Playing to Win(28)

She couldn't make her confession now. That would only screw with his  head more. As the cause of his messed-up equilibrium, the least she  could do for him now was to keep quiet.

Holly tucked her hair behind her right ear as she stepped toward him.  "Montana's notoriously weak on their left side, so just keep the  pressure on. Forecheck hard and whenever you get a shot on Krouse,  remember to shoot stick-side. His glove has been hot in the  post-season."

Luke grinned at the counsel. "Man. You weren't kidding when you said you know hockey."

"Kick the Wolfpack's ass tonight and I'll show you what else I know,"  she teased. It was a desperate attempt to keep the guilt from winning.

It didn't work.





12

IT WAS PAST midnight by the time Luke finished doing press and they'd  arrived back at his place. Still, when Luke walked out of his ensuite  bathroom wearing nothing but black sweatpants, Holly's weariness  dissipated at the prospect of making good on her promise. Luke had kept  up his end of the bargain and the Storm had come out victorious, downing  Montana 5 – 3.                       
       
           


       

"So, what have you got in store for me tonight?" he asked, joining her  on the bed. "And bear in mind that you're going to have to pull out all  the stops to impress me, since I am currently a man in possession of  flavored body oils and a tin of Altoids."

"Oooh! Flavored oils? Sounds fun! Where are you stashing 'em?" Holly  rolled onto her stomach and reached for the bottom drawer of the  nightstand closest to her.

"No! Not that one!" Luke practically vaulted over her, pulling open the small top drawer instead.

Holly shot him a frown. "What? Is that your fetish drawer, or something? You don't want me to find your ball gag?"

Oh my God, is Luke blushing? Her curiosity bubbled to new heights.

"It's nothing, okay? You wanted sexy oil, here it is." He pulled the  lube out and set it on the end table. "Ooh, look! Cherry flavored."

"Nice try." She couldn't keep the grin from her face. "What's in there, Luke?"

He shrugged but it looked painful, like his skin was too small for his  body. "Remember how we were going to have sex? Remember that fun plan?"

"But how am I supposed to really concentrate on doing naughty things to  your body when all I'll be able to focus on is what's in that drawer?"

"You are very bad at taking no for an answer, do you realize that?"

Holly shook her head and heaved an innocent shrug. "What can I say? Our  misogynistic culture has forced me to become a fighter, to believe in  my dreams and power through the glass ceiling. You're part of the  patriarchy, the reason I must pursue things with such single-minded  determination. Face it, Mags. You're fighting a losing battle here."

With weary defeat on his face, Luke flopped back onto the bed and slung  an arm across his face. "Fine. But you cannot, upon pain of death  and/or laryngitis whenever there's a camera on you, tell anyone what  you've seen here today."

Holly smiled graciously in victory. "What is it? What is it?" she  chanted, pulling open the drawer. "What the...?" To her utter amazement,  she found a pair of knitting needles attached to what she assumed was a  striped scarf. But as she began to pull, the haphazardness of the  striping became obvious, as did the never-ending length. "Seriously,  what is it?"

Luke heaved a long-suffering sigh. "I told you. It's nothing."

Holly was still searching for the end of the navy, white and teal  monstrosity. It was at least twice as long as she was tall and she still  hadn't pulled it all from its resting place yet. "It's a pretty long  nothing."

"It's just knitting, okay? My mom taught me."

Holly sat on the edge of the bed, yanking foot after foot of  inconsistent stripes into her lap. "Okay, you have got to tell me how  this came about."

Luke pulled his arm away from his face and stacked a pillow under his  head. "When I was young, I used to really dwell on stuff-especially  hockey games. If we lost, I'd go over it again and again, trying to  figure out what I did wrong, what I could do better. If we won, I'd try  to deconstruct what went right, how I could build on it. I was a pretty  intense kid, especially once my little brother started climbing the  hockey ranks. I'd get so deep in my head that I developed some pretty  bad insomnia."

Holly ran her hand across the yarn in her lap. She could imagine a  young Luke, solemn blue eyes, a determined set to his chin as he figured  out how to be faster, stronger and better, all in the name of the sport  he adored. He was still doing it.

"So she taught me how to knit. She said knitting would keep the  chattering part of my brain occupied so I could mull over only the most  important stuff and keep my thoughts really focused. She made the rule  that I could only go over the game until I was done knitting five inches  and then I had to put the yarn away."

He smiled. "It sounds dumb, but it worked. I would replay the game for  however long it took me to knit five inches, and then I was free. I  didn't have to think about it anymore. I've made one of these every  hockey season since."
                       
       
           


       
She held up the project in her hands. "All color-coded to your team, I hope."

Luke laughed at himself. "Yep. For my Portland Storm years, navy is a  loss, white is a win and teal is a tie. Every game is five inches of  knitting or purling and intense contemplation."

"So it's a good thing that this is mostly white then, huh?"

"Yeah, it was a pretty good season."

"And these thin teal lines at this end? That's the start of each play-off series?"

He nodded. "No ties in the play-offs, so that's my way of keeping track of how far we make it."

"You are a very surprising man, Luke Maguire. Just when I think I've  figured you out, you change the game. Although I'm pissed at you that  you told me that your secret talent was speaking French. This is way  cooler."

Luke rolled his eyes.

"I'm serious," she said, with a playful punch to his arm. "I just have one more question."

"Of course you do."

"How do you hide it from the other guys on road trips?"

Luke grinned. "Nobody ever thinks your World Junior Championship duffel bag is full of yarn."

"Hiding in plain sight." Holly laughed. "Well done."

She set the knitted record of the Storm's current season on the end  table. Every piece of himself that Luke revealed made Holly fall in love  with him just a little bit more.

How could she hurt someone she loved? And she would hurt him; that  seemed inevitable. But was it better to hide the truth from him and let  him have his win? Or come clean and destroy everything? There were no  easy answers. She only knew that she wanted him to be happy, and tonight  she could make him happy.

"I gotta say, that knitting was a much sexier find than a ball gag."

"Oh yeah?"

Holly nodded. "Yep. And now that my curiosity is sated, I find myself with plenty of naughty things percolating in my brain."

"You don't say."

"I do say," she countered, crawling over and straddling him. She  grabbed the end of his knitting project. "So here's the plan. We're  about to take your knitting to a whole new level."

* * *

LUKE LAY BACK against the pillows as she tied up one of his wrists  before looping the free end of the yarn monstrosity through the slatted  headboard. His body was already approving where she was going with this,  even before she'd finished fashioning the woolen shackle around his  other wrist.

Although his restraints could easily be slipped with a few tugs, her  foray into light bondage was turning him on in a big way. He loved the  satisfaction in her smile as she surveyed him, all trussed up and at her  disposal.

If he'd known knitting would score him this kind of action, he would have opened the damn drawer himself.

"So now what?" he asked, unable to hide the desire that was tenting his pants.

"Now," she said with a wicked grin, "we get to the naughty stuff."

"I was hoping you'd say that."

She leaned down and kissed him with a brute force he hadn't expected.  But he liked this take-charge side of her, the way her tongue plunged  into his mouth, the bite of her nails on his chest.

When she pulled back, the look on her face undid him. She was this  incredible mix of sweetheart and vixen, and the sugar-and-spice combo  was proving to be never-ending fun.

She maintained eye contact as she stood on the mattress, stripping off  her jacket, then her skirt. His breath came faster at the sight of her  curves, highlighted by a purple bra and matching panties.