I'm gone for this girl.
So gone.
I should be urging her to leave the locker room. My teammates could
come barreling in at any second—there wasn't much time left in the third period
before Doc Alex forced me to leave the ice so she could stitch me up.
But although common sense tells me this isn't a good idea, I'm helpless to
stop it. My surroundings disappear. When I inhale, I breathe in nothing but
Summer and Chanel No. 5.
Fuck it. I need this too much. She needs it too, otherwise she wouldn't have
said yes.
I curl one hand over the back of her neck and thrust the other one through her
hair. It feels like silk between my fingers.
"Colin," she whispers, and the sound of my name on her lips is what spurs
me to action.
I lower my head and press my lips to hers, and she makes the sweetest sound
in the world. A soft, desperate moan. Then she deepens the kiss and it's my turn
to moan. When our tongues meet, I feel like I've been struck by a Taser gun. A
jolt of electricity sizzles right down to my dick. Fries my brain. Makes my hands
shake.
She tastes like cola and mint, and her lips are so damn soft. We stand there in
the dark, her tongue in my mouth, my fingers in her hair. One of her legs comes
up and hooks around my waist. And I don't know if it's intentional or not, but
her foot nudges the edge of my towel, causing the terrycloth to slide to the floor.
Her mouth abruptly leaves mine. "Your dick's out," she informs me.
I choke on a laugh. "Yup."
"Cool." Humor colors her tone. "Just making sure you know."
Our gazes lock as she flattens one palm against my bare chest. Meanwhile,
my hard-on is impossible to ignore. It's like a sharp sword between us, poking
her in the belly.
Her fingertips drift lower. Only an inch, hovering over my abs. Despite the
steam still hanging in the air, I shiver.
Her hand stops moving. "Are you cold?"
"No," I say thickly.
I'm enjoying her slow, torturous exploration of my chest. Delicate fingers
caress my abdominal muscles before skimming even lower.
"Remember the night we met?" she murmurs. "When I teased you about
showing me your dick?"
A laugh slips out. "How could I forget?"
Her head slants, sending her silky hair cascading over one shoulder. "You
said you don't go around showing it to just anyone."
"I don't."
"So I'm special."
"Very much so."
Her fingers wrap around the base of my aching cock. The instant she makes
contact, a shudder rolls through me, and moisture forms at my tip. Jesus. I'm
leaking. That's how turned on I am.
She slides her hand up and down a few times. And then she actually tugs me
forward by the dick and crushes her lips against mine again.
I grunt, thrusting into her closed fist. My tongue fills her mouth and we
exchange the hottest kiss I've ever experienced. Once again I'm lost in the fog.
I'm lost in her. I barely feel the pain in my eye anymore. Right now, I'm kissing
Summer and she's stroking my cock and I'm in frickin' heaven.
When I drag my hands up her body to cup her tits over her thin V-neck
sweater, I promptly lose the ability to think straight. Even through her bra I can
feel her nipples, hard little buds that make my mouth tingle with need. I've
always been a boob guy, and I desperately wish I was sucking and nibbling on
her tits. The fantasy has me groaning loudly against her lips. She strokes me
faster, and just when I think it couldn't feel any better, she pushes my hands
away and sinks to her knees.
"Let me make you feel good."
I gaze down, but it's hard to see her expression. It's too dark. But I feel every
last sensation when her warm, wet mouth engulfs me.
"Oh fuck," I grind out.
She sucks me all the way to the root, then licks her way back up. Her tongue
teases my tip before gliding along the underside of my shaft, and I almost black
out.
"God…fuck, that's good…"
Her answering moan vibrates all around me. I swear I feel it in my toes. She
takes me deeper and sucks harder, pumping me with her hand while she torments
me with her tongue.
In the back of my mind I hear alarm bells. Stop this, they warn. But stopping
is impossible when Summer's blonde head is moving up and down on my dick.
My fingers tangle in her hair, but I don't seize control. I let her go at her own
pace, trusting that she'll get me where I need to be.
And she does. As the suction tightens and her pace quickens, my balls throb
and the tip of my dick tingles and then I'm there. "Coming," I choke out.
She doesn't release me. I bite the side of my thumb to stop from groaning out
loud as I rock my hips and shoot in her mouth. She swallows every drop while I
shudder in pleasure bordering on pain.
When Summer rises to her feet, I pull her close and rest my chin on her
shoulder. Still shaking from that climax.
"I needed that," I say hoarsely.
"I know you did." She plants a kiss between my pecs and brings her hand
back to my dick, petting it softly.
I break out in shivers. "You're killing me."
Her laughter tickles my collarbone. "Sorry. I just really like touching you."
She pauses. "I should probably go."
"Yeah."
"I don't want to."
"I don't want you to."
I feel her trembling as she kisses me again, this time the fleeting brush of her
lips over my shoulder. "What just happened here, Fitz?"
You blew my dick and my mind? I almost say. But I know what she means.
She wants to know what this means.
"I—"
"Hoo-hooo! Hoo-hooo!"
My head snaps up in alarm. Was that an owl?
"Oh shit," Summer blurts out. "That's the signal."
"Signal?"
"Yeah. Brenna is in the hall. I asked her to keep an eye out and make sure
nobody catches me in here."
She's barely finished speaking when we hear the voices. And the footsteps.
A lot of voices, and a lot of footsteps. My teammates are coming down the
tunnel.
Summer snatches my fallen towel off the ground and hurriedly wraps it
around my waist. Her fingers brush my dick, and I swallow a groan. I'm still
hard.
I take a breath and nod to a doorway on the far end of the showers. "The PT
room is in there. It leads to the coaches' offices, and there's another exit to the
arena from there."
The footsteps grow louder, accompanied by animated male voices and
raucous laughter. My teammates sound happy, which means we won.
"Summer," I say when she doesn't move. "You gotta go. And you better do
it fast, before the boys get in here and start pulling their dicks out."
She hesitates. "We need to finish this conversation."
"We will," I promise. "At home."
Her teeth dig into her lip. "Brenna and I are meeting friends at the bar."
"Then we'll talk at the bar. Or afterward. Right now, you need to go."
Summer nods. She stands on her tiptoes, gives me a kiss on the cheek, and
then she's gone.
I'M A PUSSY. I DON'T GO LOOKING FOR SUMMER AFTER THE GAME, AND I DON'T
go to Malone's. I also don't go home.
Like an asshole, I get in my car and drive to Boston.
My friend Tucker bought a bar in the city this past fall. I helped him with the
reno, getting it ready for its big opening in November. Doesn't surprise me that
the only person I want to confide in right now is Tuck. He's easy to talk to and
has a good head on his shoulders. Gives really smart advice too, and right now
I'm desperate for some advice.
I'm reaching the freeway exit when my phone rings. My car is an older
model and doesn't have the Bluetooth feature, so I'm forced to use
speakerphone. If it wasn't my mother's number flashing on the screen, I'd
probably press ignore. But ignoring Mom is never a good idea.
"Colin! Sweetie! Are you all right?" Her greeting holds a hefty dose of
concern.
"I'm fine. Why wouldn't I be?"
"Your Uncle Randy was at your game tonight, and he just sent me a phone
picture of your face!"
"You can just say 'picture,' Ma. You don't have to specify 'phone.'"
"But he sent it from his phone to my phone."
"Yes, but—" I stop myself from continuing. Pick your battles, man. My
mother isn't an old lady and therefore has no excuse for her total lack of
knowledge about anything tech-related. But she's also set in her ways and
arguing with her is pointless.
She still uses a BlackBerry, for chrissake.
"I promise, I'm fine. Got stitched up and now I'm good as new."
"How many stitches?"
"Only two."
"Okay." The worry leaves her tone. Unfortunately, it's replaced with anger.
"This is all your father's fault."
Here we go again.
"How do you figure?" I don't know why I'm playing along. I already know
the answer.
"Because he forced you into hockey."
"He didn't force me. I love hockey."
I may as well be speaking to my car windshield. "What a selfish prick that
man is," she gripes. "Come on, Colin. You don't think it's pathetic that a grown
man is trying to live vicariously through his son?"
My jaw tenses. No use in asking her to stop, though. Or vice versa. The pair
of them never stop. "In other news," I say in an attempt to steer the topic into
safe territory. "My job interview went well."
"You had an interview?" She sounds startled.
"Yup." I quickly fill her in on Kamal Jain as I get off the freeway and stop at
a set of red lights. "I guess he'll make his decision after this fundraiser thing in
New York."
"There's no decision to be made—you're clearly the best candidate," she
replies with the kind of unshakeable confidence only a mother can feel toward
her son.
"Thanks, Ma." I turn onto the street that houses Tuck's bar and click my
blinker to claim the last available parking spot at the curb. "I just got to my
buddy's and need to parallel park. I'll call you later this week."
"Sounds good. I love you." Does she? Sometimes I wonder.
"Love you too."
We hang up, and I experience the same sense of overwhelming relief as
when I got off the phone with my father last week.
I hop out of the car and glance at the neon signs lighting the front of
Tucker's bar. And there's actually a line at the door. Business is obviously
booming. Good for Tuck.
As I approach the sidewalk, I send him a quick text.
ME: Dude, I'm outside your bar. Not gonna make me freeze my nuts off in this
line, are ya?
Three dots appear as he types a response.
TUCK: I'm upstairs. Come up. And 4 future—tell bouncer ur name and he'll let
u in. Ur on the perma guest list
Sweet. I'm a VIP.
I bypass the front door and walk to the side of the building, where a narrow
door buzzes open the moment I reach it. I know Tuck is staring at me on a
camera right now. I helped him set up the system, which he can control entirely
from his smartphone. It makes it easier to get in and out of this place. Plus, he
takes security seriously. His baby girl and baby mama are the most important
things in the world to him.
"Hey," I say when I reach the second-floor loft.
Tuck greets me with baby Jamie on his hip. "Gaaah!" she shrieks when she
sees me.
I can honestly say she's one of the most beautiful babies I've ever seen. The
kid belongs in diaper commercials and on baby-food jars. She inherited the best
of both her parents, who are disgustingly attractive to begin with, especially
Sabrina.
Jamie's pink rosebud mouth opens, and she gives me a huge gummy smile.
Her arms flail in my direction.
Tuck sighs. "She's such a little attention seeker."
"Aw, I don't mind." I hold out my arms, and the six-month-old practically
somersaults into them. "She's gotten so big, man."
"I know. Swear to God, I turn around for five seconds and I look back and
she's doubled in size."
Jamie wiggles happily in my arms, her chubby hands instantly seeking out
the stubble on my face. She loves textures and is fascinated by colors. The last
time I saw her, she was in total awe of my tats.
"Are you sure you don't mind that I stopped by?" I ask as he shuts and locks
the front door.
"'Course not. You're welcome here any time, man."
"Where's Sabrina?"
"Study group."
"So late?" It's almost ten o'clock.
"Yup. That woman works her butt off." Deep pride resonates in his voice.
Sabrina is in law school, and, truth be told, I have no idea how she manages
to be a mom while studying to be a lawyer. Fortunately, she and Tuck have help
—his mother moved up here from Texas in December. Apparently she lives in
an apartment a few blocks away.
"How's your mom liking Boston?"
"She hates the cold with all her heart."
I grin. I imagine that February in Texas is a tropical paradise compared to
these frigid New England winters.
"But her place has a gorgeous view of the Charles. She says it's pretty to
look at, and she gets to see her granddaughter whenever she wants, so she's
happy. We all are."
"Sounds like you've got a good arrangement going on."
Tucker nods. He looks so blissed out as he stares at his daughter, who's still
running her teeny fingers all over my chin. She squeals every time she
encounters a stubbly whisker. "Want a beer?" he offers.
"Sure. But just one. I'm driving back tonight."
"We've only got cans. Jamie's really grabby lately, and she knocks shit off
the counters when we walk by. I've had to pick up broken glass enough times
that we just decided, fuck it. We're a beer-can family now."
"Cans are fine," I assure him. Still holding the baby, I accept the can of Peak
IPA, and we wander over to the couch.
The apartment features an open-concept layout with the living room on one
side, kitchen on the other, and dining area in the far corner. Floor-to-ceiling
windows offer a decent view of the small playground across the street, and a
hallway off the dining room leads to the bedrooms. I helped Tuck renovate one
of those rooms into a nursery for Jamie, and as I settle on the couch cushions and
reposition her in my lap, I wonder why she's not currently in that nursery.
"Shouldn't she be asleep?"
"I was getting ready to feed her. Actually, she was screaming her lungs out
about thirty seconds before you got here. She literally just settled."
"Liar. This beautiful angel could never scream her lungs out," I retort as I
tickle one of Jamie's socked feet. "Look at how sweet and calm she is."
Jamie chortles in delight.
"Fuck off. She's acting sweet and calm because we've got company. She's a
little terror in real life. Aren't you, darlin'?"
The baby gazes at her father with pure adoration.
Tuck immediately caves. "I take it back," he tells his daughter. "You're not a
terror. Fitz, entertain the princess while I prep her bottle."
That's no hardship. I bounce Jamie on my knee and tickle her tummy over
her pink onesie while she makes the cutest noises. Damn, this kid is frickin'
cute.
"So what's going on?" Tucker calls from the kitchen. "It's not like you to
show up out of the blue. Especially on game night. That shot to your eye looked
brutal, by the way."
"You saw it?"
"Yeah, I was flipping between your game and Garrett's. His is still on.
Second period."
"G's playing tonight?" I look over at the TV, but a commercial for laundry
detergent is flashing on the screen.
"Yeah. He has a series of road games coming up. Playing LA tonight."
"What's the score?"
"Two all. G's looking good."
"One of those goals his?"
"No. One assist, though."
"Sweet." I'm thrilled for the success Garrett's been having in his rookie
season with Boston. He's so frickin' talented, and he also happens to be a
genuinely decent guy. A bit cocky, sure. Definitely a smartass. But he's got a big
heart, and he's a good friend.
"Dammit, Fitz." Tuck's southern drawl rears its head as he chastises me.
"You managed to distract me again. Why aren't you celebrating tonight's W at
Malone's?"
I shrug. "Wasn't in the mood for people."
"Okay. Then why aren't you at home?"
Because one of my roommates gave me a BJ tonight, and I don't know how
to act around her.
"I… It's complicated." I keep my gaze on the top of Jamie's head. "Dean's
sister lives with us now."
"I heard." Tucker's tone is cautious. "How's that working out?"
Well, she gave me a BJ tonight, and I don't know how to act around her.
"Pretty good." I keep my own tone vague and smatter kisses on Jamie's soft
cheek, making her giggle again. But it isn't long before my baby shield is taken
away from me.
"You ready, little one?" Tuck drawls. "Mama pumped this yummy goodness
out just for you."
I snort loudly.
At the sight of the bottle, Jamie's face lights up. A few moments later, she's
sucking happily on a nipple. With a pillow propped under his elbow and a
contented baby in his arms, Tuck grins at me.
"She still into you?" he asks.
"Jamie? Yeah, she loves me."
He rolls his eyes. "I'm talking about Summer Di Laurentis. I remember last
winter she had a thing for you. Is that still the case?"
"Yup."
"I see." He looks like he's trying not to smile. "What about you? Do you
return the sentiment?"
After a reluctant beat, I dip my head in assent.
His smile breaks free. "Then what's the problem? You worried about how
Dean's going to react?"
"No. I…" I puff out another breath. "I don't know if I want to go there."
Then you probably shouldn't have let her blow you tonight.
Maybe not, but clearly I don't possess any control when it comes to Summer.
She makes me do the most uncharacteristic things. Well, she doesn't make me. It
just happens. I let her blow me in the locker room, for chrissake. Anyone
could've walked in on us, and for a dude who hates PDA, drama, and attention, a
public hookup definitely doesn't top my bucket list.
And it's funny—because wasn't I telling myself the other night that if
Summer was throwing herself at me, then I'd be challenging Hunter's claim to
her? Well, there's no misinterpreting her intentions toward me anymore. I
haven't been friend-zoned. Her actions tonight proved that.
But rather than stake a claim, I ran away.
I drag both hands though my hair, which is getting too long for my liking. I
prefer it out of my eyes when I'm drawing. "Hunter has a thing for her too," I
tell Tuck.
"Oh."
"Yeah. And she kissed him on New Year's."
His reddish brows shoot upward. "Oh?"
"But tonight…" I stop.
"Tonight what?"
"She showed up in the locker room after I got stitched up and we kissed." I
pause. "And maybe a bit more."
"Define more."
"She sucked my dick in the showers."
Tucker jerks in surprise, and the nipple pops out of Jamie's mouth. She
squawks in outrage.
"Aww, I'm sorry, baby girl," he croons. "It's okay, keep eating. Daddy was
being a big doodlehead."
"A doodlehead?" I snicker.
"Oh shush. You're an even bigger doodlehead. You hear that, little one?
Your Uncle Fitzy is the king of the doodleheads." He nudges her lips with the
bottle's nipple and she latches on again. Then he frowns at me. "This happened
tonight?"
I nod.
"And instead of sticking around to talk to the girl who suc—" His gaze drops
to his daughter. He promptly rephrases. "—the girl who did stuff to your body,
you came here instead?"
Guilt sears into me. Fuck. I'm such an ass. That beautiful, amazing girl knelt
on wet, uncomfortable tile for me tonight and rocked my world. I should be
blowing up her phone with apologies right now.
To Tucker, I manage a quick nod.
"I never took you for a coward."
"I'm not usually one," I say gruffly.
Tucker grabs a small blue cloth from the end table and wipes the corner of
Jamie's mouth, where a bit of milk has drizzled out. He gazes at her with so
much love that I actually feel a spark of envy. I wonder what it's like to love
somebody that much.
"I don't know how to handle this, Tuck. Summer wants to talk—about 'us,'
I'm assuming—and I have no clue what to say to her."
A crease appears in his forehead. "You don't know how to let her down, you
mean? Are you saying you don't want to be with her?"
My teeth dig into my cheek. "Not sure about that, either. She's just… She's
too much, man."
"Too much," he repeats. "What does that mean?"
"She's too everything." A helpless sensation tightens my throat. "She's too
beautiful. She's got too much energy. She's too open." I let out a groan.
"Everybody is drawn to her. Everybody. She walks into a room and all eyes
instantly home in on her, and not simply because she's hot. Summer's one of
those girls, the high-profile ones who attract attention. She can't help it. It's her
orbit—you get sucked into it."
"And that's bad because?"
Because I've never been so drawn to anyone and it kind of scares the shit out
of me.
"Because I don't want to be a high-profile guy," I say instead. Tuck wouldn't
understand this fear I have about Summer. Emotions don't scare him. He knew
he wanted to be with Sabrina from the second he met her, and his certainty that
they belonged together and relentless pursuit to win her heart were damn near
incomprehensible to me.
"Being with someone like her means putting myself in the spotlight. And
there'll always be some kind of drama. The other night she started a bar fight," I
grumble. "Summer doesn't know the meaning of the word low-key. Everything
she does is over the top, flashy, extravagant. That's not me."
"No," he agrees, before offering a dry smile. "But letting a chick go down on
you in the locker room isn't typical of you either, so… You must like her a
helluva lot if you took that kind of risk tonight."
He's right. Stifling a groan, I drop my head in my hands for a long, torturous
moment. "I'm in her orbit, man," I mumble into my palms.
He chuckles. "So whatcha gonna do about it?"
I lift my head. "I have no fucking idea."