Rachel Gibson - True Love and Other Disasters

He reached for her and she danced out of his grasp. “This is killing me,” he said, his voice a lusty gravel. “Come slide your little hand into my pants, and I’ll slide my hand into yours.”

“That’s real tempting, but I’m pretty sure that’s against the rules.” She turned with her back to him and sat, grinding her bare behind into him. His palms slipped up her back and he unhooked her bra.

“That’s definitely against the rules.”

“Fuck the rules.” He kissed her spine and slid his hand up her stomach to cover her naked breasts. “We don’t play by the rules.”

You’d be surprised at the number of men who slipped their number in my G-string.”

Ty wouldn’t be surprised at all. Faith lay with her head on his bare chest, brushing her fingers across his stomach. The tips of her short nails spread fire to his belly and groin and if he had the time, he’d make love to her again. If he had time, he’d damn sure have her dance for him again. She’d been beautiful and erotic and he’d loved it. “Did you call any of them?”

She looked up at him and rolled her eyes. “Sure. Like I would ever date a man I met in a strip club.”

“I’ve hung out in a strip club a time or two.”

“I’m not surprised. Strip clubs attract jocks and musicians like ants to a picnic.”

“I haven’t been in a few years,” he defended himself, although he wasn’t quite sure why he felt the need to. He ran his hand down the smooth skin of her back. “My father still loves the strippers.”

“Which explains his attraction to my mother.”

“Your mother was a stripper?” Again, no big surprise.

“Yep. She was a stripper and sometimes a cocktail waitress.”

“Sounds like she worked hard.”

“She did. She played hard too. I was alone a lot.”

“Where is your father?” She rubbed her foot on the inside of his calf and came dangerously close to kneeing him in the nuts.

“I haven’t seen him since I was little.”

He rolled her onto her back and looked down into her face. “You’ve never tried to find him?”

“Why? He didn’t want to know me. Why would I want to know him?”

Good point.

She pushed a piece of blonde hair from her face. “What about your mother?”

He fell onto his back and looked up at the ceiling. He didn’t like to talk about his mother. “What about her?”

“Where does she live?”

“She died about five years ago.”

“I’m sorry.”

He looked across the pillow at her. “Don’t be.

She wasn’t.” He ran his gaze across her beautiful face. Her green eyes and long lashes. Her perfect nose and the bow of her full pink lips. “My father has always said that she was crazy, but that’s because he never tried to understand her.”

She turned on her side. “Did you?”

He shrugged. “She was very emotional. Laughing one minute, crying the next. She never got over the divorce, and I don’t think she had a real interest in living after that.”

“When did your parents divorce?”

“I was ten.”

She looked into his face and her smile was sad when she said, “I think my mother was on her third divorce when I was ten. I used to ride my bike to dance classes at the Y so that I didn’t have to think about it.”

He pictured a little girl on a pink Schwinn, her blonde ponytail flying behind her. “I played hockey twelve months out of the year.”

“Well, all that hard work paid off.”

He’d had great coaches to fill the voids in his life. Good men and mentors. He wondered if she’d ever had anyone. He bet not. “So did your dance classes.”

She laughed. “Yeah, but not with the moves I learned as a kid. I had to learn all new moves.”

He liked her moves. Especially tonight. While it was true that he’d played great hockey Monday night, he really didn’t believe it had anything to do with sex. He’d just used it as an excuse to be with her. He loved the touch of her skin beneath his hands and the look of pleasure in her eyes when he was buried deep inside her. He was quickly becoming addicted to the sound of her pleasure and knowing he was the one giving it to her. Even on days when he told himself he didn’t have time for her, he managed to hook up with her anyway.

Ty sat on the edge of the bed and scrubbed his face with his hands. She was an addiction. Why else would he risk everything to be with her? How else could he explain it to himself?

“Are you leaving so soon?” she asked as she moved behind him and wrapped her arms around his shoulders. Her breasts pressed into his bare back and he fought the urge to turn and push her back down on the mattress.

“I have to go before I’m missed.” He wanted to ask more questions about the little girl on the bike. To spend all night discovering all the moves she’d learned.

She softly kissed the side of his neck. “I’ll miss you.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow night after work.” He looked into her eyes a few inches from his and wondered how much she’d miss him. “I have a game to win. And a few more after that.”

She sat back on her behind and wrapped her arms around her knees. She looked up at him as he stood and got dressed. “What are you going to do after you win the cup? Are you going to take a long vacation?”

“I never think that far ahead.” He stepped into his boxer briefs and adjusted his package.

“You never think about what you’re going to do after you win?”

“Sure. After I win, I’m going to skate around with the cup over my head.” He pulled up his trousers and looked at her, sitting in the middle of the bed, naked and perfect. “My focus has always been on winning. For as long as I can remember, that’s been my goal.” He’d never really thought beyond that. “I’ll work out and keep the body in shape so I won’t show up at camp fat and out of shape like some of the guys.” He reached for his dress shirt on the end of the bed and shoved his arms inside. But as he worked the buttons, he thought about Faith in a bikini, lounging on a sandy beach beside him. The sun warming her smooth skin. Maybe she’d have on a floppy hat and big sunglasses.

A frown settled between his brows. She didn’t even want to have dinner with him at a secluded restaurant in Bellevue. She’d made it real clear what she did want, and she was right. There could never be more between them than clandestine sex. And really good lap dances. Especially now with those billboards plastered all over Seattle. He’d never been featured in a tabloid, but he imagined that a photo of him lounging on the beaches of Mazatlan with the owner of the Chinooks might make it into the pages. So why was he even thinking about it?

Faith watched Ty’s big hands close his shirt over his hard abs and defined pecs and wondered what had put the frown on his face. “I understand about single-minded goals,” she said as she rose from the bed and grabbed a hotel robe from the closet. “My whole goal in life was to have so much money that I didn’t ever have to worry about how I was going to pay the bills.”

“I’d say you pretty much exceeded your goal.” He closed the last button, then tucked the tails into his trousers.

“Yeah. I did, and once I reached it, I was kind of aimless. I didn’t realize how aimless until now.” She slid her arms into the rich terry-cloth robe and tied the belt around her waist. “Now I have a new goal. A better goal, and one that I never even dreamed I’d ever have in a million years. It’s really scary, but I’m enjoying it. Which is kind of scary too.”

He glanced up, then returned his attention to his black leather belt. “What’s that?”

“The Chinooks. I certainly never thought I’d own a hockey team. And if I’d ever even given it a thought, I wouldn’t have ever thought I’d actually come to like it.” She folded her arms beneath her breasts. “It’s a huge responsibility, and for the past few years I’ve been all about letting someone else take care of everything. Now, I’m learning to like the responsibility. I like owning the Chinooks so much, that I’m actually looking forward to the drafts.”

He looked up at her. “Who are you looking at?”

“A few top prospects. When I get back, Darby and I are viewing some tapes of two-way defenders.”

He chuckled as he gazed across the room. “Do you know what a two-way defender is?”

“Someone who can defend and score.” She shrugged. “At least that’s what I

think it means.”

“You’re right. That’s pretty much what it means.” He moved toward her. “Keep your eyes open for a big, hard-nosed checker. Don’t worry so much about the kid’s speed. Skating can be improved.” He wrapped his hand around the robe’s belt and pulled her against him. “If I don’t talk to you again until we get back to Seattle, don’t get bent out of shape again.” He pressed his lips to her forehead.

“You’ll be thinking about me?”

He shook his head and his lips brushed across her skin. “I’m going to try like hell not to think about you.”

The different tones and pitches of more than thirty snoring men filled the cabin of the BAC-111 as it circled Boeing Field and prepared to land. Hours earlier, the Chinooks had suffered a crushing 3–4 loss to Detroit. Game Five of the series was two days away and Faith figured Ty would need the full two days to recover from a brutal hit he’d taken at center ice from Detroit enforcer Darren McCarty.

A few plays later, Ty had put a hit on McCarty in the corner that had crumpled the Red Wing to the ice. “McCarty caught me with my head down,” Ty had told the press later that night. “Then I caught him with the puck.”

Later that night, Faith saw firsthand the extent of Ty’s bruises. He was black and blue on his right side and red across his back and hard stomach. It looked like he’d been hit by a baseball bat instead of a hockey enforcer. Ty was sore and battered and when they made love over the next few days, Faith was thoughtful enough to climb on top.