Restraint, p.11
Restraint, page 11
The table erupted in laughter, everyone cracking up over McKenna’s comment.
“Oh my God. Blake…gay!” Erika laughed so hard, tears streamed from her eyes. “That’s hilarious.”
Blake must have felt the need to flex his heterosexual muscles because he wrapped his arm around Erika’s waist, pulling her tightly against him before dropping a kiss on the side of her head. “It’s not that damn funny.” Turning back to McKenna, he said, “Erik is my nickname for her.”
“Sorry. It’s just…” McKenna flushed bright red, clearly embarrassed either by her mistaken impression or the fact she’d blurted it out. “Blake’s shown me a lot of pictures of Corky. She’s so adorable,” McKenna gushed to Erika.
Erika was amused to hear Blake was showing off their puppy at work. Not that it surprised her. She’d watched him whip out his phone at the grocery store to show complete strangers pictures of Corky.
Tank seemed less amused. “He’s got a million pictures of that dog on his phone. I swear to God, I’ve seen fewer photos of Elio Moretti’s newborn daughter than that damn dog. And Elio’s lost his mind over that baby.”
Elio, a former teammate, had retired from hockey at the end of the previous season, shocking everyone with a quick wedding to a woman no one even knew he’d been dating. A few months after the wedding, the baby was born.
Blake rolled his eyes, scowling at Tank. “Who hurt you, man?” he joked, referring to Tank’s apparent lack of a soul. Erika had always considered Blake to be a playboy—until she’d met Tank. At which point she realized she needed a sliding scale in terms of bad boy levels.
Blake was on the scale, but only at level one. Meanwhile, Tank was on the top tier, completely on his own, as he kept redefining the word playboy for Erika with his actions. The fact the man had unapologetically brought two dates to the same function had her rethinking the definition yet again. Erika couldn’t help but be curious if Tank was also planning to sleep with both women tonight.
McKenna flashed Tank a confused look, taking in the fact he had his arms wrapped both around Lara’s and Emily’s shoulders. She seemed to be trying to figure out which woman was his date. Like most normal women, it didn’t seem to occur to McKenna he was there with both.
“Do you guys mind if I snap a picture of you for the socials?” McKenna asked, redirecting her attention to the rest of the table.
“Sure,” Coulton said good-naturedly. “How do you want us?”
McKenna moved them all to one side of the table, Preston, Coulton, Blake, and Erika sitting together, as Tank and his two dates stood behind them, the women hanging on Tank, who was grinning from ear to ear.
God only knew how McKenna was going to caption that photo. She thanked them all after snapping a few pics, shooting sideways glances at Tank, who was kissing Lara as Emily playfully toyed with his bowtie, apparently waiting for her turn for some hardcore PDA.
“Um…okay, then,” McKenna said, adjusting her glasses again. “I need to keep working the room.”
She walked away, casting a couple of looks over her shoulder.
“She seems like a nice girl,” Erika said.
Blake nodded. “She is.” Turning his attention to Coulton and Preston, he added, “One of you should ask her out.”
Coulton shook his head. “Not my type.”
Erika waited for him to expound on that, but he didn’t. When Blake didn’t press, it was obvious he agreed, leaving her to wonder what kind of woman would catch Coulton’s eye. Given his gentle disposition, she definitely thought McKenna, who seemed very sweet, if just a tiny bit awkward, might be perfect for him.
Preston also rejected the idea. “I’ve already met my perfect woman.”
Blake rolled his eyes. “Jesus, man. Seriously?”
Erika frowned. “Did I miss something?”
Preston sighed. “I went to a holiday kickoff party in Philly a couple weekends ago with Elio. Met this woman, Chelsea.” Preston smiled as he said her name, like it was the greatest word ever spoken. “We really connected. Spent the whole night talking and dancing and…”
He tried to let his silence fill in the blanks, but Tank couldn’t resist joining the conversation. “And fucking.”
Preston scowled. “Fucking isn’t the word I’d use.”
“Aw, jeez, Romeo,” Coulton mumbled.
Erika giggled. Preston was the team romantic, the guy seriously in love with the concept of love. Obviously, he took exception to Tank’s description because if Preston was as enamored of the woman as he appeared, he would never use such a coarse word.
“So you and Chelsea are dating? Going to do a long-distance relationship between Philadelphia and Baltimore?” Erika asked, wondering why the woman wasn’t here, if that was the case.
Preston shook his head. “No. She left.”
“Left?”
“The country. She flew to Paris to work in a famous design house. She’s in fashion,” Preston added.
“Wow. Cool job,” Erika murmured.
“Basically,” Tank said, placing his hand on Preston’s shoulder and giving it a squeeze, “our Romeo here is brokenhearted because his dream woman moved halfway across the world right after their one-night stand.”
“Oh no. I’m sorry, Preston.”
Preston took a swig of his beer, staring at the nearly empty bottle a second before tipping it back and draining it. “If it’s meant to be, it’ll be.”
“Not trying long-distance like Erika suggested?” Blake asked.
“No. Not at all. It’s just…she’s my soul mate. I know it. So I have to have faith that fate will bring her back to me.”
“Like a serendipity thing?” Erika asked.
Preston shrugged. “I know it sounds crazy. It’s just…Chelsea was…”
“I think it sounds wonderful,” she reassured him, even though she feared Preston might be facing heartbreak somewhere down the line.
The band started playing a slow song, and she found herself being pulled out of her chair by Blake. She followed him to the floor, trying to ignore how good it felt to be wrapped in his strong arms.
“Tired of sharing you with my teammates,” he grumbled.
She gave him a breathy laugh. “We were just talking.”
“They’re monopolizing you.”
She pulled away at his grumpy tone, about to tease him and tell him he sounded like Victor, but when she saw his frown, she realized he was being sincere.
Erika decided her best response was to change the subject. “Thank you for inviting me tonight. It’s been a lot of fun.”
His frown lines faded, replaced with a smile. “Thank you for coming. I know it was last-minute.”
Blake’s hand stroked up and down her back a few times before stopping at the nape of her neck, his large hand lightly gripping her there. He’d held her that way a few times now, and every single time, her body responded to it the same way. Her nipples budding, her pussy clenching, her stomach fluttering.
She wrapped her arms around his waist more tightly, resting the side of her head on his chest, slowly swaying to the band’s cover of Justin Bieber’s “Anyone.” While Erika had never succumbed to Bieber fever, she really did like this song.
Blake placed a kiss on the side of her head. In her mind, she kept trying to tell herself it was a perfectly friendly, platonic kiss, but her body was interpreting it in a much different way.
Erika smiled when he started humming along to the song. He tried to sing a bit of the chorus but messed up the words. She tilted her head back to look at him. “You realize the words aren’t that complicated.”
Blake chuckled. “Maybe not, but it’s not ‘Enter Sandman’ either. I can scream-sing every word of that song.”
She rolled her eyes. “I’ve seen that performance before. Not interested in an encore.” One night after pizza, the guys started scrolling through Tank’s workout playlist while playing a drinking game. As if they’d planned it, the second that song came on, every Rays player broke out singing, playing air electric guitars and drums and swinging their heads around like lunatics. It was hilarious, but it sure as shit didn’t make Erika like the song any better.
They continued swaying to the slow song, Blake’s hands exploring with reckless abandon, caressing her back, gripping her waist, stroking her hair. It was the most tactile dance of her life, and it was wreaking havoc on her willpower…and her libido.
When the song ended, she wasn’t sure whether to be relieved or depressed because Blake released her, clasping hands with her to lead her back to the table. They hung out for a little while longer, chatting with Preston and Coulton, as Tank and his dates did a sexy three-way bump and grind on the dance floor.
“Had enough?” Blake asked, leaning close.
She nodded.
The two of them said their goodbyes, and he wrapped his arm around her shoulders as they waited for the valet to bring the car.
Once they were tucked into his Audi, the heater blasting warm air on high, Erika twisted to look at Blake. “Is Tank planning on sleeping with both those women tonight?”
Blake glanced her direction, grinning. “Yes.”
The answer was too simple, and Blake knew it. Just like she knew he was trying to get a rise out of her.
“Fine,” she finally snapped. “I’ll bite. How exactly does that work?”
Blake chuckled. “The usual way, but with three bodies in the bed. You have to understand that Lara and Emily are into each other as well. So while Tank will definitely fuck both of them, the women will be enjoying each other at the same time.”
Erika frowned. “Have you…ever…”
Blake didn’t bother to hold back his loud laughter. “Good God, no. But I like that you think I’m a big enough stud to pull it off.”
She snorted.
“I don’t share, Erik. When I’m with a woman, I want all her focus on me because she can be damn sure all my focus will be on her.”
Erika recalled the night of his “lesson.” None of her past boyfriends had ever been so in tune with her body, her needs, her desires. Blake had proven himself to be a master when it came to the female body, but more than that, he’d been an expert on hers, specifically.
“So are you going to keep seeing Doug?” Blake asked.
He had a way of saying Doug’s name, drawing it out, that made it sound like the name itself was the most ridiculous one he’d ever heard.
Erika nodded. “Yeah. We have a good time and…” She paused, refusing to say Doug was a nice guy again, even though he was. She should put some effort into thinking of better descriptors, but unfortunately, every time she pictured Doug in her mind, the only word that came to her was nice.
“Still no sex yet?”
He knew the answer to that question. After all, he’d stopped her before she could invite Doug in the other night, and she hadn’t seen him since.
She should tell him to mind his own damn business, but given the conversations they’d had over the past month or so, it seemed that the last barrier to full disclosure in their friendship had fallen.
“Nope. Not yet,” she replied.
Blake looked pensive when he glanced her way again. “Why not?”
“Because, unlike you, I don’t fuck on the first date.”
He smirked. “Maybe not, but you and Doug,” he drawled out the damn name again, “have been on a lot of dates.”
“Six dates is not a lot of dates,” she pointed out.
“It’s a record for you.”
She sighed, realizing how sad that truth was. “I’m just taking things slow.”
Erika expected Blake to make some joke about her going overboard on the slow thing, but instead, she got the sense he approved.
Parking near their building, Blake opened her door for her, the two of them walking inside arm in arm. “I’ll grab Corky and take her out before bed,” Blake offered, following her into her apartment.
Corky, as always, was waiting for them, her tail wagging a million miles an hour as she yapped happily. Erika kicked off her shoes by the door, a bad habit she’d accepted long ago that she would never break. One of these days she was going to invest in a shoe caddy to keep by the front door. Her heels were added to the current pile of shoes residing there, which included her running shoes and the flats she’d worn to work today. She was sort of surprised Corky hadn’t used any of them as chew toys.
Blake trailed behind her as she walked to the kitchen.
“Want some coffee?” she offered. “I think I have some decaf pods.”
He nodded. “Sounds good. While you make it, I’ll walk Cork.” Blake grabbed Corky’s leash from the hook she’d hung by the door, while Erika put a pod in the machine and pressed the button to brew the first cup. Then she headed to her bedroom, quickly stripping off her dress and putting on her comfies. She tugged on a soft cotton long-sleeve tee and pajama bottoms, adding fuzzy socks to keep her feet warm.
She’d just finished adding the creamer to their coffees when Blake returned.
“You changed,” he said.
Erika handed him the cup of coffee. “Getting dressed up is fun…for a little while. These pajamas are a hell of a lot more comfortable.”
Blake set his cup on the counter without taking a sip. Instead, he reached out, grasping her waist and pulling her close to him. “I was hoping to strip you out of your dress.”
She blinked a couple of times, trying to figure out if she’d heard him right. Before she could question him, he pressed his lips against hers in a kiss that was as hot and hungry as the one he’d given her a few days earlier.
This time, Erika was better prepared. Placing her hands against his chest, she pushed until he broke the kiss.
“Erik,” he murmured, clearly unhappy about stopping.
“You can’t keep kissing me,” she said, wishing her voice sounded less breathy.
He narrowed his eyes. “Our kisses haven’t been one-sided, you know. You’ve been kissing me back.”
“I know,” she conceded. “But I shouldn’t have. Blake, all the reasons we had for not going out three years ago are still there. God,” she said, running her fingers through her hair. “If anything, there are even more reasons. We’ve become friends, best friends, and we have Corky. I’m not going to deny I’m attracted to you, but…” She could see Blake composing a whole list of arguments, ready to fight her. She couldn’t let him. “But I’m dating Doug now. He’s perfect for me, and I really want to give our relationship a chance.”
The desire she’d seen in Blake’s eyes faded. It appeared she’d offered the one argument he couldn’t refute.
It was a shame it was a lie.
The more time she spent with Doug—and Blake—the more she could see Doug wasn’t the one. While she hated that she was putting so much stock in sparks, she couldn’t help wanting a man who offered the best of both worlds, someone who wanted a long-term committed relationship, who also knocked her socks off in bed.
“Why don’t you keep Corky at your place tonight,” she added, desperate to bring this night to a close. “You’re headed out on the road for a couple of days and you won’t get to see her.”
Blake hesitated, and Erika held her breath, praying he would let this conversation end here.
She needed some distance from him to…
Well, to think.
Erika wasn’t an impulsive person, so she really needed time to make sense of everything that had happened between her and Blake, to determine how she could avert any more mishaps. And so she could analyze all the dates and conversations and make rational, smart decisions about Doug.
Mercifully, Blake pushed away from the counter, bending down to scoop up Corky, who’d been prancing around their ankles.
“Night, Erik.”
His tone was gruff and…God…a bit angry. She chose to pretend she couldn’t hear it.
“Good night,” she said with a lightness she didn’t feel. “Thanks again.”
When the door closed behind him, she deflated, all the air seeping out of her body as her foolish head and stupid heart started playing out a different ending to the night.
One where Blake really did strip her out of her dress, lead her to the bedroom, and give her more of those amazing orgasms.
To quote Victor…she was fucking fucked.
Chapter Seven
Blake leaned back in his chair, taking a sip of his beer, letting his teammates and friends party around him. He should have skipped the damn celebration because he was a buzzkill.
While the Rays won tonight, it hadn’t been because of anything he’d done. Hell, if anything, they’d won despite him. His head hadn’t been in the game because all he could think about was Erika—who was out with Doug again.
Nearly a week had passed since he’d tried to kiss her good night after the charity event. Truth was, he’d been hoping to do a shit-ton more than just kiss her. He’d planned to do exactly what he’d said. Strip her out of that sexy dress of hers, kiss her senseless, then drag her back to her bedroom to—
“What the hell is wrong with you tonight?” Tank claimed the seat next to him. “You’ve been in a foul mood since walking into the arena. We won the game, dude. It’s time to eat, drink, and fuck.”
Blake shook his head. “We won by the skin of our teeth, and it’s not like I have anything to celebrate. I stunk it up big-time.”
“So you couldn’t find the back of the net. Happens to all of us,” Tank reassured him.
Blake lifted one shoulder, not really interested in rehashing the game. The only reason they hadn’t had their asses handed to them was because Coulton was on fucking fire. Boston had twice the shots on goal they’d had, and Coulton had stopped every freaking one. Their goalie was catching pucks in midair like they were punches someone was swinging at his mother. Nothing got by him. Not a single goddamn thing.
The crazy thing was, Blake had gotten the impression Coulton had arrived for the game every bit as pissed off as he was. However, while Blake had served up a fucking pizza in the middle of the third that gave Boston a serious chance to score, Coulton had been their MVP, shutting them down hard at every turn.
