Chapter 10
Chapter Ten
Cam
“Hey.”
I stepped inside her apartment and handed her the warm paper bag of food I'd just picked up from my favorite restaurant around the corner. “I hope you like Chinese. The Golden Duck has the best wonton soup and spring rolls in the city.”
She pressed her lips together and smiled as though she was trying to hold back a laugh. “I love Chinese.” She carried the bag over to the kitchen and unfolded the top.
Steam rose into the air, filling the space with the scent of ginger, garlic and spices.
“That smells amazing.” She half-closed her eyes and inhaled.
I bet the food didn't smell as good as her .
She pulled the containers out of the bag and set them on the countertop before sliding open a drawer in the large island.
“Chopsticks, forks or spoons?” she asked.
Can I fork you, then spoon?
I cleared my throat. “Fork, please.” I could use chopsticks, but not well enough to take the risk. “And a spoon for the soup.”
I took a moment to get a look around her apartment. “Nice place.”
I'd expected somewhere bigger, but the view from the balcony was as incredible as mine. All of the seating was positioned to take advantage of it. The four stools that sat down one side of the island faced it. So did a huge sectional that dominated the room. Beside that was a bright pink bean bag that seemed out of place compared to the neutral blues and grays of the space.
“Thanks.” She opened the soup containers, added spoons and pushed one across the island to me. “Beer?”
“Depends. Am I gonna get in trouble with the boss?” I picked up my spoon and scooped up a wonton to shove in my mouth.
She opened the fridge and pulled out two beers. As if she had something to prove, she glanced at me before cracking open one, then the other, with her bare hand. She slid one to me before picking up her soup and beer and gesturing over to the sectional.
“No need to be formal.”
I wasn't much of a formal guy myself, so I sat down where she indicated, careful not to spill hot soup on myself.
The moment I sat down, something in the ceiling clicked. Through speakers all around the room came a male voice.
“I parted her quivering legs with my hands, exposing her slick pussy. ‘You're so wet for me, baby,' I said, keeping my voice low, just the way she liked it. I lowered my mouth to her wet heat and started to explore her with my tongue.”
Andi had stopped dead still, her face bright pink. She hurried to lower her bowl and beer onto the coffee table in front of the couch and put her hand on my thigh.
“What are you?—"
“I'm sorry, you're… I need to…" She looked down toward the couch.
I leaned over away from her and looked where she was looking.
“Oh.”
She wasn't trying to touch my thigh, she had her hand down between the cushions of the couch. She pulled out a small remote control and pressed a button, turning off the voice.
She cleared her throat awkwardly. “I like to listen to…audiobooks.” Her face was adorably pink with embarrassment.
I cleared my own throat. “Yeah. Right. I like those too. I mean, not…the same as—" I pointed towards the ceiling.
“I figured,” she said. “Not that there's anything wrong with men listening to romance. Or reading it.”
“No, of course not,” I agreed. “People can read whatever they want.”
Shit, could this get any more awkward? “So, you were going to sort out a replay?”
She stared at me blankly for a moment before remembering why I was here. “Yes, hockey. Hockey replay.”
Her response left me wondering what kind of replay she was thinking about. Maybe one of the audiobooks, with my tongue on her.
I shoved another wonton in my mouth before I said anything I might regret. While I chewed and swallowed, I rebooted my brain and reminded myself why I was here. “Where's your TV? ”
Maybe it was in her bedroom. If I went in there, chances were I'd do something we'd both regret.
Or would we? She was a beautiful woman and I was undeniably attracted to her. The longer I sat here looking at the blush that still stained her cheeks, the more difficult it was to remember she was my boss.
Her expression unreadable, she pressed another button on the remote still in her hand. Slowly, a screen rose out of the coffee table in front of us.
“I keep it hidden, because I don't use it very often and it blocks the view,” she explained.
Of course it did. That made more sense than my half-baked hope she'd invite me into her bedroom.
You're an idiot , Cam , I told myself. As if a woman like her would be interested in you anyway.
“That's a good idea,” I said, my voice slightly too high for comfort.
I had a massive projector screen that slid up to hide in the ceiling that was perfect for movie nights. When it wasn't in use, it was tucked away and forgotten.
“It wasn't my idea,” she said, but she didn't elaborate. Judging by the expression on her face, she preferred I didn't ask. That instantly made me curious, but I wouldn’t pry .
She turned on the screen and started the replay of last weekend's game. She placed the remote down beside her and reached for her bowl and beer.
“Good choice,” I said, nodding towards the screen. “This was a good game.”
“Because you won?” she asked.
I grinned. “Any time we win is always a good time.”
She glanced over and smiled. “I guess it would be.”
I liked seeing her smile. I wanted to see it again. Quickly, I reminded myself I shouldn't.
This is just business , I told myself. I'm just here to answer her questions, that's all.
But it already felt like two friends sharing a meal and watching a game. There wasn't anything wrong with being friends, was there?
The kind of friend who wants to know how her pussy tastes, the back of my mind hinted unhelpfully.
I ignored it.
We sat back and watched the first period while we finished the first course and the first round of beers.
I hopped up when the horn sounded, taking our bowls to the kitchen and returning with rice, honey soy chicken, spring rolls and another beer each .
“You don't need to wait on me,” she said, taking a plate and beer from my hands.
I shrugged and went back for mine. “My mom raised me to be polite and self-sufficient.” I sat back down. “She's the kind of woman who won't let a kid, son or daughter, leave home without knowing how to cook and do laundry.”
“You can do laundry?” Andi looked playfully skeptical.
“Sometimes I even remember to separate the whites from everything else,” I said. “I can even fold socks so they don't get lost from each other.”
“Impressive,” she remarked. Her eyes shone like she was lightly teasing. Of course she was, anyone could fold socks.
On the other hand, tell my teammates that. Some of them wouldn't know how to pick up dirty socks, much less fold clean ones.
“Almost as good as these spring rolls,” I said. “Try one.”
She eyed me, picked one up and slid one end of it into her mouth. She closed her lips over it and bit down gently.
Her moan of appreciation made my balls tighten.
I swallowed heavily and forced myself to think unsexy thoughts, and not picture those gorgeous lips around my cock, enjoying my taste.
“This is so good,” she groaned.
“Yeah, it is,” I said. So was the food. “Like I said, best in the city.” It was also a diet buster, but I'd work out harder tomorrow to make up for it.
“You might be right,” she agreed. “And no celery in any of it.” She shifted her position on the couch as though she was physically uncomfortable, her expression bitter. She dropped her gaze.
“Who likes celery?” I asked carefully.
I didn't think this conversation was about the stringy vegetable. Instead, I got the impression someone in her life tried to make her feel guilty for enjoying food. Or for having curves.
As far as I was concerned, food was there to be enjoyed, and her curves were perfect. Anger flared up inside me, aimed squarely at anyone who dared to make her feel bad about herself.
Didn't she realise she was fucking gorgeous? I had a feeling she had no idea. Whoever it was that judged her made her judge herself.
She looked back up, her expression tinged with a hint of sadness. “I don't know. I don't like the way it gets stuck in my teeth. ”
I wanted to take that sadness away from her, but I had no idea why or how.
I managed to tear my eyes away from her, and back to the screen. “This is right where Flynn scored our second goal.”
We skated into our positions, the camera panning across the ice and stopping behind us. I was leaning forward, body tense, eyes ready for the puck to drop.
I glanced over to see Andi, eyes on the screen, head tilted to the side. I looked back at myself, then back at her.
“Are you checking out my ass?” I grinned.
Her face went pink again. “No,” she said quickly. “I'm checking out your stick.” Her eyes widened. “Your hockey stick. I was looking at the way you were holding it. It's so long it looks…" She shook her head. “I'm just digging myself a bigger hole here, aren't I?”
I grinned bigger. “Not at all. My stick is big and needs to be handled just the right way.”
Her tongue swept over her plump lower lip as her gaze dropped to my groin.
It seemed I wasn't the only one getting that vibe. If I was a gentleman, I'd excuse myself and leave before we got in too deep. But no one could ever accuse Cameron North of being a gentleman, so I hopped up and got us two more beers.
I sat back beside her and watched her watch me skate across the ice, slapping the puck to Flynn who flicked it past the goalie and into the basket.
“I feel like I should cheer,” she remarked.
I raised my beer to her. “Cheers.”
She clinked her bottle against mine and laughed. “You know that wasn't what I meant, right?”
I grinned. “I know, but I figured you weren't going to stand up and clap at the TV.”
She raised her eyebrows, then placed her beer down in front of her. With a flourish, she stood, briefly applauded in the direction of the screen, then sat back down.
“I think that's the first time I've seen anyone golf clap to a hockey game,” I remarked. “Usually people cheer and throw teddy bears.”
“I'm sure they throw their panties at you too,” she said.
“Jealous?” I teased.
She snorted like a cute little pig. Her eyes widened and she clapped a hand over her mouth. “I'm not jealous,” she said from behind her fingers. “Why would I be jealous? People can throw whatever they like at you. Within reason. We wouldn't want our star winger getting injured by somebody's falling G-string.”
The only thought I had in my mind at those words was her shimmying out of a dark red G-string and flinging it at me. Right before she lay back on my bed and spread her luscious thighs. I should definitely not have another beer, it was starting to go to my head, and my groin.
“For the record, no one throws their panties at me,” I said evenly. “They throw them all at Nate. I think he collects them.” He probably had a drawer overflowing with them. Puck only knew what he did with them. Frankly, I didn't want to know.
I didn't admit that some were aimed at me. Not literally panties, but longing looks and flirtation. I ignored all of it. That was a tangle I didn't want to get dragged back into. Not after the last time.
“What do you collect?” she asked.
That was a good question, what did I collect? Nothing much, apart from a bitter ex or two. Maybe chips on my shoulders.
“I never really found anything I wanted to collect,” I said finally. My gaze lingered on her before I managed to turn my attention back to the game.
“Now this bit was controversial?—"