Daring the Defender (Wittmore U Hockey #3)

Chapter 2

2

R eid

Buzz

It’s embarrassing to admit how fast I check my phone when a notification comes through. I lunge for it–heart crammed into my throat.

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Well… fuck. I definitely thought that maybe it was her.

Tossing the phone on the table, next to the half-eaten pizza, I unpause my game and continue with the ass-kicking I’m handing out on screen. At least there’s no one else home to witness my humiliation. I’d never live it down.

It’s my choice to stay home, even though there are a few parties going on around campus. Tonight isn’t a night for a single man, especially not one that has a firm ‘no serious relationships’ policy at the moment.

It’s Valentine's Day, and Valentine's Day is a couple’s thing and the last thing I want to do is lead someone on. Looking for a relationship is fine. Women should do what they want. See who they want. Fuck who they want. As much as they want. Exclusive or not. But me? I’ve done the monogamous thing–and I’m taking a break.

This is why I’m sitting at home by myself, playing ice hockey video games by myself, while eating a heart-shaped pizza from the joint down on the strip by myself . It’s ironic, actually, that two of my roommates found serious girlfriends right when my relationship with Darla fell apart. Hell, Axel is the one that taught me the no dates on Valentine’s Day rule, but now both he and Reese are in the throes of it–all loved up and blissed out in that new relationship haze, fucking like bunnies, and simply just basking in one another.

While I’m over here shaking it off, trying to get my groove back one co-ed at a time.

Grimacing at the screen, I maneuver my man down the ice, body-checking the other guy into the boards. “Take that!” I shout to the empty house.

After moving my player into position, I’m waiting for the puck to drop when I hear a noise on the porch–a loud thump, followed by light footsteps. Our house, The Manor, is the biggest one in the old mill neighborhoods surrounding the University, and often the location for some pretty epic parties. Add in the fact that four hockey players live here, having visitors or one of the guys on the team drop by isn’t unusual. I assume it’s either one of them or maybe Jefferson, my only other single roommate out on the porch. I told him not to go out tonight, but history has proven nothing comes between him and getting his dick wet.

I make a few more plays on the game, waiting for him to come in, or for someone to knock, but that never happens. Maybe he’s out there making out with some girl.

Or hell, maybe it’s a serial killer.

Dropping the controller, I stand and cross over to where we keep our equipment, grabbing a hockey stick in one hand and gripping the knob with the other. Looking out the window at the top of the door, I can’t see anything but the shift of a shadow.

“Sack up, dude,” I mutter and yank open the door. I step out with the stick raised over my head. “If you’re a murderer, you picked the wrong damn house.”

I hear the smallest “eep” and look over to the opposite side of the porch. Blinking I take in the person sitting on the swing. It’s a girl. Well, a college-aged girl, with her hands up. “Not a murderer. Promise.”

“That’s what they all say.” I exhale and drop the stick. “Jesus, you scared the hell out of me.”

“Sorry,” she says, eyes flitting down my body, starting with my cut-up t-shirt and then down to the Wittmore sweatpants. When her gaze returns to my face, there’s something in there–and not the hot appraisal I expect. Judgment maybe? I don’t often feel exposed. I’m a big guy. Fit–although beefier than my roommates, which is what makes me a beast on the ice. I’m strong as hell, and I know women like my body, but this girl? I can’t get a read.

“You need something?” I ask, leaning the stick against the door frame. “There’s no party tonight, but I hear there’s some stuff going on down on Greek row.”

“I’m looking for someone,” she says, standing, giving me a better look at her. She’s a dirty-blonde, with doe-sized eyes. Her skin looks sunkissed, different from the winter pale skin of the girls on campus. Her clothes are modest; a gray skirt that comes down to her knees, and I see a thick sweater peeking out under a jacket that’s not quite warm enough for the weather up here. I try not to wrinkle my nose at her shoes, basic black flats. It’s pretty well known that I’m into fashion and know my brands, vintage or current. I figure that if everyone is already looking at me on campus because I’m on the hockey team, I may as well give them a full show.

This girl doesn’t look or dress like anyone we usually hang out with. Even Twyler’s got a sporty vibe, but the girl on the porch is all bundled up and frumpy. “Is Axel here?”

“Ax?” I repeat. “No.”

“But he lives here?” she asks, hopefully.

I could lie. Do my friend a solid and get rid of this girl for him, but she looks on the verge of panic so I throw her a bone. “Yeah, he lives here, but he’s not home right now.”

“Oh thank goodness. I was really worried I had the wrong place.” She exhales, visibly relieved and her eyes, the color imperceptible in this light, shine with hope. “Would it be okay if I waited for him to get back? I can stay out here on the porch if it’s a problem.”

I grimace, rubbing the back of my head. “Look, I gotta be honest with you, sweetheart, Axel’s got a girl now–a serious one. So whatever you’re wanting from him is a no-go.”

That news doesn’t deter her. She clears her throat and says, “I just need to talk to him. If he doesn’t want me here, I’ll go but… it’s important.”

Fuck. Did he get this chick pregnant? It’s hard to tell with that skirt and that jacket. I mean, I know it’s not always obvious, but she doesn’t look knocked up. She’d have to be early, and Axel and Nadia have been together a few months… and there’s zero chance he cheated on her.

Okay, this chick isn’t pregnant, but needs to talk to Ax. Maybe it’s just a school thing.

“Come on.” I jerk my chin at her. “Come inside. My nipples are about to freeze off.”

I don’t miss her eyes widening and then flicking down to my chest. Is she worried about being alone with me? Whatever. It’s her choice. It’s also February in New England and these temperatures are no joke. I step inside and she follows.

“There’s pizza on the table by the couch,” I tell her. “It’s probably a little cold now, but it’s still good. You want a drink?”

“Sure, that’d be nice.” She shrugs off her jacket, assessing the room. “Thank you.”

“No problem.” I open the refrigerator and grab two beers and a seltzer left over from the last party. I carry them over and set them on the table. “I didn’t know what you’d like.”

She stares at the two drinks, looking flummoxed, before settling on the seltzer and opening the can. She doesn’t drink it though, instead moving to the pizza box and opening the lid. “A heart-shaped pizza?”

I sit on the opposite end of the couch and pick up the controller. “Valentine’s Day special.”

“Oh, right.” Her face falls. “I forgot.”

“What? Forgot you had a hot date tonight?” I click the button to resume the game. “Break the heart of some love-lorn guy?”

“What?” Her voice rises two octaves. “No.”

I look her up and down, better now that the light is brighter and she’s shed the jacket. She looks vaguely familiar, so maybe she has been here before. Possibly with Axel. Now that I can see her, it’s obvious she’s got a good body, curvy, and her tits are nice. Get her out of that matronly skirt, and into something shorter, a little tighter, that shows off those legs and– fuck . I just talked myself into a semi. Good job, Reid. I clear my throat. “Hey, just saying. You’re cute. Seems like you’d have a boyfriend, or at the very least, someone wanting to be your boyfriend.”

Her cheeks turn red, and damn, I like the way that looks on her. Flushed and flustered. I expect her to make a run for it, but she just nods at the game I’m only half playing. “Your team just got scored on.”

“Shit.” I turn my focus back to the game. “It’s just one goal. I can get the score back.”

She’s quiet next to me as I maneuver my player down the ice, the forward gets a pass past me, and I curse again. Maybe I’m the one that’s flustered.

“Your defense needs to block the passing lanes,” she says.

“I know what I need to do,” I snap. Yet her distraction and admittedly, my frustration, makes me miss the next play and they score again. “Dammit.”

“Told you.”

I eye the girl next to me. “You think you can do better?”

She shrugs, a coy smirk on her mouth. “Probably.”

“Go for it.” I hand her the controller, grab a piece of pizza, and lean back. True to her word, she does do better. Her defender is everywhere, blocking plays and slamming guys against the boards. She helps her team get the two points back and I laugh. “So you’re a ringer. You play hockey?”

“Gosh, no. Just this game.” She frowns in concentration at the screen. “My bro– friend taught me.”

“Well, he must know his stuff.” I sit back, taking a long drag of my beer, and watch. Not the game, but the player. She’s perched on the edge of the couch, completely engrossed in the game, her teeth puncturing her bottom lip, making it fat and swollen. From the side, I get a better view and take in the firm swell of her tits and I get the urge to strip off that heavy sweater and see what’s underneath.

Who is this girl? Where did she come from? Is she some sexy, video-playing, Valentine's gift sent to my doorstep from Cupid?

And if so, what does that mean?

Nothing, I think. This girl has a strangely innocent vibe and she came here to see Axel, not get hit on by his roommate.

“Yes!” she shouts as the game-ending buzzer sounds from the TV. My team is up by one because of this girl. She holds up her hand in a high-five and I slap it, because even though she made a fool of me, she’s fucking cute. She grabs her seltzer and takes a long drink. Her nose scrunches at the taste but it doesn’t take away from her grin. “Can I ask you a question?”

“Sure.”

“Don’t you get cold not wearing a real shirt?” She gestures to my cutoff shirt. “It’s freezing outside.”

“I run hot,” I admit. “Always have. I guess it’s the one reason I got into ice hockey. Being cold never bothered me.”

“I’m the opposite.” She tucks her hands into her sleeves. “My hands are freezing all the time.”

I take her by the wrist, engulf it in mine, and pull it to my chest. She watches me, not saying a word as I lay her palm flat on my sternum. I feel a jolt when her fingertips touch my skin–because damn, they’re cold, like ice cubes, but I still feel a sense of warmth spread across my skin.

It’s the sensation that drives me to reach out and push her hair off her cheek. She looks up at me and I finally see her eyes–a bright greenish-blue. Aquamarine. I’m struck again by the familiarity but instantly distracted by those dark pink lips.

I want to kiss her.

I’m thinking about kissing her.

Yep. I’m going to kiss her.

Fuck , I don’t even know her name.

Despite the free for all of the last month, I’m not the kind of guy who makes out with a girl without getting her name.

“By the way, what’s your na–” I start, but she’s up on her knees, body leaning over mine. Her lips aren’t cold like her hands–they’re warm– soft . Moving my hands to her hips, I run them down her sides, pushing that stupid skirt high enough to drag her onto my lap. She falls forward, those cool hands gripping the thin cotton front of my shirt, her hair making a curtain around us, blonde and feather-light. Although she makes the first move, there’s a hint of hesitation. I cup the side of her face with my hand and take control, leaning into the kiss, licking at the seam of her lips for a taste.

Big mistake.

Her mouth is hot, and tastes like the berry flavor of the seltzer, she feels good–reckless. My cock thickens, drills unabashedly into her thigh. Fuck, now I want more.

Her.

I want her .

“Seriously,” I say between kisses, “I’m Reid. What’s your name?”

She pulls back, eyes cast down. “Shelby.”

I dive back in, a thought niggling at the back of my brain, somewhere deep behind the foggy lust. Shelby.

I jerk back. “Did you say Shelby?”

“Yeah.” She loops her hands around my neck and places warm kisses along my shoulder.

“Shit. Shit. Shit.” Now I know why she looks familiar. “He’s going to kill me.”

Because it wasn’t Cupid that sent this girl to my doorstep but some twisted god of chaos, the front door swings open. In a panic, I shove her off, jumping to my feet.

“ What the–! ”

“I swear I didn’t know.” I hold my hands out, but he’s already coming at me, a ball of rage and fury that no one, not even Reese expects. I brace myself for the impact of Axel’s fist slamming into my jaw. All I can think as he makes contact is that I have it coming.

“Axel! Stop!” Shelby screeches, and there are other voices, Nadia and Twyler. My friend comes at me a second time, but I slam my hand out, blocking his fury until Reese grabs him with both hands and drags him off.

“What are you doing?” Nadia asks her boyfriend. Twyler shrugs. Everyone is confused.

He struggles against Reese’s grip, eyes filled with betrayal, and he spits out, “What the fuck are you doing with my sister?”