Page 11
Chapter Eleven
Lily
Hockey Rule #31: Stand up for your teammates Media Rule #31: Throw anyone under the bus for a scoop
Jack’s truck rumbled to a stop, the familiar purr of the engine fading into the Texas night. Sweet jasmine drifted through his open window, mingling with fresh-cut grass and the promise of rain overnight. Our laughter as we compared notes of Riley’s latest puppy-dog antics in his pursuit of Adele died away, but warmth lingered in my chest.
I didn’t want my night with Jack to end.
Didn’t want to walk away from our bubble of barbecue and beer. And that? That terrified me more than any career setback ever had. But I’d gotten good at shoving down inconvenient truths lately. Tonight I’d be selfish. Bank these precious moments with Jack like a squirrel hoards acorns for the winter.
His hand rested on the gearshift, those strong fingers that could deliver brutal checks now relaxed against worn black leather. The same fingers that had “accidentally” brushed mine all through dinner, each touch lighting up my nerve endings like a nuclear power surge. My skin still hummed with the memory.
“I should probably let you get some rest.” His voice came low, gravelly, but he made no move to open his door. Just sat there watching me with those intense blue eyes I could stare into for hours.
I shifted in my seat to face him, my heart thundering against my ribs. Sodium lights painted shadows across his face, highlighting his killer cheekbones and the sharp line of his jaw. Dinner had melted a layer of his legendary intensity, revealing something warmer underneath.
Something addictive.
“Or...” The word stuck in my suddenly dry throat. I swallowed and tried again. “You could come up for coffee.”
His eyes darkened, turning midnight blue in the dim light. “Coffee.”
Heat bloomed in my chest. “Well, I do have coffee and I do own a coffeemaker, as you know.” I wet my lips, heating as his gaze tracked the movement. “But mostly I’m not ready to say goodnight.”
He studied me for a long moment. Long enough, he set my pulse skittering. “You sure about that, Hollywood?”
Once upon a time, the nickname bristled. Now it sent liquid heat pooling low in my belly. “I’m sure about you.”
His sharp inhale rippled through the space between us, satisfaction curling through me. I’d knocked the mighty Jack Vignier off balance with simple honesty. At least my desire for him deserved truth.
The walk to my building crackled with electric silence. Jack’s solid presence at my shoulder had my skin prickling like I’d stuck my finger in a light socket. His arm brushed mine—not by accident—stoking the inferno blazing through my bloodstream.
My fingers trembled against the building’s security panel, coordination abandoning me under his gaze. He crowded close behind me, his body heat seeping into my back without touching me, my skin humming in anticipation.
“Need help with that?” His voice rumbled right by my ear, shivers rippling down my spine.
“I’ve got it.” The words came out embarrassingly breathy as the lock finally clicked. “Though having you all...” I waved vaguely at our proximity, “...Isn’t exactly helping my concentration.”
His low chuckle vibrated through me as he followed me inside. “Just being helpful.”
“Is that what you call it?” I shot him a look over my shoulder as we reached the elevator. His answering smile, slow and knowing, had my knees going weak.
The elevator doors slid open with a soft ding that echoed in the lobby’s silence. Jack’s hand settled at my lower back as we stepped inside, that simple touch setting off fireworks under my skin. Three floors stretched endlessly, tension thick enough to cling to my skin, to steal the oxygen from the space. I sucked in a long breath the instant the doors slid open.
When we reached my door, I turned to face him. “Last chance to back out, Captain.”
Instead of answering, he stepped closer, crowding me against the apartment door. One hand braced beside my head while the other settled on my hip, his thumb stroking circles on the skin at my waist bared by my top.
“Not backing out, Hollywood.” His voice dropped to that low rumble that did dangerous things to my insides. “You’re certain you want to invite me in? I step one foot inside, you’re not getting rid of me until morning.”
I met his gaze, hoping he saw the truth in mine. “I’ve never been more certain of anything.”
The lock clicked open and we stepped into my tiny apartment, the space feeling even smaller with Jack’s powerful presence filling it. Guilt twisted in my stomach as I flicked on the lights—here I was, inviting him into my home while Malone and the Unleashed’s crew edited footage that would expose Jack’s most vulnerable moments. The episode would air in just a few days, and he had no idea.
I shoved the thought away, clinging to the present with the kind of desperation that would embarrass me tomorrow.
“Coffee?” I moved toward the narrow kitchen space, needing something to do with my hands. The island that served as prep space, dining table, and occasional desk suddenly felt like an inadequate barrier between us.
“You really planning to make coffee?” My insides fluttered at the hint of amusement in his voice.
I turned to face him, caught by the sight of him filling my doorway. He looked too big for the space, but right somehow. Like he belonged here. With me. The thought dug deep, dragging guilt up from where I’d tried to bury it. Would he forgive me once the episode aired? Could I make him understand that Malone hadn’t left me any other option?
“No,” I admitted, gripping the edge of the counter. “I just... needed a minute.”
He crossed to the island in two long strides, close enough now that his scent—clean soap and warm skin—wrapped around me, shut out the world and shut down my riotous thoughts. “Want me to leave?”
“God, no.” The words burst out before I could stop them. My fingers knotted in the fabric of his shirt. “I want this. Want you.”
His eyes darkened at my confession. One large hand covered mine, flattening my palm to his abdomen, his touch sending sparks skittering across my skin. “But?”
“No buts.” I wet my lips, watching his gaze track the movement. Part of me wanted to confess everything—about Malone’s demands, about the episode, about how terrified I was of losing this thing brewing between us. But selfishly, I wanted just one night where nothing else existed. Where it was just us, without the weight of what was coming.
His free hand came up to cup my face, and coherent thought scattered. His thumb traced my cheekbone with devastating gentleness, the contrast between his controlled power and tender touch making my knees weak. His finger touched the corner of my lips, then his gaze flicked back up to meet mine, as if gauging the truth of my words.
Instead of voicing my guilt, I pushed up on my toes and pressed my lips to his. He stilled for a fraction of a second, then groaned deep in his throat. His hand slid into my hair, taking control of the kiss with the same intensity he brought to everything else.
I melted into him, letting the heat of his mouth drive away my doubts. His tongue traced the seam of my lips and I opened for him, gasping as he deepened the connection. Every brush of his tongue against mine sent fire racing through my veins.
He tasted like the vanilla ice cream we’d shared for dessert, sweet and addictive. My fingers found the hem of his shirt, desperate to touch skin. He shuddered when my hands slipped beneath the fabric to trace the hard planes of his abdomen.
“Lily.” He broke the kiss, resting his forehead against mine. “We should slow down.”
“Why?” I pressed closer, thrilling at his sharp inhale when I scraped my nails lightly across his stomach.
This time, when his eyes met mine, they blazed with hunger, but something deeper, too. Something that looked dangerously like trust. “Because you deserve better than a quick fuck against your kitchen counter.”
The crude words in his usually controlled voice shot straight to my core. “What if that’s exactly what I want?” I rolled my lips, gathering courage. “What if I want everything? The quick kitchen counter fuck, and then slow and thorough later?”
His hands tightened on my hips. “Christ, Hollywood. You can’t say things like that.”
“Why not?” I slid my hands higher under his shirt, mapping the ridges of muscle that jumped beneath my touch. “Scared you can’t keep up, Captain? I thought hockey players were known for their thick thighs and their stamina?”
His growl vibrated against my lips as he lifted me onto the counter in one smooth motion. My legs wrapped around his waist, pulling him closer as his mouth blazed a trail down my neck. Each brush of his lips, each scrape of stubble against sensitive skin, sent lightning through my system.
“No turning back if we cross this line,” he growled, his palms blazing trails up my naked thighs.
Instead of answering, I ground against him, drawing a curse from deep in his chest. His hands tightened on my hips, stilling my movement. “Words, Hollywood. I need to hear you say yes.”
“Yes.” I didn’t temper the breathless, needy sound that slipped from my lips—didn’t care to. It was mine, a reflection of want without apology. At least I could be honest in my desire. “Please, Jack.”
Jack’s restraint shattered. He captured my mouth, desperate and consuming, as though starving for my taste. His calloused hands pushed under my top, mapping every curve and hollow, branding my skin with his touch.
I clutched at his shirt, desperate for more contact. He tore his mouth from mine just long enough to yank the fabric over his head. My breath caught at the sight before me—battle-forged muscle adorned with the history of his career. I traced an old scar across his shoulder, imagining the brutal hit that had earned this mark.
“Bedroom,” he growled, already lifting me off the counter. “Now.”
Between hungry kisses, I guided him down the short hallway. Halfway there, he pressed me against the wall, pinning me with his weight. His hands slid higher beneath my shirt, thumbs grazing the undersides of my breasts through lace. Lightning shot through me, desire coiling tight and devastating in my core.
“Jack, please.”
He pulled back just enough to lock eyes with me. Midnight had devoured the blue of his irises, leaving only a thin ring of color. But beneath that raw hunger lived something more profound—something vulnerable and unguarded that stole what little breath I had left.
My heart clenched. I couldn’t think about the coming episode airing—about Jack watching himself exposed on screen, his injury laid bare for the world to scrutinize. Couldn’t face what this night of passion might cost when he discovered my betrayal.
So I kissed him again, pouring everything I couldn’t say into the press of my lips. His response was immediate, fierce, as if he understood my unspoken promises.
His fingers slid into my hair, and I pressed closer.
Mistakes were being made, but I couldn’t stop if I’d tried. Couldn’t turn away from Jack if the world depended on it.
Maybe he’d remember these moments and give me another chance.
Maybe he’d remember these moments and hate me more.
A sound escaped my lips before I could stop it. Something between a cry and a moan. Whatever it sounded like, Jack took it as encouragement and swept me up into his arms.
As he carried me into my tiny bedroom, I shoved thoughts of the future aside. As he laid me atop the bed with a kind of gentleness I’d never experienced before, I focused on the man above me. As he lowered himself over me, I welcomed him close. Wrapped my arms around his waist and drew him as close as I could.
Close enough, nothing could come between us. Not Malone, not my future, not his secrets.
A single lamp on my bedside table gave off a soft light, etching Jack’s shape in a golden glow. He kissed me, molding his lips to mine, shaping them, devouring them, as if he’d hungered for me for years, not just since the Unleashed crew started following his team around.
He wedged up on an elbow, then pushed up and off the bed. I cried out at the loss of his heat, but as he removed the rest of his clothes, I settled back to watch. The muscles of his chest flexed and moved as he unfastened his buckle and toed off his shoes. Then he shoved his pants and boxers down in one quick motion.
His cock jutted out at me. I scrambled up to my knees and reached to touch him, his length proud and thick and like satin under my fingers.
Jack grunted and my eyes darted up. A flush of heat filled my cheeks, but I grinned. “Well,” I said, dropping my hand. “Come on, already.”
He tipped his chin, wiggling his fingers. “Off with the shirt, Hollywood. Let’s see what we’re working with here.”
I tugged my shirt over my head, shimmied out of my shorts, and let the anticipation thrum between us. Reclining back, I stretched out across the sheets, grateful for the pretty lacy bra I’d chosen—his focus locked on me, hungry and unblinking. But I wanted more. I arched my back, lifting my arms above my head in a slow, deliberate tease. “Whatcha think? Think I’ll do?”
A low sound rumbled from his chest, a clash of groan and growl, before he crashed down over me, heat and muscle pressing me into the mattress. His lips found mine, his tongue sweeping inside, stealing the breath from my lungs, scattering every thought that wasn’t him.
When I was nothing but liquid mush beneath him, he nuzzled my cheek, his voice a husky whisper. “You’ll do. Yes, indeed. You’ll do just fine.”
His cock, thick and hard, rode against my thigh and my core pulsed with need. I hooked a leg around his, dragging him closer, luxuriating in the solid weight of him, the way his body felt made to fit against mine. I rocked into him, chasing the friction, moaning when he pulled away.
His hands glided along my sides, pushed up beneath me as he unfastened my bra and then he was pulling the scrap of lace away, baring me to his touch.
He cupped my breasts, softly massaging them with his big hands, his thumbs flicking over my nipples until they pulled into tight little buds. He kissed a path down my neck, across my chest, to pull one nipple into his mouth to lave with his tongue until I writhed beneath him.
He slid lower realization popped into my head. I squeezed my legs around him even as my core clenched at the idea. But… “You said fast…”
“No,” he muttered to the underside of my breast as he kissed a path down to my belly. “ You said fast.” He slid his hands beneath my ass, pressing a kiss to my hip. “Be patient, Hollywood. Let a man savor the treasure he’s found.”
His words spun through my mind, twisting into my psyche, and my heart clenched. I wanted to be his treasure. I wanted to be his.
His tongue flicked over my thigh, warm and deliberate. Slow. Too slow. He licked his way up, stopping just short of where I needed him most, only to start again on the other side. A tease. A torment. A punishment disguised as pleasure.
A desperate sound broke from my throat. My fingers tangled in his hair, ready to yank, to demand.
But he knew.
Before I could act, he laced his fingers with mine, pinning our joined hands to my thighs. Holding me down. Holding me open. Keeping me exactly where he wanted me.
And then—finally, finally —his mouth found my core.
A shudder ripped through me as his tongue dragged through my slick folds, unhurried, savoring. He lingered at the top, circling, teasing, his tongue flicking and rolling until my hips lifted, my body pleading in ways words couldn’t.
He licked me, the wet heat of his mouth pressing closer, firmer, his tongue flattening against me in a slow, devastating glide. My head fell back, eyes squeezed shut, every nerve focused on the pull of his lips, the velvet stroke of his tongue.
Then—oh God—he sucked, deep and sure, his mouth locking onto my clit, unraveling me with every pull, until I was nothing but a tangle of need and sound.
He was wrecking me and I was woman enough to beg. “Please, Jack. Please, make me…”
Colors sparked behind my clenched eyelids. I sucked in air like a drowning woman, my body trembling with aftershocks. And then—his weight, his heat came over me as he pushed up my body, dragging his skin over mine, every inch igniting fresh sparks until his mouth crashed onto mine.
I clung to him, desperate, arching into his heat, rubbing against him—breasts, hips, thighs, slick and sensitive everywhere he touched. The last waves of pleasure rolled through me in a sweet cascade.
He braced above me, eyes locked onto mine, and then—slowly—he pushed inside. Slow, stretching me even as I flattened my thighs to the bed to welcome him. My breath hitched, my lips parting on a soundless gasp as he sank deeper. His gaze never wavered, his lower body pressing into mine, joining us in a way that left no space, no barriers. I bit my lip to keep from rolling up and demanding more.
“Good?”
I threaded my fingers into his hair and dragged him down, devouring his mouth. My tongue swept past his lips, tasting the man who had wrecked me so easily.
He trailed his mouth moved along my jaw, then lower, the scrape of stubble a whisper of pleasure against my throat. He gripped my ass, tilting my hips, notching his cock deep. His breath heated my skin as he sank into me, thick and heavy, leaving no space between us.
He moved. Slow at first, smooth glides that sent ripples of sensation skimming over my nerves. The wet, decadent sound of him sliding inside me filled the space between us. The play of his muscles under my fingers stoked the fire inside me again, the need reigniting too fast, too strong, as if I hadn’t just shattered moments ago.
He felt so good. Too good. Solid and perfect, fitting against me, inside me, like he was meant to be there. Like I was meant to keep him. I wanted the night to last forever. Last a million years, a lifetime.
Jack drove into me, each thrust striking deep, precise, until I writhed beneath him, my mouth open against his shoulder, breathless, desperate. The urge to bite him clawed at me, to sink my teeth into his skin and leave a mark, to brand him as mine. I’d never been this needy, never felt the raw, primal urge to claim a man—but with Jack, I did.
He fucked me hard, passion and power bringing a storm down around me. A storm that matched the tumult inside me.
His heart pounded under my palms, his skin slick with his effort. Effort for me. Desire for me.
Jack made love like he played hockey. Intense. Focused. Passionate.
In this moment, I was his whole world. The knowledge didn’t scare me. It settled deep, a truth carving itself into my flesh and bone. Because if Jack took up space inside me, he’d protect it. Guard it. Treasure it.
And God, I wanted to be treasured. To matter. To be something more than passing desire, more than convenience.
I arched into him, chasing that unspoken promise, meeting every thrust with one of my own, giving back everything he poured into me. My body knew him, moved with him like he’d set a rhythm only we could hear, a rhythm I didn’t just follow—I claimed it, craved it, held onto it like a lifeline. Like it could keep us tethered. Like it could mean forever.
“Fuck, Lily. You feel so good, baby. Not going to last much longer.”
“I’m there, Jack,” I said on a high whisper. “One more… oh my God, I can’t…”
Words escaped, meaningless and lost, as he ground against me and another orgasm lit me up inside.
As the spasms tore through me, Jack’s hands slid beneath me, locking me against him, his grip unyielding from waist to chest. A raw groan vibrated against my neck, his breath hot, shuddering. I gave in, sinking my teeth into his shoulder, grounding myself in him as he moved, slow and deliberate, drawing out every last tremor of release.
No more thoughts of Malone or episodes or betrayal.
Just Jack’s hands on my skin. His mouth trailing fire down my body. The way he made me forget everything except how perfectly we fit together.
Just this moment, stolen and precious, before reality crashed back in.
Just us.