Page 18

Blair

“Are you coming to O’Malley’s?” Cian was practically vibrating out of his skin, his adrenaline high after their win against Boston, and I laughed as he backed me into a corner outside the locker room.

“Someone might see us.”

We’d spent almost every night together in the last two weeks, and with the amount of energy he was exuding, I knew we’d be burning off some steam sooner rather than later. Going to the bar seemed like an exercise in delayed gratification, but I couldn’t deny the idea of being out in public with Cian was exhilarating.

“Who cares? It’s no one’s business but ours. Come out with me. Please?” He widened his eyes, giving me a hangdog expression that was so freaking cute, he knew I couldn’t tell him no. When I held out, he dropped his head to my neck and nipped at my skin, making my nipples harden and my panties wet.

Bastard.

“Yes, we’ll go. Pack up your things and I’ll meet you at your truck.”

It had become habit to let him drive me around, to the point where my car hadn’t needed gas in weeks. I’d offered to chip in, but he pretended not to hear me.

I pushed him away with a soft smile and headed back to where I’d left my bag and equipment, raw footage ready to be formatted and spread to the masses for likes and shares.

As I shouldered my pack, my phone vibrated in my pocket. Expecting it to be Cian in all his eternal impatience, I answered with a smile.

“Hey.”

“My daughter lives. Thanks be to God. Where the hell have you been, Duckie? Too important to call your mother back so we don’t think you’re dead in a ditch somewhere? I guess you aren’t as smart as we thought. Either that, or you don’t care about the people who raised you.”

Goddamn it. My mood plummeted as my mother’s favorite rant about how I was the worst daughter in existence continued.

“Look, Mom, you know how busy I get once the season starts,” I cut in.

“Your sister is on set and she still finds time to call. You know she’s dating a football player now. We’re all gathering for Thanksgiving. Make sure you’re there.”

I’d never been so glad to have to wear heels for something.

“I have a charity event on Thanksgiving.”

“That’s fine. Georgia can’t make it until the thirtieth. I already checked, and you don’t have a game that night so you can get your ungrateful butt home and see your family.”

I didn’t want to go.

Things were always worse when I saw them in person. Especially if Georgia had found someone to bring home to Mom and Dad. I needed backup. I needed someone who would…

The solution hit me so hard I gasped, looking around in case anyone knew what I was thinking. Friends with benefits wasn’t an arrangement that needed to be common knowledge in the club.

“I’m bringing a plus-one.”

Silence greeted my declaration. Like what I’d said was so absurd she had to check the connection.

“Mom?”

It was my turn to check my phone, but apparently, I hadn’t shocked my mother into silence for too long.

“Sure. Bring whoever you want, but I expect you to be here at five PM sharp. You know your father likes to eat early.”

“How is Dad?” I asked. The only person under that roof I cared about took his role as patriarch seriously. He was the breadwinner. He worked all day, expected dinner on the table when he got home, and had always treated me as the son he never had. We bonded over a shared love of hockey, and while he would never interfere in the way Mom chose to raise us, my childhood had included brief moments of reprieve from the incessant judgment of my mother in the form of bonding time with dad.

“Still breathing. I would have done less time for murder.” She huffed at her own shitty joke and wrapped up the call with another warning to remember the date.

All in all, it was one of the better phone calls I’d had with her.

I wandered outside, wondering how to ask Cian to play backup with my family when even I didn’t want to go.

“You ready?” he asked as I climbed into the cab.

“Yup.”

“What’s wrong?”

A flippant comment was on the tip of my tongue, ready to deflect from my shitty life when I remembered I’d promised him the truth.

“I accidentally answered a call from my mom.”

He hissed through his teeth in sympathy.

“My attendance is expected at the family Thanksgiving dinner.”

“But we have—”

“I know.” I held up a hand to stop him.

“They’re planning it around Georgia’s schedule, so it’s happening on the thirtieth. She already made sure I didn’t have an out.”

He nodded slowly as he pulled out from the curb and steered us toward the Irish Pub that was his team’s second home.

“Okay, so we go, eat some food, then make an excuse to leave as soon as humanly possible.”

“We?”

He looked at me like I had a screw loose.

“You want to do this by yourself? I’m not okay with that.”

I rubbed my hands together in my lap and, once again, wondered what the hell I’d done to deserve him.

“No, I was going to ask you to come. But I thought I’d have to warm you up to the idea.”

He turned his blinker on and steered around the corner one handed as he reached across the cab and grasped my wrist.

“Friends don’t let other friends go into toxic situations alone.”

He squeezed me firmly before returning his hands to the wheel while he searched for a parking space.

“Thank you.”

O’Malley’s was as loud and crowded as always, people jostling for position at the bar while others milled and chatted in the middle of high traffic areas. Cian pulled me in front of him, wrapping an arm firmly around my waist as he used the other to herd the crowd out of the way. It was a tactic I never could have employed, but seeing as he was here to do it for me, I didn’t mind as much as I normally would.

“O’Leary!” Shouts of his name turned heads around the room as he found us a couple of chairs and poured me a drink from the nearest pitcher before serving himself.

We relaxed together, rehashing the game with his teammates as they crowed with delight over the highlights. I was on my second beer when it happened. Cian was animatedly describing a successful deke Miller had pulled off when a mini skirt-clad ass pushed in between us. The voluptuous brunette bent close to Cian’s ear, whispering God knew what, but the motion forced me back to avoid her ass in my face. The bunny invited herself into his lap, snapping away with her phone as her hand wandered over his chest.

The same chest I’d scratched up the night before when I’d ridden for an hour after he’d interrupted my work.

Jealousy flared white hot, and I tried to remind myself I had no claim over him just because we were friends with benefits. He could have the same arrangement with others if he wanted to. Chest tight, I pushed my chair away, ready to make a break for it when a familiar hand circled my wrist.

“That’s enough,” Cian said to the girl whose hand was drifting lower and lower.

“But…”

He helped her to her feet one handed and tugged me into the space she had just been.

“Cian,” I chided as he pulled me into his lap, ignoring the disgruntled noise the bunny made behind him.

“Duckie.”

“Don’t call me that.”

“Why? It’s cute, like you.”

He buried his face in my hair, mouth seeking my neck as I wondered how many drinks he’d had.

“Can we go home now? I want to fall asleep with my dick inside you.”

“Cian.”

“Will you let me in bare? I want to see your hole dripping with my cum. I’ll fuck you awake in the morning and send you to work with panties dripping in my seed.” He groaned, rolling his hips underneath me, letting me feel how hard he was.

Laughter interrupted the growing lust between us. Wyatt Whitney, our fourth line winger, grabbed a curvy girl with a blonde ponytail who looked familiar—maybe from the stadium?—and kissed her soundly. She whispered something to him, and I barely heard him reply, “That’s all I want. You and me. Happy.” They grinned at each other like there was no one else in the room, and the way they both jumped when someone cleared their throat confirmed the suspicion. Love surrounded the pair like a cloak of protection and my eyes felt misty as Cian’s hand rubbed over my stomach. Would I ever find something like that?

His fingers danced along the inseam of my jeans, and I decided there was enough time for what-ifs later. For now, I had to get my own it’s complicated relationship safely home.

“Come on, big man. Time to go.”

He was only too happy to comply, pasting himself, and his erection, to my back as we negotiated the crowd and made it outside to his truck.

“Keys, please.”

The fact he handed them over was a surprise.

“Thanks, Duckie. You’re so good to me.” He settled in his seat as I adjusted everything on my side so I could reach the pedals.

“Damn long legs,” I bitched as I slid all the way forward.

The drive home was the longest of my life, everything seeming tiny before the giant wheels of the truck. I felt like the king of the road. I chose to take us to my apartment for convenience—a much shorter drive and less likelihood I’d mess up his truck—but Cian had already fallen asleep by the time we pulled in. Between the adrenaline crash after the game and the beers he’d drank, it wasn’t a surprise, but I wouldn’t let him sleep here and potentially wake up sore.

“We’re home.” I shook him gently. When he didn’t move, because he was one hundred and eighty pounds of pure muscle, I shook harder.

“Love you, Duckie,” he murmured, shifting around until his head rested against the window.

I froze, hand raised to shake him again as I ran through a series of reinterpretations.

Because there is no way that drunk, sleepy Cian O’Leary had just said he loved me.

Maybe he had a plush animal he’d loved as a kid.

The excuse barely held water, but it was enough for me to shake off the shock and punch his shoulder.

“Wake up.”

“Hey,” he rumbled, scrubbing a hand down his face. “Oh, we’re home. Did I fall asleep?”

Instead of answering, I jumped out of the truck, belatedly remembering I should have moved the seat back for him. Oh well, he’d deal with it later.

My skin felt itchy as I stalked across the parking lot, and an irrational titration settled in as I waited for him to join me. I hit the central locking system to ensure his truck would still be there in the morning and climbed the stairs behind him to my apartment.

Once inside, I made myself busy in the kitchen, pouring him water and retrieving a bottle of Tylenol from the back of the cupboard.

“I didn’t have that much to drink,” he protested, though he drank all the water down in a gulp and helped himself to a second glass from the tap.

“I didn’t say you did.”

“What’s wrong?” He cornered me against the counter, forcing eye contact as his bulky arms caged me in.

“Nothing. I’m just tired. Long day.”

He tilted his head, studying me in a way that made me think he hadn’t been as drunk as I thought. The implications of that were too much for me to handle at that moment, so I tilted my chin up and dared him to challenge me.

“Do you want me to go home?”

“No.”

He nodded, as if wanting his presence was enough for now. Maybe it was. Exhaustion stole over me, giving truth to my excuse as I dragged myself down to the bedroom.

In silence, we stripped down and crawled between the sheets, and as I closed my eyes, he rolled me to my side, curling his body around mine with a contented sigh.

I was in so much trouble with this man.