d get a chance to use them soon. Maybe that very night.

Jennie’s hands wound their way through my hair, just like the last time we’d shared a kiss. The way her dainty fingers pulled at the longer strands lying on my neck proved to me that she was just as caught up with passion as I was.

I walked her backward until she came up to the door I’d just shut. There was something about pressing her against it and trapping her there with my body that turned me into a caveman. I wanted to scream “Mine!” I wanted to mark her. That kiss made me want to show the world that this woman belonged to me.

With great effort, I pulled away from her wet lips and traced kisses down her neck. When I reached the curve of her collarbone, I sucked hard. I didn’t need to be able to hear the sounds of her enjoyment at my actions. It was enough that I felt her chest inflate on her gasp of breath. Her hands gripped my head to hold me there as I continued to run my tongue over her. Those spontaneous reactions easily made up for any sensory imperfections I had. I heard it all.

I made my way back up to her lips. At that moment, our kissing became frantic. We were in a battle that neither wanted to lose. My hands skimmed up her ribs, climbing ever higher so I could cup her full breasts while her hands wandered urgently over my back. She grabbed a fistful of my shirt and yanked it out of my jeans. That’s when it hit me.

I wanted her more than I wanted my next breath, but this wasn’t the way. It suddenly became all-important to me to seduce her the way she deserved—not backed up against her front door with wilted, broken flowers at her feet.

With gargantuan willpower I didn’t know I possessed, I grabbed her ever-traveling hands before I could change my mind. Forcing myself to take a sizable step back, I gave her a gentle squeeze and bent to retrieve the pathetic bouquet. My breath came out in uneven spurts, but I managed to get my voice back. “Okay. Pumpkin pie.” I didn’t wait for her response. For my own sanity, I quickly put more distance between us and walked into the kitchen.

Jennie caught up and stood before me, her hands moving with deliberate slashes. What the hell was that? Judging by her frown and her flushed cheeks, she was mad and unsatisfied. Or maybe just mad. Hell, we were both unsatisfied. In this instance, her anger was a good thing. It would keep her coming back for more—of me.

That, dear Jennie, was the kiss of a lifetime. Two aprons hung on the back of a stool at the counter. I picked them up, handing her a yellow one with pink and blue flowers while keeping the plain, navy blue apron for myself. Don’t you agree? Or was I lost by myself in that kiss?

Oh, I agree, it’s just that I thought…

Her hand briefly waved in the air before she let it drop to her side. I didn’t know why I was egging her on. After all, I was the one who ended our incredible kiss. You thought what? My shaking hands belied the calm demeanor I was going for.

Hands on her hips, she shook her head at me. Not saying another word about it, she turned to gather bowls, a rolling pin, and other ingredients for the pie crust.

Have you made pie crust before?

I had not, but I pictured it like the pottery scene from Ghost. The scene was crystal clear in my mind. She and I stood with her back to my front while my arms wrapped around her from behind. We kneaded the dough together, our hands in constant contact. My lips brushed her ear as I told her about all of the things that I wanted to do with her—to her. I got lost in those thoughts for a moment or two. Jennie’s fingers snapped in front of my face. Have you?

Have I what, sweet Jennie?

Her face gave an adorable blush again, and she lowered her head a little, although I could still see her smile. Have you made pie crust before?

Oh, that. No. I wasn’t lying when I told you I can’t cook. I mean, I can throw a steak on the grill and a potato in the oven. I can even throw some vegetables in the microwave, but that’s about it. I’d never dream of trying this on my own.

She nodded at me and measured out some flour and other things in a bowl. Then she cut up two sticks of butter and placed them in the mixture. Here you go. She handed me a fork. Now you just cut the butter into the flour mix. You try it.

I stood there like a moron, holding the fork. Cut the butter? You just did.

No. I mean you cut it in with the fork.

Ah, yes. That’s so much clearer. I put the fork down, not understanding what I needed it for anyway. I have no idea what you mean.

Jennie picked up the fork and proceeded to show me how to cut butter. Why she didn’t just tell me to mash it into the flour with the fork, I didn’t know. I stopped her when she was about halfway done.

“I can do it.” I got a little overzealous in my mashing. There was a particularly large pat of butter that I pushed up against the side of the bowl. Instead of it breaking down like the other pats did, my fork slipped and I tipped the bowl, almost dropping it to the floor. Obviously I didn’t know my own strength.

Jennie and I both got a flour bath. It was the second time I’d seen her with flour in her hair, and she looked just as fetching as the first time. “You can do it, huh?”

We burst out laughing together. “I guess I really can’t. Can we salvage this?” I already knew the answer.

“No, but we can start over.”

“How about if I just sit over there and keep you company?”

She agreed immediately. “Great idea. You want a beer or something?”

“No thanks. I’ll just get some water if that’s okay.”

“Of course, help yourself.” She pointed to the cabinet to the left of the stove. There were plenty of water glasses to pick from, but what drew my attention was the large grouping of shot glasses. I touched Jennie on the sleeve.

“Do you collect these?”

For whatever reason, my question brought a flash of sadness to her eyes. She shook her head. “No. Not really. They were my mom’s. I’m not sure why I kept them all. She had them displayed proudly over the wet bar in our family room. Funny thing is, she didn’t even drink. Sometimes when I’m missing my family, I take one out and do a shot in their honor.”

She reached past me to open the freezer door. Pulling out a bottle of ice-cold Patron Silver, she raised a questioning eyebrow. “Interested?”

I knew I had an early game tomorrow, but one shot wouldn’t do me any harm. “Sure. One shot for your family.”

I reached for the bottle and placed it on the counter. Shot glasses came next. I filled them both to the top and turned to find Jennie had taken a lime out of the fridge and grabbed a salt shaker. We were going to do this shot right. Her next step was my favorite. She took my hand and with a wicked smile, she licked the back so the salt she shook on it stuck.

“Allow me.” I took the salt shaker from Jennie’s hand and leisurely did her the same favor. The sexual tension between us was of a level I’d never experienced before. It only hardened my resolve to make our first time spectacular. And there would be a first time.

She swallowed hard, another flush rising to the forefront. Turning from me, she cut the lime into wedges and then handed me one. Not breaking eye contact with her, I lifted her hand again and licked the salt off of it. I then drank my shot and pulled her other hand holding her lime wedge to my mouth, making sure my lips covered her fingers. It was by far the best shot I’d ever had.

I could only describe her gaze as seductive. Her eyes flicked to the front of the house, and I was relatively certain she was thinking of our kiss again. She took a hesitant step toward me, but I cut her off at the pass. There was no way I could withstand the temptation if she kissed me. I was only a man, after all.

I held up her shot and offered her my hand. My groin tightened at the flick of her tongue, but I held steady. She swallowed her shot and I gave her the lime. She closed her eyes as she sucked at the lime and my fingers.

“Okay. Back to pie.”

Her eyes snapped open with shock. “Seriously? You’re thinking about pie? I’m losing my touch.”

I couldn’t have her thinking that. “Jennie.” My finger traced a line down her tender cheek. “I’m about two seconds away from taking you right here on the counter, flour and all. You’re not losing anything.” I stepped closer to her, willing her to see the desire and naked longing in my eyes. “But I like you. I really like you. Our first time isn’t going to be a quickie on the counter because I can’t control myself. It’s going to be special and perfect, just like you.”

She tilted her head down and I tipped it back up. “You make me feel like a tramp, Mags, because I have to be honest—I’m one-hundred percent willing to be thrown on the counter, flour and all. Right. Now.”

She killed me. I was seconds away from forgetting my resolve and burying myself deep inside her. I did the only thing I could. “Pie, Jennie. Pie now.”

Somehow I got through the night not learning a damn thing about how to make a pie, but learning a lot about myself. Women came and went in my world. I could have my pick. Not because those women were interested in me, but because I was a hockey player. I was just a notch on their post.

I’d always known that I was different from most of my teammates, who went through women like they did hockey sticks, but I had no idea I was strong enough to say no to a woman I desperately wanted. And for what? For the sole purpose of respecting her and wanting to make her feel the best I could. Jennie made me a better man.