Playing to Win(13)

"Nothing in common?" he asked.

Not for lack of trying, she thought, not proud of the bitterness that  seeped in as she remembered the hours of her childhood she'd spent  camped out on the couch, watching sports with her father, learning  player names and stats, anything that might engage him in a more  meaningful dialogue than, "What should we order for supper tonight,  kids?"

"Well, he really loves his hockey."

"Is that why you took this job?" he asked, and she wondered at that.

Indirectly, she supposed, it was the reason behind every job she'd ever  held. It was definitely the reason she strove to succeed in sports  reporting. She craved her father's acceptance so blatantly that she was  sure any psychologist worth her salt could pick her out of a lineup. Add  that to her mother's long shadow, and it was pretty clear what drove  Holly.

"Yes. Mostly. I stop by his place once a week to make him dinner. I'd hoped maybe it would give us something to talk about."

It didn't work any better now than it had then, though, which was why  she always timed dinner duty to coincide with a game she was covering  for one of her freelance writing gigs-hockey, basketball,  baseball-didn't really matter.

Keeping track of the game and taking notes for her articles always made the uncomfortable silence pass more quickly.

"I thought this job would impress him," she confessed. "But it hasn't.  I'm not sure what the problem is. Maybe he hates the questions as much  as you do. Before my mom died, I remember doing a lot of stuff with him.  I miss that."

Holly often found herself wondering if her earliest memories were  actually memories, or just dreams she made up of what a great family  they'd been before cancer had stolen so much from her. "I want to ask  him why we don't hang out or talk the way we used to, but I always  chicken out."                       
       
           


       

Luke nodded as they took the exit that led to her neighborhood. "That's  not just you. For the most part, my dad and I get along great, but  family emotions can be tough to navigate. There's stuff I can't bring up  with him, either." He paused. "Sometimes I worry that my parents blame  me for what happened to Ethan."

Oh, God. Holly hadn't seen that coming, and it hit her like a kick to  the gut. Did Luke really harbor that much guilt over an event that had  been completely out of his control?

"The whistle blew. The game stopped. There was no warning when the hit came," he whispered.

He did a double take when she put a comforting hand on his arm. The  startled look on his face, like she'd pulled him out of a memory, made  her wonder if he'd meant to say that aloud.

He cleared his throat, motioning toward the upcoming turnoff. "This is  the one?" he asked, effectively shifting the rest of their drive to a  strictly navigator/navigatee dynamic.

When they rolled up to the curb in front of her house, she did her best  to remove any pity from her smile, despite her breaking heart. "Thanks  for the ride."

"No problem." To her surprise, he switched off the truck. "I'll walk you to the door."

They sauntered in silence up to the porch, side by side, in the chill  of the night air. Their footsteps and the faint sound of distant cars  were the only break in the quiet until they arrived at the front step.  Her keys jangled as she pulled them from her purse and unlocked the  door.

"Thanks so much for the ride, Luke. I really appreciate it."

"Not a problem. I just wanted to make sure you got home safe."

"And here I am," she said, motioning at her surroundings. "Safe."

"I guess I'll see you when we get back from Colorado then."

She nodded, and there was a weird moment where she wasn't sure if he  was going for a hug or a handshake, and somehow it morphed into a bit of  both, with a surprise cheek kiss thrown in for good measure.

"Good night, Holly."

"Good night."

With a smile, Holly stepped inside and pushed the door closed behind  her. She dropped her purse and keys on the small table in the  entranceway. Tonight had been...incredible. From the sexy encounter in  the players' box, to laughing with Luke without a care in the world, to  navigating some emotionally dense daddy issues while he drove her home.

Even the awkward cheek kiss had been kind of perfect. In a way, it was  representative of this crazy friend-or-foe relationship they had going  on. And suddenly, and with complete clarity, she knew that if she didn't  do something, right then and there, to foster whatever fragile, new  thing had bloomed between them tonight, then it would be lost forever.

She yanked the door back open with two hands, ready to run down the street after his truck if she had to.

Instead, she found him standing on the step, arm arrested in knocking-position.

* * *

HE'D BEEN ABOUT to rap on the door when she'd suddenly pulled it out of the way.

Luke had meant to leave, he really had, but he'd barely made it down  the steps before he'd turned around. The prospect of being alone tonight  was too much. Not with all that family stuff bubbling up in his brain.

He'd told her things he'd never said to anyone on the drive to her house. And the crazy part was, he was glad it'd been her.

She was addictive. A life raft in the midst of the sea of hockey that  had overtaken his world. And tonight he wanted to be selfish. He wanted  to do what he wanted, not what he should-consequences be damned.

"I can't stop thinking about you." He stepped toward her. And then his  hand was buried in her hair, and his lips were devouring her lips, and  she was pulling off his jacket as he pushed the door shut behind them.  And for the first time since the Portland Storm had made the play-offs,  Luke felt like he could breathe.

He was vaguely aware of the slap of his leather jacket hitting the  floor, but suddenly her arms were around his neck and she was kissing  him. His mind went incredibly, deliriously blank. With a growl of need,  he grabbed the backs of her thighs and hoisted her into his arms,  reveling in the press of their bodies as she wrapped her gorgeous legs  around his hips.                       
       
           


       

"Which way's the bedroom?" he managed to ask when they finally came up for air.

"Over there," she said with a vague motioning of her head. He  interpreted the gesture to mean he should turn down the hallway to their  left. "Then last door on the right."

Their mouths met deeply, frantically, as he did his best to navigate  without bumping into anything. He was eager to arrive at their  destination but not willing to miss any part of the journey. There was  something so elemental about carrying a woman to bed, kissing and  touching and driving each other crazy. Luke couldn't get enough of it.

But inevitably, even through the halcyon buzz and the rushing hormones,  Luke's responsible side made its presence known as they rounded the  corner into her bedroom. "Please tell me you have condoms."

"Um..." She pushed her hair back from her face, brown eyes glazed with  lust, lips swollen with his kisses and the rasp of his stubble.

He'd never wanted anyone so badly in his life.

"I don't think so. But I'm on the pill. So if you're..."

She trailed off, and he nodded reassuringly. "I am. In my line of work,  we get tested for everything-and I mean everything-regularly."

"I am, too," she said. "Clean, I mean."

Luke stood there, with Holly wrapped around him, and there was a breath  of anticipation in the air as they enjoyed that split second of  awareness that what they both so desperately wanted was about to happen.

And then that moment of restraint erupted into all-consuming flames. He  crushed her mouth with his own, lowering her onto the mattress and  following her down. They tugged off each others' clothes, revealing the  bend of an elbow, the curve of a hip, the camber of a thigh until  finally they were both naked.

She was as beautiful as he'd imagined, as he'd remembered, as he'd hoped. The kind of beauty that brought a man to his knees.

He pushed inside her, one long, deep stroke, and then, because he  couldn't wait, he did it again. And again. Losing himself in the rhythm,  taking everything he'd craved since they'd gotten down and dirty on the  rink boards, loving that the reality of their bodies together was  putting his fantasy to shame.

He braced himself on his elbows, trying to tell if she was as turned on  as he was, if she liked it, if she was pissed that he'd gone straight  for the main event and cheated her out of foreplay. But when he slowed  the pace of his hips, she opened her eyes and whispered, "Don't stop.  Just like that, Luke. Just like that."

His cock surged inside her and he increased his pace, loving the soft,  startled gasps of her pleasure and the bite of her fingernails against  his back.