Dirty Score, A Rough Riders Hockey Novel (4 page)

I’m sorry. I’m exhausted and sore and my ears won’t be the only thing bleeding soon because I’m pretty sure my brain imploded half an hour ago. The first thing I should have said when I saw you is how beautiful you look and how much I’ve missed you.

Her gut squeezed, everything inside her twisted, and tears burned her eyes. Goddamn him. He always knew exactly how to yank her chain.

You’re such a suck-up,
she typed.

Normally, yes. But this is true. If you really want to get laid by that puck head, I’ll stay here and drink until there is no possibility my mind would ever work well enough to even imagine you two together.

This was exactly the shit that sucked her back in. One comment like that and Mia would be on the hook for another five years. She’d never have a life unless she got to a point where comments like that didn’t affect her.

She grabbed the front of Cole’s blazer to pull his attention back to her. “I’ll get you the girl, but you have to follow my lead, got it?” He looked like he was about to argue, so she jerked on his jacket. “Do you want the hot chick or not?”

“Sure, but I don’t see how that’s going to make things better between me and Savage.”

“Trust me on this. I’ve known these guys a lot longer than you have.” Mia slipped her hand around Cole’s forearm, pulling him into step beside her. “No matter what I do, don’t question me. Think of me as the coach. Do you question your coach?”

“No,” he said resolutely. “Never.”

“Exactly. Just trust me like you trust your coach, and you’ll end up in bed with that Baywatch babe tonight.”

Despite the anger rising in Rafe’s face as she approached with Cole, Mia pulled up the social butterfly she’d developed while working in New York’s fashion industry, along with the smile she used to dazzle, and held Rafe’s gaze.

But the closer she got, the harder it became. Their year apart had helped her forget how damn good-looking he was, how sexy he looked fresh out of the shower after a game or practice. Oh, but that wasn’t all. She’d forgotten about the crinkles at the corners of his eyes, the fullness of his lips outlined by an unshaven jaw, the intensity of those gray eyes rimmed in long, thick, black lashes.

Her throat grew tight. Her stomach balled into a fist. And for the first time, she was starting to realize she might just never get over the man.

Before she and Cole were within ten feet of the table, Baywatch’s monologue reached Mia’s ears. “…that’s just one charity I’m involved in. I’ve considered cutting back on my interior design business to take on another. I mean, we’re so fortunate, don’t you think? I love to give back. I’ve seen you doing a variety of charity work with the Rough Riders, and I’d love to talk to you about coordinating some efforts to support those organizations. Wouldn’t that be fun? And a great way to spend more time together, what with your travel and practice schedule and my work schedule…”

“Excuse me,” Mia said in her most conciliatory voice as she stopped beside the table. “I’m so very sorry to interrupt.” She turned her smile on Baywatch and offered her hand. “I’m Mia.”

“Ashlee,” she said, confused.

Mia shook the woman’s limp hand, then gestured to Cole. “This is Cole Kilbourne. If you’re a Rough Riders fan, you’ll be seeing a lot more of him. He’s the newest team member.”

Ashlee’s eyes widened, and she lifted her hand to Cole’s. “Oh my. Yes. Yes, you came from the Calgary Flames, didn’t you?”

As the two shook and Cole did what he did best—talked about himself—Mia turned, wandered behind Rafe’s chair, and pressed her hands to his shoulders. They were wide and as solid as the marble bar. His hair was too long and curling at the ends. And he smelled great, that recently showered fresh scent with an edge of spice. Just standing this close to him made Mia’s chest hurt. So many emotions whipped up and around, she didn’t know how to feel. She was having serious second thoughts about this plan.

He tilted his head back and looked up at her with those beautiful silvery-gray eyes, begging her to get him out of this situation. Mia put up her best shield to protect against the fact that this was a fantasy, pretend, a temporary spoof, not the real thing. Nor would it ever be the real thing.

She forced a smile, slid her hands over his chest, and bent until her cheek pressed his. Her belly fluttered with nerves, but her heart floated in bliss. She’d never made such a forward move—not with any man she wasn’t already involved with, and most definitely never with Rafe. Her headfirst dive into the act unnerved her far more than she’d expected. So she did the only thing she could do short of abandoning the ruse and running for the nearest exit. She forged ahead, hoping to develop enough momentum to carry her through to the end.

He was warm and rough, and Mia thought the familiar scent of sandalwood and Rafe might just make her orgasm all by themselves.

“Hey, baby,” she purred. “I’m glad you two are having such a great time. I’m just really tired. I hope you don’t mind if I start home ahead of you.”

God, he smelled like heaven, but he felt even better. With her hands stroking all the hard ridges of his abdomen, she turned her head, pressed her lips to that tender spot just beneath the ear, and an involuntary moan drifted from her throat.

His skin rippled with gooseflesh beneath her lips. The fine hair at the nape of his neck rose. His reaction to her touch set off a grenade of heat between Mia’s thighs. She pulled back enough to look into his eyes, surprised to find what looked like real heat in them.

“Don’t stay out too late,” she murmured. “You’ve been so hard to get ahold of, I swear it feels like I haven’t seen you in forever.”

One of his big, warm hands closed over hers. The heat of it tingled up her arm. Then he gave her a squeeze, and his hand slid up her forearm, her biceps, her shoulder, and he shocked her by pushing his fingers into her hair. The way he cradled her head coupled with the look in his eyes made Mia feel like everything around them had vanished. Like she and Rafe were the only two people in the restaurant. Like his feelings mirrored hers.

Only she knew that wasn’t true. Knew it for a fact. The last year had proven it.

She started to pull away, but his fingers tightened, and his gaze held hers. “It does feel that way,” he said, his voice rough and soft. “And it’s
damn
good to see you.”

The following moment seemed to float, extend, and expand. Mia was trying to figure out if he was just playing the part or if there was a hidden meaning behind them when Ashlee spoke.

“You—” she started. “I didn’t—”

Mia pried her gaze from Rafe’s, relieved to break free of the look that caused so much turmoil inside her. She met the other woman’s eyes and offered a smile, but she didn’t let go of Rafe. This might not be real, but it was the only time she’d even get to pretend, so she stayed there, loving the warmth of his chest, the strength of his hand in her hair, the way he held her close.

Then he blew her mind—he turned his head and pressed his lips to her throat. Mia pulled in a little breath, and all her attention hyperfocused on the feel of his mouth on her skin. Heat skittered over raised nerve endings, spread into her chest, and tightened her nipples.

Mia drew every shred of strength she had together into a fragile string. “He can be captivating,” she managed. “I know.”

“But I…” Ashlee’s brow dipped in confusion. “There’s nothing anywhere to indicate he has a girlfriend.”

Rafe opened his mouth against her throat and scraped his teeth along her skin. Mia sucked a breath of surprise, of titillation. He was getting way too into this role. But that was what she’d wanted, right?

She mentally slapped herself out of her stupor. This was just a game. One of many he’d been playing over the last year. And Mia didn’t like it. She didn’t like any of it. And for the millionth time, she wished she didn’t care so much. That would make it easier to tell him to shove his games. Make it easier to walk away. To turn her back and let go.

Only that wasn’t who Mia was. And it certainly wasn’t how she felt about Rafe.

But she was angry, so she grabbed for the careless role and laughed. “Someone’s had a little too much to drink. He’s always frisky when he’s been drinking.” She slapped his chest. “Stop that, naughty boy. Save it for the bedroom.” To Ashlee, she said, “We’ve been trying to keep our relationship quiet. Media is such a headache.”

She tried to straighten, but Rafe didn’t let her go. And when she turned her head and met his gaze, the heat there punched her gut. His eyes were stormy and hot. And the emotions floating there seemed to encompass everything from shock to
finally
.

“I’ll warm up the sheets for you.” Mia stroked her hand across his cheek. “Wake me when you get home. You know how I like it.”

The fire that flashed over Rafe’s face was sure to keep Mia warm for a decade to come.

With every inch of her skin tingling, she pushed to her full height, forcing Rafe to release her. But she kept one hand on his shoulder and used the other to comb at the hair over his nape. Mia smiled at Ashlee, ignoring the way Rafe grabbed her wrist like she was abandoning him in the middle of the ocean.

“It was good to meet—” Mia started.

“Oh no.” Ashlee pushed her chair back. “I’m so sorry. If I’d known I would never have kept him so long. Rafe, thank you for an absolutely wonderful evening. You’ve been so gracious to let me go on and on and run well over the two-hour time allotment—”

“You know…” Mia cut her off, glancing at Cole. His big hazel eyes were locked on Mia and Rafe with that just-slammed-against-the-boards look. “Cole, are you free for a little while?” She glanced at Ashlee. “I mean, if you don’t mind the company of two handsome Rough Riders tonight instead of one, I bet Cole wouldn’t mind staying to chat for a bit.” Mia beamed at Cole. “Would you?”

“Really?” Ashlee’s big blue eyes grew round and latched on to Cole.

Cole diverted his attention to the walking wet dream. “I’d love to.” Then darted a cautious look at Rafe. “If it’s okay with you, I mean.”

Now Rafe did that just-slammed-against-the-boards thing, and Mia wanted to pound both men with a dinner plate. Instead, she pinched the skin of Rafe’s neck.

He flinched out of his shock. “No. Yes. I mean, fine. Fine with me.”

He stood so fast, he nearly toppled Mia right along with the chair. But he used the hand still on her wrist to drag her against him and caught her around the waist with the same speed and grace he used on the ice.

One second, Mia was cool and in control, the next, she was up against Rafe, looking into his steel-colored eyes, her brain scrambled by the sheer hardness of him, the raw heat of him.

Rafe’s gaze slowly lowered to her mouth, then lifted to her eyes again before he murmured, “Let’s hit those sheets, beautiful.”

A
fter living
with the physical discomforts hockey wrought on his body all his life, there was little that really bothered Rafe. But having a hard-on for his best friend’s little sister? Yeah, that seriously bothered him.

He kept his arm tight at her waist as they passed through the restaurant, the bar, and finally into the lobby, trying like hell to ignore how damn perfect she felt at his side. The way his heart skipped and jumped at the reality of being close to her again.

They stepped beyond view of Ashlee and Cole, where the other Rider had taken Rafe’s place at the table. Rafe cut a look around the lobby for familiar faces. When he found none, he steered her to a corner, released her abruptly, and forced himself to put distance between them. Fast.

He paced a circle, trying to collect himself. But he’d had too much to drink, and all the emotions and desires he’d tucked away for so long didn’t want to get stuffed back in their box. With his back toward her, he rubbed both hands over his face. But, shit, he couldn’t get the feel of her lips off his skin or her husky insinuations out of his head. In fact, Rafe was fully, painfully hard.

Down, boy. It’s not real. She’s off-limits.

Rafe pushed all ten fingers through his hair, took a deep breath, and dropped his arms on a heavy exhale. “Jesus, what a night.”

Bracing for the sight of her, Rafe clenched his teeth and turned. She stood several feet away, arms crossed, one hip cocked, head tilted, a look of irritated contemplation carving a tiny V between her brows. All that thick, luxurious hair the color of bittersweet chocolate was tousled in a way that made him crave the sight of her in the morning.

Naked.

After he’d fucked her ragged.

All night.

But… No. No, no,
no
.

She was
Mia
.

So perfectly Mia, it hurt.

He should hug her. He always hugged her hello and good-bye. But he was honest to God afraid to touch her again. Afraid he wouldn’t let go. Afraid he’d do something inappropriate like he’d done at the table when he’d kissed her throat.

And, God, she’d tasted good. Her skin was so soft. And she smelled like Mia, like flowers and vanilla…

Stop. Stop, idiot.

He forced his eyes to the floor and planted his hands at his hips.
Breathe. Hold yourself together. Think of Tate. And Joe.

Okay. That helped cool the fire.

He dropped his hands and lifted his head. But shit, she was still Mia. And he hadn’t seen her beautiful face in way too long. Her cheeks were flushed, her lips pursed, her eyes sharp. She was the same Mia he’d always known—at least on the outside. But something was different. Something intangible. And Rafe got the distinct impression that he was at a disadvantage.

“I bet that was a first,” she said in that flippant, irreverent, matter-of-fact tone he loved. A snarky little smile tilted her lips, but she didn’t look pleased. She flipped her purse open and pulled out a thin wallet. “Finding a woman that gorgeous with a mouth that made you desperate
not
to sleep with her.”

He wasn’t going to touch that. He couldn’t think about another woman while Mia was standing in front of him anyway. Had never been able to. His gaze fell to all her curves covered in a slinky dark silk slip of a dress. The sexy cutouts across her chest and shoulders showed all her smooth skin. The short skirt exposed toned, tanned thighs. Her heels were black velvet. Four inch. With one elegant silver strap at the ankle.

He didn’t understand how she could make such a simple outfit look so hot, he wanted to strip her to the skin. Like,
now
. “That is one amazing little black dress.”

She smiled, but her dimples didn’t show, and her grin didn’t reach her eyes. “It’s not a little black dress. It’s a
get laid
dress.” She pulled a card from her billfold. “And I agree, it has been quite a night. In fact, it’s been quite a month, hell, quite a year. For me, anyway. Hopefully, it’s all about to get better.”

“I should let you go, then.” He forced the words out, trying to wipe the idea of Mia with another guy from his mind. “I’m sure there are a dozen guys who’ll take you up on that, and they’d all be better alternatives to Kilbourne.”

Rafe glanced toward the bar. He needed alcohol. Large quantities. Right now. But he’d have to find it somewhere else, because no amount of liquor would erase the sight of Mia picking up another guy. She’d never been a pickup type of girl. Sure she’d had a ton of boyfriends, men Rafe had occasionally met when she’d brought them into town—and God, talk about twisting the knife, every meeting had dug into Rafe like a talon—but she’d never been known to do the one-night-stand thing.

Rafe didn’t know which was worse to imagine—Mia giving her heart and her body to a boyfriend, or Mia giving her body to a stranger.

His guts were a turbulent mess. He needed to get out of here. Away from her. “I’m sorry I couldn’t make it to Top Shelf tonight. Maybe—”

“You had a sure fuck waiting,” she said, cutting off his offer to get together another day. She returned her wallet to her purse and met his gaze. “I get it. Priorities.”

A raw stab of guilt hit. And yeah, even shame. But he knew Tate would never have repeated locker room talk. “Where’d you hear that?”

“I was at a bar with a dozen drunk Rough Riders. Where do you think I heard it?” Attitude snuck into her voice. “Secrets are not bragged about in a locker room. You should have learned that when you got busted for shoplifting at ten, screwing Tina Jenkins under the bleachers at the homecoming football game at fourteen, landing your first threesome with members of the dance team at sixteen—”

“Stop.” He issued the command a little too harshly, but he didn’t need her bringing up every last indiscretion from his life right now—most of which had been his way of pushing Mia from his mind. A few other people in the lobby cut looks of concern at them. He lowered his voice and asked, “What’s going on with you?”

“Me? Oh, well, that’s a
really
long conversation.” Her eyes roamed his body in one hungry glance—the way other women looked at him, not Mia. And she started toward him in a slow, fluid stroll. Her dress ebbed and flowed over all her curves, making Rafe’s mouth go dry. Making his palms sweat. And when she kept closing the distance, Rafe lifted a hand to stop her before she was pressed against his body, but she was still way too close.

She tipped her head back and met his gaze directly. Her warm, delicious scent made a deep hunger roll through his body. A repeat of the ravenous streak that engulfed him when she’d pressed her lips to that hot spot behind his ear. His brain hazed at the edges. Thick desire collected low in his gut.

“And talking,” she said, her voice soft and sultry, “is the last thing on my mind.”

“
What’s
going on, Mia?”

Her hands pressed against his abdomen, and the contact shocked Rafe, shooting electric awareness across his skin. Then her hands moved up his chest, tightening the skin all along his torso and spreading heat deep into his body.

“I’m collecting a debt.” She reached out and tapped the Up button on an elevator. “That’s what’s going on.”

He cut a confused look at the glowing button, then narrowed his eyes on her. “Are you drunk?”

That made her laugh. “Oh no. I want every moment of tonight crystal clear in my memory.”

The elevator doors opened.

“What are you doing?” Rafe asked.

“Going up to my room.”

He felt like his brain was in a game of Pong. “I thought you were staying with Tate.”

“Not tonight.”

She stepped back, and Rafe was caught between holding on to her and letting her go. He wasn’t ready for her to disappear. But he knew by the uncontrollable gnawing ache swamping him from shoulders to toes, he wasn’t ready to dive back into a friendship with her again either.

Mia fisted a hand in his shirt and pulled him toward the elevator.

His brain flipped to full-scale alert, and his body put on the brakes. “Whoa.” The farther he stayed away from any private spaces with her, the better. “I’m not going upstairs.”

Her smirk was hot and knowing and sure. “Oh yes. You are.”

A zing of
holy-shit
zapped his spine and spread fire through his groin. This wasn’t the Mia he knew. And this wasn’t the kind of relationship they had. This was a puck bunny scheming him into bed. And if this were any other woman even half as gorgeous as Mia, he’d already be upstairs with his head under her skirt, eating her out while she writhed and moaned.

His mind instantly put Mia in that position, and desire flashed through him, buckling his knees. He put one hand against the wall and pressed his other to her shoulder to keep him on his feet.

“What the
hell
…” He gripped her biceps and swung her out of the path of the elevator. When she didn’t seem the least bit fazed, he gave her a little shake. “
What’s
going on
,
Mia?”

She laughed, the sound hot and lazy. The elevator doors slid closed, and Mia reached out again, hitting the button.

His heart pounded like a goddamned jackhammer. Darting another look around, he bent his head and lowered his voice. “Where is this coming from?”

She got that gleam in her eyes again. The one that made his stomach squeeze and flip. The one that made heat collect between his legs. She reached into her purse and lifted her phone.

“Right here,” she said.

He glanced at the phone but shook his head, growing frustrated. “I don’t understand.”

Mia tapped her screen, entered her password, and turned the phone toward him, showing their text messages.

You’ll owe me
, she’d told him.

Fine. Anything you want. I’m dying here.

Anything I want?

Yes.

You’re sure?

Mia. ANYTHING.

His stomach somersaulted, then dropped to his feet. His blood turned to ice one second, then melted in a firestorm the next.

“I didn’t think I’d need to explain,” she said, “but obviously, I do. My
anything
is you, me, upstairs, now. Is that clear enough for you?”

A fireball burst in Rafe’s gut. His mouth dropped open. He was dreaming. He had to be. It was so like one of his dreams to do this. To taunt him with the idea of being with her only to wake him before he’d so much as kissed her, leaving him in a moody funk for a week.

But, he didn’t wake. This was no dream.

“What the
hell
?” His words came out too loud and too pissed. A family of four standing near the elevators looked over, clearly concerned.

Mia raised her brows at him in the most goddamned adorable little smirk. “Be careful,” she sang. “You don’t want this to turn up on the news, do you?”

His mind shot to Tate. Then Joe. And Rafe’s blood ran cold again.

He reached out and stabbed a finger against the Up button. “I’ll go up to talk about this. But
that’s it.
”

Holding on to that smirk, Mia looked down at her phone. To clear his head, Rafe watched the numbers on the elevator and strategized how he planned on keeping the woman he’d wanted for years at arm’s length. A woman who looked good enough to fuck a dozen different ways every day for a week straight without coming up for air.

“Look at that,” she said, pulling his gaze from the numbers. But Mia was still looking at her phone. “Dictionary.com defines ‘anything’ as ‘in any degree; in any way; to any extent.’” She met his eyes and smiled—a wicked hot little smile. “That’s my
anything
. You—to any degree, in any way, to any extent I want.”

Rafe was on fire. He rubbed his hand over his mouth and found sweat collecting on his brow. “You’re not thinking straight.”

“In fact, my head is clearer than it’s ever been. And since the agreement was anything
I
want, talking isn’t included.” She lifted one slim shoulder in a careless shrug. “Unless you want to throw in some dirty talk. Bet you’re good at it. That might be hot.” She slipped one arm around his waist and lifted her chin. “Give it a try. Talk dirty to me, Rafe.”

His heart seized. He slapped a hand over his eyes. “Jesus Christ.”

Ding.

He grabbed her wrist and pulled her into the elevator, then found himself hoping someone else came on, suddenly rattled at the thought of being trapped in this box alone with her.

She pressed the number for the top floor, and the doors closed without another passenger. Rafe went into offensive mode. “Let’s get real, Mia. You’re just getting back at me for not talking to you. I’m not stupid enough to think you’re serious, so you can drop the act already.”

Before he’d finished the last sentence, Mia was pressed up against him, her hands roaming his chest, wrapping around his torso underneath his blazer. Her gorgeous green eyes stayed focused on his.

“You may be smart, but you’re epically clueless. So I’m being very serious and very clear for you. This isn’t about revenge. This is about reclaiming my life. And part of that is about holding you accountable for your promise. Making sure you follow through on our trade. This is about you being as loyal to me as you’ve always been to Tate and Joe for a change.”

“For a change? What does that mean? I’ve never been disloyal—”

“Are you going to try to tell me that purposely ignoring me for a year is showing loyalty?”

“Yes,” he said with absolute finality. “It was.”

“To Tate and Joe, maybe. Not to me.”

She had him there. He couldn’t think of anything to say.

“Exactly,” she said in his silence. “That’s why tonight is about you and me and one night together. That’s it. Don’t make it more complicated than it is. You’ve given Tate and Joe decades of your loyalty. All I want is one night. One full night of you, naked, in my bed, fucking me until you can’t fuck me anymore.”

Rafe’s breath whooshed out. His knees turned soft again, and for the second time in his life, he had to catch himself with a hand on the rail lining the elevator.

His vision grayed at the edges, probably because every ounce of blood in his body now resided in his cock. He was breathless, like he’d been skating sprints. Sweating like he’d been lifting weights. To keep himself from lunging for a woman he should think of as a sister, even though she was anything but, he gripped the bar on the wall with both hands.