Daring the Defender (Wittmore U Hockey #3)

Chapter 17

17

S helby

I have no idea how I’m even sitting upright.

My bones feel like mush, and my brain has overdosed on a chemical high, but there’s still this flicker of want in my belly that has nothing to do with the orgasm he gave me.

I want him and I want to make him feel as good as he made me.

Standing at the edge of the bed, he watches as I run my hand along his length, the hard line trying to stab its way through the cotton of his shorts. It’s bigger than I’d expect. Harder. Again, in theory, I know the basics of sex. But actually seeing it–feeling it–I’m out of my depth. And it doesn’t take Reid long to figure that out.

“You won’t hurt me,” he says quietly. “Trust me, this guy has seen his fair share of abuse.”

My jaw drops. “It has?”

“Oh, shit. No, not like abuse abuse, but you can handle him.” He places his big hand over mine and together we grip the length. “Like this.”

He guides my hand over the fabric, up and down his length. “Does that feel good?” I ask, looking up at him.

His jaw tenses. “Unbelievable.”

I’m not sure why, but pride fills my chest. It makes me bold. I press a hand on his lower belly, fingers trailing over the carved lines of muscle. His body is incredible–like a work of art. I trace the dark line of hair, soft and tempting, but force myself not to get distracted. Curling my fingers into the waistband of his shorts, I tug them down. Reid releases my hand and together we lower the shorts over his erection and there it is, bobbing in front of my face, a clear bead of fluid at the tip.

My body grows hot, belly flip-flopping, and that warm heat is back between my legs. Reid grips the base and I reach out, thumb grazing over the head. He groans softly, every muscle in his body locking up.

“It’s so soft.” I glide my fingers down the shaft, feeling the variations in skin. Soft, but with a long ridge down the back. I dip them down to where he’s got a death grip on the base, then come back up.

“You’re killing me, GG,” he says, knees wobbling despite tensing his powerful thighs. A heavy hand lands on my shoulder as he braces himself. “Your hand feels so fucking good on my cock.”

My hand moves on instinct, tugging up and down his shaft. With every pass his breathing grows heavier, strained. His hips rock forward, a hard thrust, and I move against him, remembering how my body wanted friction. When I look up at his face, his eyes are closed, mouth slightly parted. His expression is caught halfway between pain and pleasure–he’s beautiful.

“Fuck,” he grunts, hand clamping over mine again, “I’m gonna–”

His words are cut off because he grabs my neck and bends over, slamming his mouth into mine. This kiss isn’t gentle. It’s hard and unrelenting, and our mouths are still fused together when he thrusts one last time and groans. Hot fluid spills down our hands until it lands in a sticky pool on my thigh.

We pull apart and I’m fascinated by the way Reid’s chest rises and falls in quick breaths. I did that. I made him gasp for air like he just finished running sprints. I pulled a groan out of him that rattled my chest. Those are the thoughts running through my head as he reaches for his shorts on the floor, wipes off my leg and then himself.

It’s then that I realize I’m completely naked sitting on the edge of this man’s bed. He must realize it too because he finds my shirt and helps me back into it, pulling it gently over my head as I slip my arms through the sleeves.

“Did I do it right?” I blurt.

His eyebrow lifts. “Are you kidding?”

I shake my head.

“That was fucking incredible, GG.” He inhales deeply and tilts my face to look at him. “But what’s important to me is that we’re good.” He brushes the hair off my cheek, tucking it behind my ear. “Are we?”

There’s this tiny niggle in the back of my head that says I should feel awkward and weird about what we’ve just done. That I crossed all of my boundaries and tossed my values to the wind, but then I look at the concerned expression on Reid’s face and the satisfied way I feel, and answer him truthfully, “Yeah, we’re good.”

Bang!

Bang!

Bang!

“Reid? You up? We’re headed to the gym in ten.”

My brother’s voice wakes me up with a jolt. I don’t need a reminder that I’m still in Reid’s room, warm in his bed. I fell asleep here last night, with the plan to leave before daylight.

From the way the sun glares through the window, it’s clear that didn’t happen.

Why? Reid’s bed, compared to the musty old couch in the cold porch is so toasty and cozy. Reid is toasty and cozy, his body spooned into mine all night. Except now my brother is the one waking us up and there’s nowhere to hide.

“Yo, Reid!”

The door rattles, and I panic, rolling over and shimmying under the blankets. I pinch him in the side as I vanish and he finally moves.

“Oof.” His body spasms from the pinch, hips thrusting toward my face.

Holy Morning Erection.

I barely hear the creak of the door opening over my hammering heart and the distraction of Reid’s impressive cock. He put on a clean pair of boxer briefs before bed, but the thin cotton does nothing to hide the tent pole between his legs from threatening to work its way out.

“Sorry, man,” I hear Reid say, voice muffled from the blanket. “I stayed up too late last night.”

“Working on a new project?” Axel asks, “Or did you scare yourself with one of your murder shows?”

Reid’s fingers find my face under the blanket and graze my cheek. “New project.”

“I should’ve known.” Axel laughs. “You always get hyper focused when you start something new.”

“Yeah, it’s in the early stage, but it definitely has my interest.” His fingers find my lips and he rubs his thumb across the flesh. Feeling bold, I dart my tongue out and lick the curve of his thumb. “Meet you down there in ten?”

“Yep.”

Even after I hear the door click shut, I don’t move, frozen in place. Finally, the covers raise and Reid peers down at me. My eyes land on his mouth. His lips. His tongue . Oh my god. His tongue. That licked and sucked and?—

It’s like the fog clears and everything I let him do to me, everything I did to him comes rushing back. Who was that person? And what was she thinking? That orgasms are great, that’s what. But with a little daylight and sleep, I see that last night was last night. Today I’m Axel’s naive little sister. Whatever Reid and I did last night was an experiment. A lesson for me, and like Axel unwittingly suggested, a project for Reid.

“Good morning,” he says, voice low.

“Hi.” I ease my way out from under the cover, to the edge of the bed. Away from him and whisper, “You go ahead and get dressed, and I’ll just hide out until everyone leaves. If he looks for me in my room, you can tell him–”

His hand snaps around my wrist and he drags me back to the bed, and against his hard body.

“You’re freaking out.”

“I’m not freaking out.” It’s a lie. I’m totally freaking out.

“GG, stop.”

I swallow and look at him. Not his face. Straight ahead, which unfortunately is at his abdomen, the ladder of defined muscles, taunting me. Then the hard lines of his chest.

“I know last night was big for you. It was big for me too.”

That forces my eyes to meet his. “It was?”

He nods. “I’m not used to people putting their trust in me–at least not off the ice.” His fingers slide under my hair, curling behind my neck. “But you trusted me to show you a part of yourself you shouldn’t be ashamed of.” His thumb strokes a lazy pass along my throat. “A part that is incredibly hot and powerful.”

“What do you mean, powerful?”

“You had me on my fucking knees, GG, and my tongue in your pussy.” The corner of his mouth curves up in a grin. “There’s nothing more powerful than that.”

I’m crossing campus when my phone vibrates in my pocket. I make a valid attempt to answer it, I really do, but I’m bundled up in a sweater and a too big pair of gloves Axel loaned me and I can’t actually get my fingers around it and by the time I manage to wedge my hands around the case, the vibrating stops.

Whoever it is, I can call them back. Or that’s the plan, until it starts up again. This time I slip my fingers out of the glove and answer.

“Hello.” A visible puff of air exits my mouth.

“Shelby. I was going to leave a message.”

“Oh, Mom,” I say, looking both ways as I cross the street. “Hi. Sorry, I couldn’t get to my phone with these gloves on.”

“I thought I would hear from you, but since that hasn’t happened I decided to make the call.”

“Sorry, Mom.” A pack of sorority girls bundled in heavy jackets and boots take up most of the sidewalk. None seem prepared to yield, so I step off the curb to go around them. “I’ve just been busy.”

“Busy?” she repeats, unbelieving. “Busy with what? It certainly hasn’t been with your obligations back home.”

“What obligations?”

“Oh, you’ve already forgotten? Maybe that cold weather has impaired your memory. Fine, I’ll remind you.” Her tone turns sarcastic. “There’s all of your volunteer work, including the time you spend with the youth program. There’s the Wednesday night bible study, the Saturday Mobile Soup Kitchen.”

“All of those run smoothly without my participation.”

“David, of course, has been a God-send. Stepping in to fill your shoes while you’re off on this little…”

“Little what?” I stop mid-stride, feeling the anger rise in my chest.

“The word that comes to mind is, tantrum.”

“I’m not having a tantrum, Mother.”

“Oh? Then what would you call running off in the middle of the night, with barely a word to your family or your fiance?”

A dozen words come to mind. Liberating. Adventurous. Fun. I think of Reid… orgasmic .

I reach the door of the Badger Den, but don’t go in. “What is this about, Mom? Did you just call to make me feel bad for doing something for myself for once?”

“No. I called to discuss the upcoming party. Even if you’re two thousand miles away, I’d like your input on a few things…”

“What party?” I blurt.

“Did you start using drugs out there?” she asks. “I’m talking about the engagement party for you and David.”

“David and I aren’t together anymore.”

“Nonsense.” In the background I can hear her rustling around. Probably with her fabric swatches and samples. “Like I said, this is nothing more than a tantrum and once you wear yourself out, everything will go back to normal. Now, how do you feel about lilies? Charlotte down at the florist says that–”

“You know what?” I interrupt, feeling like my head is about to explode. “I wasn’t throwing a tantrum, but now I am. There is no way I’m coming back for that party. No more than I’m going to marry David. That part of my life is over.”

There’s a gasp on the other end of the line. “Shelby Marie Rakestraw, how dare you speak to your mother like that. You made a commitment–a promise–to David in front of your family, his family, the congregation, and God. You think you can humiliate us and just walk away?”

Part of me, the big part that grew up subservient, wanting nothing more than my parents approval, shouts ‘no!’ and to go crawling back to the familiarity of that life. It would be so easy. But staring at the neon lights of the Badger Den, and feeling the warm, cozy sweater I’m wearing, along with the memory of waking up next to Reid’s muscular body is too intense to ignore.

Maybe more intense than anything else I’ve experienced.

“I’m hanging up now,” I tell her and disconnect before she can respond, then push open the door and enter the bar. It’s dark, dank, and smells like stale beer. The floor is sticky and there’s hockey highlights playing on the big screens. Josie waves at me from behind the bar and I grin. This is nothing like the life I left behind, and I’m here for it.

“We’re almost out of limes,” Mike jerks his chin at me. “Can you head to the back and slice some?”

“Yep,” I say, zipping out from behind the bar. I grab a box of empty bottles that need to go out to recycle. There’s a fast beat to working at a place like the Badger Den. There’s always something that needs to be done. Serving drinks, clearing up, taking out trash, placing orders in the kitchen or bar. There’s no time to think about anything other than the task at hand. Like, what it felt like to have Reid’s face between my thighs last night, or how irritated I am at my mother.

I know, those two things should not be in the same train of thought.

The only interruption to the steady pace is when something happens at the game. Loud cheers or deep, frustrated groans, cut through my train of thought, dragging my eyes up to the screens. Instantly, I look at the players' jerseys. Cain. Rakestraw. Wilder…

That was earlier, now the place is filled with happy hockey fans celebrating tonight’s win that gets Wittmore one step closer to the finals. The game was played about an hour away, over at Hilldale, but unlike the other nights I’ve worked, the bar seems to be more crowded now than earlier.

Lugging the box, I go out the back door and set the empty bottles in the bin, then head back into the steamy kitchen where I wash up and cut the limes. Even back in the chaos of the kitchen I hear an increase in the rowdiness out front.

“What’s that all about?” I ask Dennis, one of the line cooks.

His eyebrows rise into the bandana covering his hair and he says, “I think that means we’re about to get really busy.”

Armed with a fresh bowl of limes, I dump them into the little container by the bar and sure enough, the place is swarmed. Josie leans over the bar, shouting out an order to Mike, trying to get her voice heard.

“What’s going on?” I ask, peering over the crowd.

“The team just got here.”

“Oh.” Without warning, my heart flutters in my chest. “I thought they celebrated off campus after games.”

“Home games,” Josie says. “After nearby away games they like to show up here. It’s why everyone stuck around. To celebrate with them.” She tugs at the new shirt Mike handed out when I got to work. “Why do you think Mike gave you that jersey to wear?”

It’s an authentic Wittmore hockey jersey, black and gold, the name of the bar written across the shoulders. Josie showed me how to tie it in a knot at the waist to keep it from snagging on the chair backs when we’re working.

“Rakestraw!” My head snaps to the left, but I know instantly that it’s not me they’re calling for. It’s my brother, who has just stepped through the door, bundled up in his heavy hockey jacket, Nadia tucked under his arm.

Reese and Twyler are behind him. Then Jefferson, who makes a beeline to a table of girls that have been slowly sipping seltzer and grazing on a single basket of fries all night. My eyes ping back to the door and I see Murphy and Emerson walk in.

At that point I turn away, realizing that I’m searching for someone I have no right to be looking for. Reid had a great game; he probably has someone else to celebrate with. “I’ll grab them some menus,” I tell Josie, needing to be busy. “Anything else?”

“I think we could use extra napkins. These guys are going to eat all the wings.”

“Gotcha.”

The supply closet is down the hall toward the back exit, across from the bathrooms. I push open the door, assessing the huge boxes of paper and dry goods Mike has stored back here. How he manages to get so much crammed into one tiny closet is beyond me. I’m up on my tiptoes, when I hear the bathroom door swing open and I turn, catching a glimpse of auburn hair.

The last thing I see is the number 08 stitched on the arm of the jacket as he vanishes behind the closing door.

My heart flutters wildly in my chest as an idea springs to mind. Something bold and incredibly un-Shelby-like. I glance down the hall making sure no one is watching, and the minute the bathroom door swings open I step out, grabbing Reid by the arm and dragging him into the supply closet.

“I was looking for–” he starts, a sexy grin tugging at his mouth. I don’t let him finish, pushing up on my toes to meet his mouth with mine. His lips are warm, and if I thought he’d be startled I was wrong. He reacts immediately, mouth hard against mine, meeting me, kiss for kiss, with such intensity that I feel it deep in my bones.

His hand tightens around my waist, thumb rubbing over the exposed skin. Slowly he eases the kiss and looks down at me.

“Look at you. Making the first move.”

“Is that wrong?

He presses his hips into my lower belly. He’s already getting hard. “Does it feel wrong?”

I shake my head, knowing that when he’s like this, he’s into it. Into me. “Excited?”

“Getting jumped by a sexy little thing wearing a Wittmore jersey?” His tongue darts out, and he eyes me like he wants to devour me. “Yeah, you make me a lot of things, GG. Excited is only one of them.”

“You like the jersey?”

“Fuck yeah.” His fingers toy with the knot by my waist. “The only thing that would make it better is if you were wearing it in my bed, and it had my name on the back.”

Heat pools in my lower belly, and I don’t know how to respond to that. Turns out, I don’t need to, because his lips, his tongue, his hands are devouring me again. Pushing my fingers up his shirt, I feel those delicious, amazing, unnatural abs. How is this man real?

He pushes me backward, pressing me into a stack of boxes. “You taste so fucking good,” he mumbles, dipping his fingers between my legs, rubbing me though the denim. “You think you can come like this?”

“We shouldn’t,” I tell him, but make no move to stop. Anyone could walk in right now. My boss. My brother. My coworkers. The orgasm is a few strokes away and instead of composing myself, I rock my hips into his hand. His lips burn against my throat and in the small room there’s nothing but the sound of my shaky breath.

“Come on, baby girl, let go for me. I’ll hold you up.”

My eyes flutter shut and my body slacks just as the shuddering orgasm takes hold. I barely register the sharp corner of a box jabbing into my shoulder blade or the sound of people out in the hall. It’s just me and Reid.

I open my eyes and he’s staring at me.

I twist my body away from him, focused on the door. “I-I need to go.”

“Wait.” He keeps me in place. “You’re so fucking gorgeous, you know that?” He pushes my hair off my face. “Especially like this, red cheeked with your pupils blown. Fuck, GG, you’re killing me.”

Gorgeous? I don’t think so. I’m hot and sweaty and more than a little ashamed of myself.

“I really need to go back to work.”

He releases me, taking a step back. “I mean it.”

The feeling in my chest is way beyond a flutter at this point and I leave the room while I still have control of my mind and body. Every time I touch him, or worse, he touches me–I feel like I’m losing it just a little more.