Guess there was no hiding now.
She couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen a live hockey game. Her dad and brothers had come to the games a lot, and she’d been dragged to a few of them when Mom wanted to come along, but she hadn’t been since she was a kid. Of course the games were always on television so she’d watched plenty of them. In the Riley household, you grew up knowing your team sports. There was no escape.
But she’d never been up front, her toes chilled from being so close to the ice, her fingers able to touch the glass. And when the players set up in the faceoff spot, she found herself leaning forward, hands clasped, her body tensed as the referee held the puck in his hand, teasing the drop.
The puck dropped and the game was on. The tension never lessened as they moved to San Jose’s goal in a hurry. Jenna and Liz stood, cheering on the Ice as they fought to get the puck in the goal, then screamed when San Jose’s defender shot it back, their team threatening to score with a shot on goal. The Ice defended, sending it back into San Jose’s territory. Tyler grabbed it and Eddie, right with him, soared again toward the goal.
It went back and forth like that for the entire first period, the teams fairly equal. The first period ended with no score.
Jenna flopped in her seat and watched the players file out. Tyler looked as frustrated as she felt and didn’t make eye contact with her. She understood he needed to keep his head in the game, not flirt with her.
She turned to Liz. “That was intense.”
“Girl, don’t you go to the games?”
“Uh, no.”
“Never?”
“Not since I was a kid.”
Liz rolled her eyes. “You are so missing out. There is nothing as breathtaking as being at a hockey game.” She held her hands out toward the ice as evidence. “Case in point—this first period. I don’t think I breathed the entire time.”
“It was interesting.”
“Interesting my ass. You were riveted. I’ll bet you twenty bucks you scream and jump up and down during one of the Ice’s scoring drives tonight.”
Jenna turned to her, certain she wouldn’t do that. “You’re on.”
The second period started with San Jose defending on their side of the arena, which meant when the Ice threatened to score, Jenna could see Ty close up. And when he and one of San Jose’s defenders fought for the puck along the boards, they’d get slammed against the glass right where she and Liz sat. Instinct made her want to reach out for him, to let him know she was right there, but she resisted the urge.
But damn this was a rough game, and when San Jose scored the first goal, her stomach dropped.
“Damn.”
They fought so hard, had more shots on goal than San Jose. They just weren’t getting the puck in the net.
Liz patted her hand. “Don’t give up on these guys. They’re fierce.”
She wasn’t about to give up on them. She might not come to the games, but she’d watched plenty of them at the bar. She knew this team. They worked magic when they were down.
True to form, they tied it up on a power play goal late in the second period, a sweep from their left wing Meyers to Lincoln, the other center on the Ice. It stayed that way into the third period, and Jenna was about to climb out of her skin. The action had been intense, and the play had been brutal. Ty had gotten bloody on a slam to the boards that had resulted in a fight with the opposing player. It had ended with them trading fists on the ice. Jenna laid her hands on the glass, wishing she could be there to help him out. Her heart leaped in her throat as they pounded each other and the refs just stood there. She knew that was part of the game—that the fans loved it—but this was her guy involved and the fight was taking place just across the arena.
The referees finally stepped in and broke up the fight. Jenna exhaled when Ty got up, seemingly unharmed except for blood on his uniform and another attempted charge at the defender. The referee interceded and sent both him and the San Jose player to the penalty box.
She was furious. Ty hadn’t started that fight. What the hell had he been penalized for? She’d crossed her arms, tapped her feet, and counted down the longest two minutes of the night until he was sprung. When Ty vaulted out of the box and back onto the ice there were three minutes to go.
They had to win. They were going to win. The action was intense, moving from San Jose back to the Ice, possession changing every few seconds. Both teams wanted this badly.
Ty took the puck on a sweeping pass from Victor and charged toward the goal, the defense right on him. He slipped it to Eddie, who shot it back to Victor.
Jenna was on her feet as Ty put himself in position in front of the net, fought off the defender, and when Victor sent the puck sailing, Ty pushed in front of the defender and shot the puck into the goal for the score.
“Yes! Yes, yes, oh, hell yes!” She screamed, jumped up and down, and pumped her fists in the air, joining the roar of the crowd.
She watched the seconds tick down as San Jose tried to advance, but the Ice held and won the game. Jenna was hoarse from her shouts and screams.
When she turned, Liz held out her hand. “I’ll take my twenty bucks.”
Jenna rolled her eyes and reached into her bag for her wallet. “Bitch.”
“I love you, too. Now let’s go wait for your boyfriend.”
She followed Liz up the stairs. “He’s not my boyfriend.”
“You know what Shakespeare said about the lady protesting too much.”
It would be childish to stick her tongue out at Liz’s back, but Jenna really wanted to.
She followed Liz downstairs to the locker room. They waited outside in the hall while the media did their thing with interviews and the players began surfacing. When Ty came out, he grinned and came over to Jenna, wrapped his arms around her, and lifted her off her feet, then planted a hot kiss on her lips that made her stomach flutter. He put her down, then smiled at Liz.
“Thanks for coming to the game.”
“It was a great game,” Liz said as they made their way upstairs. “Took you guys long enough to pull it out.”
He put an arm around Liz’s shoulder. “Hey, the fans like a little suspense.”
“The fans like a blowout.”
“They like to be entertained. A close game keeps them on the edge of their seat.”
“Bullshit. You guys want to be up by three or four goals in the first period, too, so you can run defense the rest of the way. Don’t blow smoke up my ass, Anderson.”
Jenna’s lips quirked as Ty and Liz argued all the way to one of the private clubrooms, where Liz pulled some papers out of her bag. Jenna helped herself to a soda while they talked PR business.
Freshly showered, Ty’s hair was still wet, the ends curling against his neck. She sipped her soda and watched as he bent over the table, the Henley he wore stretched tight against the muscles of his back.
Watching him play showcased his amazing power, the incredible strength and stamina it took to play this game. She saw it in his finely honed body and in the scars he bore. The play was rough and not without its physical hazards. She was glad he was in good shape, but oh, man, it had been a tough game and he’d been slammed against the glass several times. Seeing it on television was one thing—up close was something altogether different.
She itched to go over and run her hands over his shoulders, to remind herself of his strength and to reassure herself he was okay. She wanted to feel the heat she knew would pour off him in waves. Even on the cold ice the other night his skin had been hot, his body all muscle. After a shower he smelled cool and crisp, like the ice. She wanted to put her face in his neck and breathe in his scent.
Her nipples tightened and her sex quivered.
She sighed and took a sip of her soda. Okay, so clearly she hadn’t had quite enough of him yet. She was going to have to work double time to get him out of her system.
Finally, Liz stood. “Okay, that’s it. Jenna, are you coming with me?”
Jenna looked at Ty.
“She’s coming with me.”
Liz’s lips quirked in a knowing smile. “Great. I’m out of here, then. You two have a fun night.”
She waggled her fingers at Jenna and headed out the door.
Alone again. With Ty.
EIGHTEEN
THE ROOM GOT QUIET AS TY CAME OVER TO WHERE SHE was sitting. He caged her between his body and the barstool. “What did you think of the game?”
She shrugged. “It was okay. Kind of boring.”
He leaned in and pressed his lips to the side of her neck. “Is that right?”
“Yes. Liz had to nudge me awake a few times.”
“So you didn’t see the goal I scored?”
Her breathing quickened when he licked her earlobe. “No. Missed that part. Sorry.”
“That’s okay. Like you said, it was a pretty dull game.”
She pulled back and framed his face with her hands. “It was a great game. I enjoyed it very much.”
“For someone who doesn’t like sports.”
She allowed a small smile. “Yeah. Rough game, though. You get banged up?”
He laughed. “I always get banged up. I’m tough. I can take it.”
She swept his hair away from his forehead and noticed the cut above his right eyebrow. It had a butterfly bandage on it, but it was swollen. Helmets had gone flying off when he and the other guy had gotten into a fight.
“A fistfight, huh?”
“I’ve had worse, and not on the ice.”
“Really. I’d like to hear about those.”
He grabbed her hips and pulled her to the edge of the cushioned seat, drawing her between his legs. “Maybe I’ll tell you about my childhood sometime.”
“Did you live on the streets, fighting for your survival?”
He snorted out a laugh. “Uh, no. But I did get into fights a lot.”
She leaned back, putting her arms on the chair. “Must be in your nature.”
“Maybe. My parents put me in sports to take some of the attitude out of me. I liked hockey because it was aggressive. I played it from the time I could stand upright on skates. And sometimes we used the sticks for more than just moving the puck around.”
She studied him, wondering what kind of child he had been, what that play must have been like. “Swords?”
His lips curved. “Something like that. You can playact a lot of battles with a hockey stick.”
“I can only imagine.”
“Can you? Just how tough are you?”
She raked her nails down his arms. “Just as tough as you are. I played football and baseball and basketball and hockey with my brothers and their friends and I gave as good as I got.”
He squeezed her legs and the room got hotter. “So you can get rough with the guys, huh?”
“You bet.”
“You’re not one of those sissy girls who can’t take a little heat.”
“Hell no.”
“How much can you take?”
Her breasts ached and her pussy quivered with the knowledge that she wanted him and she knew exactly where this was going. “How much have you got?”
He hauled her off the chair and into his arms, his mouth coming down on hers in a hard, hot kiss that swallowed her gasp. She tangled her fingers in his hair and yanked on the strands while he grabbed her ass. She wrapped her legs around his hips, clamping tight while he walked the short distance to a table and set her on top of it.
She was panting when he let go of her. “Aren’t there going to be people coming in here?”
He left only long enough to flip the security lock on the door, then grabbed the remote, clicked a button, and closed the blinds overlooking the ice, shading them in complete privacy.
He turned back to her. “Take off your pants.”
She kicked off her boots and slid out of her jeans and tights, leaving her in only her panties and shirt. He hovered over her, then bent to kiss her knee. She sifted her fingers through his hair, loving its softness, so incongruent with his overall toughness.