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Lucy should never have to cry. Obviously she was capable of crying, but he hated that she needed to.

That was what Dax thought as the city lights flew by, making colorful streaks through the windows in contrast to the dark night. A person as strong as Lucy should never look like her heart was breaking. Like she was failing. She should never have to stand before him, sniffling and with a quivering lip that took his breath away.

Seeing her like that, without being able to say anything that would make things better, was torture. He knew how powerless one was against the stubbornness of one’s parents. He had begged his mother for years to leave his father, but she hadn’t wanted to hear it. He needs me, Dax. He needs me .

It didn’t matter that her children needed her more.

And Lucy’s father, still deeply bogged down in grief after three years… Dax knew how that must weigh on her. Every day. He hated her father for doing that to her. If he could, he would drag him to the psychologist himself and force him with his own hands to sit on the couch and listen.

But he couldn’t. He had no right. Lucy’s life was her life, not his. He played no part in it.

He detested that thought.

He exited the highway, following the GPS directions to Lucy’s apartment, before recalling her words in the Ice Lounge.

She liked a man who was honest. Someone who told her what he thought and wanted.

The car’s tires squealed as he stopped in front of a white, modern-looking apartment building that, according to the GPS, was Lucy’s home. He had never thought about where she lived, but now that seemed silly. Suddenly, he wanted nothing more than to know what her apartment looked like, how she lived, what photos she had on the walls, and whether her furniture was simple or fancy.

He would bet on fancy.

“Thanks, Dax,” she murmured, wringing her hands in her lap. “For everything.”

“Sure,” he remarked, turning off the engine and opening the door.

“Um, you don’t have to get out, Dax,” she said, confused.

Yes, he did.

He slammed the door behind him as Lucy also exited the car.

“You don’t have to walk me to the door. I’m just a little emotionally fragile, not an invalid,” she explained softly, clasping her hands behind her back.

She stared at his chin—as if she was unable to see any higher—as if she couldn’t bear to look him in the eye.

“I didn’t get out because I think you need help to the door,” he clarified.

“Oh, okay.” She frowned and glanced up, uncertain. “Then why?”

Yes, why?

Because he had to say something. Because he had to be honest. Because things couldn’t go on this way. But the uncertainty on her face was mirrored in his own chest and he didn’t know what words to use. Would he destroy what was still intact between them if he said something?

“Dax?” she whispered. “I’m sorry I threatened you. In the office. I wouldn’t reveal your secrets. You know that, I… God, you have me so confused, and…the job is all I have, Dax. It’s everything I’ve always wanted.”

“I understand,” he replied curtly. Because he did. Playing hockey was all he ever wanted: to make money, to live and breathe the game, to be on the ice.

Until now.

“By the way, I think it’s great that you’re not playing like shit anymore,” she continued, probably because she was uncomfortable with the silence between them.

But he needed the silence to think.

“Yeah, thanks,” he said absentmindedly. “I think it’s great too.”

What was he doing?

“Are you okay, Dax?” Lucy asked, surprised.

No.

He sighed heavily and closed his eyes. The next time he opened them, he said, “It bothers me.”

“What?”

“You said you liked the type of man who’s honest. I’m honest,” he explained darkly, scratching the back of his neck. “It bothers me.”

“What bothers you?”

“That you flirt with Jack. That you flirt with the others. That you look at them. That you laugh at their jokes. That you’ve been keeping your distance for days. That you can’t look me in the eye. It bothers me.”

“Oh,” she said, her lips parting a bit before repeating, perplexed, “It bothers you.”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

Did she really have to ask that? Didn’t she know?

He pressed his lips together and leaned forward. “Because I want you. Always, constantly. Every second of every day. Because ever since I kissed you in that stupid bar, all I can think about is kissing you again. Everywhere. Until you beg me to finally take what I want. Because ever since that episode in the office, just looking at a hole punch makes me hard. Because I can’t sleep at night, imagining what it would feel like if you were lying next to me right then.” He laughed dryly and ran his hand through his hair. “I’m obsessed with you, Lucy. I know it’s crazy, but it’s the damn truth.”

He saw her swallow. Saw her lick her lips and her eyes darken. And saw her cross her arms and dig her fingertips into her biceps.

“Dax,” she whispered, her voice shaky, “I…you’re a player. I don’t date players, so…”

“Then it’s a good thing I don’t want to date you,” he whispered. “I don’t want to take you to a nice restaurant. I want to do everything else. What we did in Leslie’s office—just in a dozen different ways. I continuously fight the desire, but I keep losing, Lucy.”

She bit her lip and he could see from her expression that she felt the same way.

“Dax, if we’re going to start anything…we need rules,” she whispered, running her index finger down the buttons of his coat.

“I love rules.”

She laughed. “I thought you were going to be honest.”

“I hate rules,” he said, correcting himself. “But tell me anyway.”

Her smile widened. “Now that I think about it, there’s really only one; No one, absolutely no one can know about this. Do you understand? Otherwise, I can forget my career.”

“Jack knows,” he stated because it was better to get it out of the way now. “But he’ll keep quiet.”

“Okay, no one but Jack,” she muttered, pulling his head toward her and kissing him.

Receiving a kiss was different than being the one to initiate it. Dax could never have articulated that until that moment, but when Lucy gently placed her hands on the back of his neck, stood on her tiptoes, and tested his lips with hers, he knew there was a difference.

He didn’t like one any better than the other—because both were amazing!—but there was something to be said for letting Lucy direct the kiss. He could find out what she liked. He could feel for himself how much lips could do before her tongue had to follow. Damn, the euphoric feeling of being caressed and then possessed by Lucy James’ mouth was something he would definitely save in a drawer in his brain, never to forget.

She opened his coat and ran her hand up his chest to his shoulders, making it hard for him to hold back a sigh. It was like coming home…and the feeling was unsettling. But how could he hold onto a negative emotion when Lucy’s hands were pushing up his shirt, touching bare skin?

“Okay,” he said stiffly and removed her hands from his body before clearing his throat. “We should go inside, Lucy. Otherwise the neighbors will get a show…”

“Enough said,” she said, grinning guiltily and pulling him behind her by the hand.

Lucy’s apartment was exactly as he had imagined.

Her bookshelves were a mismatched array of wood finishes. The couch was red and worn with a ton of colorful, mismatched pillows. Her coffee table was made of Pepsi crates bound together with a wooden board across the top.

“If only our sponsor Coca-Cola could see this,” he said reproachfully.

Lucy laughed. “The crates were the right height! And in my defense, I had the table before I joined the Hawks.”

“Ah, yes,” he said slowly, looking around and smiling. “You’re a rebellious hippie at heart, aren’t you? Not a woman who likes to wear pantsuits?”

"To be honest, everything you see here is due to lack of time,” she said, scratching her head. “Most of the furniture is from my college days. Back then, I didn’t have the money to buy new, and now… I don’t have the time. Ironic, isn’t it?” She tilted her head thoughtfully. “A lot of people say I work too much, but I love my job. It can’t be that bad, can it?”

No. It couldn’t. Dax understood exactly what she meant.

“You have time now,” he murmured, taking off his coat and moving toward her.

She smiled. “Yes, but right now I’m not thinking about my furniture.”

“Ah, what are you thinking about?” he asked, his voice rough at the edges. He calmly pushed her jacket off her shoulders. “Your shopping list?”

“Indeed,” she whispered, leaning her head gently into his touch as his fingers danced lightly over her cheek. “I’m trying to remember if I bought condoms.”

He laughed hoarsely. “And? Did you?”

She nodded. “I may have had a feeling something like this might happen,” she whispered. Her eyes met his and he saw a flash of heat, heat that he had been missing for the past few days.

“Even though you were ignoring me?” he asked, running a hand through her hair.

“That’s exactly why I ignored you, Dax,” she whispered. “Because I knew this would happen again if I didn’t.”

“And what’s changed now?”

“It’s like you said: We fought. We lost. I don’t fight unwinnable wars.”

He smiled and gently pulled out the hairband that held Lucy’s hair in a slicked-back ponytail as always. “But I bet you win most of them.”

Her cheeks flushed. “Which is why this is special.”

“Oh, you have to watch what you say,” he whispered, dropping the hairband on the floor and watching Lucy’s pretty red hair fall to her shoulders. “If you call me special, it might go to my head.”

“I think that’s already happened,” she said, amused, and tried to tuck her hair behind her ears, but he stopped her.

“No. You should wear it down. Always.”

“But it’s in the way.”

“No. It’s beautiful,” he said, combing his fingers through it, lifting her chin, and kissing her—softly…urgently, simply because he couldn’t stop himself. He ran his hands down her curves, unzipping her skirt…and Lucy pulled away from him.

“No.” She shook her head, stepped back, and folded her arms in front of her body. “Not just yet. First, take off your clothes.”

He raised his eyebrows in surprise. “What?”

“Last time you were almost completely dressed, and I didn’t like that. So take off your clothes!”

He grinned. “Rather bossy.”

“That’s my best quality.”

No. Her best quality was her generosity. Her strength. Her loyalty and her desire to do the right thing.

“All right,” he responded slowly. “But first…to your bedroom. You’re going to want to mount me and I’d rather fall on a soft mattress than a hard floor.”

She rolled her eyes. “And you were afraid you’d get carried away by the idea that you’re special. But okay.”

She hurried ahead of him through the living room and pushed open the door to another large room.

Dax stopped dead in his tracks. Strangely, the bed was the second thing he noticed. The first thing he saw was a huge sack hanging from the ceiling that…

“What?” Lucy asked, surprised, having obviously seen his stunned expression.

“Did you stick my face on your punching bag?” he asked in disbelief, gesturing to the corner of the room.

“Oh,” Lucy said and laughed loudly. “Um. Yes. An anger management strategy on my part. Always worked well.”

“Fuck, should I be afraid of you beating me up?” Skeptical, he looked at her.

“Not anymore, no,” she promised hastily. “And if you’d finally take off your shirt, I will definitely be more lenient with you.” Her face was so deadly serious that it made him laugh.

“My goodness, you’re obsessed with my upper body.”

Her eyes darkened and she licked her lips. “You have no idea,” she whispered.

Dax got hard just from her look. Okay, shit, enough talk. He finally gave her what she wanted.

He pulled the long-sleeved shirt over his head and tossed it on the floor. Lucy closely watched every move he made. Her gaze slid over his chest and down his stomach before stopping at the belt buckle.

Well, it was obvious what she wanted him to do next, so he slowly unzipped and stepped out of his pants and then his boxer shorts. Now he was completely naked.

His erection bounced against his stomach and Dax saw Lucy swallow before her gaze wandered again—leisurely, appreciatively. Dax felt it in every pore.

“Don’t let it go to your head, but… God, you’re beautiful,” she whispered, licking her lips again.

“Ditto,” he murmured, his voice sounding gravelly to his ears. He had to stop himself from closing the distance between them and throwing her onto the bed. This was her night. She wanted control, and she was going to get it.

Lucy took a shuddering breath, sought his gaze again, undid her skirt, and let it fall. Wearing only high heels, nylons, and a tight-fitting blouse, she approached, placed a warm hand on his chest, and pushed him toward the bed until the edge hit the back of his knees and he fell backward onto the mattress.

She calmly placed one leg then the other on either side of his hips and let her hands wander: up his chest, over his shoulders, and down his biceps to his hands, before counting his six-pack with her nails and stroking the fine hairs there.

Dax was on fire. His cock pulsed, and when she slowly sat on him, soft on hard, he groaned loudly.

He could feel her wetness through her panties and nylons—and, shit, how much she was turned on turned him on. He wanted to reach for her, turn her under him, and rip the stupid pantyhose off her body, but when he raised his hands, she shook her head and pinned them to the mattress with her own so that her breasts and the stiff fabric of her blouse brushed his chest.

“No,” she whispered, and hell, he had never found that word so hot. “I’m not finished yet.”

He could have freed himself, but he stopped and left his hands where they were. Lucy sat upright again and stroked his cock repeatedly with her bottom, with her wet center, which he could feel even though she was still dressed.

It was hell. It was heaven. It was torture and pure bliss at the same time.

Mouth dry, he watched Lucy’s eyes glaze over as she rubbed herself against him and undid the buttons of her blouse. She undid one button after the other until a dark blue lacy bra appeared.

Lucy took off her blouse, threw it behind her, and then fiddled with the bra clasp, still rocking back and forth on his erection, driving him mad with desire.

Then the bra fell and her heavy, beautiful breasts pushed for freedom—and Dax could no longer hold back. He had to touch. Taste. His hands wandered as if on their own, dipping to Lucy’s waist before sliding over her ribcage…until they cupped her breasts and he tweaked their hard tips with his fingers.

Lucy didn’t stop him. Her breathing grew shallower, her lips slightly parted. When he sat upright, wrapping his arm around her back and taking a nipple in his mouth, she gasped and continued to circle her hips. She tortured him while he tortured her until she trembled in his arms, braced her hands against his chest, and pushed him back onto the mattress.

She stood and bent down to unbuckle her high heels, but this time he shook his head. “No. Keep them on. So many of my fantasies have revolved around your shoes.”

“Really?” she said, surprised.

“As if that’s not why you wear them. To drive me crazy.”

“No. I wear them to make me taller,” she whispered, amused. “Driving you crazy is merely a bonus.”

“You don’t have to make yourself taller,” he said quietly as she pulled the hose down her legs to her ankles. “You’re perfect the way you are.”

He saw her swallow, her eyes shining and her cheeks blushing, before she murmured, “You’re only saying that because you’re so incredibly turned on right now. Besides, I have to take the shoes off or I can’t take off my nylons.”

“Lucy,” he whispered in a rough voice and looked at her intently. “I’m so turned on because you’re standing in front of me. In my whole life, I’ve never wanted a woman as much as I want you.”

She liked the truth, didn’t she? And that was what he said.

For a few seconds, she stared at him with her lips parted, then cursed softly and, in the next moment, tore the nylons to shreds while pulling her panties over her shoes and climbing back onto the bed.

“God, what are you doing to me?” she whispered and kissed him, kissed him with such intensity and desire that tiny electrified bolts of arousal shot through his body and demanded immediate relief.

He wrapped his arms around her, pressed her soft breasts against his hard upper body, and pushed her thighs open with his so that the tip of his penis stroked her wet center.

Lucy whimpered, bit his lower lip, and raised her head.

“Nightstand,” she whispered and he automatically reached out to grab a condom from the drawer and hand it to her.

She ripped open the packet, knelt over him, and slid the condom over his length agonizingly slowly. Her hand on his cock was almost too much for him, but he didn’t have time to think about it for long because the next moment, Lucy sank down on him. She took him in inch by inch.

God, she was so fucking tight. So damn good…and then he was inside her to the base and she started to move.

Fuck, he wasn’t going to last long. His whole body was on fire as she pulled away before sinking down on him again, her hands on his chest, her head thrown back in pleasure.

“Lucy,” he whispered with difficulty, moving toward her, thrusting whenever she pressed down on him. With one hand, he grabbed her hip so he could penetrate her even harder. With the other, he slid between her legs. He sought out the hard bundle of nerves, rubbing roughly back and forth…before pressing his thumb against it.

Lucy came with a gasp. He felt her contract around him, felt the waves that made her body tremble as he drove further into her, pulling her hips roughly against his.

Cursing, he followed her. The orgasm raged through his body, flowing through it like a hot lava of pleasure. And when Lucy fell trembling into his arms, kissing his lips, his jaw, his neck, Dax momentarily felt as if he were no longer on earth. Rather, he was floating ten thousand miles above it.

“Shit,” he whispered, kissing her back, burying his nose in her hair and breathing in her scent.

“Why do men swear so often during sex?” Lucy asked, still breathless.

“I don’t know. Actually, I don’t usually swear in bed.”

“No?”

“No.” He lifted her head in his hands, kissed her gently, and gave her a lopsided smile. “You must be something special.”

She laughed. “Careful, or it might go to my head.”

“It should go to your head,” he murmured forcefully. “Because, shit, you’re fantastic! And Lucy…”

“Yes?”

“We’ve only just begun!”