The tiny thread of control I’d clung to evaporated. I stalked her, letting my intentions show on my face with every step I took in her direction.
“That was not a kiss.”
“It wasn’t?” She retreated until her back hit the wall.
“No.” I took her face in my hands. “This is.”
My mouth took hers in a deep, sipping kiss. I stroked my tongue across the seam of her lips, asking for entrance, and she parted.
I claimed, my tongue sweeping inside her mouth. Fuck, she tasted sweet, with a hint of the amaretto she’d been sipping on. I captured her gasp as I explored the sensitive ridge behind her teeth and growled when she kissed me back, swirling her tongue around mine.
Tilting her head, I kissed her deeper, longer, until I knew every curve of her mouth intimately. Until she arched, pressing her breasts against my chest, and her hands gripped the fabric at my shoulders.
I never wanted to stop.
Which was why I did. I broke the kiss and moved back, putting a few feet of distance between us. Hell, half the club wouldn’t be far enough.
“Feel that?” I asked, my breathing embarrassingly irregular for a world-class athlete. Next time they wanted to test my heart, they didn’t need to put me on a treadmill—just wire me up and put me in a room with Pepper.
Her fingers grazed her lips and she nodded slowly.
“Good. Now that we’re on the same page—”
She all-but jumped the distance between us, and I caught her out of reflex. Her legs wrapped around my waist as her mouth settled over mine.
This time it was her tongue exploring, her hands in my hair, her soft lips caressing mine over and over.
Her ass filled my hands and I squeezed, groaning at how fucking perfect she felt. Thank God this was a leather cat-suit, or I would have had her naked in two seconds flat. As sexy as it looked, it was also the comic-book version of a chastity belt. There was almost no way to get to her.
I backed up, sinking down to the couch as she straddled me, rocking her hips over my erection.
“Fuck,” I hissed at the intense burst of pleasure.
“You feel something, too,” she teased, rolling her hips over me again and letting loose a sweet little moan as I thrust against her like we were high school kids.
I gripped her hair and pulled gently so she met my eyes.
“You. I feel you.” I flexed my hand on her ass and yanked her back to my mouth.
Then I kissed her like I’d fantasized about since the second I saw her. I took her mouth with intention, letting myself go, thrusting my tongue in a rhythm that let her know kissing wasn’t the only thing on my mind.
I wanted to be inside her, stroking her, filling her, hearing what she sounded like as I brought her to orgasm.
My cock twitched in agreement.
She whimpered when I set my lips to her neck, licking and sucking my way to her collarbone and down the low V of leather.
I pulled her zipper down and kissed the swell of her breast.
“You’re fucking perfect. So soft,” I said against her skin.
“More,” she pled, arching against me.
I heard the click of the door handle and reacted with the speed that won me an NHL contract, spinning Pepper’s tiny frame so she lay over my lap horizontally, out of sight from anyone in the doorway.
The door opened. “Hey, Coach wants us to go mingle since people paid and all,” Connor said.
“I’ll be down in a couple minutes,” I said, hoping it was enough to get him out of here before he came any closer.
“Sounds good. Hey, I thought Pepper was in here with you.”
Her body tensed, and I stroked a hand over her ass.
I nodded toward the door at the other end of the room. “She left a few minutes ago.”
“Okay, cool. I’ll see you down there.”
The door clicked shut, and we both sighed in relief.
“Whoa. That was…” She rolled off me, coming to her feet and zipping her costume in a manner that would have made Natasha Romanov proud. “You know, I’m just going to meet you down there.”
I nodded, clenching my teeth. “Yeah, I need a moment.”
Her eyes dropped to my dick, and her cheeks tinged pink. “I can see that. I mean, not that I didn’t feel it a few minutes ago. You know what I mean. I’m going.” She started toward the door.
“Pepper, we should talk about this.”
Fuck talking. Put your mouth on her.
“Right, we should. Later.” She escaped.
Fuck, what had I done? Ivy had been right. I’d crossed that line and now that I’d had a taste, I wanted it all. I wanted Pepper under me, with her legs around my hips, making that moaning sound as I slid deep inside her and fucked us both to blissful oblivion.
Okay, not helping the dick situation.
I took a few minutes to get my body under enough control not to embarrass myself and headed downstairs.
Pepper was already gone.
Chapter 6
Pepper
The chill from the rink did nothing to stop the heat flushing my skin from head to toe.
The private viewing room in the club.
Eric’s lips crushing mine.
The delicious way he claimed my mouth.
His hands on my hips and his hardness against my—
CRACK!
Shit!
A scrimmage was in full swing, the sounds of shredding ice, cracking sticks, and the puck smacking against the boards jerked me back to the present.
Damn it, Eric.
It was just a kiss. Nothing more.
Then why can’t I focus?
I clenched my hands into fists, letting the cold tingling my fingers ground me.
Shedding the red-hot images that had haunted me since last night, I slipped into the role I’d worked years to earn. My eyes darted around the ice, tracking the movements of each player.
“Aren’t statisticians only supposed to work on game days?” Mason’s voice called from behind me, and I tried not to cringe.
It wasn’t like we’d had a bad break up all those years ago, totally opposite actually. It was a mutual agreement, one where he was certain he’d make an NHL team and would have no time for a relationship. Which was just as well, since we’d drifted apart by that point anyway. But, he was the reason I didn’t even consider dating players.
Eric’s tongue flicking the edges of my teeth.
That growl from his chest that made my thighs clench.
I ground my teeth, focusing harder on the action happening in front of me.
“Yes,” I finally answered Mason, not bothering to look over my shoulder. I knew he’d be beside me within minutes.
He’d been doing that often since I came home—hanging around. Not for me. But for Dad. When he saw me, he saw my relationship to the coach of the Seattle Sharks and nothing more. Just some girl he used to know who had one hell of a connection.
“But,” I continued, trying not to immediately be short with him. “I’m new. I want to practice as much as the Sharks do, and I have numbers to run, anyway.”
“Can’t deny your work ethic,” Mason said, leaning his elbows on the box railing. Dressed in a pair of athletic pants and a long sleeve shirt, it was easy to spot what I’d seen in him back in high school. He was regularly handsome, but as much as people expected us to fall back into our high school love, there wasn’t a chance.
No spark.
No con
nection.
Nothing beyond agreeable friendship—on my end at least.
My eyes tracked the puck as Bentley took possession, gliding across the ice as quick as lightning and as graceful as a gazelle.
Damn, he’s fast.
A few blinks and he was bearing down on Gentry, whose reflexes were almost too fast to follow as he blocked the puck.
My heart leaped and I bit back a smile. Who was I kidding? I had to lock down an all-out cheer for his quick movements.
Shit, when did I become full-on TeamGentry?
Probably around the same time he stole my breath with that kiss.
No, earlier than that. When he’d scooped up a drunk Ivy and helped me get her home safely.
“Nothing going on with the farm team today, Mason?” I asked, needing to force myself out of my overcrowded mind.
“Tomorrow. You want to come track my stats, nerd?” He playfully nudged my side, and I chuckled. The term was a badge of honor for me, and he knew it.
“Can’t. I have to stay focused on the Sharks. Sorry.”
“It’s okay,” he said. “I understand who takes priority here. Always have.” There was a hint of sadness in his tone, but it was nearly drowned out by the ambition. I wished I could help him, but I couldn’t make him a better player. If Dad saw him as an asset for the team, he would’ve put him on the roster. “So,” he said, sighing. “You have eyes for Gentry?”
“What?” I snapped, taking my eyes off the ice and gaping at him.
He tilted his head. “Isn’t tracking the goalie your main focus?”
Air whooshed out of my lungs, my shoulders dropping.
Damn, I needed to find a grip, fast.
“Right,” I said, clearing my throat. “But not just Gentry,” I said, hoping his name wasn’t coated in a lusty-tone. “I have to keep tabs on Davis too, and then triple check each team’s line-ups.”
“Even the opposing?” He asked.
“Yes,” I said, grinning slightly. Anytime I thought about my job I got all giddy inside. “I have to stay on top of who is actually on the ice. If it doesn’t match the roster given to me, I have to get the offending player off the ice. It throws off all the stats, if not. I can’t accurately track if I don’t have the proper list.”