Chapter 11
11
RONAN
S weet dreams. Oh, sweet fucking dreams.
I’m vaguely aware of my fist wrapped around my cock, loosely jerking up and down. “Yeah, yes…Fuck.”
My current film reel of Nicky is even more vivid than usual as it plays out in my head. Am I really surprised, though?
The subject of my fantasies is now living just on the other side of my property. Close, but still not as close as I want her to be.
Yesterday, as I gave her the tour of the guesthouse, the sexual tension between us was suffocatingly heavy in the air. There’s no way she didn’t feel what I was feeling.
But she’s determined to keep things quote-unquote professional between us, as she was quick to point out last night. Fine. Be like that . We’ll keep things professional.
Besides, it’s definitely not in my best interest to make trouble with my babysitter. Darius probably already has my casket picked out for if I step out of line.
And even more than that, I need to focus on what’s important. Especially if we’re going to get the Saints’ season back on track. I’m team captain. My teammates are depending on me.
So, no making a move on Ms. Sassy. I’ll just keep doing what I’ve been doing—reserving my steamy Nicky fantasies for my alone time each night.
When a loud, buzzing sound fills my ears, my palm instinctively slaps around in the dark, searching for the snooze button on my alarm clock.
Just five more minutes. Five more minutes of sleep. Five more minutes of Nicky, sweaty and naked and pressing those sweet peach lips all over me.
Nicky said I’m not allowed to talk about her text messages. I agreed to that. But no way in hell is she getting me to stop thinking about them, to be perfectly clear.
I try to hold onto the fleeting filaments of my dream. But through my fog, I hear a ding. Probably a text message. I ignore it. Well, I try.
More dinging. More text messages. “Leave me alone!” I pull a pillow over my head.
Then the loud buzzing starts again, rattling my bedside table. That’s when I realize that it’s not my alarm clock that’s going off. It’s an incoming call on my phone.
Dammit.
My hand darts out again and slips the vibrating phone off of my bedside table. Blurry eyes still half-closed, I slide my thumb over the big green button.
“What…?” I grumble, smushing the device to my cheek.
“Ronan!” A female voice grinds against my eardrum. “I’ve been calling you and texting you. Are you still sleeping?! No!! No, you can’t still be sleeping!”
Nicky.
Panicked Nicky.
What time is it anyway? I glance at my bedside alarm clock.
Oh, shit!
“I’m not sleeping,” I lie, bolting out of bed.
“We’ve got to be at the hockey arena in an hour and the drive is forty-five minutes. Ronan, you should have been up at least twenty minutes ago.”
“I’ve already got one foot out the door,” I say, fighting a yawn as I skid across my bedroom floor, with my duvet tangled around my legs.
I can hear a bunch of cupboard-slamming and furniture-banging through the phone. “You have one foot out the door? No, you don’t,” she calls me out on my lie. “But if we don’t get to the arena on time, your coach will have one foot up your ass.”
My chest jerks with a little chuckle. Damn. Peach is high-strung in the morning.
“Okay, fine. I lied. I’ll be ready in five minutes.”
She’s not done cursing me out yet. “Am I really supposed to believe that?”
I hear another loud crash on her end. What the hell is she doing over there?
“Chill out, Peach. We’ve got enough time.”
“ Nicky . My name is Nicky .” And with that, the line goes dead.
“All righty, then. See you in five,” I say to my phone.
I’m grinning to myself when I peel off my Saints Hockey pajama pants and hop into an ice-cold shower. An absolute necessity for getting this morning wood under control.
My cock is so hard. My body is begging me to rub one out. But I don’t. If I jerk off again, I might sprain my wrist. And if I sprain my wrist, I can’t play hockey. That’s the only thing keeping my hand off my dick right now.
After my shower, I quickly brush my teeth and grab the first clean clothes I can get my hands on.
The Saints are playing Detroit later on tonight. I’m not worried, though. We’ve got home ice advantage and I’m confident that we’ve got this match in the bag. Well, that’s the story I’m telling myself.
The truth is, I’m nervous. I want to win. We need to win. But my confidence feels a little wobbly right now.
I push all my doubts aside and make a decision—tonight, I’m stepping on that ice to win. I feel the need to prove myself to Nicky.
To prove that I’m good at hockey. To prove that I’m not the asshole everyone say I am. That I’m not going to screw up her new job.
It’s probably silly, but I can’t help but feel like if I'm able to convince Nicky that I really care about my career, then maybe everyone else will believe me, too. At least that’s what I think I’m thinking.
Yet at the same time, there’s a voice at the back of my head whispering that maybe the only approval I really want is hers. ‘Cause I don’t really give a shit about the public’s opinion of me. We all know that. But I guess, those two things somehow just go hand in hand.
A total of twelve minutes after jumping out of bed, I’m tugging up some sweats with one hand while zipping up my hoodie with the other hand as I jog down the stairs.
Nicky is standing on the landing, glaring up at me.
At the sight of her, I nearly trip over my own feet and fly face-first down the staircase. If I thought she was pretty in my dream, she’s even prettier in the flesh. Even with the way she’s frowning at me.
Today, she’s looking all professional again, in a heavy button-down wool coat and a knitted scarf looped around her neck. Her mahogany hair is pulled into a sleek bun just like it was yesterday, and her honey eyes are shooting poison darts at my head.
Still pretty, though. So pretty.
“Morning.” I grin when we’re standing inches apart.
She slams a travel mug into one hand and a foil-wrapped something into my other hand. “We’re late.” She spins and marches for the exit.
Look at her—pleasant and peachy as ever. And ready to bite my head off. It’s cute.
A weaker man would be intimidated by the tough girl act. But I can’t lie—stern, professional Nicky makes my balls tingle.
In all seriousness, I can already tell that her career means a lot to her. Ambition is hot. Definitely a turn-on as far as I’m concerned. Ambition means passion, and I absolutely love a passionate woman.
Beneath all that, I know that Nicky’s not all sharp edges and hard angles like she pretends to be. I’ve seen a different side of her. I’ve seen her softer side despite her keen attempts to hide it.
“Slept on the wrong side of the bed?”
She bends over and tugs her leather boots up her sexy bare calves. “I slept just fine.”
With one hand, I grab my duffel bag from the front closet, my eyes on her ass in that fitted skirt the whole time. “You sure? If the mattress isn’t comfortable, just say the word. I’ll fling it to the side of the road and buy you a new one.”
Or you can bring that sweet ass right into my bed. Any night of the week.
Nicky straightens fast and catches me staring. Oops! Her eyeballs narrow at me. “That won’t be necessary. Thank you.”
Reaching around her for the doorknob, I courteously hold the door open for her. “After you,” I say.
Look at me. All those manners my mother taught me are sure coming in handy today.
Nicky pauses. Her chest rises and falls with an exasperated huff. “Thank you.” She marches out ahead of me and I grin, catching a whiff of her fruity shampoo.
You like me, Peach. Admit it.
We’re taking my SUV today. Normally, I’d ride into Sin Valley in my sportscar. I like to drive fast. But with Nicky as my passenger, it’s safety first. Precious cargo right here.
My stomach tingles with anticipation as I slip behind the wheel. I’m a little nervous about this forty-five minute ride alone with her. I’m looking forward to it, though. Maybe I’ll get to know her a little better.
But the minute I pull out of the driveway, Nicky sets the tone for the drive. She delves right into my itinerary for the day.
“So according to the schedule Florence got from your coach, there’s a team meeting at 9:30 and then practice,” she begins.
I take a sip of my coffee. “Yup.”
“By what time will you be done with that?”
“Right around noon.”
“And what will you do afterwards?” she asks as she types out notes on her phone.
“Workout. Shower. Quick lunch.” I unwrap the foil and bite into the sandwich inside. Mmm. Damn, this is good .
Her head bobs as she continues to type. “And what’s next?”
“I have a small apartment near the arena. I usually go there to hang out and decompress until it’s time to get to the rink for my pregame routine.” I glance over at her. Maybe we could take a nap together today. That would be nice.
Her legs look so damn good in those leather boots.
I wonder what she’d look like with those legs tangled around my head. I wonder what she’d taste like. Peaches, I bet.
Nicky rambles away and I nod along, half-listening. I’m not super thrilled about the topic of conversation. I’d rather be talking about her.
There’s one question in particular that’s been burning on my mind. What’s the status of her relationship with that loser she was seeing when we met? I’m hoping she’s not dating that knucklehead anymore. I’m hoping she’s not dating anyone.
Why? I don’t know. It’s not like I can pursue anything with her. It’s a universally-accepted rule that the babysitter is off-limits. The situation at hand is no exception.
Besides, a girl as beautiful as her probably has a whole roster of men eager to take care of her every need. I’ve got no way to know for sure, though. Nicky is locked up like a fortress over there. So who the heck knows what’s going on with her dating life?
I’m not dumb enough to come right out and ask her about that. She’d chew my head right off and spit out the bones. So, I’m going to need a way to bring up the topic indirectly.
“You’ll have plenty of free time throughout the day,” I tell her, taking another bite of the delicious breakfast sandwich she made me. “You can use that time to make phone calls if you need. Personal phone calls.”
“Okay,” she mumbles, not looking up from where she’s still typing on her phone.
“I just mean, if there’s anyone you need to check up on. Y’know, just to call and see how their day is going or…”
“Mmm.” She nods, unaffected eyes still glued to her phone as her fingers dance across the screen.
Sucking in a breath, I try my luck. “ Anyone like a boyfriend or…”
Nicky stops to glare at me, head tilted to the side. “Can we just focus on making sure I have all the information I need to get you through this day?”
I chuckle. “Sure thing, boss.”
The fiery way she’s looking at me sends a rush of tingles to my groin. I shift in my seat.
I’ve always had my pick of women. In fact, knowing I could have any lady I want has been a lifelong point of pride for me. But now, here I am, shutout by this gorgeous little hellcat and it’s low-key driving me crazy. I want to pull over on the side of the road and tug her into my lap, hike up that slim-fitting skirt and let her feel what her sassy attitude is doing to me.
Eventually, Nicky is done going over the plans for the day. The car falls quiet for a moment. I finish eating my sandwich and ball up the foil, shamelessly licking my fingers.
“Thanks for the sandwich,” I tell her. “In all honesty, it was better than any fast food breakfast I could have picked up on the way to the arena. The sauce was so good.”
She doesn’t look up from her phone. “My Grammy’s recipe,” she mumbles distractedly.
“Well, it was very kind of you. Thanks for going out of your way.”
She shrugs. “Making sure you don’t pass out from starvation on the ice after sleeping in too late to grab breakfast? Pretty sure that’s part of my job description.”
I chuckle to myself. She’s not going to make any of this easy for me, is she?
But the next thing she says really catches me by surprise. “And to answer the question that’s none of your business that you’re sneakily trying to ask me—no, I don’t have a boyfriend. Now, you can quit asking about my personal life. I’m not talking to you about it anymore.”
She digs into her purse for her earbuds, putting an end to our conversation. After driving a few quiet miles, I hit the off-ramp and we’re at a red light. I can’t help but peek across the console at my silent passenger. She’s scrolling through her phone. I catch sight of the real estate app where she’s browsing through house listings. Real estate? Cool. Nicky keeps surprising me.
My eyes flick to her mouth. It’s a really pretty mouth. Peach in color and perfectly shaped like a bow. Suddenly, I’m thinking about kissing.
I like kissing. Like, a lot.
And it’s been a long time—like an embarrassingly long time—since I’ve gotten to kiss someone.I’d totally like to kiss Nicky.
She glances up and I manage to shift my eyes back to the road in time. But in my periphery, I notice the way she subtly twists her body and angles the screen of her phone away from me.
Mind my business. Stop staring. Point taken.
I mentally shake myself, forcing my mind elsewhere. Needing a healthy distraction, I plug in my auxiliary, turn my music on low and start nodding my head.
Yup. This woman is a fortress.
And I’m permanently locked outside the metal gates.