Playmaker: A Baltimore Banners Intermission Novella Read online

  Derek smiled and reached out with one hand, his thumb grazing the tight point of one nipple. Her eyes closed and her head fell back, a small breath escaping her at the touch. Then he lowered his head and took the nipple into his mouth, his tongue tasting, teasing. His teeth grazing, nipping. She moaned again, the sound nothing more than a breathy sigh that went straight to his cock.

  He moved his head and took the other nipple into his mouth as he slid his hand down her side to her hip. He snagged the edge of her shorts with two fingers and eased them down, groaning when she lifted her hips.

  He trailed the tips of his fingers along the soft flesh of her inner thigh, up until he skimmed the small nest of short curls between her legs. Barely there and soft, so soft. He pulled away and looked down, seeing fire between her legs, the hair slightly darker than the hair on her head but no less vibrant.

  He wanted to burn in her fire, lose himself in her inferno.

  Derek shifted, edging himself off the bed, kicking his shoes off before grabbing her shorts and pulling them all the way down her legs. He eased the makeshift icepack from her ankle and slowly, carefully, worked her shorts all the way off.

  Then he stood there, watching her, memorizing her.

  She moved, her arms drifting across her chest. Derek grabbed her hands, catching her eye as he shook his head.

  “No. Let me look.” He watched as she swallowed then blinked, the palest flush tinting her skin a faint pink. But she didn’t move to cover herself, just let him look.

  He could stand here all night and just look at her. But he wanted more, needed more. He kneeled at the edge of the bed and gently eased her legs apart then placed the icepack back on her ankle, taking special care not to jostle it. Then he leaned forward and kissed his way up her leg, running his tongue along her soft flesh, nipping with his teeth, grazing her skin with the tips of his fingers. Slowly, enjoying every inch, every soft sweet moan, until he reached that fiery treasure between her legs.

  He settled more fully between her legs and wrapped his arms around her hips, lifting her to his mouth. Christ she was sweet. Sweet and wet and so fucking hot. He ran his tongue along her clit, felt her hips jerk under the touch as her hands sank into his hair. Her moans were louder, longer each time he licked her, swirled his tongue over the hard ridge of her clit, down to tease her wet entrance. Her hips thrust against his mouth and he smiled, never stopping as he eased one finger into her tight passage. In, out. In. Out again. Two fingers. Christ, she was so fucking wet, so hot, her inner muscles tightening, gripping his fingers, slowly at first, tighter, over and over until her climax overtook her.

  She pushed up with her good leg, her hips bucking. One hand twisted more tightly against his head, the other hand shooting down to grab his wrist. Holding his hand in place as she rode his delving fingers, over and over.

  Christ. Shit. Fuck. He needed inside her. Now. Before he lost it and came right there. He tore at the belt and button and zipper of his pants with his free hand, shoved them down past his hips, just enough to free his aching, throbbing cock.

  Condom. He needed a condom now. He groped for his wallet, grabbed the foil pack by feel before the wallet tumbled to the ground. It would be a miracle if he didn’t explode before he managed to get the damn thing on.

  Control. He needed control. Fuck.

  He managed to roll the condom down his hard length without losing his shit, because Christ, wouldn’t that completely suck. Then he was sliding up her body, his mouth and teeth grazing her skin, his fingers trailing up her sides. And then he was stretched along her body, her hips still thrusting, searching, inviting.

  He drove into her, swallowed her scream with a deep kiss as her nails bit into his shoulders and her hips thrust up to meet his. Over and over. Fast. Hard. Fuck. She was tight, hot. So fucking wet. And he was so fucking close, the ache in his balls almost painful as they tightened.

  He pushed himself to his knees and grabbed her hips, spreading her legs as he pounded into her. Deep. Deeper. Once, twice. His head fell back as a groan ripped from his chest, his orgasm crashing over him, spilling from him with a force that left him breathless.

  His body quivered and he collapsed on top of her, sweaty, breathless. Completely spent. Her arms came around him, holding him close, her hands tracing small circles along his back. He had no idea how much time passed before he could breathe again. Think. Move.

  “Fuck. Holy shit.” He pushed himself up on his elbows, far enough so he could claim her mouth in a deep kiss. Then he pulled away and looked down at her, a smile teasing his lips. “That was…phenomenal.”

  A shy smile crossed her face, almost embarrassed. He leaned down and kissed her again, then rolled to the side. Shit. Her ankle. He had completely forgotten about it. “Is your ankle okay?”

  “I think. I don’t really feel it right now.”

  Derek chuckled then eased his legs over the edge of the bed. He hurried to the bathroom to dispose of the condom and wash up, then checked her medicine cabinet. Ibuprofen, good. He shook two out and filled the cup with water from the sink, then walked back to the bedroom.

  “Here. I should have thought of this first.” She took the medicine from him, watching him with heavy-lidded eyes as he grabbed one of her pillows and propped it under her ankle. He took the empty cup from her and placed it on the nightstand, then climbed into bed beside her and settled the blankets around them.

  Derek didn’t miss the surprised look she gave him, like she was expecting him to leave and didn’t understand why he was still there. He didn’t like the spurt of guilt that flashed through him at the thought, especially not when that’s what he would normally do. But she was hurt, he couldn’t just walk out and leave right now. So he leaned over for another kiss then settled her head on his shoulder, his arm draping around her and holding her against him.

  “Close your eyes and get some sleep, sweetheart.”

  Sweetheart? What the fuck? And he couldn’t see her face, but he was pretty sure she had momentarily stiffened against him when he murmured the endearment.

  Then he closed his eyes, pushing all thoughts from his addled sex-drained brain and drifted off to sleep, Bridget tucked securely next to him.

  Chapter Four

  Derek leaned forward, pushing, reaching with his stick as the puck flew across the ice, heading for him. It connected with the blade and he dug in, skating across center ice.

  Easy. Gentle. Cradling the puck like a new-found lover. A blur came into his periphery, heading toward him. Derek smiled and cut right, avoiding the hit as he passed the puck behind him to JP Larocque.

  He skated forward, cut left, swinging behind the net. JP passed the puck to Mat, who passed it back to Derek before moving to the side of the net. Derek moved forward, handling the puck with care, the stick steady and sure in his hand, nothing more than a natural extension of his body.

  He looked behind him then glanced to the left, smiling as he moved to pass the puck to Mat. The Colorado player moved to block the pass. Too late. Derek grinned and shot the puck to JP, who shot it into the net with a decisive flick of the stick.

  The horn blared and the crowd surged to their feet as one. Derek slid across the ice, his arms going around Mat and JP as they celebrated the goal that brought them up by two.

  The trio skated back to the bench, climbing over the boards and settling down. Derek reached for a water bottle and tilted back his head, shooting a stream into his mouth. Mat was saying something to him but he wasn’t listening, his attention focused on the ice.

  The ice crew was out there now, all twelve of them, skating along the length of the rink with their oversized shovels, clearing away the loose ice shavings. His eyes skimmed over the crew, searching for a glimpse of fiery red hair.

  Something jammed into his side, pulling his attention from the ice. Justin Tome nudged him again and pointed up to the giant screen, a wide grin on his face. “There’s your girl.”

  “What?” Derek looked back at the ice, sear
ching for Bridget. It wasn’t until Justin hit him again that he thought to look up. A trio of smiling faces cheered on the crowd. The camera zoomed in on Melanie, on her wide smile and platinum blonde hair. Loud cheers filled the arena, mostly low masculine hoots of appreciation. Justin nudged him again.

  “You get that yet?”

  Derek shook his head and looked away, ignoring the look of surprise on Justin’s face. And why wouldn’t he look surprised? Hadn’t Derek been talking about nothing else for the last few weeks?

  Except he hadn’t, not this past week. Not since that night at Bridget’s.

  The ice crew skated off the ice and Derek swallowed back his disappointment. He had been watching all night and he still hadn’t seen her. Was her ankle still sore? Maybe that was why she wasn’t here. Hell, he didn’t even know if she was here at each game, or if there was a schedule for the crew members. He had never paid attention before and didn’t think to ask Bridget the other night.

  No, they hadn’t talked much at all. And then it had been morning and time for him to leave. He hadn’t bothered to get her number. Hell, he had barely even said goodbye, because she was still mostly asleep. Derek had leaned over, dropped a kiss on her sleep-warmed cheek, and walked out.

  Yeah, because that’s how he rolled.

  Fuck.

  Play resumed and he pushed all thoughts of Bridget and one-night stands from his mind. He couldn’t afford the distraction, not while playing. The Banners were sitting near the top of their division but they still had two months left in the regular season. Every game counted.

  Derek jumped the boards and hit the ice, picking up speed and skating into the defensive zone to catch the Colorado team. Damn, that shot was too close. But Alec made a glove save, bringing the puck to his chest and bending over, ending the play.

  They lined up for face-off, which Mat easily won. The puck shot back to Derek and he cradled it with the stick before racing up the ice. He reached back with his arm, holding off the player coming up beside him. The hit caught him on the shoulder, shoving him into the boards. Derek pushed back, digging for the puck, tipping it enough to send it back to Mat.

  He moved to the left, trying to get back into the play. Something caught him in the middle and jerked him back from behind. Derek wheeled around and dropped to his knees.

  “Fucking asshole.” Derek jumped up, ready to start swinging as the whistle blew. But then Nikolai Petrovich was there, along with Randy Michaels. The ref slid in between them, stopping the skirmish before it really started.

  Derek skated over to the bench, trying to hide his smile as the Colorado player headed to the sin bin. It was a legit penalty, no embellishment at all. Well, not really.

  There was another break in play and the ice crew came out again. Derek frowned, his gaze skimming over each person, searching. Justin tapped him on the shoulder to get his attention. “Who are you looking for?”

  “Nobody.” No way in hell was he going to tell Justin. No way was he going to tell anyone. Not that there was anything to tell. Bridget wasn’t here. And even if she was—what was he going to do, wave her over to the bench and talk to her?

  Not hardly.

  He managed to push her from his mind throughout the rest of the game, until they were in the locker room celebrating their win and getting cleaned up. Derek was shrugging into his suit jacket, adjusting the sleeves, when the memory of deep red hair fanned across his chest came back with a searing clarity.

  Fuck. What was wrong with him? Why couldn’t he stop thinking about her? It was one night. Yeah, so the sex was hot. Fucking hot. Not like he hadn’t had hot sex before.

  He had, he knew that much. But damn, he was having trouble remembering when. Not that hot, nothing that even came close. Shit, just thinking about it made his cock leap in anticipation. But there wasn’t anything he could do about it. He couldn’t call her, because he didn’t have her number. She hadn’t been here tonight so he couldn’t go looking for her. He was pretty sure he could remember how to get to her place but he couldn’t just show up.

  No, that was just too weird. Not weird. Desperate. And Derek didn’t do desperate.

  “You coming with?”

  “What?” Derek looked over his shoulder at Kenny Haskel, one of their defensemen. Kenny had been called up from their minor team a few months ago and done well enough so far to stay. He was a year or two younger than Derek, maybe twenty-four. A nice enough guy with rugged outdoor looks. But he had an annoying habit of talking in shortened sentences.

  “To the bar.”

  “The Maypole.” Mat clarified, walking over to join them.

  Derek adjusted his tie. Was he in the mood? Not really, but he sure as hell didn’t feel like going home and doing nothing. “Sure. Why not?”

  They headed out of the locker room and down the hallway that would take them to the parking garage elevator. Justin and Harland Day joined them and the conversation naturally revolved around the game and what worked, what they could have done differently.

  The elevator stopped at the lower level of the garage, the doors opening with a hiss. They piled out, not really pushing, but not taking their time, either. And then Justin and Harland came to a complete stop, so suddenly that Mat actually ran into Justin’s back.

  “Dude, really?” Mat pushed past Justin, an expression of impatience on his face. Then he stopped just as suddenly. Derek had no idea what was going on and wasn’t sure he wanted to know. He stepped to the side and looked over Harland’s broad shoulders.

  No wonder everyone had stopped. Melanie and a few of the other girls from the dance team were huddling around an SUV. All of them were dressed for maximum impact: short skirts, tight plunging tops, five-inch heels that showed off long lean legs designed to wrap tight around a man’s waist.

  The girls turned as one, smiles spreading wider on their faces. One of them, Derek couldn’t remember her name, tossed her hair over her shoulder and gave them a little wave. “Hi guys.”

  A split-second of silence, then his four teammates moved forward as one, all grins and smooth comments. Derek stood back, hovering on the edge. Normally he’d be the first in line, especially since Melanie was tossing him those inviting looks. Looks that did more than invite—they promised.

  A week ago he would have walked over to her, draped his arm around her shoulder, and knocked the charm off the charts in hopes of knocking the skirt off her. But now—

  He glanced to the side, looking for a beat-up red sedan. The car wasn’t there, hadn’t been there the other day, either. Good. At least that meant her ankle was better now. Unless someone had picked it up for her.

  Why didn’t that idea sit well with him?

  “Hey Derek.” Melanie walked over and rested her hand on his arm, standing so close to him that her breast pressed against his arm.

  “Hey Melanie.” Would it be rude to step back? Yeah, probably. Especially when he had wanted just this thing as recent as last week. But his interest had waned, no longer an urgent need that drove him.

  He opened his mouth to say something but the guys started laughing, calling to him.

  “Caulton, come on, let’s go.”

  “Where?” Derek figured there was a good chance they had decided to go someplace else. If that was the case, he’d make up some excuse and just go home.

  “The Maypole, where else? The girls are going to join us.”

  “Yeah, okay.” Derek stepped away from Melanie and gave her a quick smile. Maybe he’d just go home anyway. He didn’t have to tell them he wasn’t going, could make up an excuse tomorrow at practice.

  But he didn’t move fast enough because Kenny and one of the other girls walked over to join them. Kenny smiled, nodding toward Derek’s SUV. “Guess you’re driving.”

  Derek looked around, noticed that everyone else was already leaving. Then he looked over at Melanie, saw her wide smile and the glitter of interest in her eyes.

  Well shit. It looked like he was going to The Maypole after all. Tha
t didn’t mean he had to stay. And it sure as hell didn’t mean he couldn’t leave by himself.

  Chapter Five

  “There you are, love.”

  Bridget pushed the outside door closed and locked it, readjusting the strap of the backpack when it fell off her shoulder. William leaned against the frame of his open door, his arms crossed in front of him, a picture of masculine insolence as his gaze raked her from head to toe. His dark eyes met hers and he raised one dark brow in question.

  “And looking a little worse for wear, too.” He pushed away from the door frame and motioned for her. “Come on, then. We’ll at least feed you.”

  Bridget hesitated, torn between taking him up on his offer or just hurrying upstairs. She was tired and sweaty, a dull headache was throbbing behind her eyes, and her ankle was still a little sore. And she was tired. And hungry. And not really in the mood for company.

  It was the hungry part that finally got her feet moving. Not upstairs, to her own apartment, but across the hall to her cousin’s. No, she wasn’t in the mood for company. But William and Mitchell would feed her.

  And maybe even give her a little pampering. Pampering was good. Food was better.

  She moved across the hallway, the soles of her shoes making enough noise as she shuffled that William gave her a pointed look. But he didn’t say anything, just opened the door wider for her and stepped back. He snagged the strap of her backpack and dragged it off her shoulder, placing it on the floor as he closed the door.

  Savory smells greeted her in a warm caress as soon as she walked in. Rosemary and sage with an underlying aroma of chicken and fresh bread. Bridget closed her eyes and inhaled, the scents wrapping around her, warm and soothing.

  Her stomach growled, a noisy rumble loud enough that she couldn’t pass it off as anything else. Bridget pressed a hand to her stomach and looked over her shoulder. But her cousin didn’t say anything, just shook his head and motioned for her to sit down as he moved by her. She pulled out one of the heavy dining room chairs and dropped into it before sliding the chair up to the thick glass table. A minute later, William pushed through the old-fashioned swinging door from the kitchen, a large glass of white wine in his hand. He placed the glass in front of her then sat down, lazing back in the chair while he studied her.