Kristen knew what tonight it was. Even without the text messages blowing up Will’s phone and causing him to get increasingly quiet over the course of the day, she would have known it was time for the All-Star Game. It was pretty much a Burke high holiday, though she usually opted out.
She’d talked to Erik on the phone that morning, while Will was in the shower. She’d called her brother to wish him luck, just as she always did before a game that meant something to him, but Will had yet to mention any of the All-Star events, even in passing. He certainly hadn’t brought up the fact Erik had won the accuracy competition in the skills events last night. But she assumed the constant attention to his phone meant he was either getting notifications or he had teammates in St. Louis who were sending him updates.
He hadn’t mentioned watching it, though she would have broken her no hockey on my TV rule if he brought it up. She wasn’t going to volunteer to sit through it if she didn’t have to, though.
“Do you want to get out of here?”
He looked up from his phone when she spoke, his brow furrowed. His expression cleared within seconds, but it confirmed her suspicion his mood was tied to whatever was on his screen. “Where do you want to go?”
Unfortunately, she hadn’t thought that far ahead. “I don’t know. We could see a movie or a show. There are museums and the aquarium and... Hell, I don’t know.”
“I’m not being very good company,” he said, leaning forward to toss the phone onto the coffee table.
“You don’t have to be, you know,” she told Will, sitting next to him on the couch sideways so she could see him, with her legs tucked under her. “I know you’d rather be in St. Louis right now.”
He leaned back against the couch with a heavy sigh. “It’s not easy not being there, I guess.”
“Are all the messages you’re getting from there?”
“Yeah. Mitchell’s there, along with a few other guys I know. Dev Mitchell, he’s been with the Harriers almost as long as I have. We’re pretty close friends.”
“I recognize the name.”
He chuckled. “I don’t imagine your brother’s a big fan of his, either.”
“I don’t know if Erik’s talked about him a lot. Some, I’m sure. But I also hear things. Sports recaps if I have the news on. Televisions in bars. I just know I’ve heard the name before. Did he get your spot?”
“That’s not exactly how it works, but let’s just say if I was healthy, he’d probably be sitting on the couch with his wife, getting text messages from me.” As he said it, his phone vibrated, and she saw his body tense as if he was going to reach for it, but he didn’t. “I should probably just turn that off.”
“Do you want to watch it?”
“Were you planning to?”
“No,” she said honestly, and then she shrugged. “But we can. I’ll make popcorn.”
He frowned. “Popcorn?”
“Fine, I can order some wings, and we can drink beer and get buffalo sauce on my couch.”
“That’s how you watch hockey.” He rested his arm on the back of the couch and reached for her hair, twirling it around his finger. “But we don’t have to watch the game. That’s not exactly your idea of a fun Saturday night.”
“Not everything’s about me.” She laughed when he gave her a very exaggerated look of shock. “Be honest with me. Do you want to watch the game, or will it just make you feel shitty because you’re missing it?”
“I’d like to watch it. I know all the guys playing, and I don’t usually get to enjoy it from the comfort of a couch because, let’s be honest—” He paused to raise his eyebrow in a way that would have come off as arrogant if it wasn’t ruined by the fact he was trying to keep a straight face. “I’m usually in it.”
She groaned and got to her feet. “Okay, let’s make a deal. You walk down to the market with me because we’re almost out of food and you drank the last of my milk. When we get back, we’ll order in pizza and wings and watch the game.”
His expression brightened, and his dark eyes crinkled when he smiled. “That sounds like a hell of a good deal.”
Before she could walk away, intending to make a list of things to tide them over until she made a proper run to the grocery store, he snagged her hand and pulled her onto his lap.
She braced her hands on the back of the couch, one arm on either side of his head, as his hands skimmed over her back and then cupped her ass. “You’re going to make me forget what I need to put on the shopping list.”
“Milk,” he said. “And some other stuff.”
He kissed her before she could point out it was the other stuff she needed to figure out, but as soon as his lips touched hers, she stopped caring. That’s what delivery was for.
She moaned when he caught her lip between his teeth with just enough pressure to make her squirm before kissing that spot. His tongue slipped between her lips, and she buried her hand in his hair, her fingers sliding through the soft strands.
But when he slid his hand up the back of her shirt, stroking bare skin, she ignored the hunger that was always there but definitely flared up when he had his hands on her, and she broke off the kiss.
“You’re trying to get out of going to the market,” she said.
“No, I’m not. I’m just…delaying our departure a little.”
Laughing, she slapped at the hand he was not-very-stealthily sliding up to her breast. “I’m not getting naked and then getting dressed again to go to the store.”
“Milk is overrated anyway.”
“You won’t be saying that when you have to drink your coffee black in the morning.”
She watched his expression as the battle waged—the erection currently pressed against the inside of her thigh versus waking up to no milk for their coffee—and then he sighed. “I hate coffee with no milk.”
“Then do some algebra in your head or something while I make a list.” She climbed off his lap and moved out of his reach before he could change his mind.
“I was always really good at algebra, you know. It’s way too easy for it to distract me from picturing you naked.” When she gave him a skeptical look, he shrugged. “What? Didn’t I mention I got my degree with high honors?”
“Then think about something hard.” Before he could even open his mouth, she rolled her eyes and turned away. “Save it.”
His laughter filled the apartment and she shook her head, opening the shopping list app on her phone and adding milk before opening the fridge to figure out what else they needed. But when she went to open the pantry, the box she’d set on the end of the counter caught her eye. It was a gift from Annie and Kara, one of Kristen’s other friends, and she’d forgotten about it until now.
She’d have to remember that gift when they got back from the market, she thought, because what was in that box would definitely cheer him up.
“For a woman who hates hockey, you sure have a lot to say about it.” Will couldn’t remember the last time he’d enjoyed an All-Star Game he wasn’t skating in. It had been years, though. Before his attendance had become something of a given and watching had reinforced his drive to make the cut.
But watching a game with Kristen was a hell of a lot more fun than he would have thought. While she might have chosen to turn her back on the sport, it was very obvious she’d been raised a Burke.
“What’s the point of bringing all the best players in the league—except you, of course—in to play if you’re going to bring refs that don’t know what freakin’ tripping looks like?”
He tried not to laugh, but he couldn’t help it. “You do know this game doesn’t really count, right? It’s just for fun.”
“I’m sure the guy that just kissed the ice thought it was super fun.”
“Burke got a goal. That should put you in a good mood. And Mitchell got one.”
She sighed as the network cut to a commercial, and she stood up. Usually she was curled against him when they watched TV, but she had a tendency to use her hands a lot when she was ranting, and the last thing he needed was the Hometown Hoser finding out he’d taken another shot—even accidentally—to the face from another Burke.
When she started gathering up the debris from the pizza and wings they’d been snacking on for an hour, he was going to get up, but she waved him back. “I’ve got this. I can work off some of my frustration with this stupid sport.”
He wasn’t about to miss that opening. “You know what’s a good way to work off frustration?”
“So smooth, Lecroix,” she said, rolling her eyes for good measure. “However can I resist such a charming line?”
“Can’t blame a guy for trying.”
“Watch your game. I’m going to load the dishwasher and then change into TV-watching clothes. I ate too much.”
When she was done in the kitchen and went into the bedroom, he thought about following her, but the announcer started talking about the season Mitchell was having, and Will turned his attention back to the television. He was happy as hell for his friend, but the need to be back with his team was a constant, nagging ache that never quite went away.
Movement in the corner of his eye caught his attention, and he realized Kristen was back. He was about to make a smart-ass comment about how much he’d missed her commentary, but when he turned to look at her, his brain stopped giving him any signals except instant lust.
The Harriers red and white home jersey hung halfway down her thighs, but when she lifted her arms to show off the emblem in the center, the hem lifted almost enough so he could see if she was wearing panties under it.
It didn’t matter if she was because she wouldn’t be for long.
“My friends couldn’t believe I didn’t have my boyfriend’s jersey, so they ordered me one,” she said, the corners of her mouth turning up as he pushed himself to his feet.
Boyfriend. It didn’t matter that it had started as a lie they told the rest of the world. That’s exactly who he was. And his girl was wearing his jersey.
“Do you like it?” she asked, and just as he was about to reach her, she turned around so he could see the back.
LECROIX.
Seeing his name in big block letters across her back triggered something deep inside of him—something raw and primal—and he gathered the fabric below his number in his fist and pulled her backward until her body hit his.
When her ass ground against his erection through the fly of his jeans—and no, she wasn’t wearing anything under the jersey—they both moaned, and he gathered her hair in his fist, lifting it off the letters.
“I guess you do like it,” she said in that low, husky voice that forced him to undo his jeans just to relieve some of the pressure. “Do you get off on me wearing your number?”
He got off on her wearing his name, but he wasn’t sure he was ready to talk about how hard that realization hit him. And he wasn’t sure how she’d feel about that. “I get off on you. Everything about you turns me on. Your laugh. The way you give your hair a little twist when you pull it free of your collar. And yes, I get off on seeing you in my jersey.”
“I don’t want to distract you from your game,” she said in a far-too-innocent voice, considering she’d taken his free hand and was guiding it under the hem of the jersey, eliminating any doubt she wasn’t wearing underwear.
He tightened his other hand in her hair and tilted her head to the side so he could kiss her neck. “What game?”
When he dipped his hand between her thighs and she made a low groaning sound in her throat, he was surprised his knees didn’t buckle. She was wet already, and he stroked her until she whimpered and tried to pull away.
“You started it,” he whispered against her ear. “I think you get off on wearing my jersey, too.”
“The way you looked at me…” The words trailed off into a moan as he pressed his fingertips over her clit.
Then he withdrew his hand and turned her around to face the couch before pressing down on her back to bend her over. She braced her hands on the arm of the couch, and he ran his hands down the back of the jersey, allowing himself a few seconds to savor that rush of possessiveness, before he got down on his knees behind her.
He heard her gasp when he closed his mouth over her pussy, and he sucked hard on her clit before circling his tongue around it. Alternating between licking and sucking, he didn’t let up until her skin was hot under his touch and her legs were trembling.
Then he brought his hand into it, pressing his thumb deep into her until she said his name in a pleading tone that almost sent him over the edge. He withdrew his thumb so he could circle her clit with it, his tongue dipping inside of her until he felt her muscles trembling and she made that sound that always rocked his world.
He curled his free arm around her thighs, holding her while his thumb circled her clit so she wouldn’t fall while the orgasm racked her body. And when it had passed, he ran his hand over the cheek of her ass and gave her a moment to catch her breath.
“Jesus, Will,” she muttered against the battered leather before pushing herself upright.
When she turned in his arms, her flushed face turning up to face him, Will’s dick throbbed so badly, he was afraid he was going to embarrass himself. “I don’t have a condom, so let’s take this to the bedroom.”
She frowned and pulled him to the front of the couch. “We’re supposed to be watching the game.”
Will had forgotten there even was a game the second he’d laid eyes on her, and he hoped this wasn’t some kind of twisted revenge plot she’d come up with to punish him for having hockey on her television. Sitting through a game in his current condition could be harmful to his health.
But then she yanked his open jeans down, taking his boxer briefs with them, and gave him a little shove. Since his pants were around his knees, he didn’t have a lot of choice but to fall onto the couch cushion.
It only took her a few seconds to pull the clothes off of his legs and toss them aside. Then she bent over and ran her hands up his thighs. His knees spread wider without any conscious thought on his part, and she settled between them.
“Now you can watch the game,” she teased.
Yet he wasn’t watching anything but Kristen as she wrapped her hand around his dick and stroked the length with a firm grip. Her tongue flicked over her bottom lip, and he stared at her mouth as she lowered it so excruciatingly slowly that he felt himself straining upward to meet her.
He closed his eyes as her lips surrounded him, and as she took in his length, he knew there wasn’t an algebraic equation ever written that could distract him from the wet heat of her mouth. Savoring the moment and making it last was out of the question.
Opening his eyes, he pushed her hair back from her face so he could watch as her mouth moved up and down his shaft, her tongue flicking over the tip in between each stroke. He whispered her name and then groaned when she wrapped her hand around the base of his dick, squeezing as her lips slid down to meet her fingers over and over, each time a little faster.
His hips bucked when he came, and she held him with one hand against his thigh as she swallowed, stroking him softly until the tremors passed and he let his head fall against the cushion.
When she stood, he shifted to his side and hauled her down to cuddle against him. It was slightly awkward, since he was wearing a shirt and no pants, but he just wanted to hold her for a few minutes.
But then she made a satisfied sound and ran her hand down the arm he’d flung across her before lacing their fingers together, and suddenly he didn’t care that he wasn’t wearing pants.
He was going to hold Kristen for as long as she’d let him.