Chapter 9
Erika opened her eyes slowly,blinking a few times. She knew exactly where she was, as she’d stirred a couple times during the night. She’d never woken up, exactly, but she’d felt Blake shift in the bed, the two of them doing a bit of choreography in terms of comfortable sleep positions. She had been cognizant enough to think, “I should go home,” but drowsy enough to fall back to sleep immediately.
Right now, she was the little spoon to Blake’s big one. His muscular arm was wrapped around her waist—her bare waist, as the huge T-shirt he’d loaned her last night had ridden up, bunched just under her breasts. His boxer briefs had traveled a different direction, hanging low on her ass. She was surprised they’d stayed on at all, given how loose they were on her.
Blake was breathing heavily behind her, sleeping deeply.
She was glad because it gave her time to figure out her next move.
Last night had been one fuck-up after another, starting with her failed date with Doug, her panic attack in the midst of the storm, and losing Corky. God, she really hated crying in front of people, especially over something as stupid as a phobia. Erika prided herself on being able to control her fear of thunder and lightning. Until last night, no one had ever discovered her secret terror.
The one thing that hadn’t felt like a mistake, even though it really should, was sleeping with Blake. Probably because nothing happened between them that was truly out of the norm.
Except the part where she fell apart. She was usually able to hold her shit together better.
Blake, however, had done what he always did. Took care of her. Comforted her. Listened to her. Found a way to make her laugh.
Those were normal, familiar things. The only part that was different was the fact they were in stages of undress and lying in his bed rather than fully clothed and sitting in his living room or hanging out in her kitchen.
He hadn’t tried to kiss her…not really. Hadn’t made what was happening between them sexual. His actions had been friendly and painfully platonic.
Although…
Erika shifted the tiniest bit, pressing her ass backward until?—
Yep. Blake had a hard-on.
Not that she should read anything into that. A lot of guys woke up with erections. It probably didn’t help that she was cuddled against him. Blake was no stranger to sleepovers, so he was probably blissfully lost in some dream state, mistaking her for one of his puck bunnies.
That idea was a sobering one.
Glancing at the clock on the nightstand, she was surprised to discover it was a little past nine a.m. She never slept late. An early riser, she’d usually finished her five-mile run, showered, and eaten her yogurt by this time of day.
Erika glanced over her shoulder, smiling as she took in Blake’s rumpled hair, his five-o’clock shadow, the crease on his cheek left from a wrinkle in the pillowcase. He was a gorgeous man. She’d have to be dead not to notice that, but ordinarily she was able to look past—or maybe ignore was a better word—that fact to focus on their friendship.
Right now, all her girlie bits were awake and drooling over the hot guy spooning her.
Erika looked away and closed her eyes.
Stop.
Nothing had changed between them last night. Blake had offered her an ear and a shoulder; shown her the same friendship he’d been offering for the better part of three years.
Time to regroup.
Erika slowly lifted Blake’s arm, moving it off her in centimeters, careful not to wake him. It took her a full five minutes to extract herself from his embrace, and luckily, he remained asleep throughout.
Corky was still sacked out at the foot of the bed. She lifted her head when Erika rose from the bed, yawning widely. Then the lazy pup put her head down and went back to sleep.
Erika was grateful. If Corky had started whining to go out, her escape would have been foiled. Tiptoeing to the bathroom, she bent to retrieve her clothing. She didn’t bother changing because most of what she was wearing last night was still damp, and it wasn’t like she had far to go.
She dug into the pocket of her jeans for her key, then quietly headed through the apartment. She knew Blake would be over as soon as he woke up, but she was hoping to have showered and dressed and girded her loins before that happened.
Opening the door, she stepped into the hallway?—
Stopping short when she spotted Doug standing outside her place.
He’d been about to knock, but he turned when he heard Blake’s door open.
“Erika?” He was frowning, his gaze traveling from head to foot. He obviously put two and two together and came up with sex, as his frown darkened to a scowl.
“What are you doing here?” she asked.
There were two different voices at war in her head when it came to Doug. There was one that felt guilty for allowing him to think the two of them were embarking on something real when her feelings had been so shaky. Then there was the one that was pissed about the true colors he’d shown last night, when she hadn’t invited him in. There was no rule book that said a woman had to have sex with a man after a certain number of dates. If she wasn’t ready, then she wasn’t fucking ready. Period.
The guilty side wanted to tell him this wasn’t what it looked like, while the annoyed side wanted to tell him what she did was none of his damn business.
She closed the door to Blake’s apartment quietly, wishing she wasn’t doing such an amazing impersonation of the walk of shame.
Doug lifted the bag and cup holder in his hands. “I felt bad about the way things ended last night. I wanted to apologize over coffee and donuts.”
Shit.
“How did you…” she started, wondering how he’d gotten into the building.
He anticipated her question. “One of your neighbors was leaving as I got here.”
She unlocked her door, gesturing for him to come in with a tilt of her head. He was clearly pissed, so this wasn’t going to be an easy conversation, but she owed it to him to break things off the right way.
He followed her in, setting the coffee and donuts on the island counter, while she deposited her damp clothes in the laundry area, dumping them in the washing machine without turning it on. She’d deal with them later.
Returning to the kitchen, she kept the island between them, trying to shield herself from his view. She glanced down at her attire and sighed, realizing he’d already gotten an eyeful. “This isn’t what it looks like.”
Doug barked out an angry laugh. “Yeah, right.”
“I lost Corky last night in the storm. Blake helped me find her. We brought her inside, changed into dry clothes, and fell asleep.”
“Your clothes and bed are right here. Why did you need his?”
Erika wasn’t sure how to answer that.
No, she didn’t want to because it really wasn’t any of his business.
If she’d still been on the fence about any sort of future with Doug before, it was clear she had hurdled it. Not only was she not attracted to him, she wasn’t even sure she liked him that much. It felt as if she’d been trying to turn him into Mr. Right because she was lonely, and her brain kept telling her they were a good match.
She walked around the counter to stand in front of him, grateful he hadn’t closed the door behind him because she intended to herd him toward it as she spoke. “Doug, this isn’t working.”
He scoffed derisively. “No shit.”
Erika didn’t like his tone or his words, but she refused to lose her temper. Getting emotional would only make this harder. “I don’t think we should see each other anymore.”
“Guess me stopping by unannounced fucked with your plan.”
“What?” she asked, confused. “What plan?”
Doug crossed his arms. “You had the best of both worlds. Had me wining and dining you before coming home to fuck Mr. Hockey Stud.”
Erika narrowed her eyes. Fuck staying calm. “Wining and dining me? You realize I paid for half those dates.” She’d insisted they take turns because she didn’t subscribe to the old-fashioned idea that the man should pay. “I think you should leave. Now.” She raised her voice on the last word, but her anger didn’t appear to penetrate, as Doug’s was burning hotter.
“You think it was funny? Making me look like a fucking fool, acting like you were some sweet, innocent woman looking for true love when the truth is you’re nothing but a slut?”
“Get. Out!” she yelled.
“Fuck you!” Doug yelled back.
Erika could only assume it spoke to her blessed life that she never saw what was coming next.
Flames lit the side of her face as Doug backhanded her so hard, she stumbled and nearly fell. The only thing that stopped her was Doug himself. He grabbed her upper arms, holding her tight, shaking her violently.
“You fucking bitch!”
Erika struggled hard, trying to break free of his grip. “Let go! Let go!”
Her teeth rattled as he shook her harder—and she realized she was in big trouble.
Then she was shocked when suddenly, Doug released her. That surprise only lasted a split second when a blur flew past her. Erika blinked a few times, her mind trying to make sense of what she was seeing.
Blake had Doug by the throat, pinned against the far wall.
“What the fuck are you doing?” Blake’s dark tone was pure murder.
Doug snarled, even as he tried to pry Blake’s fingers off. “Fuck you!”
Blake didn’t relent. Instead, he used his iron-like grip to pull Doug away from the wall, dragging him toward the door.
Doug wasn’t fighting too hard, no doubt spying the exit. “Let me go, you prick!”
“If you ever come around here again, if you ever lay your hands on her again—” Blake seethed as he pushed Doug toward the door.
“You can have her,” Doug spat. “I’m not interested in a cock tease or a fucking slut!”
One second, Doug was standing; the next, he was on the floor, blood pouring from his nose as Blake hovered over him, fists clenched by his side.
Doug crab-crawled backward when it looked like Blake was going to pick him up and ring the bell on round two. As he cleared the doorway after crawling into the hall, Doug rose, his eyes darting over to the stairwell as he swiped the back of his hand under his nose, smearing the blood on his cheek.
“Get the fuck out of here!” Blake took two steps forward, his fist rising again when Doug didn’t leave immediately, but Erika moved faster, placing herself in front of him, her hands on his chest to hold him back.
“It’s over,” she said, hoping her words would penetrate. She’d never seen her mild-mannered best friend so angry. His gaze was still locked on Doug, and it was obvious Blake wasn’t finished yet.
Glancing over her shoulder, Erika realized she was close enough to kick the door closed with her foot. So she did, slamming it loudly.
The noise finally broke through the white-hot haze that seemed to surround Blake. His shoulders were still tight, but he unclenched fists and for the first time since entering her apartment, he looked at her.
And the anger returned tenfold.
“Did he hit you?” His finger gently tipped her chin up, the soft touch in direct counterpoint to the pure venom in his voice.
“I’m okay.”
“That wasn’t what I asked,” Blake said through gritted teeth.
“He’s gone. It’s over.”
Blake didn’t look like he agreed with that assessment. “He fucking hit you,” he muttered. “He put his hands on you. I should’ve hit him harder. Should have hit him again.”
She shook her head, forcing her lips to make what she hoped would pass for a smile. “You hit him plenty hard. I think you broke his nose.”
Blake rubbed his knuckles. They were red from the punch and one had split, a tiny trickle of blood sliding down his middle finger.
“You’re hurt.” Erika grabbed his uninjured hand and tugged him toward the kitchen sink. Reaching for a paper towel, she wet it, gently patting at the small cut.
“Are you fucking kidding me?” Blake pulled his hand away from hers, cupping her jaw, turning her face. Her cheek still stung, so she had no doubt it was blood red. “I don’t give a shit about my hand. Erika, that son of a bitch hit you!”
The fact he used her full name told her just how upset he was.
“It was just a little slap.” She might have sold her lie better if her voice hadn’t broken and her eyes clouded with tears.
Blake’s anger faded in an instant, every drop of tension in his body finally melting when he tugged her into his warm, strong embrace. “Erik,” he murmured, rubbing his hands up and down her back.
Last night, she’d fallen apart in front of him. She wasn’t going to do that again, so she dug deep, shoving everything that had happened in the last ten minutes into a hole and covering it over.
Her dad had claimed once that she got her inner strength from his mother, able to tuck her emotions away until she was alone. Erika considered that, recalling the day her grandfather had died unexpectedly of a massive heart attack. Her parents, aunts, uncles, and cousins had been crying as they tried to make sense of the loss. Through it all, Grandma had consoled them, her eyes dry. Erika had been young enough to mistake her grandmother’s response as a lack of caring, until Dad explained his mother would shed her tears later, alone, when they wouldn’t add to the pain everyone else was already feeling. Erika had admired that attribute, and from that day on, she aspired to be like her grandmother.
Somehow, she managed to regain control quickly, pulling away from Blake’s hug, proud her eyes were dry.
He studied her face closely. It was obvious he expected her to be upset. “I hate that he hit you. That I wasn’t here to stop him.”
“It’s not your job to protect me.”
“The fuck it’s not,” Blake countered hotly.
Erika didn’t bother to protest because, while she was on steadier ground, he was still under the influence of a fuck-ton of adrenaline. Blake had gotten one swing in, but she suspected it hadn’t satisfied his instinct to defend. She’d seen him do the same on the ice whenever he felt one of his teammates had been wronged by an opponent. He was no stranger to a guns-blazing approach to perceived slights.
“You came when I needed you.” She hoped it would be enough to soothe that part of him that was no doubt kicking himself for something that wasn’t his fault.
“What the hell happened?”
She’d anticipated the question because she hadn’t told Blake about her wavering feelings toward Doug. As far as he knew, she liked the man and had been working on building a relationship with him.
“Losing Corky wasn’t my only fuck-up last night. Doug’s been hinting at wanting a physical relationship, but I kept putting him off.”
“Why?”
It was a fair question.
“I wasn’t attracted to him…sexually,” she added, though she didn’t need to.
“Then why did you keep going out with him?”
She sighed. “That was the fuck-up part. I kept telling myself I wasn’t giving him a fair shake, that maybe those feelings would grow. Until today—or actually, last night—I thought he was a really nice guy.”
Blake scowled. “What happened last night?”
“We went to dinner and the movies, and then he drove me home. I think he was expecting an invitation to come inside. I…I couldn’t do it. He lost his temper?—”
Blake growled, and she put her hands up quickly.
“Not like today. He asked if we were ever going to fuck. Just like that. Sort of aggressive and rude. I was annoyed by his tone. Told him I wouldn’t be rushed into sex, and he left in a huff.” Erika gestured toward the coffee and uneaten bag of donuts. “He came by this morning to apologize. Unfortunately, I was coming out of your apartment…” She looked down at her clothes—or rather, Blake’s. “He obviously jumped to the conclusion that I’d rejected him, then came upstairs and crawled into bed with you.”
“None of that gave him the right to hit you,” Blake said hotly.
“I agree one-hundred percent. I never would have expected…” She swallowed heavily. “No one’s ever hit me before.”
Blake reached out, pulling her back into his arms, though she wasn’t sure if this hug was to comfort her or him. “I still want to hunt that guy down and teach him a fucking lesson.”
“No. It’s over.”
“I don’t understand what part of that was a fuck-up,” he said.
“I should have broken things off with Doug sooner. Shouldn’t have kept stringing him along.” She shook her head, a lame attempt to basically shake all the bad thoughts from her head. “Anyway, it’s over and done, and I don’t want to talk about this anymore.”
Blake opened his mouth, but she lifted her hand to halt whatever he might say.
“Ever,” she stressed. “I don’t want to talk about it ever.”
Blake scowled, but mercifully, he kept his mouth closed.
“Thank you,” she said, ready to put this morning’s nightmare behind her. For the first time, they both noticed the sound of barking coming from Blake’s apartment.
“Corky,” they said at the same time.
“We were on our way over to see where you’d gone. When I heard the shouting, I shut her in my apartment,” Blake explained.
It was past time for the puppy’s potty break. A nice long walk and some fresh air was just what she needed.
“Oh.” Erika glanced down at herself. “Give me a minute to change and I’ll take her for a walk.”
“I’ll go with you,” Blake said. “I’ll run over and get her.”
“You don’t have to,” Erika said. “I’m fine doing it alone.”
Blake placed a hand on her shoulder, halting her when she started to walk by him. He’d donned a hoodie, jeans, and tennis shoes before coming over to find her. “I just kicked an abusive asshole out of here with a bloody nose and a chip on his shoulder. I want to make sure he left the area and isn’t still hanging around. So, I’ll repeat—I. Am. Going. With. You.”
Erika hadn’t considered that. She didn’t think Doug would stick around on the off chance he ran into Blake again, but she also hadn’t suspected he was a violent person either.
“Okay. It won’t take me a second to change.”
Blake headed for the door. “Take your time.”
Erika threw on jeans and a heavy sweater, then pulled on thick socks and boots. Winter temperatures had arrived, and she recalled the weatherman warning that Baltimore would be lucky to get out of the teens today.
Blake and Corky were waiting for her in the hallway, the little dog prancing around impatiently.
“We better hurry,” Blake said, “unless we want an accident.”
Erika was surprised when Blake grabbed her hand with his free one, holding it like it was the most natural thing on earth. He was a tactile guy, always placing his hand on her back whenever they were walking on slippery surfaces, wrapping his arm around her shoulders when they were in a crowd, ruffling or playfully tugging her hair anytime she was being a smart-ass. He’d even played the gentleman when escorting her into that black-tie charity gala…but she couldn’t remember him ever holding her hand like this.
It was nice.
Maybe too nice, because it was making that line she’d been so careful to draw between them, even fainter. Hell, at this point, it might be safer to say they’d erased the whole damn thing.
Erika shivered when they stepped outside into the frigid air. “Oh my God, it’s cold.”
Blake used his grip on her hand to pull her closer to him. “What’s your plan for the day?”
“I have a couple of errands to run and I’m going to stop by the hospital for a little while. I have a patient I want to check on. Probably going to spend the rest of the day tackling a mountain of laundry and cleaning out my closet. It’s sort of gotten away from me. You?”
“I have practice in a couple of hours.”
“Hitting the pub with the guys after?” she asked.
Blake shook his head. “Nope. I’m coming home and you and I are going to have dinner together.”
As wonderful as that sounded, Erika really did need to put up at least a token bit of resistance…if only to make herself feel as if she wasn’t completely weak where Blake was concerned. “I don’t think I’d be very good company tonight. You’d probably be better hanging with Tank.”
Blake gave her a pointed look. “That’s not going to happen.”
“Why not?”
“Because contrary to what you think, we’re not done talking about last night and this morning.”
“Blake—” she started, way too weary to rehash any part of the past twelve hours.
“I didn’t like waking up alone this morning, Erik. Why did you sneak out?”
She knew her escape wouldn’t go unnoticed or uncommented on, but she’d been banking on having time to get her thoughts in order during a hot shower. She did her best thinking under the jets.
“I didn’t sneak out,” she argued. “I was just getting on with my day. What reason would I have had for sticking around?”
Blake clearly didn’t like her question, his jaw clenching slightly. Rather than respond with words, his answer came in the form of action.
He pulled her to him, his lips meeting hers in a kiss so incendiary, Erika forgot all about the cold.
This kiss was the least-friendly, least-platonic kiss in the history of kissing.
Erika raised her arms, wrapping them around his neck, feeling the need to hold on for dear life. My God, he could kiss.
As his lips literally devoured hers, his hands slipped beneath her jacket to caress her back, tickle her waist, fondle the sides of her breasts. Every touch felt less like an exploration and more like a claiming, and she was suddenly pissed at herself for putting on such a thick sweater.
What felt like hours later, he broke the kiss, placing his forehead against hers, grasping her hand and drawing it to the front placket of his jeans, letting her feel his very—VERY—erect dick tenting the front of his jeans. “I had a very good reason for you to stick around.”
Erika didn’t have a clue how to respond to that, so she didn’t. Instead, she stared at him, wondering if she looked as shell-shocked as she felt.
“Come on. It’s too cold out here.” Blake turned them back in the direction of their building, neither of them speaking. When they reached their floor, Blake handed her Corky’s leash. “I need to grab a quick shower. A cold one,” he added with a wink. “Then head to practice. I’ll meet you at your place for dinner around six.”
She was shaking her head even before he finished speaking, even though nothing he’d said indicated that she was being given a choice. “Blake, I really don’t think?—”
“Good,” he interrupted. “Keep on not thinking, because we’re having dinner together. We can order something from DoorDash. Your choice.”
Erika intended to continue the argument, but Blake was too quick—or maybe determined was the better word. “Really, Blake. I?—”
He walked away and entered his apartment, closing the door behind him before she could finish.
“Stubborn man,” she muttered, more to herself than Corky. Letting herself into her apartment, she leaned against the door, searching for something that no longer existed.
Her willpower.
Between the storm, losing Corky, and Doug’s attack, she was out of steam. But more than that, she was tired of fighting against something she really, really wanted.
Blake had accused her of depriving herself for years.
But not tonight.
Tonight, she was going to ignore all those solid reasons for why she shouldn’t sleep with the sexiest man she’d ever known.
Tonight, she was going to give herself what was certain to be an evening she would never forget.
Tonight, she was throwing all caution to the wind because she was tired and sad and so fucking lonely.
Then, come morning…
Well, she’d figure that out tomorrow.