Tricky Puck: a Fake Fiancee Hockey Rom-Com (Portsmouth Whalers Hockey Romance)

Chapter 13

We get out of the elevator on the top floor, and though it’s only five stories up, she blows out a whistle.

“Private elevator? I should have guessed you’d live in a penthouse.”

“Not too tired for sarcasm,” I say.

She pulls away from me and walks across the room to the floor to ceiling window overlooking the harbor. I don’t bother pointing out that if this was New York, I wouldn’t be able to afford a harbor view.

“Nice view.” I join her to watch the lights twinkle off the water in the small harbor.

“I like it.” Opening the door I take her out to the balcony with a hand on her lower back. Touching her is tricky since I promised myself I’d let her sleep and at least try not to further complicate our… situation. I can’t call it a relationship.

Breathing in the cool salty night air gives me the fortitude I’ll need to make that happen.

She shudders and wraps her arms around herself as she stares at the dark sky.

“Let’s go inside and I’ll show you around.”

“I’ve never seen so many stars.” She looks up at me. “Your place will have to be draped in gold to beat the view from your balcony.”

“I thought you said you weren’t impressed with money.”

“No more than the average girl.” She yawns half way through her smile as I slide the door closed behind us.

“This is the living room.” I point to my right. “There’s the dining room. Follow me to the kitchen.”

“I can see it from here you know.” She follows me in spite of her sass and we head for the large island and then turn left. The kitchen is huge and the sink has a window overlooking the yacht club and bay beyond.

“A person might think you were a cook if she didn’t know better.” She runs her hand over the marble countertops and stands in front of the sink gazing out the window. “Okay. I’m impressed. A corner unit.” She yawns again.

I laugh. “I can see how impressed you are. I guess it’s time to show you to the bedroom.” I take her hand and lead her down a hall past a half bath and a small office to my bedroom.

“You only have one bedroom?”

“It’s all I’ve ever needed.”

“What about when people visit?—”

“You’re staying in my room.” I watch for her reaction, unable to resist flirting.

She gives me her game face and in spite of the twitch in my dick, I settle down.

“Don’t worry. I’ll behave.”

“Maybe. Maybe it’s not such a good idea.”

“Fine.” I shrug, though the gesture causes a sharp pain to shoot through my back like my body is calling me a liar. I open the door and step inside the bedroom. She stays on the threshold

“It’s only one night, Delaney. You’ll be leaving in the morning after a good night’s sleep. I promise. I don’t want to have to worry about you driving off the road into the woods never to be seen again.”

“You’re so sweet.” Her tongue is squarely in her cheek. “There’s only one problem with your suggestion.” She pauses, so I bite even though I can see her next words coming from a mile away and I’m already smiling.

“I’m not likely to get a good night’s sleep in the same bed with you no matter how well behaved you are.”

I let the smile have its way with my mouth, a warm sizzle of anticipation infusing me slowly, different from the hot pounding rush of lust I felt a few nights ago. But oddly better, deeper, chest expanding and heart thumping, not wildly, but with a strange kind of resonance.

“I notice you didn’t say no.”

She huffs a sigh. “Don’t start keeping score again, Milano.” She pushes past me. “Make that big over-muscled body of yours useful and bring my luggage from the entry.”

I reach out and swat her ass before heading for the door. “Yes, mam. But you know there are many more and better ways I can make use of my big over-muscled body?—”

She laughs. “I had that coming, didn’t I?”

“Oh, you’ll be coming?—”

She rolls her eyes, suppressing a grin. “Stop it.”

“I can’t help myself when you set me up so perfectly.”

“Just go.”

Our eyes catch, hers full of mirth and mine returning the same, but staring deep and feeling it, our game, in full force and pulling me in deep. Maybe she’s right about not sharing a bed tonight. It’s a good thing she’ll be staying in that cabin far away in Sugar Hill. The last thing I need is to test my ability to resist the distraction that she is right now.

She’s the kind of woman I haven’t experienced in… forever, mainly because I have an excellent sense of self-preservation and successfully avoided them over the years. Pulling myself from her temptation, I go down to the garage and fetch her bag.

A night together once in a while won’t hurt. Starting with tonight. I can deal with that much and not mess up. I’ll make sure of it.

It doesn’t take Delaney long to fall asleep after we scorch the sheets, fast and hard. In the morning I find myself waking slowly to her soft breath at the back of my neck and her warm body snug against my back. It feels too good not to take a moment and let a long shuddering breath out before I untangle myself.

There’s no way I’m making the same mistake twice. She’s not making me late for hockey again.

As I dress, she opens her eyes and sits up. I turn away from the sight of her like she’ll turn me to stone if I meet her eyes—which she will, at least my dick will go hard.

“No morning nookie, Linky-pooh?” She mock pouts like she’s imitating a porn star.

I laugh, shaking my head. “Get dressed. I’m out of here as soon as I drink one coffee. If you’re a good girl, I’ll let you have one too.”

“How can I refuse a charming offer like that?” She gets out of bed and I turn away again, leaving the room for safety—and coffee.

“Sing to me.”She’s sitting kitty corner from me at the kitchen island and I’m watching the clock as I sip my coffee. I need to keep her distracted because she’s eying me like an addict eying their next fix—if she were addicted to orgasms.

Or maybe that’s wishful thinking and it’s me who’s the addict.

She laughs. “You’ve had your quota of singing performances from me. That was a once in a lifetime deal.”

“That’s extreme. I’m convinced you should do more than write the songs. You should perform.”

“I’ll take your expert opinion under advisement.”

“You’d be even more successful than if you sell the songs to someone else.”

She rolls her eyes. “How about if we make a rule, Milano. You don’t tell me my business and I won’t tell you how to play hockey.”

She pulls out her phone and starts texting.

“Who you talking to?” I ask before I can stop the curious impulse—or at least I tell myself it’s innocent curiosity. But the edge of something more tenses my jaw.

“My uncle Torin. He’s subletting my studio. He’s got all the usual bachelor questions.”

I breathe out slowly, relaxing and stick to drinking my coffee. We sit in a companionable silence for a few minutes until she starts fidgeting.

“You really are a man of few words.”

I shrug.

“Do you have any food in this place or is the kitchen just for show?”

“I eat at the arena. Sorry. I might have some eggs, but…” I check the time. “There’s no time. I need to get in extra early today.”

She stands, drains her coffee mug and slams it on the counter.

“Fine. Let’s go. I’ll be back for a visit when it’s necessary.”

I finish my coffee and refill the go cup for the road, then wrestle her bag from her.”

“My next home game is coming up in a few days.” I punch the elevator button.

“I’ll think about it. I need to settle into my new digs first.”

Disappointment surprises me, but I dismiss it. She’s right.

We step into the elevator and I’m careful to keep my distance for the ride down to the parking garage under my building.

“It’s a three hour drive each way,” she says randomly as she gets in my car. “I’ll pick my spots about which games I go to.”

“Shit, you’re probably closer to Montreal than Portsmouth. You can come to our game next week when we play the Canadiens.”

“Sure. Sounds… fun.”

“Yeah?” I’d been joking about her coming, but maybe it’s not so funny.

“Yeah, let me translate my sarcasm for you. What I really mean is that it sounds fucking cold.”

I laugh and realize I’m skating on thin ice between temptation and good sense. Shit. “Don’t worry city-girl, you’ll get used to the cold up here.”

We arrive in the garage and I toss her luggage in the back, then bump into her at the passenger door when I go to open it for her.

“You might have a lot more to get used to besides colder weather up in that cabin.”

“No kidding. I know what a cabin in the woods is all about.” She squints those damn compelling green eyes at me. ‘You worried about me, Milano?”

“You’re the last person I should be worried about. You’re a tough girl, no lightweight. I got the message somewhere between the Pappy Van Winkel and dinner last night with the hockey guys. You held your own for a fish out of water.”

“I don’t get intimidated easily—and by that, I mean?—”

“Never?”

She snorts. ”You ruined everything by questioning me, Link. Just when I thought you were my biggest supporter.”

“I am your biggest—size wise.” Shit. It seems all conversational roads lead to flirtation with her. And flirtation leads to more temptation.

“You’re right.” She clams up then and I take that as my cue to kiss her. One last kiss for the road. I take my time, going deep, pulsing my tongue to mimic my cock thrusting inside her. Shit.

I let go.

“Wow. Way to rock the good-bye kiss, Milano.” She clears her throat.

“That wasn’t a good-bye kiss.” My words are a knee jerk reaction to hers because I don’t do goodbye kisses.

“Right. That was an until-I-see -you-again kiss.”

Fuck, that sounds worse. I shake my head. “Don’t get romantic notions about my kisses, Delaney. Sometimes a kiss is just two sets of lips enjoying each other.”

She laughs. “Good. I was worried for a minute you were getting sappy on me.”

“Nothing to worry about.” I say.

“Well, wish me luck with the fireplace and priming the pump for water because I’m off for my idyllic little cabin in the woods to write poetry.”

“How rustic is this cabin?

“I don’t know. I’ve never been there. All I know is it has running water, albeit from a well and a fireplace for heat?—”

“No central heating? Ouch. That’s going to suck at night when it dips into the thirties.”

“I might even miss you—strictly for your heat producing qualities.”

“Don’t try and distract me with talk of making heat. I have practice this morning and I plan to get there early.”

“Aren’t you always early?” She makes the comment casually, but I flinch. Shit. She notices and gives me a curious look. “Not such a rhetorical question after all,” she says. “You were late the other day. After?—”

“Never mind. You have a date with a rustic cabin and a blank page waiting for your songs.”

She smiles and nods slowly, but firmly. “You’re right. Thanks for setting me straight.” She sounds only partly sarcastic and that sends a zip of pleasure through me. Not sure why.

She gets in the car without another word and I drive her back to the arena garage in silence. Feelings, like I’m out of sorts, fog my mind and it’s all I can do to concentrate on driving the short distance.

When we arrive, I don’t give her another kiss, good-bye or otherwise, since she’s called me out on that—or I called myself out on it.

Once she’s settled in her car, she rolls down a window with a hand crank as she sits staring up at me with her eyes matching the patchy bright green paint of her beat up old junker. “See you when I see you, Milano,”

“Next home game, Delaney.”

Shit. Am I looking for a disaster or what?