Busted: Promise Harbor, Book 3 (30 page)

He circled around her, admiring the red lace bra all but spilling her breasts over the top. “It’s gonna take a lot more than that to make me miss.”

“Of course it would.” She glanced at the net and drew her stick back. The cracking sound of her hitting the puck echoed through the arena and the black disc shot forward, headed for the net.

Impressed, he let out a hoot when the disc barely cleared the post and sailed into the back of the net. “What happens if we have a tie?”

“You’re awfully sure of yourself.” She leaned on the stick, drawing his attention right back to her breasts. Did her panties match?

Okay, so maybe it was more distracting than he gave her credit for.
Focus.

Jackson brought back his stick and let it rip, firing the puck across the ice. It was a guaranteed goal, or would have been if the blade of his stick hadn’t snapped on impact. His missed the net by over a dozen feet.

He stared at the busted stick, then to where Hayley skated away, dragging her T-shirt and sweater back on. “You knew that would happen.”

She gave him a puzzled look, her lips twitching just a bit.

“You sabotaged the stick.”

“That would be cheating, and cheating is wrong.” Her deadpan delivery cracked him up, and he took off after her.

In five seconds he had her against the boards, pinning her in place. Heat rolled off her body, and that contagious laugh of hers echoed around the rink.

A little breathless, she tipped her face up. “So after sneaking into the rink in high school and showing off for the girls on your skates, what would you do next?”

“Tour of the dressing room,” he teased.

Her nose scrunched up. “Seriously? Wow,” she mocked, “Your romantic streak is a mile wide, Knight.”

He playfully bit down on her neck. “Cheaters don’t get to judge.” He released his hold, skating back to retrieve the puck and broken piece of his stick.

She was already off the ice, unlacing her skates, by the time he caught up, and the heartbreaking smile she sent his way did crazy things to his stomach.

Once his own skates were off, she held out a hand, and he slipped it into his own. He didn’t know what made her change her mind about the date with him, but he was damn glad she had.

“How did you convince Bernice to give up the date with me?”

“Seems our former mascot had a number of unpaid parking tickets and was close to losing her license. Would have been bad for business.” Hayley grinned.

“Your rebellious streak is still a mile wide, Stone.”

They walked a few laps around the arena before Jackson realized how good it felt to be there despite what had happened in the past. Maybe because the end of his professional hockey career wasn’t as important as remembering why he’d wanted to play to begin with, or maybe it had a lot to do with the woman next him. Maybe both.

They leaned against the rail that circled the lower section of seating. “I still would have gone for it,” he said quietly. “When you asked if I would have done things differently if I’d known my career would end too soon. I still would have gone for it.”

Hayley nodded.

“Already knew that, did you?”

“I had my suspicions.” She turned and sprinted down the hallway, in the direction of the stairs they’d used earlier to get down to the ice.

It was only fair to give her a slight head start before pursuing her. By the time he reached the bottom of the stairs, he caught a faint trace of her laughter. He stood opposite the home team’s locker room where the door hadn’t shut completely yet.

He pushed it open, spotting her shoes and pants in the middle of the floor immediately. There was nowhere to hide in the benched-off cubby area where players stored their gear during a game, so he moved deeper into the locker room, toward the showers.

Her T-shirt, sweater and bra lay on the tile floor, but he saw no sign of her.

“Hayley?”

Not surprisingly, she didn’t respond.

Hunting for her, he circled back to the main room. She stood in the middle of the floor, watching him. He walked toward her, arousal snaking down his spine and sinking straight between his legs. Hard and hot for her, he drew her close.

“Which one did you use?”

A half-naked woman with storm-cloud eyes and a killer smile was in his arms, and she wanted him to take a trip down memory lane? Christ, it was taking a lot of control not to devour every inch of her already. Talking could be a problem.

He indulged the need to touch her by running his hand up her arm. “Second one from the left.” He tipped his head to indicate which side of the room he was talking about.

“I should have remembered that.”

“Stalked the guys’ locker room, did you?”

“You’d be surprised where that mascot costume got me.” She ran a finger along his waist. “You’re overdressed.”

Jackson didn’t need to be told twice. His pants would have been around his ankles already if she weren’t taking her time lowering his zipper and pushing his jeans down.
Really
taking her time.

Hayley bent to get his pants and boxers down, then skimmed her hands up the back of his thighs. She didn’t move any quicker when she brought them around to his knees and up the inside of his thighs.

“There were never any girls in here with me. Not in any locker room.” He’d always been careful to keep hockey separate from his love life. And now he couldn’t imagine ever separating Hayley from that part of himself.

What would it have been like to come home from a game to her? Would she have helped to ice his bruises and kissed them all better? Probably after she told him to nail the other guy’s ass to the boards next time.

“What’s so funny?”

Jackson realized he’d been smiling. An answer wasn’t required—and would have been damn difficult—since she’d palmed his balls, curling her fingers around him. His eyes slid shut under the seductive rhythm.

She went to her knees and closed her hands around his cock. Already hard for her—hell, when wasn’t he?—he thrust into her grip. Slow at first, slow enough to make his knees tremble, then a little faster, she pumped her hand up his shaft, stroking her thumb across the full head.

She licked up from the base, alternately closing her mouth around the length of him and running her tongue in heated swirls. The urge to take her chin and push himself between her lips nearly choked him, but he kept it together, let her go at her own pace.

Over and over, she devoured him, sliding up and sucking the tip of him, and finally more, deep into her mouth. He fisted his hands in her hair, his body overheating. She was right there, so damn sexy and dirty and so fucking close to making him come already.

Her fingers wrapped around him again, matching the pace of her mouth taking him deeper. He gave up on fighting the need to sink harder into her and pitched his hips to feel every bit she pulled between her lips.

Fuck.

Without warning, he dragged her up and set her on the bench. She barely had time to protest before he kneeled down, yanking her panties off, desperate to taste her. Already so wet, she parted her thighs for him, and he tongued the slick folds, sliding between them. Her legs closed around his shoulders, trapping him as if he had any plans to move a single inch.

Tasting her in slow, long licks, he found her clit. He traced the tender knot, lapping at her and loving the way she was nearly panting now. She said his name over and over, and he continued to feast on her. Licking, sucking, and enjoying every lift of her hips as she frantically held on to him.

Hayley cried out, shattering around him. He didn’t let up until her body stopped trembling, and by then she was gripping his head, moaning louder. With a few pumps of his fingers inside her, he pushed her into another orgasm.

“God,” she breathed, staring at him, completely undone, and he loved knowing he could do that to her.

Stripping his pants the rest of the way off, he dug out a condom and sheathed himself. Pulling Hayley to her feet, he backed her up against the wall and plunged his cock inside her. They both groaned, and for a second everything within him shook.

Holding her gaze, he pumped his hips, filling her, driving so damn deep. His knee ached, objecting to the pressure he used to bury himself inside her, but it felt too incredible to stop for even a second. He needed to be with her too much. Inside her. A part of her.

Hayley held on for all she was worth, drowning in the sensation of being pinned to wall, Jackson’s strong body holding her there as he drove himself into her. She moaned with every thrust, clinging to him, needing him in a way she hadn’t needed anyone in a really long time.

She squeezed her eyes shut, not willing to go there yet.

Instead, she gripped Jackson’s shoulders, her nails sinking into his skin as his thrusts rocked her entire body. Muscles turned to stone beneath her hands, and he groaned into her neck as he came, pumping into her until he was spent.

She slid down his body, landing on shaky legs.

“This way.” Jackson tugged her after him, limping just a little on the way to the showers.

He turned the water on, left her side just long enough to dispose of the condom and then tugged her under the warm spray with him. Hot water would have turned her to mush, and it took way too much effort not to pull him to the floor with her where she could curl up against him and try to catch her breath.

She was horribly, desperately screwed. She’d been worried about that while getting ready for their date, their first
genuine
date, and now she was faced with the absolute certainty of it.

She was falling for him.

It didn’t help that he gently rubbed his hands down her back beneath the water, or that he held her tight, warning her not to slip, or that he used her T-shirt to carefully dry her off since she hadn’t planned this part of the evening at all.

A date at the rink had seemed like a fun idea, even though she’d glimpsed the apprehension that crept into his face when they turned in to the arena parking lot. She’d set a goal of showing him that he could still have fun on the ice, but hadn’t anticipated how much of a good time they’d have.

And she certainly hadn’t anticipated what had happened in the locker room. Running from him had been just a game, one that became so much more than that when he’d stood opposite her looking so boyish and confident and devastatingly sexy.

And he’d be leaving soon.

Shit. Shit.
Shit.

Why had she let this happen?

Jackson slid his hand along her cheek, tipping her face up to meet a slow, aching kiss. It was impossible not to kiss him back, or to pretend every exquisite pass of his mouth didn’t set her on fire. If he sensed she was thinking too hard again, he didn’t say anything.

By the time they’d dressed and gathered their skates, she wondered if she would be better off making an excuse to keep him from staying with her tonight. Maybe she’d be smart to make a clean break before another night in his arms made it even harder to let go.

On the drive home she tried to work up the nerve to tell him he couldn’t spend the night, but couldn’t make the words leave her mouth. She wasn’t even sure she wanted them to.

In the end, the decision was taken out of her hands. They pulled up the driveway and Hayley immediately noticed the front door was open. She hadn’t left it unlocked, let alone open, before picking Jackson up.

A light down the hall had been left on—deliberately, was Hayley’s guess—so there would be no missing the disaster waiting for her inside.

The house had been trashed.

Furniture was turned over. Pillows and cushions torn apart. Streaks of red paint ran down the walls in the hallway. Gouges had been made in the wood floor.

“Don’t touch anything,” she advised, keeping both her heart rate and her anger in check that her home,
her grandparents’ home,
had been so completely violated.

Digging her phone out of her pocket, she called it in to the station as she made her way through the house. Jackson stood in the kitchen doorway. Beyond him, she could see where a wall had been kicked in and a hammer had been taken to the cupboard doors, denting them and breaking off hinges in other places.

The damage had been contained to the downstairs only. Maybe whoever was responsible had heard the truck coming down the drive and bolted before finishing the job, or maybe they’d grown bored with making their point.

Jackson gestured to the door that frequently slammed shut. Dozens of hammer and kick marks covered it. The door had held up, though, despite the abuse it had taken. “I think whoever did this didn’t like your nan’s ghost slamming doors on him.”

By Sunday morning the damage looked even worse. Jackson had refused to let her clean any of it up last night. Once they’d made sure nothing had been left behind to identify the culprit, he’d dragged her upstairs to bed.

He’d coaxed her under the covers, holding her until the tension began to drain away, promising they’d get everything fixed up in no time. She wasn’t even sure that he understood he was making promises he couldn’t keep.