Текст книги "Major Misconduct"

Автор книги: Kelly Jamieson

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Текущая страница: 14 (всего у книги 18 страниц)

He moved between her legs and his tongue joined his fingers. Her body went shivery hot and soft, a swell of pleasure building deep inside her. She wanted to reach for him, but her arms were heavy, so she curled her fingers into the duvet. Soft whimpers rose in her throat, and her head tossed on the pillow as her inner muscles drew up tight, so tight it almost hurt, and she toppled over into shivering ecstasy.

He kissed her gently over her quivering clit, then stretched out on his side next to her, head in his hand. He continued to softly stroke her body, cupping her hip, her waist, trailing fingers over her ribs and between her breasts.

She fought for breath and turned her head to look at him. Their eyes met, gazes merging in a mixture of wonder and excitement and question.

“Get under the covers,” he growled softly.

She started to obey, then looked down at herself. “I’m all greasy.”

“I know. I like it.”

She smiled. “Maybe we could have a shower.”

“That is a fucking awesome idea.” He was off the bed in a flash, arm around her and leading her to the bathroom.

At the bathroom door, she paused. “Hey. Let’s have a bath instead.”

“Sure.”

“But not here. Let’s use Duncan’s bathroom. He’s got that huge soaker tub.”

“No.” His jaw set.

“Why not?” She blinked big eyes up at him. “He’s not home. He’ll never know.”

“He’ll know. He’ll sense it. Somehow. I don’t know. It just doesn’t feel right.”

“Oh, come on. Have you seen his tub?”

“Yeah.” His mouth lifted at one corner.

“You’re a big guy. Two of us in that little tub in our bathroom won’t work. Think how nice it’ll feel, naked in a tub of hot water…maybe some bubbles…” She rose on toes and brushed her mouth over his stubbly jaw.

“You do this every time,” he muttered. “Fine. Just saying, this is against my better judgment.”

“It’ll be fine.” She led the way into Duncan’s bedroom and then the attached bathroom. Which was amazing, all tiled in mocha and cream tiles, with a huge glassed-in shower with multiple jets and a big oval tub on a raised platform.

She cranked the water on, held her fingers beneath the stream to test the heat, adjusted it a little hotter. While it filled, she grabbed a big towel off a hook and wrapped it around her, then zipped back to their bathroom to scoop up more of her own towels and a bottle of bubble bath.

“Am I going to smell like cupcakes?” He eyed the container in her hand.

“Mmm, yeah. Hope you don’t mind.”

“I like smelling you,” he admitted. “Not sure if I want to smell that sweet.”

“You won’t.” She moved up to him again, hands flat on his chest. “You’ll smell like masculine cupcakes.”

He choked on a laugh. “Okay.”

He helped her step in and followed her. She poured bubble bath in and soon they were sitting surrounded by bubbles and steam. Marc moved behind her and she leaned back against his chest. His arms came around her, his legs on either side of hers, and they relaxed into the liquid heat.

“This is so nice,” she murmured. “The massage. The pizza. The bath.”

“The orgasms.”

“Yeah. Those too.” She slid a little to the side so she could look up at him behind her. “The orgasms were amazing.”

He cupped one breast in a big hand, sloshing water a little, and she let her head fall back to his chest. She felt like she was dissolving in the water, boneless and floaty and dreamy.

A noise from the front of the condo had her eyes snapping open and her muscles contracting.

Marc’s body behind her did the same. “Mon ostie de saint-sacrament de câlice de crisse!”

“Is that Duncan?” Stupid question. Who else would it be? “Shit, shit, shit!” She scrambled up and out of the water, over the side of the tub. Her foot slipped and she grabbed the edge, regained her balance, scooped up one of the towels. “Open the drain, open the drain!”

“It’s too late, Lovey.” Marc’s voice held resignation and an edge of anger. “We’re fucked.”

“Shit!” She wrapped the towel around herself. “Okay. You make a run for it. Get into your room or the other bathroom before he sees you. I’ll tell him I wanted to have a bath.”

His mouth a grim line, he reached for the track pants he’d worn into the bathroom and stepped into them. He wasn’t hurrying, though.

“Faster!” she hissed. “Hurry!”

With his pants on, he strode out of the bathroom and she trailed along, her heart thudding against her ribs. Her eyes wide, her fingers holding the towel up, she watched him. Would he make it? Would he…

Duncan appeared in the bedroom door. He went stock-still, gaping at Marc in a pair of track pants, bare-chested and clearly wet. “What are you—” His gaze went past Marc and landed on Lovey. His eyes nearly bugged out of his head.

Lovey thought her heart might have actually stopped for several beats. It then resumed a fast, hard rhythm that made her legs shake.

“What the fuck?”

Chapter 21

Army’s eyes snapped back to Marc. “You fucking bastard. I told you to keep your hands off her!”

Marc held up his hands, his body tense and adrenaline rushing through his veins. “Just hold on, man. Hold on. Listen—”

“I’m not fucking listening! You fucking nailed my sister! Fucking asshole.”

Marc’s eyes widened as Army rushed at him and tackled him. With Lovey’s shriek in the background, Army took him hard to the carpeted floor. Air whooshed out of Marc’s lungs and pain burst through his hip and shoulder. Then Army drew back a fist and nailed him in the jaw.

Lights exploded in front of his eyes. At first he didn’t feel the pain, and he instinctively swung back, connecting with Army’s head. He tried to shove Army off him, but they were evenly matched.

His jaw now throbbing, they both threw punches, some that hit, some that missed. Marc managed to roll and get Army under him and hit him again. “Fuck! Stop, Army, this is fucked-up!”

“Fuck you!” Army tried to punch him again and Marc blocked it.

In the background, Lovey was freaking out. “Both of you stop! Don’t fight! You’re going to kill each other!”

A slight exaggeration, as usual, but Marc couldn’t stop to laugh.

She was wet and naked, save for the towel. He caught glimpses of her bare feet and calves as he and Army wrestled and punched. Câlisse, he didn’t want to hurt his buddy, he just wanted to defend himself, but Army was pulling no punches, so he was forced to fight back.

“Stop!” Lovey screamed. “This is ridiculous! You are not animals. You might think this is okay because you can do it on the ice, but you can’t do it here!” She aimed a kick at her brother’s ass with a small, bare foot.

Army growled and yanked away, giving Marc a chance to get him pinned. “Lovey, for fuck’s sake!” He glared at Marc. “Let me up.”

“Stop fucking punching me, asshole.”

“You deserve it! What the fuck! And why are you in my bedroom?”

“Oh God.” Lovey shoved her hands into her damp hair. “It’s my fault. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” She was looking at Marc.

He wasn’t letting her take the fall for this, although he had tried to make her be sensible. Once again she’d enticed him into doing something against his better judgment. But he was just as guilty. He could have stood firm and said no, but he’d wanted to have a sexy bath with her as much as she’d wanted it.

Stupid, stupid, stupid.

But if there was one thing he’d learned in his hockey career, beating yourself up over mistakes did no good. You learned from it if there was something to learn and you moved on. When you screwed up and turned over the puck and it ended up in your own net, you couldn’t let that drag you down for the rest of the game, you had to put it behind you and focus.

He rolled off Army and staggered to his feet. With a glare, he extended a hand to his buddy to help him up. Returning the glare, Army ignored him and went to his knees, then stood. He touched his jaw and winced. “Fuck, man, you drilled me hard.”

“You’re the one who started it.”

“Oh my God, I can’t believe this.” Lovey twisted her hands together. “You should not be hitting him, Duncan. This is my fault. Be mad at me.”

“Oh, I am,” he assured her, his face thunderous.

“You can only be mad at me for being stupid enough to want to use your bathtub.”

“Fuck me.” Army closed his eyes. “You were having a bath together? I did not want to know that.”

“I’m sorry, Duncan.” Lovey gentled her tone. “I’ve been trying to tell you. I’m grown up. I’m starting a business. I’m starting a new life. And I’ll have sex with whoever I want. It wasn’t fair of you to warn Marc off me. Now he feels horrible and guilty.” She met his eyes and gave him a crooked smile. “I’m pretty sure anyway. But it’s my fault. I went after him. I kept telling him it would be okay, because you’d never know.”

“How long has this been going on?” Army exploded.

She tightened her mouth and her eyes shifted. “Awhile.”

“Christ.” Army ran a hand through his hair. “Jesus Christ.”

“It’s okay, Duncan. I’m fine. I wanted this.”

“And what Lovey wants, Lovey gets.”

Her face instantly tightened and Marc’s gut clenched. “Why don’t you go put some clothes on, baby,” he said quietly. “Then we’ll talk more.”

She nodded, eyes wounded. “Yeah. Good idea.” She hitched the towel as she turned to walk out.

When she was gone, Marc turned to Army. “Look, man. I’m really sorry. This is not the way you should have found out about us. Yeah, we both kind of lost our minds. We shouldn’t have been in your tub.”

“Never mind the tub! You shouldn’t be together at all! Were you going to tell me?” Army demanded. “Ever?”

“We hadn’t talked about it, but yeah, I planned to.”

“When?”

“I’m not sure. I wanted to discuss that with her. Listen, Army.” He hesitated, because he hadn’t even really admitted this to himself. “You know that stupid rule, about a guy’s sister being off-limits forever? Well, the rest of that rule is, unless you marry her. Truth is, I’m in love with Lovey.”

Army’s eyes popped open. “What!”

Marc held his gaze steadily. “You heard me. I love her. I think I realized it tonight. Or maybe it was the night we had the party. Or maybe it was…Never mind.”

“Jesus.” Army shook his head, looking like he’d been whacked in the face with a hockey stick. “Seriously?”

“Yeah.” He nodded. “I’m not gonna hurt her. I love her.”

“Does she feel the same?” Army looked confused at the idea of his sister being in love.

“We haven’t said it,” Marc admitted. “But…there’s something there between us. I think she feels it too.”

Army dropped his hands, paced across the room, and stared out his bedroom window at the glittering Chicago skyline. He shook his head. “She’s my little sister.”

“She’s twenty-four. She’s an adult. She makes her own decisions.”

“But not good ones.” Army grimaced. “I told you, she changes jobs, changes boyfriends, moves to Chicago on an impulse…then she hooks up with my best friend.”

“Just what do you have against me?” Marc folded his arms across his chest and fixed a look on Army.

Army had the grace to look ashamed. “It’s not you, man. Nothing wrong with you.”

“Then what’s the problem?” He narrowed his eyes. “Because if you think Lovey’s not good enough for me, then that is fucked up. She’s amazing.”

Army lifted his chin. “I didn’t mean that either.”

“Then seriously…what’s the problem if we’re together?”

Army sighed. He looked away. He looked back. “I don’t know. I guess I don’t want her to get hurt. I want her to grow up and be responsible.”

“You think I’m the kind of guy who’d hurt her? Who’d screw her over?” Marc shook his head. “You should know me better than that. When have I ever treated a woman badly?”

Army grimaced. “Never.”

“Exactly. I’m serious about Lovey. I’m not just screwing around with her. I want a future with her.”

Army was silent. “Wow. Hell. I don’t know what to say.”

“Maybe you could just apologize for whaling on me.”

Army gave him a lopsided smile. “Not sure yet if I’m sorry about that. Okay, okay. Sorry, dude. Heat of the moment and all that. We good?”

“Yeah. I get it.” Marc frowned. “Where the hell is Lovey? I thought she was getting dressed.”

They both started to the door. Marc exited the bedroom and looked toward the other bathroom. Door open, light out. Her bedroom door was closed. He looked back at Army. “I’m going in there. I have to make sure she’s all right. Deal with it.”

Army nodded, looking torn. “Okay. Yeah. Your girl. Make sure she’s okay. She fucking better be okay.”

“She might need an apology from you too. Tomorrow will do.”

“Ha. Fine.” He turned to go back into his bedroom.

“Hey, Army.”

“Yeah?”

“Why’re you home so early?”

“Melissa had a headache.”

Marc pursed his lips. “Sucks for you.”

“Again, ha. See you tomorrow.”

Marc nodded and paused at Lovey’s door. Christ, he’d really never been in her room. They always ended up in his. He knocked.

“Go away.”

He pressed his lips together and went in anyway. Lovey was in her bed, in the dark, huddled under the covers. He crossed to the bed and sat on the side, laying a hand on her hip. “Lovey. You okay?”

“I’m fine.”

Bullshit. When women said they were fine, that meant they were so not fine. “Come on. Talk to me.”

“Not now. Really. I’m embarrassed. And I feel terrible.”

Well, yeah. He got that. Never mind that Duncan didn’t know anything about them, being caught half-naked with a guy by your older brother was definitely embarrassing.

“We’ll talk tomorrow, yeah?”

“Sure.”

He wanted to climb into bed with her and spend the night with her in his arms. And now that things were out in the open with Duncan…nah. They needed to let Duncan come to terms with this before they started openly sleeping with each other in front of him. Out of respect for his friend, he’d sleep in his own room. Alone.

“Okay.” He patted her again, then stood and left.

–

Lovey huddled under the covers, trembling, her insides so tight she felt like she might barf.

God! What had she just heard Marc say? She’d padded down the hall, pausing outside Duncan’s room to listen to them talk, hoping they weren’t still fighting, and her jaw had damn near hit the floor at what she’d heard. He was serious about her? He wanted a future with her? What the hell did that mean?

No, no, no! This wasn’t supposed to be something serious! They were having sex and having fun. She wasn’t ready to settle down in a long-term relationship! Hence the breakup with Richard, who’d wanted marriage and babies…she was too young. Not ready for that. No way. She was just starting her new business and she wanted to see if she could do this. She wasn’t giving up a career that was going to prove to everyone, including herself, that she had something she was good at, that she wasn’t just a flighty screwup who couldn’t stick with anything longer than the length of a TV sitcom.

What had happened? How could Marc have said those things? Did he want to get married and have kids?

God, she’d even thought about the fact that he needed a wife. As team captain, it would help him have someone to organize social events that brought the team together on a different level. He needed someone like…like…

She flopped onto her back and stared at the ceiling in the dark. Okay, she didn’t know anyone she would want to see Marc with. But it couldn’t be her.

She was not the woman for him. He had big responsibilities. Big commitments. He was always in control. He was serious about his career. And this wasn’t just any career. His career was huge. There were a lot of people counting on him—his teammates, coaches, team owners, sponsors, millions of fans. He was in the public eye. He had to be aware of everything he said and did. How could someone like her fit into that kind of life? She was starting to get it together, but clearly, based on what had just transpired, she had a long way to go.

She had to put an end to this now. She didn’t know what he was anticipating. She was moving out in a few weeks and she hadn’t thought about what would happen between them after that. She supposed she’d just assumed that once they were no longer living in the same condo, the attraction would fade away. They wouldn’t be seeing each other on a daily basis. They wouldn’t be fighting that powerful chemistry between them.

Her stomach rolled with nausea and her hands curled into fists. She should never have slept with him. She hadn’t known he was going to get all serious.

Oh yeah. Captain Codger. She should have known.

His last relationship had lasted over two years. He wasn’t one to screw around. He was just as serious as Richard. God. What had she done?

Sleep was impossible. She pitched and rolled and flopped in her bed all night. Even when she did doze off, crazy, nonsensical dreams filled her thoughts.

In the morning she snuck in and out of the bathroom, then stayed in her room until she heard Duncan and Marc leave for their practice. She didn’t feel like eating, but she needed coffee. And ibuprofen. Her head felt like her scalp had been tightened. Even her eyes throbbed.

She sat at the island with her coffee, waiting for the painkillers and the caffeine to take effect, thinking about what to do. Now she wished she could move out sooner.

That sparked an idea, and she searched through the papers from the rental agency. She made a call to see if there was any possibility of moving into the apartment before the first of the month. You never knew.

This time luck was with her. The apartment was already empty. They were going to paint before she moved in. She offered to do that for them if she could move in sooner. Painting a small studio apartment couldn’t be that big a job. It would be fun. After some discussion, they agreed she could move in on the weekend. Only a couple of days away.

Thank God.

She nibbled her bottom lip, contemplating the next steps. Her things from storage weren’t due to be delivered until January second. And she had her bedroom furniture and clothes here that had to be moved. She’d thought maybe Marc and Duncan would help her, but now she didn’t want to ask them. She just wanted to disappear.

Their schedule also wouldn’t allow them to help her, as they were leaving tomorrow for back-to-back road games in Minneapolis Friday and Saturday. But in a way, that was good.

She went online to Google some things, made a few more phone calls, and when she had it all arranged, she sat on her bed. Feeling sad.

Dammit. She shouldn’t be feeling sad about leaving. She should be relieved and happy that things had all worked out so well.

She didn’t want to be there when Duncan and Marc got home. She wasn’t sure where she was going to go. Tonight was the course on matching beer with food she’d signed them up for. She considered just bailing, but then stiffened her spine. She didn’t want to miss out on something cool because of all this shit. She’d see if Jillian wanted to go with her. Jillian worked for a beer company. She’d love it.

One more phone call confirmed those arrangements, and then she dressed and did a little makeup and hair work. She slid her laptop into its case along with a file of business papers, left the condo, and searched for somewhere she could hang out that afternoon and get some work done.

A Starbucks on Illinois Street provided that solution. She could spend a few hours there, do some shopping if she needed to kill more time, and then meet Jillian at six for the beer course.

Her phone buzzed with a text message just before two o’clock. Marc. Hey where are you?

She looked at the message, then ignored it for a while. He didn’t need an immediate answer. She could be in a business meeting and not able to take calls or check messages. She ordered her second latte and continued working. Concentrating on work was just what she needed to take her mind off stuff.

An hour later she texted him back. Had work to do.

His reply came right away. R U coming home, or do U want me to meet you at beer thing?

She sighed, a weight settling on her chest, then tapped in her reply. Jillian is going to come with me to the beer thing. She likes beer.

She waited with jumpy nerves for his response; it took a while and she almost thought he wouldn’t send one. But it was just, Okay, then.

For some reason her nose started to sting and she had to blink back tears. She closed her eyes and took a few deep breaths. Well. That had been easy.

When she met Jillian at the brew pub where the course was being held, Jillian took one look at her and said, “Whoa. You look awful.”

“Thanks.”

“Are you feeling okay?”

“I have a killer headache.”

“Need something?”

“Do you have? I took some ibuprofen this morning but I forgot to bring any, and now my headache’s back.”

They quickly transferred a couple of little pills between their hands, and Lovey used the last of a bottle of water she’d purchased at Starbucks to wash it down. “There.”

She tried to focus on the course, which was really quite cool. She learned that you could think of ale as red wine and lager as white wine.

“Ales are more fruity and robust,” the instructor, a local chef, told them. “Lagers are crisper, more delicate. And as with wine, there are light, medium, and heavy bodies. Generally, light beers pair well with light dishes, and heavy beers with heavy dishes.”

They got to sample a bock beer with spicy jerk chicken and a stout with braised lamb shanks, to name only a couple of the dishes, as well as assorted cheeses paired with various beers. Lovey pasted on a smile and laughed and interacted with the other people there.

Then she had to go home. And face Marc.