Wild ride, p.15
Wild Ride, page 15
Petrov was such a fucking drama queen. Dex glared at his teammate, not needing that vibe in the room. “Anyway. This is Willa and Ashley. You’ve met Tara.”
Tara and Cal had once dated, but Dex didn’t hold that against him. In fact, right this minute he didn’t care if Tara had dated the entire team and everyone else in the visitors’ locker room. She was happy and he was happy for her, and he had something else in the hopper.
Someone else.
Only he had no idea how to approach this. How to win Ashley.
And he realized in the moment that he wanted that more than he’d ever wanted anything before.
“Thanks for the game tickets and the limo and the Skittles.” Willa leaned in and kissed him on the cheek from her seat in the back of his Escalade.
Ashley turned to her daughter. “Honey, could you go inside so I can chat with Dex for a second?”
“Okay.” Willa opened the car door. The blast of cold air from outside should have dampened his senses, but it seemed nothing could do that these days. “Bye, Dex! See you soon!”
“Bye, Sparkle,” he said as she shut the door.
They both watched as the front door opened with Maeve pulling her in for a hug. Another wave from Willa, a look that could sour milk from Maeve, and then the door was shut.
He turned back to Ashley. “I think she had a good time.”
“She did. You really didn’t need to drive us home.”
“You’d have preferred the limo?”
“It had Skittles.”
He chuckled and rubbed his mouth. “I’m glad you came. It was nice seeing people in my seats.”
“Someone said you don’t usually have guests.”
Of course people had noticed. “Tara?”
“No, someone else. Casey, I think. Though I thought Tara was your friend.” The unspoken “and more …” at the end of that sentence was loud in the quiet of the car.
No way would he be sharing the fakery of his original relationship with Tara. Another one of his screw-ups that just made him look immature and completely unworthy of this woman.
“When we were together, she usually attended the games in the owner’s box. That’s more her style. And now—well, she doesn’t need to sit in the players’ section when she has a comfy seat beside her husband. She took up one of my seats tonight because she’s nosy.”
Ashley held his gaze. “But you haven’t offered them to other people? Isn’t this your second season with the Rebels?”
“The people I know are mostly on the team and anyone else is kind of temporary. I haven’t wanted to invite anyone before now.” He ran a hand through his hair, feeling more and more like an idiot with each passing second. “I liked looking over my shoulder and seeing you there.”
Was it his imagination or did Ashley move incrementally closer?
“I liked when you looked over your shoulder at me.”
His pulse went bananas. “You did?” The words were rusty, barely formed.
“I need you to kiss me now, Dex.”
“You do?” She did! So kiss her, idiot.
He closed the gap. Lips mere millimeters from each other, and the anticipation was so, so sweet. He’d never been so nervous about his kissing technique.
He’d never used the words “kissing” and “technique” in the same sentence.
Their lips met. The kiss exploded, caught fire, and burned through his soul.
This is why I fucked up. So I could meet Ashley.
He pulled back an inch, met her heavy-lidded gaze. “I need to touch you.”
She nodded, a hot puff of air escaping her lips as her hand palmed his chest.
Every voice in his head, his dick, and his balls urged him to go straight for her tits. He was a boob man, always had been, and Ashley was possessed of an amazing pair. But he also wanted to be respectful. They were parked outside her house, in her neighborhood, with her family nearby.
Instead his hand curved around her hip, which should have been a poor substitute, but even that was enough to make his cock thick in his sweats.
“This okay?”
“Mm-hmm.”
He went back in for more of her sweet taste, claimed those lips and deepened the kiss, all while his palm mapped the exquisite curve of her hip. He coasted a hand down to her ass. She felt amazing in his palm, the perfect fit.
“Dex. More.” She moved his hand to under her top, like he needed directions. He was Dex Fucking O’Malley! He could find a nipple in a freakin’ snowstorm.
Her skin felt so hot, so soft and silky. He moved up over warm, supple flesh until he reached her tit. Still the barrier of her bra but feeling that gorgeous mound beneath his fingertips had him hard enough to slam a puck into the net with his dick.
Add that move to practice next time he was on the ice.
He coasted a thumb above the bra’s edge, expertly moved the strap aside, and popped that baby out. Better. Perfect.
Her moan told him just how much. It reverberated in his mouth, sending a thrill of sensation through him.
Then she cupped his cock and he almost exploded in his seat.
“Fuck!”
“No?” She pulled back, eyes wide with concern.
“Fuck, yes. I mean, I love it but …”
“But?”
“I-I think we need to slow down.”
She blinked those apple-green beauties at him. “Oh.” He felt her pull away, and not just physically.
Fumble recovery needed, ASAP. “Ashley, I want this. I want you.”
She pushed her top down and sat back a couple more inches. “I had—we had a nice time tonight. Willa will be talking about it forever.” She placed a trembling hand on the car door handle.
“Ashley.” Her name came out sharper than he intended. “Do not move one more inch.”
Another wide-eyed blink, and Ashley froze in place.
“I could make you come in seconds, you know that? Just pull down the zipper of your jeans, slide my hand in, and slip my fingers through your hot, wet pussy. A few strokes and you’d be gone.”
Her eyes flashed in anger. “Well, thanks for telling me what I’m missing.”
“That’s not what I mean. What I’m trying to tell you in my ass-backwards way is that you deserve better. Better than a quick fumble-and-finger-job in the front seat of my car. You deserve a warm bed with a million-thread-count sheets and my attention for hours while I bring you to the edge over and over. This is killing me to say this because I’m hard as fuck for you—”
“You are?” She looked close to tears.
He cupped her jaw and drew her close, brushing his mouth over her lips. So damn sweet. “Baby, I am. I don’t want to treat you like a forgettable quickie. Because nothing about you is forgettable and nothing about this should be quick. You’re a special woman and I plan to show you just how much I want you.”
Her phone went off. She ignored it.
“Do you mind if I check something?” she asked.
“Go ahead.”
She cupped his cock again and gave it a gentle squeeze that drew his groan.
“I just had to be sure.” She leaned in closer, searching his eyes. “So, this is really happening?”
It really was, and he’d never wanted anything more. And then they were kissing again while the phone rang and his cock throbbed and his pulse soared, every heartbeat affirming this new, strange feeling.
Happiness.
He pulled away because Ashley’s kisses were the kind of drug that was going to make him forget his resolutions to be a better man. Less fuckboy, more respectful adult.
“Ashley …”
“Hmm?”
“Why is your sister shooting a death ray in our direction?”
She looked over her shoulder at Maeve waiting at the open door with a shawl around her shoulders. She looked like a witch about to cast a spell; in fact, he could’ve sworn he saw her lips moving, reciting an incantation.
“Oh dear.”
“I’m guessing she hates me.”
“It’s not personal. She doesn’t want to see me hurt.”
“I never would.”
Her phone rang again and this time, she answered, “What?!”
He couldn’t hear exactly what was being said but he didn’t need to. Big Sis was exercising her authority as head of household and insisting Baby Sis get out of the clutches of that bad man.
Ashley slid a look toward him. “I’m on my way. Yes. Bye.”
End call. Deep breath.
“I—”
“Have to go. I understand.”
She let her gaze fall down his body, landing right on where he ached the most. “I wish I could … help with that.”
“Don’t worry, you will. I’ll be thinking of you later when I jerk off.”
Color tagged her cheeks, and he leaned in to kiss her. “Better not keep your mistress waiting.”
“She worries about me.”
With Dex in the picture, that was understandable. He wasn’t very good at making people happy.
But he could make people feel good. His lips met hers, which was a mistake because now he wanted nothing more than to bundle her up and take her back to his place. She cupped his face and held on, and he let himself believe that she wanted that as well.
The car felt like a steam bath of longing and sex, but she had responsibilities, so he nuzzled her nose and did the right thing.
He pulled away.
“Thanks for tonight,” she whispered. “For everything.”
And then she was gone.
He watched her head into the house and raised a hand when she turned to wave at him. Once she was safely inside, he sat still for a moment, letting the lingering comfort of her wash over him. Holding onto it for a little longer before the chill of the air and distance from her house would take it away.
19
Dex
Likes: Ashley Adams
Dislikes: Smirking hockey-playing assholes
Dex was on cloud nine.
Everyone was still hailing him as the hometown hero. Last night, for the first time in his life, he’d acted like an adult around a woman he wanted. Then he went home and jerked off like a randy teen because there was only so much adulting he could manage in one day.
“What’s that grin for, O’Malley?” Killer Callaghan nudged him as they walked down the main street in Riverbrook after a vigorous morning skate.
“He’s got a girlfriend,” Kershaw said. “But she’s the kind of gal who takes pity on waifs and strays, so there’s that.”
“The shelter lady?” Grey grinned. “I thought I saw her last night. Doesn’t she have a kid?”
“She does,” Dex said. “I invited her and Willa to the game. And she’s not my girlfriend.”
“Yeah, she friend-zoned him, remember?” Foreman’s contribution.
“Plus she has a kid,” Grey said, even more annoying than before.
“Why do you keep saying that?”
“Because that’s a lot of responsibility to take on.” Grey had that worried look he seemed to have a lock on. He was the most anxious player on the team. “Is that what you want?”
“You’re marrying him off already?” Kershaw laughed. “Give him a chance to actually score with her.”
Already have. So he hadn’t made it past second base, but it felt like he’d won big.
Only he didn’t enjoy Grey’s assumption that he wasn’t capable of handling a relationship with a woman with a kid. Better to downplay it. Keep expectations all around to a minimum.
“We’re just friends right now. I’m not dating her.” Even though he wanted to. Because as soon as he said the negative, he started thinking that was what he wanted. Needed. He didn’t care that she had a kid, but maybe he should? Maybe that was a huge consideration when a guy wanted to be part of a woman’s life. Because he wasn’t just dating Ashley, he was dating her family.
Her kid.
Her sisters.
One of whom was not a fan.
Just as those rain-heavy clouds descended he realized something else. They’d reached their post-morning-skate eating destination and it wasn’t the Italian deli.
“Thought we were going to Barzini’s.”
“Nah, I want the omelet they named after me.” Kershaw signaled to the hostess that they had five.
“You mean the one you insisted they name after you?” Callaghan observed wryly.
“To-maytoes, to-mahtoes. Of which there are plenty in the Theo, along with chives, ham, and feta.”
“Sounds like Greek to me,” Foreman opined.
Dex’s pulse had picked up. She might not be here. It was close to noon, so past the breakfast rush, and the place didn’t look that busy. He took a quick glance around. No sign of her. Maybe it was her day off or she’d already been fired, which wouldn’t have surprised him because she was an ex-con.
Things were going well for him, and he wasn’t going to let Ruby O’Malley ruin it.
As they sat down, he took another look around and—shit, there she was at the counter, talking to the hostess. Arguing with her, perhaps? She looked over, frowned, and said something to her colleague.
She didn’t want this table.
Perfect, he didn’t want to deal with her, either.
Apparently, she lost the fight because she trudged over with a stuck-on smile.
“Hey, guys, can I start you off with coffee?”
“Yeah, I’ll have a latte macchiato,” Callaghan said.
Kershaw rolled his eyes. “They don’t do that here, dummy. Ruby, I’ll have regular coffee. I’m guessing it’s the same for everyone.”
They all nodded except Dex who was trying to get his head around the fact Theo Kershaw was on a first name basis with his ex-con mother. Maybe during all the times in the last few weeks he’d cried off the diner run post-practice, Ruby had been insinuating her way into his life in another way.
Through his teammates.
“How about you, hun?” she asked Dex directly.
“Yeah, coffee,” he muttered without looking at her. She poured while Dex tried to get a grip on his emotions. This wasn’t right. She shouldn’t be here in his space. In his life.
One of the guys asked Ruby if she’d seen the game last night.
“Of course I did. Quite the barnstormer.”
“Yeah, we have this guy to thank.” Foreman nudged Dex. “He’s playing like a dream.”
He couldn’t bear to look at her. Would she look proud, or would she keep a vapid blankness so as to ensure he wouldn’t blow up in her face?
I made it, he wanted to yell at her. No thanks to you.
He kept his head down, even when he put in his order for a Denver omelet, even when she set it before him, like some twisted parody of his childhood when she’d serve up Sloppy Joes and a glass of milk.
Eat up, Dexy. You should be in bed before Kane comes over.
Already tipsy, alcohol fumes wafting off her, she’d sit and watch him eat and as soon as that last morsel passed his lips, it was, “Okay, Dexy. Go do your homework now.” Banished to his room with Loki, he’d put on his headphones and try to analyze math problems that meant nothing to him and stuff that had happened to other people and seemed so far away from his life.
He’d hoped they’d get to stay in this apartment longer than the last one. Ruby had a habit of losing her jobs, usually because she was too hungover to make it in on time. But this last one, a receptionist at a tire repair shop on Chicago’s North Side where Kane was her boss, seemed to be sticking.
Or maybe it was because Kane was sticking it to his mom.
Dex didn’t like the guy and the feeling was clearly mutual. But if his mom was happy and somehow managed to remain employed, what did he care? This way, they could pay the rent and stay longer. And all he had to do was put up with a few sharp comments and the occasional slap across the mouth, the last one coming the week before when Mom had gone to the bathroom and Kane thought Dex was backtalking. Just because Dex wouldn’t get him a beer from the fridge.
Better not to tell her that Kane got physical. Because there was a delicate balance to be maintained. Keep Mom happy. Keep Kane happy. Keep his mother in a job, even one where the boss might overlook her tardiness and vodka-perfumed breath. Keep them in this apartment, this one place they could call home, because Dex was sick of moving. Sick of change. Sick of being the new kid everywhere he went.
But it didn’t matter in the end because the balance was too precarious. All Dex had to do was stay out of Kane’s way, but even then, self-sabotage was his bag. He would see how far he could push, then push a little more. Until someone got hurt and the blood started to flow …
Back in the present, he looked up, realizing that someone was talking to him. Not her, but one of the guys.
He forced a smile as if he knew what the hell they were yammering on about. She was gone, thank God. Hadn’t even stuck around to congratulate him, which was fine. He didn’t need her praise.
After lunch, Dex told the guys to go on ahead because he needed to use the bathroom. He headed back to the table where Ruby was clearing.
“What’s going on?”
Silently, she continued stacking the plates, her focus on the task at hand.
“Laughing and joking with the guys? Is this your way of getting to me?”
She sighed. “I’m just doing my job. The guys are friendly and my job is to be friendly back. We work for tips, y’know.”
“Well, here’s a tip: stay away from my friends.” Something else occurred to him. “Have you told anyone that you’re my—” He hesitated, unable to say it aloud.
“Your mother, Dex.” The words came drenched in acid, but then the next ones were softer, regretful. “Have I told anyone that we’re related or that I’m sorry for everything I put you through or that I wish more than anything we could—”
“Nah ah, not doing this. You shouldn’t be here. I’m building a life and I sure as hell do not need you here screwing it up again.”
She looked like he’d struck her.
He felt like he had. His entire body was in some sort of meltdown, and all he had to do was say sorry and give her a kind word. That might fix how he was feeling, or it might make it worse. He didn’t know, so going for the knife—ha, the irony—was the best way to escape this onslaught of emotion.
