Chapter Thirteen

This was a dumb decision.

Still, here Ian was, the night before the last game of the road trip, standing outside Shelby’s Vancouver hotel room at one in the morning with a brand-new black eye and absolutely no idea what he was going to do. He should turn around and go right back to his room. He’d spent Seattle and Vegas trying to keep his distance as much as he could when they spent every meal and more together. But tonight, he’d been lying on his bed staring at the ceiling

Oh, fuck it.

He tapped lightly on her door. If she was sleeping, she wouldn’t hear and he’d go back to his room. She was probably asleep anyway and— The door opened.

Wearing a black tank top that dipped low over the upper swells of her tits and leggings that made her legs seem even longer, Shelby stood in the opening. All the racket thundering in his head since the game ended, spurred on by adrenaline and an overtime win, settled.

The TV was on behind her but there wasn’t any sound. The covers on her bed were rumpled, but the pillows were propped up on the headboard as if she’d been sitting up in bed, not lying down trying to sleep.

“Is everything okay?” She stepped close, looking up at him with concern, her attention focusing in on his latest injury. “Do you need help? Is it your eye? That was such a cheap shot from Evanston. Total high stick.”

“I’m fine.” He managed to stifle the urge to touch the heart of the bruise where Doc had given him two quick stitches before sending him back out for the second period. “I couldn’t sleep.”

She crossed her arms and narrowed her gaze, the little vee of worry wrinkling her forehead smoothing out into are-you-kidding-me annoyance. “I am not currently accepting booty calls.”

Way to go, Petrov. So smooth. Amazing. How are women not falling at your feet wherever you go?

“It’s not that.”

She lifted an eyebrow. “Uh-huh. If I invite you in, the next step in the plan is to tell me that you just want to stretch out and we’d both be more comfortable on the bed?”

“Is that the kind of guy you think I am?” He wasn’t. He was a grown-ass man, not a frat boy.

She looked down at her bare wrist as if she were wearing a watch. “It’s after midnight and you just knocked on my hotel door to tell me you couldn’t sleep.”

Okay, she had a point. And if he understood why in the hell he was there instead of watching episodes of The Office that he’d seen a million times already, per usual for a road trip, he would have told her. Instead, the best he could do was try not to sound as lame as he felt at the moment.

He shoved his hands in the pockets of his hoodie. “These will stay here the whole time.”

She sighed and shook her head, but instead of closing the door in his face, she opened it up farther and stepped back. “Don’t make me regret this.”

“Never.”

At least not on purpose.

…

Shelby had just hit post on her latest dispatch for The Biscuit, so everything was scattered in her room—yeah, that was definitely her bra in the middle of the bed—and her head was equally a mess, which was the only sorta reasonable explanation she could give for letting Ian into her hotel room at one in the morning.

There was no way this was a good idea, but there was no way she was turning him away.

The truth was that she didn’t want to.

It was their last night on the road. Tomorrow after the game, they’d be back on the team plane and headed to reality and Harbor City. No more late-night ice-skating lessons or dinners together or riding up in hotel elevators so close that they could touch but keeping their distance because once they did, she wasn’t sure she’d be able to stop.

Hands stuffed in his pockets, Ian glanced over at her silent TV with the captions turned on. “The Office?”

“Comfort watch.” She needed something in the background to distract her or else she would have been thinking about him instead of finishing her last post from the road.

He nodded, then his attention was centered back on her—hot and intense. “It’s what I had on, too.”

“So tomorrow night after the game, we fly home,” she said, floundering for something to talk about when chitchat was the last thing she wanted with Ian in her room.

“No more dinners at the kiddie table.”

She shook her head. “Nope.”

Wow. Amazing repartee, Shelby.

Really, it was the best she could do under the circumstances. Ian Petrov was here in her hotel room and all she wanted was to finish what he’d started with that kiss.

Because I like you.

Who said that and then walked away? Ian Petrov, the hottest and most frustrating man she knew.

They stood next to each other, barely a few steps apart. His hands were still stuffed in his hoodie pockets, but that didn’t make a difference. Every nerve in her body was tuned in to him. The urge to be closer to him had her taking another step toward him before she realized what she was doing. His hands were still in his pockets. Hers should be, too.

Instead, her fingertips burned with the need to touch him—to trace the line of his jaw, glide over the hard planes of his chest, to stroke and feel and memorize him. It was all she could do to ignore that need building inside her, making her whole body melt when all he was doing was looking at her.

“We can’t,” she said, sounding as if it wasn’t a statement but a breathy question even to her own ears.

He stood still as a statue while the air between them was heavy with anticipation. “I know.”

“I want to.” Like a scuba diver needed an oxygen tank. Her lungs were tight as desire whipped through her, a wildfire on the verge of getting out of control.

He nearly closed the distance between them, still not touching her but coming oh so close, and gave her a half grin. “My hands have to stay in my pockets.”

That was all it took to break her. The smart-ass response accompanied by the small lift of one side of his lips into that crooked smile of his—cocky and teasing all at once. It gave a glimpse of the man beneath the grunts and the growly attitude he tried to project as his true self. But she knew better. It was a cover, just like going cold around the media. The real Ian Petrov had layers.

“Are you saying you’re only good with your hands?” she asked.

He dipped his head lower until his lips nearly brushed the shell of her ear. “You know that isn’t true.”

Desire, hot and needy, made her breath catch. “Why don’t you remind me?”

He took a step back. It was only a few inches but it felt like miles.

“You sure about this?” he asked, his body tense and hard, the outline of his thickening cock visible against the soft bottom of his joggers. “I can leave right now.”

One last night. One final time. That’s all this would be. It’s all it could be. She’d pretend that was enough.

“We’re not in Harbor City.” She closed the distance between them. “Everyone knows that being outside of your own zip code doesn’t count.”

And she kissed him.

…

Ian took his hands out of his pockets.

There was no way he could leave without touching Shelby. The cotton of her tank top was a thin barrier between them, but it was still too much. He needed more. He needed her.

As if reading his mind—or as desperate as he was—she broke the kiss to take off her tank. After that, it was like they’d flipped a switch. Clothes went flying as they raced to get rid of it all, the need to touch bare skin, to kiss and lick and nip every inch overwhelming anything else.

Deepening the kiss, he skimmed his hands down her sides, gliding over the swell of her hips before cupping her ass and lifting her up. She wrapped her legs around him. Her fingers in his hair, pulling and demanding more. He trailed his lips down her neck, pulling her closer against him so he could better fit his cock against her.

“God, you feel so good.” He squeezed her ass, watching as she bit down on her lip, the move drawing his attention to that lush mouth of hers.

“I want to feel you,” she said, her voice husky with want. “But you need to put me down.”

He hated to let her go, but telling her no was an impossibility. “Touch away,” he said after he lowered her feet to the floor but let his fingers linger on her hips.

Then she did the last thing he expected: She let go. “Hands on the wall.”

He had a half second of hesitation before he did exactly as she wanted.

Palms pressed against the wall, he let out a tortured groan the second she wrapped her long fingers around his cock and started to stroke.

She paused. “Too tight?”

“Too good.”

She smiled up at him. “Let’s see if there’s room for improvement anyway.”

She slid her hand down to the base of his cock and sucked the head into her mouth. Jesus. It was soft and hard, wet and dry, slick and steady all in one instant. It was more pleasure than his brain could process, but there was no way in the world he was going to tell her to stop or slow down or anything at all—not in any small part because forming words was beyond his abilities right now. Up and down, in and out, over and over until his dick was so hard and wet and ready for more that he was grounding his molars together to keep from coming.

She wasn’t done with him, though. Her free hand cupped his balls, squeezing and rolling them with just enough power to take it even higher. Then she stroked a finger over the sensitive spot behind his balls at the same time that she took him in her mouth all the way to the back of her throat. He clenched his eyes shut and used every ounce of willpower he had to stay on the edge instead of spilling over. Hands curled into fists of desperation, he kept his knuckles pressed to the wall and teetered as she did something with her tongue that he didn’t have the vocabulary to describe but fucking A, did it feel good.

Too good, unless he wanted his part in this to be over too soon.

“Shelby,” he said, barely getting her name out.

She stopped and looked up, her eyes wide and her lips wet from sucking him. “You want something else?”

“I want it all.” He’d never said something truer in his life.

He reached down and pulled her up so she was standing, her legs spread wide and her back against the wall. Damn, she was beautiful. Unable to not give in to temptation, he took a step back and looked his fill, gripping his dick hard at the base to alleviate some of the pressure.

She smoothed her hands over her curves. “You like what you see?”

“I love what I’m about to taste.”

He went to his knees in front of her and buried his face in her sweet pussy. She was slick and ready for him. Hands on the inside of her strong thighs, he explored her with his tongue, tasting her desire, and she moaned and rocked against his face. Oh yeah, his Shelby wanted what he could give her.

Looking up at her as he leaned back on his heels and circled her clit with his thumb, he savored having her on his lips. “So very good, aren’t you?”

“Ian,” she said, her voice getting breathy. “Don’t play with me.”

“You don’t want me to go slow and take my time?” Was he being an ass? Absolutely.

“No.”

“What do you want, Shelby?”

She let out a desperate moan. “You know.”

“Say it.” It wasn’t that he didn’t want to take the time to explore her. God, did he. However, there was something about seeing her demand what she wanted, pull in control, and take it that he was desperate to see.

“I want to come.” She rotated her hips as if she couldn’t help but move like she wanted to be touched. “I need it.”

“Are you gonna ride my face?”

She got a look in her eyes—bright and intense—as she exhaled a shaky breath. “Yes.”

“Are you going to use my mouth to get off?” He took her hand, moving it over his lips, sucking on her fingertips as he did.

“Yes.”

“Then do it.” And he leaned forward, tongue pressing to her clit and his fingers slowly circling her entrance.

She didn’t take it easy on him, and he loved it. Fingers in his hair, she steered him where she wanted him, urging him to go harder, faster, slower, softer as she rocked against his mouth until she let out a cry and came on his lips.

…

With her back against the wall and her thighs shaking, Shelby tried to catch her breath. Good God. How in the hell was she still upright?

Ian stood up in front of her and leaned in, kissing her with a possessive intensity that had her body aching for him. The bed was too damn far. That chair over there, though. That was an option.

Without hesitating, she dipped underneath his arms and walked to the club chair. Giving him a sassy look, she winked and then bent over the back of the chair, keeping her legs spread.

“Fuck,” Ian said, the single word sounding more like a prayer than a curse. “I could look at you spread out like this for me all night.”

She looked back and gave him a mock glare. “Don’t you dare.”

“You’re done waiting, huh?” he asked, obviously teasing her as he rolled on a condom while crossing to her. “I know the feeling.” He slid the tip of his dick over her slick core. “Damn, baby. I love the sight of this. The feel of you. Everything. I love it all.”

It wa just the high of the moment, she knew that, but still it would be easy to believe he meant more because the truth was she wanted it to.

He liked her.

She was falling for him.

Before the potential impact of that important distinction could hit, though, Ian sank into her, pushing away everything except for how he made her feel. Hands on her hips, he squeezed just enough to anchor her to him as he slid in and out of her, going a little bit deeper each time until she was filled with him. Already primed by her first orgasm, her body responded to the rhythm they set together. After each stroke forward, he pulled her back against him as he pistoned in and out of her, hard, demanding, just what she needed. This wasn’t about making love. It wasn’t about release. This was desperation and need and knowing that no matter how much she got, it wouldn’t be enough. She wasn’t sure it ever could be. When it came to Ian Petrov, she didn’t want now—she wanted forever.

“Fuck, baby. So damn good.” He reached a hand around the front of her waist and slipped two fingers between her legs. “I want to feel you come around my dick.”

With the way he was circling her clit, that wasn’t going to be a problem.

“That’s it. Rock against me. Show me what you want.”

She arched her back, changing the angle enough so that his cock rubbed against her entrance at just the right spot. Her thighs quivered as she tensed, her climax tightening into a ball of energy until it exploded, her orgasm slamming into her.

Ian’s grip tightened as she rode the wave of pleasure and he pumped into her once, twice more before burying himself as deep as he could and coming hard.

As they sank to the floor, sated, exhausted, both still floating a bit, Shelby blocked out that little voice that was already starting to whisper evil nothings in her ear. It was just the one last time. It may have meant more to her than to him, but that was okay. It wasn’t like a relationship between the two of them could work out. They’d both worked too hard to get to where they wanted to be in the hockey world to lose it all now.

“Stop thinking so loud.” He dropped the used condom in the nearby trash can and then scooped her up and carried her to the bed. “Nap first. Round two second.”

She loved the sound of that, but it probably wasn’t the best plan of action. “Who said you could stay the night?”

He sat down on the bed with her, pulling the covers up over her. “Do you want me to go?”

Ignoring the warning siren blaring in her head, she told the truth. “No.”

He smiled and tucked an arm around her waist, pulling her in snugly against him. “Good.”

Unlike at the cabin, Ian was out in minutes while she stared at the ceiling for an hour wondering what was going to happen next before finally drifting off without any answers about what was going to happen next.