Page 17 of Hockey Player Seeking Fan (Billionaires Seeking Wives Club #2)

Chapter Ten

T yler

“Thanks again, mate. That was awfully nice of you. You don't meet many chaps like you these days.”

“You're welcome. I hope it goes well,” I say to John as he stands there, saluting me like I'm the general in the Army or something.

“And you, Erica, what can I say? A rose as beautiful as you deserves?—”

“She gets it,” I cut him off. “Why don't you go and find your lady at the restaurant so that you can make your move?”

“I will.” He laughs and runs his fingers through his hair. “Erica, it's been such a pleasure. Maybe in another life... we would've been lovers.”

Erica giggles. I try not to roll my eyes. She's obviously drunk, and if I'm not mistaken, she's flirting with him a bit, which makes absolutely no sense because I literally just gave him $5,000 in cash so that he can make a play for another woman.

“Well, it was good seeing you, John. Good luck.”

“Thanks. Appreciate it. Can I get a hug?” he says to Erica, and I can feel myself tensing up. Why does this dude need a hug?

“Of course.” She stands up, her red dress tight against her body, and gives him a big hug. He kisses her on both cheeks and stares into her eyes.

“A beauty like yours is?—”

“Okay,” I say, standing up myself. I wrap my arm around Erica's shoulders and give him a look. “You have a good evening, John.”

“You too, Tyler. Don't do anything I wouldn't do,” he says with a big wink.

Erica makes a retching noise. “Oh, John. He is my big brother's friend. There's definitely no way that anything would ever happen between us.”

“Yeah, there's literally no way,” I say.

John just smirks. “Okay, then. Bye.”

I watch as he walks out of the crowded bar. Erica takes a seat and finishes the rest of her drink. She looks over at me, an impish smile on her face. Her eyes are glittering, and it's then that I realize just how drunk she is, because she's never looked this happy to see me.

“You’re not a bad guy, Tyler Kane,” she says. “Not at all. I mean, I thought you sucked—and maybe tomorrow morning I'll think you suck,” she giggles, “but right now, you're not so bad.”

I don't know if I should take this as a compliment or not, but I stare at her. “Are you sure that you should be out right now?”

“What do you mean? Are you going to ask to buy me another drink?”

“I think you've had enough drinks for the evening. I should take you home.”

“You just want to get into my bed,” she says, reaching over and touching my arm. Her skin is warm as it slides down my bicep. “Wow, you're pretty muscular.”

“I work out. Comes with the job.”

She throws her head back and laughs. I stare at her long slender neck and my heart races slightly. “You want to know a secret, Ty?”

“Always,” I say, staring at her lips. I wonder what she would do if I went in for a kiss. They are perfectly shaped and luscious and I desperately want to know what they taste like.

“I hate hockey,” she says, laughing. “I know, you want to kill me, right?” Her expression is one of humor, but I can see apprehension in her eyes. She’s nervous that she’s going to offend me and for some reason that touches me. I don’t often come across emphatic people.

“No, not particularly.”

“I think it's one of the most boring sports. But if I'm honest, I don't really like any sports. Baseball’s boring. Football’s boring. Basketball’s okay. Golf—oh my gosh. But hockey? It's like a bunch of Neanderthals just decided to get on the ice and beat the shit out of each other.”

“Well, it's not quite that, but?—”

“What? You've never gotten into a fight on the ice?” she asks me.

I stare at her. “I mean... when I was younger.”

“I saw a video of you like two months ago, getting down with—what was his name? Rodney Lebel from Cincinnati?”

I hold my hand up. “Now, are we here to talk about boring hockey, or are we here to talk about how your dating life is going?” I am eager to find out if she’s made any connections. I am hopeful that she hasn’t. And I’m apprehensive about what that all means.

She groans loudly. “You just want to bring up the bet again because you know I'm losing. But joke’s on you.” She pushes her finger against my lips. “I know that I'm going to meet the love of my life.”

My heart races slightly. “You do, do you?”

“I do.” She hiccups and giggles. “My drink’s gone. I want another one. Do you want a drink?”

“I don't think you should have another drink. I think?—”

“Oh, stop being a boy, Tyler. Do you or do you not want to have another drink with me? Because if you don't, I'll just go on my dating app and find a guy who is willing to have a drink with me and then?—”

“What do you want?”

“I'll have a...” She hiccups. “Why don't you surprise me?”

“Okay. You stay right here.”

“Where else would I go? To the clouds? I can't fly.” She flaps her arms up and down. “Oh my gosh, could you imagine if I could fly? I'd be on the news or something. Man, people would want to?—”

“Are you sure that?—”

“Tyler, I am not a kid. You can't tell me what to do. By the way, thank you so much for bringing that cash for John. She’s totally going to fall in love with him, and they're going to get married and have a billion kids.

I bet you they name their first son Tyler after you.

And if there's a wedding and I get invited, I will invite you as my plus one. Not because I really want to go with you, but because—” She blinks. “What was I saying again?”

“Nothing. One second.”

I jump up and walk over to the bar. I order myself a beer and then get a Sprite for Erica. I'll tell her it's mixed with something, but what she doesn't need is more alcohol.

I head back to the table, and she's sitting there playing on her phone. For a few seconds, I’m nervous that she is on a dating app, trying to match with someone.

“What are you doing?” I say lightly as I hand her her drink.

“I was playing a card game.” She holds up her screen. “I was bored. I wanted someone to talk to, but you weren't here.”

“Because I was getting you a drink.”

“I know.” She takes a sip. “Ooh, this is so good. What is it?”

“Something delicious.”

“Let me guess. Sprite and Malibu?”

I nod slowly.

“Oh, I love this,” she says, sipping. “I'm going to be so drunk by the end of the night.”

“I think you're drunk right now.”

“Only a little bit because you took so long to get here. We had three drinks each, and I hadn’t really eaten, so…” She shrugs. “Anyway. What were you doing tonight?”

“You mean aside from helping your date match up with the love of his life?”

“Yeah, aside from that—oh, my. You didn't have a date, did you? You weren't in bed with some hot blonde bimbo, about to get head, and then I called?”

“Erica, unlike you, if I were in bed with a hot bimbo, about to get head, I would not have picked up the phone when you called.”

“What?” she pouts. “You would've just let me go to voicemail?”

“Yeah. I would have in that instance.”

“That's messed up.”

“Well, I wasn’t.”

“True. So, did I tell you the podcast went live?”

She looks at me with wide eyes. “I think it's good, but I don't know if it's good. If I play you part of it, would you tell me what you think?”

“I'd love to hear the podcast, but I don't know if you can handle the truth. Can you handle the truth?”

She says in a deep voice, “I don’t think you can handle the truth.” She giggles. “I may have gotten that a bit wrong.”

“Who’s that supposed to be?” I ask her.

“Isn’t he an actor? Or maybe a wrestler? I don’t know. Maybe a hockey player?”

“So, are we going to listen to the podcast?”

“It’s loud in here. You won’t be able to hear it properly.”

She pouts again, shifting closer to me, and I feel her hand on my thigh. She runs it up, and I freeze.

“You are so built. I bet you have muscles of stone.”

“I wouldn't say that exactly, but as I said, I’m an athlete.”

“You are kind of cute when you’re not annoying,” she says.

I stare at her for a couple of seconds. “And you're kind of beautiful when you're not being mean.”

“I'm not mean. Do you think I'm mean, Tyler Kane?”

“Why do you always say my full name?”

“I don’t know. Maybe because I like to say it.”

She goes quiet for a moment.

“You think I’m just this bimbo who doesn’t know the real world. You think I’m just this rich kid who doesn’t understand what it is to struggle—that I live with my head in the clouds just because I want to meet the love of my life.”

“I don’t think there’s anything wrong with that,” I say honestly. “If that’s really what you want, I think it’s admirable that that’s what you’re looking for.”

“But if you really thought it was admirable, why would you have a bet with me?”

“Because I don’t necessarily think it’s possible.”

I grab her hand to stop it from inching closer to my crotch. I know she’s drunk, but she’s playing with fire. I’m already hardening in my pants, and I don’t need her to feel my cock. She wouldn’t know what hit her. And she seems a little too innocent to feel my eight and a half inches right now.

“What are you doing?” she says, trying to pull her hand away.

“I think that maybe you?—”

I watch as she moves her face closer to mine.

“You’ve got the most beautiful brown eyes,” she says, touching the side of my face.

“And so do you,” I say.

I really need to remember who she is and where I am. I do not need to make this a complicated situation.

“Do you think I’m pretty?” she says, running her fingers through her hair.

I nod slowly. “You’re pretty.”

“Do you think I’m beautiful?”

“Yes. You’re beautiful.”

“Do you think?—”

I press my finger against her lips. “I think you’re pretty and beautiful and adorable and sexy. And if you weren’t Wes’s little sister, I’d have you back in my bedroom right now.”

“Oh, yeah?” she says, her eyes widening and her lips trembling slightly. “And what would we be doing?”

“I don’t know that you really want to know what we’d be doing,” I say, laughing. I run my fingers down the side of her face and just stare at her.

“I want to know,” she says softly, and before I know what’s happening, she’s leaning forward and her lips are on mine.

I kiss her back, and she moans slightly, her fingers reaching up into my hair, running down the nape of my neck. I can smell her peach lotion and her body spray, and I just want to eat her all up. Her lips are soft, pliable, and as my tongue thrusts into her mouth, she makes a whimpering sound.

She kisses me back passionately, and I feel her hands moving down the side of my shirt, trying to inch up underneath. She reaches her right hand to my bicep and squeezes. I reach my hand behind her head and run my fingers through her silky hair, kissing her deeply.

She leans back slightly and takes a deep breath, her face dazed and fuckable. I want to fuck her badly and am blown away by the fact that she's kissed me. I'm blown away by the way she tastes, how she feels.

"That was nice," she says, blinking. "Kiss me again."

She presses her lips against mine, and I press them back against hers. She reaches her hand down to my crotch, staring at me, and then squeezes.

"Ooh," she says as she feels my hardness. I place my hand on top of hers and pull away slightly.

"If you continue to touch me like that, if you continue to kiss me like that, this night is going to go in a direction I don't think you were planning for it to go," I say in a gruff voice.

"But maybe that's where I want it to go, Tyler. Maybe I?—"

"No, no, no, no. Erica, we're not going to have this conversation while you're drunk. You're not going to kiss me, and you're not going to squeeze me."

"What if I want to do more than squeeze you?" she says, licking her lips.

"Don't tease me, Erica, because I think you know you're going to lose the bet, and you're just trying to sweeten me up so I won't ensure that your punishment and penalty is?—"

"What?" she says, blinking and pulling away. "What are you talking about? This has nothing to do with the bet."

"I don't know," I say, shrugging. "You had a bad date, and now you're all over me."

I lick my lips. I don't actually believe what I'm saying, but I'm saying it because it's the only way I know to stop whatever's happening from happening—because I want her badly.

If she were anyone else, I'd grab her by the hand, take her outside, get a taxi, and have her back in my bedroom within fifteen minutes.

I'd have her on her back, and I'd thrust into her so hard and fast, she wouldn't know where she ended and I began.

But I can't.

She is Erica Carrington.

She is Wes and Miles's little sister.

She is special.

And as such, I have to resist the urge to take her. I have to resist the urge to flirt with her. I have to.

"You are a jerk, Tyler Kane," she says, shaking her head. "Whatever."

"So you're back to hating me again?"

"I don't know," she says, shrugging and sipping her drink. "I just don't know."

She yawns slightly and stares at my lips.

"What I do know is that you're an okay kisser, and maybe, just maybe, I'll let you do it to me at least once again."

"We'll see about that," I say, chuckling. "Maybe. I'm not sure that I want that."