Chapter 13 Darby
DARBY
Listening to Ren’s stories is fascinating. I’ve never known professional players of any sport before. He’s easy to listen to and even easier on the eyes. Smooth talking, funny, and confident at the same time with devilish eyes and a wicked grin complete with dimples in his right cheek.
He has Leland rolling with laughter, even though they’ve known each other all their lives.
Yet I can’t help but notice Henrik isn’t laughing or even talking for that matter.
He sets his plate down on the floor for Skadi to clean up, bones and all. I open my mouth to object, but she’s already munching away happily. Chicken bones are bad for dogs, I know that. But are rabbit bones safe? They must be. I can’t imagine he’d risk giving her something that might hurt her.
Not the grumpy lumberjack with the heart of gold.
Who knew exactly how to blow my mind.
Remembering stirs my pulse. The way he handles me so carefully—yet masterfully. Squeezing my neck. My pussy. Like he owns it.
Like he owns me.
Crazy, I know, but I let my mind wander down that road. It’s all fantasy anyway, right? I’ll be leaving tomorrow. So what does it hurt to wonder what it’d be like if we were in a committed relationship? Sitting here at the table while his friends talk.
I’d be confident enough to let him know what I was feeling. Right? I’d probably know exactly how to get him to tell his friends it was time to leave—so he could take me upstairs for round two.
He put his hand under the shirt I’m wearing earlier. Even with Leland sitting here with us.
I could…
I bite my lip, risking a quick glance in Henrik’s direction.
He’s not looking at me but staring out the windows as if he can see the lake and trees through the blowing snow.
I check Ren and Leland to see if they’re paying attention to me, but they’re absorbed in some over-the-back slap-stick combo that means nothing to me.
Even Skadi has deserted our side of the table, sitting between the two people still eating in hopes of getting more scraps.
Taking a deep breath, I slowly move my hands beneath the table. I wait a few more moments, trying to be casual and not draw attention to myself. Then I reach over for Henrik’s thigh.
His muscle tenses slightly, his leg automatically moving closer, like I’m a magnet drawing him piece by piece to me.
He pushes his foot forward, splaying his legs wider in invitation, casually sprawled in his chair.
Soft cotton pants heat between us as I glide my palm higher.
I lean toward him, trying to reach his crotch without falling out of my chair.
One second I’m tottering on the edge of my chair, trying to nonchalantly grope him, and the next, I’m squawking in midair. Then plopped onto his lap, still facing the table. So I have to watch the looks on the other two men’s faces, shifting from amusement to heat in a heartbeat. Both of them.
Suddenly, I’m the focus, front and center, all hockey stories forgotten.
Heat suffuses my cheeks and I blurt out, “My arms are too short.”
“I’d say your arms are damned near perfect,” Ren drawls out. “Don’t even get me started on your legs.”
Had he been checking me out? But when? I hadn’t noticed. Men never notice me. I like it that way.
Henrik nuzzles my neck, tickling me with his beard.
His searing palms settle on my knees and start kneading up my thighs.
With my legs draped over his, I’m wide open.
Exposed. The shirt rides up around my waist as he strokes my inner thigh with one hand.
His other rubs over my stomach and up my ribs.
Panting, I’m frozen in shock. Burning up with desire. No, embarrassment and desire. Yes, I absolutely want him to touch me.
But in front of his friends?
I feel like I’m clutching metaphorical pearls.
Nope. Never done anything like this. Crazy to think I just met him what, an hour ago? Two?
This can’t be happening.
His cock twitches against my buttocks, a thick, hard ridge beneath his thin pants. I squirm against him, rubbing my ass against him. So close—yet so far away.
His hand closes around my breast, and a strangled sound escapes my lips. I’m not sure if it’s a moan of humiliation—or a plea for him to hurry up and get inside me.
He whispers in my ear. “Do you want to give them a show? I’ll fuck you right here on the table while they watch.”
Gulp. My heart tries to pound out of my chest. My lungs squeeze every molecule of air out in another gasping moan. I sway, lightheaded, probably because all the blood in my body has rushed to my face.
I try not to look at the other two men. Eye contact isn’t always easy for me anyway.
Determined, I stare at the mostly empty iron skillet with bits of stuck potato and rich gravy and rabbit tidbits.
Long, graceful fingers tattooed with letters and symbols. Hands flattened on the table, motionless, careful not to make a sudden movement that might disturb or interrupt the moment. Tattoos lead my gaze up the back of his hand to the flannel cuff.
Imagining what other symbols he might have on his arms, when even the side of his head is marked. Ink winds his throat. Jaws tight, sculpted lips closed in a harsh slant, preventing any words from slipping out.
Light gray eyes, burning with intensity, blurred with white-out winds like the window. Entirely focused on me.
Henrik laughs against my ear, slow and rough and easy. “Maybe another time, then.” Louder, he says, “It’s time for dessert, and this time, I’ve only got enough for me.”
This time. Would I ever actually consider such a thing?
Surely not. Would I?
Oh hell.
Maybe.
Fuuuuck. I keep my head down so I don’t accidentally catch either of his friends’ gazes. What the fuck is wrong with me? I’ve never been like this. It doesn’t feel right.
Then why does it feel so fucking good?
The heat of his palms. The sturdy brace of his thick thighs beneath me. Heaven. The steady thump of his heart against my back. His beard tickling my neck and shoulder.
The front door opens and shuts as the two men leave, but I’m still wound too tightly. I’m gripping the edge of the table so hard my knuckles turn white.
“Talk to me, babe.”
My voice quivers. “Are you mad?”
“No. Why would I be mad?” He sounds surprised. “Do I sound or feel angry to you right now?”
His fingers gently knead and stroke, the same as before. His hands are heavy and confident—but not punishing or alarming. “Were you joking, then?”
“I meant every word.”
Little spasms make my muscles jerk beneath his soothing touch. “I don’t understand.”
Effortlessly, he picks me up enough to turn me around in his lap to face him.
I stare at the thin cotton of the T-shirt he pulled on, helplessly admiring the way it tightens over the thick bulge of muscles across his shoulders and chest. The man must seriously throw tons of weight to be so built.
Muscles stacked upon muscles upon muscles.
“Do you feel safe with me right now?”
I jerk my gaze up to his face, my eyes flying wide with surprise. “Yeah. I’m just confused, I guess.”
“About me.”
I shake my head sheepishly. “Not about you, though I know it’s crazy. I’ve only known you for a few hours.”
“When it’s right, you know. Nothing else matters.
This is right, Darby. I’ll do anything you want and need to keep you right here.
” He tucks my hair back behind my ear and lightly cups my cheek.
“I don’t want anything to scare you away.
Especially misunderstandings that we can clear up now.
I’m a man of few words, but when I say something, I mean it. Especially about you.”
I’ll fuck you right here on the table while they watch.
I can’t seem to get enough air. “You weren’t joking?”
“I’ll never fuck around when it comes to you.”
It just doesn’t compute in my head. The numbers on the balance sheet don’t add up.
A big, burly, intimidating man who tried to scare me away one minute—to protect me—suddenly saying he’d casually share me with his friends?
Yet he went silent and distant while his friends talked.
The very same friends he offered to let watch a few minutes later.
He doesn’t say anything else, but his hands smooth up and down my arms, his eyes warm. Compelling me to keep talking.
“You seemed… distant, earlier. When Ren and Leland were telling stories. Almost like you were pulling away.” I swallow hard, my lips trembling despite his continued gentleness.
In my experience, men didn’t really want to hear the truth from women.
Especially about their relationship or lack thereof.
Though granted, the only man I had experience with was my ex.
“I didn’t like it. That’s why I reached for you. I thought you might be… jealous.”
He plays with my hair while I talk, gently coiling strands around his fingers and sliding the coils loose. “I was, a little. But it wasn’t you. You did nothing wrong.”
“So why would you say that about sharing? If it’s not a joke? That’s what I don’t get.”
“Let me tell you a story that hardly anyone else knows. Not even Ren. I think it’ll clear things up.”
I nod slowly, watching his face, still a little wary and braced for him to wave a red flag beneath my nose.
“Ren and I played for the same team for years. You heard enough of their stories to know what kind of player he is.”
I nod, but I can’t help but add, “And how great a player you were too.”
His shoulders lift in a dismissive shrug.
“I’m big enough that mostly all I had to do was stand in the way and block their pucks with my body.
But yeah, we made a killer team. We still do, or can, if you’ll give us a chance to show you.
” He waggles his brows in an exaggerated way that makes me laugh, clearly showing me when he’s joking—but also completely serious.
“Like I said before, I’m not like Ren. He’s easy.
Charming. Daring. He always has the ladies eating out of his palm.
He’s the front man, the Hotshot center. I’m the muscle, the goalie protecting the net, glowering at everyone to keep their distance. ”
I drape my arms over his shoulders, snuggling a bit closer, though I stay back enough so I can still see his face. “I like all the muscles and glowering.”
He doesn’t laugh. Intent and dark, his eyes laser in on mine, locked and loaded. “You met him first, but you let me take the first shot, even when I tried my best to scare you off.”
“He was kind of a jerk,” I protest, trying to laugh it off, though his eyes narrow, not buying it. “Okay, not really, but he was too smiley and overly charming. Men don’t act like that around me, so when they do, I distrust them instantly.”
“There’s a lot implied in that statement I don’t like.” Henrik lets a low growl escape his lips. “Let me guess, your ex was overly smiley and charming?”
Shrugging, I roll my eyes. “Maybe.”
“Humph.” He sees right through me. “Well, when we were kids, we let Ren be his charming, smiley self to bring in the girls. He’s friendly and good looking.
Everybody loves him. He’s like a magnet, especially when we were both playing hockey.
He had his pick of women anytime we went out.
I don’t know how the man kept up, honestly, but after a few mistakes when we were kids, we had a long-standing agreement.
If one of us expressed interest in someone, Ren was hands off, unless we agreed to share, and yeah, the others did sometimes. ”
“But not you.”
He shakes his head. “I didn’t date much.
Women are generally terrified of me.” His lip curls in a mean snarl making me laugh.
“I have no idea why. Anyway, the last year of my career, I had a thing for our social media manager, Harley. I didn’t tell Ren, but he could see it written all over my face.
He teased me all the time about the sassy redhead in the office.
Months went by and I could barely get up the courage to speak to her, but I finally asked her out.
We dated for a couple of months. I thought… ”
He sighs, and my heart swells with emotions. A little jealousy, yeah, because he obviously cared for her. But mostly heartbreak. Old pain shimmers in his eyes. But his fingers never tighten in my hair or grip my thigh too hard.
“I was thinking about the future, you know? I was planning to ask her to marry me.”
I tighten my arms around his neck and rise on my knees so I can get closer to his face. “Did Ren steal her from you? That rat bastard! I knew—”
Laughing, Henrik slides his palm around my nape, calming my fury to a low simmer.
“No, not at all. I didn’t even ask him to stay away from her, but he knew how I felt.
He kept his distance. It really wasn’t his fault at all, though I certainly blamed him for a while.
Harley asked me to set up a double date with Ren and his lady of the hour.
Then she proceeded to flirt with him the entire evening.
He took his date and left early to escape.
I took Harley back to her place and had it out with her.
She admitted she had the hots for Ren, but because he knew I was interested, he’d barely talk to her.
So she dated me to get close to him. I blocked her on my phone and told my agent I wanted out of my contract. I was done.”
“That’s why you left the team? Because of her? And you never told him?”
“The only other person I told is Doyle. Until now.”