Page 12 of Power Play (Titans Hockey #2)

Chapter ten

Lacey

T he elevator doors open at the lobby and a group of rowdy girls falls into it, clearly already having had a good night. I notice one of the girls wearing a sash and tiara. Ah. Bachelorette party.

Ward backs into the corner and I move to stand just in front of him. The girls are loud and swaying, and I'm honestly nervous one of my tit's going to get elbowed.

Before the doors have a chance to close, a strong hand wraps around my hip, pulling me backwards.

I let loose a quiet 'oof' after landing on a hard chest. It's just like at the pub, but it's more dominating, more insistent.

But just as I make contact, one of the drunk girls in front of me stumbles into where I had been standing and catches herself on the elevator wall.

Pressed against his hard body, I feel Ward's body heat through our layers of clothing, and a warm breath on my neck.

“You look stunning tonight,” Ward whispers, his breath warm against my neck, my back now fully pressed against his front.

Is that...? Is that him I feel on my lower back?

Or he has his phone in his front pocket?

"You look beautiful every day, but I like seeing you in something other than scrubs. You seem... more relaxed."

His low voice, centimeters from my ear, talking low and intimate sends heat flooding my core. I suppress a whimper.

I don't know what to say. Is he making a move on me? I know there's no no-fraternization policy with the team. I read all the onboarding paperwork. But we work together on a daily basis .

The two halves of my brain war with each other. One side wants to see what this older, clearly experienced, sexy silver fox can do to me. The other side screams to keep it professional and uncomplicated.

The push and pull leave me immobile.

The hand on my hip circles it even more, gripping it tightly, and the mental image of both of his large hands gripping my hips like that, and what he could do with me, start giving the lust-fueled half of my brain more ammunition.

The logical part of my brain surges forward.

I don't do relationships. I don't want to complicate my professional relationship with this man.

I'm sure he doesn't either. But with teams that travel together on the road for extended periods, I'm sure this happens all the time.

It's hard maintaining relationships when you're on the road half of the year, and training twelve-hour days even when you're home.

I'm sure the single professionals, working together, bunking together, eating together, give in to their urges all the time.

It doesn't have to mean anything serious.

I want one night. One incredible night to be his, and then tomorrow, when we pass each other in the hallway, we'll give each other knowing smiles, light blushes but go back to being co-workers.

One side of my brain wins. And it's clearly the one run by my hormones.

This time, I do whimper. My body presses back against him. I press my lower back into him to see if I can feel if it's him or his phone, and my head tilts back to rest on his chest.

He lets out a low growl. I almost can't hear it above the drunk girls talking and giggling.

"Tell me to stop," he growls against my ear .

But I don't. I want him. I want everything he brings to the table.

At work he's intense, focused, driven, and in control.

It makes me wonder what he brings to the bedroom.

A part of me feels guilty sleeping with someone other than Ben, but I'm not going down that road with him.

I love him. He's a good man, and he was my first everything, but I'm not dating, and I told him that.

He's slept with other people. I've slept with other people. I don't owe him anything.

And if tonight is just one night with a gorgeous, older, incredible man?

I'm not hurting anyone.

So, I don't respond.

The hand on my hip wraps around to my stomach, his fingers spreading wide. His one hand goes from the bottom of my breasts to the top of my pants. His head drops and he kisses where my neck meets my shoulder.

I close my eyes and breathe deep, suppressing a shudder. He kisses up my neck and when he reaches the spot behind my ear, I whimper.

Warmth pools at my center, and I feel my panties dampen. My nipples pebble beneath my shirt. He must notice because he lets out a low groan of appreciation.

The elevator stutters to a stop and the gaggle of drunk girls get off on the fourth floor.

"Have a nice night!" One of them shouts and waves at us as she's dragged down the hall by her stumbling friends.

I smile. Drunk girls are so nice.

When the doors close again, I have the opportunity to move away.

But I don't. The heat, the pull between us that started when he wrapped his arm around me in the brewery, increases even more in the silence and solitude of the empty elevator car.

Ward grinds his hard length against my back and tugs me against him even harder.

I tiny gasp escapes my lips as I realize that's not his phone. He's hard. For me.

I'd caught stray glances while we were at work and thought nothing of it more than a brief attraction. But this? This is a volcano, simmering, bubbling heat, just begging to explode.

I'm on the fifth floor, he's on the sixth. Both numbers are illuminated.

He bends low again, his lips ghosting over the shell of my ear.

"If you get off on your floor, I'll respect it, and we'll never speak of this again. If you don't, you're mine tonight. And you're walking into my room with your eyes wide open. I'm no boy scout, Lacey. My... brand of lovemaking isn't for everyone."

A shudder rolls down my spine, and my hands tingle with anticipation. My breaths come faster and faster.

But something stops me.

"For one night," I nearly gasp out.

"What?"

"I'm yours... tonight... for one night. I can't do more."

Somehow, the fact that we're both facing the elevator doors makes my confession easier to get out. I can do this. I can have one wild fling with a gorgeous older man and then go back to work on Monday and act like it never happened.

A small smile tips up the corner of my lips. I think of myself as that old woman in the retirement home, retelling her wild days to her fellow geriatrics. She has no other family, so her fellow nursing home retirees are all that she has. That and her stories. This will make for an excellent story.

The car stops at five, and the doors open. I hold my breath, and stay rooted to my spot.

When the doors close again, Ward lets out a growl of appreciation, spins me, and grips my hair in a punishing fist. Without preamble, he slams his mouth against mine.

Somehow, I knew his brand of sex would be rough, intense, but a part of me fucking craves it.

Ben's is sweet, lovemaking, and I appreciate every touch, every kiss, but Ward?

Ward is going to fucking destroy me, and there's a deep part of me that needs that.

I try to meet him with the same need, the same intensity, but Ward devours my mouth, his fist in my hair leaving no room for me to move. His lips claim mine, stealing my breath and leaving me gasping as I try to match his relentless hunger.

The car stops again, and Ward pulls away just as suddenly, leaving me dizzy and swaying. His hand on my hip keeps me upright.

He peeks his head down the hallway to make sure we don't get caught. He practically drags me to his hotel room door, swipes his card and nearly throws me inside. When the door shuts behind him with a 'snick' I'm in his arms again.

I gasp out as he moves his assault to my neck. He bites and lashes his tongue across the stinging.

"One night," he growls into my neck. With that boundary in place, I finally allow my mind to shut off and my body just to feel.

He grips my breast in one of his large hands roughly before pinching my nipple. The bite of pain shoots straight to my clit and I moan .

"You like a bit of pain with your pleasure," he growls, his voice low but so intense I can feel it vibrate under my hands across his back. It's not a question, it's a statement. And holy fuck, he's right.

I've slept with men after Ben, but they were casual, one-night-stands. They didn't mean much and because we were so casual no one was willing to test my boundaries. They were all too concerned with being able to stick it in me and walk away.

But Ward isn't like that.

I moan again and he backs me to the sofa before laying me down on it, his large body covering mine.

I'm desperate to feel him. I tug at his shirt with my hands and dig my toes into the pockets of his jeans, trying to tug them down over his hips.

He chuckles at me. "Greedy, too."

I pause and blush, embarrassed. "I don't even know your first name."

"Scott."

If he's upset at all by the fact that I don't know his first name, he doesn't show it.

He leans back, pulling his shirt over his head in an easy swipe, revealing wide pecs covered in dark, short chest hair and broad, wide abs.

He's not as cut as playing athletes are, but he still clearly takes pride in his appearance. He must shave... everywhere.

I run my fingers up his chest, enjoying the feel of him. His chest and stomach hair are soft, but short enough they tickle my palms and send electricity to my core. Most of the guys are muscular and fit, they have to be, but Scott is built like a warrior, and it makes me feel petite in his hands .

"You'll scream my name when you come," he growls against my neck. Holy fuck.

I'm completely in control of my diet, my workout regime, my career. But to be able to set all of those aside and let someone else take control? Fuck, that sounds amazing.