Chapter 4
CHAPTER FOUR
“Buster, have you seen Ash?” I ask, wrapping my puffy winter jacket around me to keep out the cold as I walk around the edge of the official practice ice that the Edmonton Eagles use for training.
Sounding out of breath, he removes his helmet, and my brother’s teammate replies, “You just missed him. He’s through there.” He points to the lockers, then swipes his sweaty brow with the back of his forearm. “If you go now, you’ll catch him before he hits the showers.”
“Thanks, Buster.” I gratefully give him a thumbs-up, then ask, “Good session today?”
Cheeks flushed, he looks exhausted, and his hair is all messed up, sticking out on end and soaked with sweat. How my brother and his team do this every day is a mystery to me.
“Brutal. I need an ice bath. I’m getting too old for this.” Buster grimaces when he arches his back. “Hell, that does not feel good.”
“Well, you are going to be thirty this year, Buster; you are pushing on a bit now,” I tease him merrily.
“Look, you,” he waggles his finger at me with mischief written all over his face, “just because you’re Ash’s sister, doesn’t mean you can get away with calling me an old man.”
I hold my hands up in surrender. “I never said those words, Buster, you did.” I let out a soft chuckle at the same time he rolls his eyes and calls me a smart ass.
Having grown up surrounded by the game and hockey players, this facility and the arena feel like home, and Ash’s teammates feel more like brothers than his friends.
Except, that is, for Leon.
Leon’s an entirely different story.
And trouble.
Big, big trouble, for both my heart and head. He lives in both, and I hate it and love it in equal measure.
“Are you still thinking about retiring next season?” I ask Buster, knowing he’s already made up his mind.
“I sure am. My knees are screwed.” He bends them while standing on his skates on the rubber mats as if testing them.
He lets out a long groan as one of them makes a crunching noise.
“Did you hear that?” he asks, his eyes popping out of their sockets in disbelief that his own body is suffering from years of cross checks, body blows, and from being stooped over continually.
“Yeah, I heard that.” His crunchy knee practically echoed around the empty rink.
“What’s the diagnosis, Dr. Johansson?”
“I’m not a doctor yet,” I scoff, knowing he’s testing my knowledge, because since I passed my four-year undergrad program with a higher-than-average GPA, this is what the team does to quiz how smart I am now that I’m in med school. “Is the pain around or behind the kneecap?”
“Both.” He nods with a glint in his eye.
I tap my forefinger against my bottom lip, thinking about what it could be.
Arthritis is too obvious, as is crepitus, and it’s not a meniscus tear or he’d be unable to skate and would be limping.
Also, Buster wouldn’t make it that easy for me.
It’s got to be something left field. “Clicking and grinding too?”
He nods again.
“Puffiness and mild swelling?” I ask.
“Also, that.” Another nod of confirmation.
Got it. I take a moment before answering. “Patellofemoral pain syndrome.”
“Got it in one.” Buster raises his fist and bumps mine. “And what do I do to ease my symptoms, Dr. Johansson?” His voice is full of humor because he obviously already knows.
“Ice, rest, addressing your foot alignment, exercises to strengthen your hips and thighs, lots of stretching, and taping the knee. Also, I recommend you retire next year.”
Buster salutes me with a knowing grin. “Already on it, Doc.”
“Gotta go.” I thumb over my shoulder in the direction of the lockers. The last thing I need to see is dozens of penises.
That’s a twist on the truth because seeing Leon’s penis would be a bonus, just to check if the puck bunnies in the forums are telling the truth about him having a piercing down there. Specifically, a Prince Albert.
It’s for fact-checking purposes, obviously.
“See you around, Erika.” Buster waves goodbye as he takes a seat on one of the benches and looks reflectively around the empty ice as if he’s missing it already.
“Bye, Buster,” I call and jog toward the lockers, eager to catch Ash.
Before I enter the hallway leading to the lockers, I glance over my shoulder to see that Lily’s sister, Gemma, has appeared, but I don’t stop to chat. I don’t have time.
I make a mental note to ask her what the hell she was doing here today when I see her later in the week for drinks and a catch-up with her and Lily, my sister-in-law. I’ve always suspected there is more to Gemma and Buster than just friends.
But what do I know? I can’t even sort out my own love life.
Jogging around the corner, just as I pass the equipment room, a huge set of arms grab me from behind and around my waist, lifting me off the ground. I squeal, but a deep, dark voice whispers in my ear, “Shush, baby, or your brother will send a hunting party out to look for you.”
Leon.
His words alone cause a rush of excitable goosebumps to zip up and down my spine.
“Put me down.” If Ash catches him manhandling me, he’ll throw a hissy fit.
A click of a door handle is all I hear before I’m carried through to the equipment room, then Leon uses his foot to close the door, sealing us into the warmly lit space.
“Leon,” I scold, wriggling in his tight hold.
Why does he have to be so strong?
“Stop squirming, and I’ll put you down.”
True to his word, when I stop, he places my feet on the floor.
At breakneck speed, I spin around to face him to give him what for and tell him off, as he was hardly discreet.
But I’m not fast enough, and his mouth is on mine, swallowing my words as he devours me, reawakening every memory of our last kiss, our chemistry undeniable, the intense need of his touch arousing me, specifically between the apex of my thighs.
From his citrusy aftershave and the feel of his light scruff tickling my skin, my mouth welcomes his, and any fear or doubt disappears faster than a New York minute.
Holy fucking shit. What the hell is happening?
Whatever this is, I’m not stopping it, so I let it run down the tracks like a runaway train.
He holds me against his chest. I can’t deny how delicious he smells from being fresh out of the shower, how good his arms feel around me, and how much I would like to stay wrapped in his embrace for more than however long we have. Minutes usually.
“Leon,” I moan, digging my fingers into his wavy locks at his nape, squishing his mouth harder against mine in what is only our second kiss… ever. What a rush.
He groans into my mouth, then pants against it.
“It’s been too long since I last kissed you, baby.
I needed this, needed you.” He plunges his tongue into my mouth, and they swirl together, reacquainting ourselves with how we taste: wickedly good.
Leon breaks our kiss on a heavy chest heave.
“I’ve wanted to do this for so long. You look hot as fuck in these tight jeans today, Erika.
I can’t stand it anymore. Did you wear my jersey again just to taunt me like you’ve been doing at every fucking game for months?
” He cups my face with his hands and looks longingly into my eyes, as if searching my soul for an answer.
What can I say? I like wearing his name and number against my skin. It makes me feel closer to him, and I guess it’s had the desired effect: he noticed.
“Do you like teasing me, Erika?”
“No.” I feign innocence, my tone honeyed and full of sass.
“You drive me fucking crazy, baby. I want to fuck you while you wear my jersey.”
Feeling him inside me is all I’ve ever wanted, and I can’t believe he feels this way about me… his best friend. I thought his resistance to me was tougher than Teflon, but it seems to me it’s breaking, slowly, piece by unbreakable piece.
I bite my bottom lip seductively. “I like the sound of that.”
Unexpectedly, he seals our mouths together yet again, and I let out a gasp loud enough to attract attention.
With no space between us, the seam of my jeans grazes against my clit in the most delicious way, making my core throb with desire.
I sigh as pleasure zooms through every nerve ending, loving that this might be the first time a man makes me come.
Leon lifts my leg, hooking it around his narrowed hips, then rubs me against his impressive length that is harder than steel and makes me want to rip all my clothes off.
Right here, right now, this feels like we’re in the danger zone, something we’ve never done at the arena before, or anywhere since we kissed in my dorm.
We’re in the space between not getting caught and getting caught.
And with my brother so close, it feels naughty and playful, every one of my senses tuned into the risk of being found out.
Leon lifts me and places me on a flat surface, which I think is a table behind me, and I lock my ankles together to hold him firmly against my center as I lie back.
“What are we doing?” I ask breathlessly between frantic kisses.
A whole year has passed since we last kissed.
It’s as if an entire lifetime has passed since then, and that night happened so fast, and so late, in the dark, I’ve doubted myself every day since, convincing myself I was dreaming because neither of us mentioned it again, and our friendship went back to the way it was the next day, shattering my heart yet again.
At this point, I know it will happen all over again, but I can’t stop myself from wanting him as need burns deep in my core.
My heart pounds as his curious fingers slide from my waist, up my ribs, and travel upward toward my neck before threading into my hairline, making me shudder from his touch. Leon grips the back of my head with his large hands, kissing me more fiercely.
“I want you, Erika,” he gasps, bucking his needy hips into mine. His repeated admission wraps me in silken strands of euphoria, as if binding us together and swirling around us.