“This is it? The place where all my thoughts will become clear?” Hayden couldn’t help but laugh as she followed Brody into the dark hockey rink twenty minutes later.
She’d let Brody drive her car, but hadn’t thought to ask where he was taking her. She’d been content to sit in silence, trying to make sense of everything her father said to her tonight. Now she kind of wished she’d been more curious about their destination.
The night guard, who Brody addressed as Bob, had let them in. He’d seemed surprised at the sight of Brody Croft showing up at the practice arena way after hours, but didn’t object to Brody’s request. After digging up an old pair of boys’ skates for Hayden from the equipment room, Bob the guard had unlocked the doors leading out to the rink, flicked on the lights and disappeared with a smile.
“Trust me,” Brody said. “There’s nothing like the feel of ice under your skates to clear your head.”
“I should probably mention I haven’t ice-skated since I was a kid.”
He looked aghast. “But your father owns a hockey team.”
“We’re not allowed to talk about my father anymore tonight, remember?”
“Right. Sorry.” He flashed a charming grin. “Don’t worry, I’ll make sure you don’t fall flat on your ass. Now sit.”
Obligingly, she sat on the hard wooden bench and allowed Brody to remove her high heels. He caressed her stockinged feet for a moment, then reached for the skates and helped her get a foot into one.
“It’s tight,” she complained.
“It belongs to a twelve-year-old boy. No figure skates here, so you’ll have to make do.”
He laced up the skates for her, then flopped down on the bench and kicked off his shiny black dress shoes. He’d retrieved a spare pair of skates from the bottom of his locker, and he put them on expertly, grinning when he saw her wobble to her feet. She made quite a fashion statement in her party dress and scuffed black hockey skates.
She held out her arms in an attempt to balance herself. “I’m totally going to fall on my ass,” she said.
“I told you I won’t let it happen.”
He took two steps forward and unlatched the wooden gate. Like the pro hockey player he was, he slid onto the ice effortlessly and skated backward for a moment while she stood at the gate and muttered, “Show-off.”
Laughing, he moved toward her and held out his hand.
She stared at his long, calloused fingers, wanting so badly to grab on to them and never let go. Yet, another part of her was hesitant. When she’d picked him up at the bar, she hadn’t imagined she’d see him after that first night. Or that she’d sleep with him again. Or that she might actually start to like him.
But she did like him. As much as she wanted to continue viewing Brody as nothing more than a one-night stand who’d rocked her world, he was becoming unnervingly real to her. He’d listened when she’d babbled about art, he’d let her cry on his shoulder, he’d brought her to this dark rink just to take her mind off her worries.
“Come on, I won’t let you fall,” he reassured her.
With a nod of acceptance, she took his hand. The second the blades of her skates connected with the sleek ice, she almost keeled over. Her arms windmilled, her legs spread open and her skates moved in opposite directions as if trying to force her into the splits.
Brody promptly steadied her, grinning. “Well, fuck. You’re not very good at this, are you?”
“I told you I wasn’t,” she returned with an indignant glare. “Ask me to lecture you about Impressionist art, I can do that. But skating? I suck.”
“Because you’re trying to walk instead of glide,” he pointed out. He clamped both his hands on her waist. “Quit doing that. Just take my hand and do what I’m doing.”
Slowly, they pushed forward again. While his strides were effortless, hers were clumsy. Every few feet, the tips of her skates would dig into the ice and she’d lurch forward, but Brody stayed true to his word. He didn’t let her fall. Not even once.
“There you go,” he exclaimed. “You’re getting the hang of it.”
She couldn’t help smiling. Once she’d taken his advice and stopped treating the skates as shoes, her movements had become smoother. She felt giddy as they picked up speed, gliding along the ice.
The boards, the benches, the bleachers—it all whizzed by her, the cool air in the arena reddening her cheeks. Although there were goose bumps dotting her bare arms, she didn’t mind the cold temperature. The chill in the air soothed her, cleansing her mind.
She cast a sideways glance at Brody and saw he was enjoying this, too. God, he looked delicious in his tuxedo. The jacket stretched over his broad shoulders and powerful chest. When she noticed his bow tie sat a little crooked, she resisted the urge to reach out and straighten it. She didn’t want to move her arms and risk falling, so she tightened her fingers around his instead.
He looked down at their intertwined fingers, his mouth parting slightly, as if he wanted to speak but was being cautious. She knew exactly what was on his mind, because the same thing was running through hers. God help her, but she really liked this guy.
He was arrogant, yes. Pushy sometimes. But he also turned her on in the fiercest way, and every time he fixed those midnight blue eyes on her, every time he wrapped those big arms around her, she melted.
They slowed their pace, and she forced her thoughts away from the dangerous territory they’d crossed into and tried to come up with a neutral topic of conversation. One that didn’t make her think of Brody, naked and hard as he devoured her body with his tongue. She’d been second-guessing their fling ever since Friday night, and now she was second-guessing her second-guessing of the fling.
“When did you start playing?” she finally asked, deciding his career was as safe a subject as any.
“Pretty much the second I could walk, I was learning to skate. My dad used to take me to this outdoor rink near our house in Michigan.” He chuckled. “Well, it wasn’t much of a rink. Just a crappy pond that froze over every winter. My parents couldn’t afford the membership fee for a real rink, so I used to practice my slap shots on that pond while Dad sat on a folding chair in the snow and read car magazines.”
“Did you play on a school team?”
“What team wasn’t I on?” He dropped her hand and began skating lazy circles around her. “In high school I played hockey, rugby and baseball in the spring. Oh, and I was on the lacrosse team until the practices started to interfere with my hockey schedule.”
“Got it. So you were one of those guys. I bet you were voted Most Likely to Become a Pro Athlete in your high school yearbook.”
“Actually, I was.”
He told her a bit about his early years in the league, then made her laugh with some anecdotes about his parents and their overwhelming pride in him. At times, a twinge of bitterness seeped into his voice, giving her the feeling that his childhood was tougher than he let on, but she didn’t pry. She remembered him saying that money had been tight for his family, and it was obviously something he didn’t like talking about.
A few minutes later, a cramp seized her leg and she wobbled to a stop, leaning against the splintered sideboards as she rubbed the back of her thigh. On the west coast she jogged every morning before heading to the university, but she was obviously not in the great shape she’d believed herself to be in. Her legs were aching, and they’d only been skating for twenty minutes.
“Wanna take a break?” Brody offered.
“Please.”
They stepped off the ice and climbed up to the bleachers. Brody was an expert when it came to walking on skates. She wasn’t so fortunate. She almost pitched forward a half dozen times before she finally sank down on the bench and exhaled with relief.
“I think I pulled a muscle in my butt,” she grumbled.
“Want me to rub the kinks out?”
She sighed, wishing his voice didn’t contain that husky note of erotic promise. Damn it. She couldn’t fall into bed with him. After how their conversation had ended on Friday night, continuing the fling probably wasn’t a great idea.
As if sensing her concerns, Brody let out an unsteady breath. “I’m sorry about the other night. I came on a bit too strong, and I apologize.”
She didn’t reply, just offered a pointed nod.
“I know I’m rough around the edges. I’m demanding. I like getting my way and I’m definitely not the kind of man who’s content with playing second fiddle.” He held up his hand before she could cut in. “I shouldn’t have hassled you about, you know, Doug—” he said the name like it was contagious “—but damn it, Hayden, it drives me crazy knowing there’s someone else in your life. I’m not used to sharing.”
“You’re not sharing. Doug and I are on a break.”
“There’s a giant difference between a break and a breakup.” He hesitated, frowning. “Do you think you’ll go back to him?”
“I don’t know.”
Deep down, though, she knew the answer to that question. And it probably wasn’t one Doug was going to like. But she couldn’t talk about it, not now, and definitely not with Brody.
She could tell he wasn’t happy with her answer, but instead of challenging her the way he had two nights ago, he simply nodded. “Guess I’ll have to live with it, then. And I can live with it, especially if it means I get to spend more time with you.”
“But why? What do you see in me that makes you so sure we should pursue this?” She wasn’t prone to insecurities, but she couldn’t quite figure out why this sexy man wanted her and not some supermodel.
“What do I see in you?” He leaned closer. “You want a list? I can do that. I’ll skip how beautiful you are. That’s all just superficial.”
“I’m not above superficial.”
He chuckled. “So you’d like me to start with your green eyes that have been knocking me out since the second you strolled up to that pool table?”
She bit her lower lip. “Okay.”
Carefully, he took a lock of her hair between his fingers. “Or should I start with this silky brown hair that keeps making me want to reach out and touch it?” His attention dropped to her chest. “Or these tits I can’t get enough of?”
The fingers that had been toying with her hair moved to brush over her nipples, which were pushing against the thin fabric of her dress. Her pulse quickened, every inch of skin heating under his raw appraisal.
“Or maybe these lips that keep begging me to taste them?” He brushed a thumb over her bottom lip.
Her lips parted, eyelids growing heavy, and thankfully, she was sitting down because she didn’t think she could hold up the weight of her body in her weakened state. This man was one smooth talker.
“Any of those places are fine,” she breathed.
Strong hands cupped her face. “Then there’s the intelligence that practically radiates from you. Did I ever tell you smart women seriously turn me on?” His thumbs began caressing her cheeks, and he bent to whisper close to her ear. “You’re a walking contradiction, baby. Serious and proper one moment, wild and uninhibited the next. And the more I get to know you, the more I like what I find.”
Each word softened her heart, and every warm wisp of his breath against her ear made her quiver with need.
“When I left the penthouse the other night you wouldn’t let me kiss you,” he said, his lips mere inches from hers. “I promised myself I wouldn’t kiss you again until you asked me to.”
She drew a breath, desire gathering between her legs, throbbing wildly. Then she exhaled in a fast rush.
“Kiss me,” she begged.
In an instant, his lips touched hers, unleashing a trickle of warmth that rivaled a shot of fine brandy. She moved a hand to his cheek and relished the light prickles of his five o’clock shadow. And despite his tender touch, the hardness of his chest and roughness of his cheek reminded her he was all man.
He groaned softly and deepened the kiss. She parted her lips, inviting him to explore. She wanted to surround herself in his embrace. Her father’s behavior tonight had frightened her, hurt her, but Brody’s kiss made her forget about everything except this moment, the feel of his mouth on hers, the flick of his tongue and warm caress of his fingers on her cheek.
She slid her hand to the nape of his neck, allowing the soft hairs to tickle her fingers. She took hold and pulled the kiss deeper. Each time her tongue touched his, he made a low, growled sound in the back of his throat.
He lightly caressed the sides of her breasts with his thumbs, sending a pulsing charge through her system. It was the gentlest he’d ever been with her, a stark change from his rough, drugging kisses and eager hands. And as much as she was enjoying the kiss, she wanted more. She lowered her hand to the growing bulge in his trousers, but he moved it away and broke the kiss.
For a moment, her eyes wouldn’t open and her mouth wouldn’t close. She was held in transition, her body still tingling from his touch. As she slowly raised her lids, she saw the deep, glittering need in his eyes. Need that matched hers.
“Close your eyes,” he murmured.
“Why?”
“Just do it.”
Curious, she let her eyelids flutter shut. She heard a rustling sound, felt Brody move closer and lean forward, then gasped when his hand circled her ankle.
“Don’t move.” His voice was barely above a whisper.
She swallowed. Waiting. Sighing when he ran his big hand up her leg, bunching her dress between his fingers as he traveled north.
His touch suffused her with heat, made her pulse race. He glided his fingers along her inner thigh, leaving a trail of fire in his wake. And then his palm was pressed against her lace panties.
“What are you doing?” she breathed out.
“De-stressing you.” His tongue was suddenly on her ear, flicking against the tender lobe before suckling it.
Silent laughter shook her as her eyes popped open. “What’s with you and your need to touch me in public?”
He rubbed his palm over her pussy, his breath hot against her ear as he whispered, “Want me to stop?”
“God, no.”
“Good.”
He slid his hand into her panties and pushed one long finger inside her.
Hayden gasped, a bolt of pleasure sizzling up her spine.
“You’re always so ready. So tight and wet,” he muttered.
Before she could tell him that he was the reason she was always ready, he covered her mouth with his.
The kiss sucked the breath from her lungs, his tongue matching the strokes of his finger. Long, deep, languid strokes. When she started rocking her lower body against his hand, he released another groan.
“Fuck. I want to get on my knees so bad right now. I want to lick you up.”
A thrill shot through her. “What’s stopping you?” Her voice came out hoarse, shaky.
“It’d be too hard to explain if Bob walked in.” He slowly withdrew his finger, his lips brushing the side of her jaw in a teasing kiss. “This—” he pushed the finger back in “—is easier to hide.”
Hayden’s thighs were trembling now. She squirmed against his touch, pinpricks of pleasure dancing over her flesh.
“Let me hear that noise,” he said as he kissed her neck.
She knew the noise he meant. His favorite noise, as he always maintained. The one she supposedly made when she came. And Brody Croft was stupidly skilled at drawing it out of her.
He slid another finger into her aching pussy, kissing her, murmuring encouraging pleas against her lips, and then his thumb circled her clit and she exploded.
She cried out against his mouth, grinding against his fingers, her mind nothing but a big pile of mush while her body convulsed.
When she finally crashed back down to earth, she found Brody watching her with surprising tenderness.
“You’re gorgeous,” he told her, withdrawing his fingers and fixing her dress.
Her heart squeezed. She opened her mouth to thank him—for the compliment, the orgasm, the shoulder to lean on—but he didn’t give her the chance.
“Will you let me come home with you tonight?” he asked in a gruff voice. When she hesitated, he quickly added, “No big deal if you say no. I just thought I’d ask.”
He was so polite, so careful, when the heat in his eyes and his unsteady breathing told her he’d probably die from arousal if she said no. But it touched her that he’d asked instead of assumed.
“If we go to the penthouse,” she began slowly, “what exactly will we do?”
A carnal gleam lit his eyes. His voice lowered to a husky pitch as he said, “Well, I noticed there’s a removable showerhead in the master bathroom.”
She burst out laughing. “Do you make it a habit of scoping out the shower when you use other people’s bathrooms?”
“Who doesn’t?”
