Chapter 11—Wolfe #2
“Not a problem.”
Plates loaded with food; they made their way to the couch in the living room where they dug into their meals.
Wolfe reveled in the fact this real girl ate with gusto.
Not that he knew what women ate like. In fact, his dates were primarily focused on sating more carnal needs opposed to nourishment from food, but a number of his teammates talked of their WAGs and the nibbles and miniscule morsels they ate at restaurants and parties alike.
He never considered that. Until now.
Tonight’s spread may not be tagged as caviar and canapés, but it was one of the most enjoyable evenings he’d spent in memory.
“So, a gross of these pot stickers, huh?”
“Yeah,” she chuckled. “Not my brightest move, but I didn’t want to send them back because of the refrigeration issues and the like. So... I’m a walking billboard for the ‘Pork, the other white meat’ campaign.”
“I mean, it sucks you don’t have variety, but they’re pretty tasty.”
“Thanks,” Aspen said, and nudged her shoulder against his own, causing an instant and absurd response from his cock. ”Hey, do you want to play a game?
His mind catapulted to games of her blindfolded on his bed as he traced his fingertips across his body to the apex of her legs where honeyed wetness awaited him.
Wolfe cleared his throat. “Yeah, sure. Whad’ya have in mind?”
Aspen turned on the television just in time for a chorus of people to scream, Wheel of Fortune!
“I may sound like the lamest person in history, but I watch Wheel of Fortune every night. You think you’ve got game, Connor?”
The blush tinting her cheeks shot another zing straight to his cock, just like when she nudged him.
Down boy.
“You know I have game, BB,” Wolfe rumbled out from deep in his chest, his wanting eyes perusing her body, letting her know he was talking nothing about a gameshow and everything about the passion burning between them.
For the next thirty minutes, Aspen and Wolfe raced to beat the contestants in answering the puzzles while Vanna performed her patented lighted block letter turns.
“You want to wager on the next puzzle, BB?”
“What’ya thinking, Connor?” she responded, a challenge in her yes that silently boasted she’d own him.
Not a chance.
“You’ll know my spoils when I win.”
“Confident, are we?” Aspen teased and set their dishes aside. “I think I’ll pick your exceptional skills in clearing dishes, hockey-player-er.”
“Player-er?” Wolfe arched an eyebrow at her cheeky response. “You won’t need to worry about your prize, because I’m winning.”
“Bring it.”
Pat Sajack’s kind voice announced the standard letters for the final puzzle along with the additional consonants and vowel contestant, Eli, provided.
Unfortunately for poor Eli, only the letter C appeared in his five-letter puzzle.
“You’re a good player, Eli. The puzzle is a thing. Get to work,” Pat offered his encouragement.
Aspen started sounding out words that were more jibber-jabber than anything.
“Yacht,” Wolfe announced calmly, a breath before the sound of the buzzer.
“That was a tough one, Eli,” Pat consoled, as Vanna began turning the letters to reveal the word yacht. “You didn’t have much to go by.”
Aspen whipped around to face Wolfe. “How’d you do that?”
“Easy. I win,” he said and placed one hand at the side of her cheek to glide the pad of his thumb across some of her sexy-as-fuck freckles. “And now for my prize.”
Without another word, Wolfe leaned in and captured Aspen’s lips in a soft kiss. At her gasp of want that matched his own need raging below the surface, Wolfe began nibbling at her full pink lips, taking great care to taste every part of her gloriousness.
Threading his other hand into her thick mane of hair, Wolfe reached out his tongue to taste her pillowy lower lip, prompting this magnificent creature to open her mouth and accept Wolfe’s demand.
As their kiss deepened and their heads shifted back-and-forth in an effort to get as close as possible, Wolfe nearly blew a nut when she slid her fingers into his hair and twisted the long strands between her digits.
Without breaking the kiss he lifted and moved his boss baker—no, not his—toward the corner of the couch and the intensity of the kiss skyrocketed.
Wolfe drew his hands down her sides and then under her soft t-shirt until his hands spanned her ribs just underneath her tits that were currently smashed against his chest as he lay atop her.
After a few moments or minutes, Wolfe pulled back, feeling every bit as predatory as his last name suggested.
As much as he wanted to enjoy everything she had to offer, he found some semblance of reality before there was no turning away from fucking her on the couch like the lovesick teen he felt like earlier.
“Yacht,” he said smiling, and tugged Aspen upright against the cushions of the floral couch.
“Whaaaaat?” Aspen stammered looking as off-kilter as he felt.
“I guessed ‘yacht’ and claimed my prize.”
“Oh, yeah, Wheel of Fortune,” Aspen gave her head a shake, her eyes darting back and forth in an attempt to avoid contact with Wolfe’s.
“What’s going on in that beautiful brain of yours, boss baker?”
“I-I don’t know,” she wildly gestured with her hands pointing between the two of them. “I don’t know about this.”
“What... this?”
“Connor, I’m just not sure about... whatever this is between us. You’ve seen my bakery; it’s practically falling down around me. I’m trying to launch the catering side of my business to increase my revenue stream. I just don’t have the bandwidth to explore—this right now.”
“This has been bubbling between us and I’m not sure you can just turn that off like your sparkling new faucet, BB,” Wolfe leaned forward resting his forearms on his thighs when all he really wanted to do was scoop BB up in his arms and hold onto her for dear life. “Believe me, I’ve tried.”
“Connor—”
“—Look, I don’t know, BB,” pure honesty lacing his voice. “I don’t do relationships. I won’t do relationships, but I like spending time with you. I especially liked kissing you and I have a feeling that fucking you will probably be the equivalent of the gods eating ambrosia.”
Her eyes widened at his confession.
“So... where does that leave us?” she whispered.
“Nowhere, BB,” he kissed her forehead and started collecting their discarded plates from dinner. “We live for the moment and leave the past in the past and just be. Just. Be.”
“Connor—”
“—BB. Just. Be. Can you do that?”
Wolfe was so far out of his comfort zone, he struggled mightily to breathe, let alone project his screw-you personality.
He knew he broke everything good in his life, which is why he never got close to anyone. That said, it was like Aspen’s decision weighed on his heart as heavy as the water that crushed against his body, his soul, as he searched the depths of the lake for his sister all those years ago.
No woman had ever affected him this way, so why now? Why her?
Maybe it was because of her laser-focus on her business, but his hook-ups were boardroom broads successful in their own rights, so that disavowed that theory.
Maybe it was her take-no-shit, I-can-do-it-all demeanor that called to him.
Possibly.
Then it struck him; it was Aspen’s genuineness.
In her presence, he was good enough, talented enough.
Shit, she thought he hung the moon when he fixed the baseboard the other day.
The fact that she appreciated him for him—if only for his handyman skills—spoke volumes and touched a deep part of him he thought was long dead.
“Okay, Connor,” a smile touched her pouty lips made puffier by their impromptu make-out session.
“Good,” Wolfe offered with a firm headshake, still holding their dinner dishes. “Let me put these in the sink and I’ll be right back.”
It was comical to Wolfe. Other than offering endless orgasms to the handful of women in his life, the thought of providing more than a peck on the cheek, let alone dish duties, surprised the hell out of him.
Speaking of a smooch... with one last lingering kiss on BB’s oh-so kissable mouth, Wolfe made quick work of the dishes and found himself returning to the beauty.
Except she was now Sleeping Beauty. She was slumped against the corner cushions of the couch, a throw pillow featuring some orangey flower pattern tucked to her chest. To add to her sweetness, she lightly snored.
Wolfe couldn’t resist touching her. He brushed his knuckles across her cheek before whispering in her ear.
“Wake up, sleepyhead,” he said with a gentleness that surprised the shit out of himself.
She mumbled something inaudible then sighed, cuddling deeper into the pillow.
Wolfe longed to be that fucking pillow at the moment.
“Sorry, “ she murmured, stirring from her sleep. “I wake up at three...” her voice trailed off and back to dreamland.
Something that was as foreign to him as offering an opponent praise during a game, Wolfe collected BB from the couch and held her body close to his as he tracked his way to her bedroom.
He could have flown to the moon by flapping his arms when she cuddled against him. Relishing in the quiet moment, Wolfe held her with one arm as he shifted the million pillows that rested atop her bed to pull back the spread and sheets.
He gently laid her on the bed and left a lingering kiss on her forehead.
“I’m sorry, Connor,” she said and snuggled into the sheets.
“Don’t be sorry,” he whispered and tucked the blankets around her perfect, curvy form. He offered one last glide of his fingers across her face because of his need to touch her. “Sleep. I’ll lock up behind me.”
His cock was as hard as a rock, raging at his unfulfilled desire, but a small corner of the empty space that used to house his heart thawed just a little. He was happy to be able to do something kind for his boss baker.
Not his boss baker, he reminded himself.
Knowing sleep would elude him, Wolfe did the only thing he could, outside of begging the woman sleeping in her bed to play with him.
He texted Dante.
Wolfe: Working out. Meet at the arena gym?
Dante: See you in 30.
For reasons he would ponder as he bench-pressed roughly two hundred pounds, he had no desire to call the waiting and willing women who looked to Wolfe for their sexual releases.
If he couldn’t have BB, he didn’t want anyone at the moment.
And that thought scared the holy hell out of the toughest player in the NHL.