Page 19 of He Has Trouble (Boston Brawlers Hockey)
Chapter 9
Pacing around my old man’s kitchen, I waited for her. She arrived without a toothbrush and as much as I tried to prevent the twist of my gut, I couldn’t.
“I brought you some food. You must be starved.”
“I must be.” But I couldn’t feel it, not unless I counted my hunger for her, or the gnawing emptiness I felt when she wasn’t around.
She put what looked like a plate of dinner in the microwave, the only kitchen appliance that had seen any action in my old man’s house probably since Angela last cooked here when we were in high school. I wondered if it was too long ago to count.
She leaned against the counter facing me, wearing a soft red sweater, filling it out like a dream, making my hands itch to touch the softness covering those breasts again. I shoved my hands in my pockets and leaned against the refrigerator opposite her. The kitchen was small, so we were less than six feet apart, but it felt like six miles.
“It’s your show,” she said. She looked curious. And nervous.
Me? All I had was nerves, raw feelings I couldn’t keep down. Swiping my hand through my hair, I got some courage. From where I had no idea. Desperation maybe. Enough for me to tell her.
“I’ve been traded. To the Boston Brawlers.” I held my breath, watching her face.
“Tra—wait. What?” the furrow in her brow smoothed out, giving way to a beaming smile, telegraphing pleasure and I wasn’t sure if it was because Boston was located conveniently a mere ninety minutes away, or if it was because my childhood dream of playing for the Brawlers was about to come true. I held my breath, waiting to find out the answer as if it were a test, as if she hadn’t already passed a thousand other tests.
As if I didn’t already know she’d put me first, think of my dreams coming true first. Knowing that would give her pleasure was a turn on, seeing her face light up was a turn on. Then listening to her peeling giggles and seeing her bounce around—even if it didn’t involve bouncing tits—was enough to put me over the edge.
“TheBoston Brawlers? Really?” Her voice rose until I feared for the glassware. “Brady, I’m so happy for you.” She launched herself at me, laughing, hugging me with meaning. “That’s fantastic. You always wanted to play for them. Ever since I can remember, you pictured yourself playing for the Brawlers in the Stanley Cup finals. It’s your dream come through.”
She let go of me, bounced on her toes some more with an adorably kissable grin, contagious enough to make me give up a half smile. Her elation powerful enough to give rise to a bubble in my chest that might have been joy. Might have been nerves, fear of the bubble bursting, fear that—she interrupted my mean line of thought.
“You’re not as happy as you should be, as you would be if you hadn’t just lost your dad.” She hugged me again, this time without the bounce, back to consoling, always caring. That connection, sense of being understood was there, making me breathe deep, bringing me back from the edge of desolation.
“He’d be proud of you.” Her muffled words drifted up to me, the sound consoling even if I didn’t buy into the meaning. I held on for life, as if she were the only thing holding me in place and if I let go I’d disappear into the ether of the universe. I kissed her hair, feeling the pull of her. I would be in Boston, close to her. I could have her, we could have something.
But did I deserve her? I’d barely come off suspension. I was still notorious and if I didn’t get my act together, my stint with the Brawlers would be short-lived.
Putting my hands on her arms, I removed them from me and stepped back.
“I haven’t done anything yet. I have a lot to prove.”
Not to meher eyes said, but her mouth remained quiet. I dragged in a breath.
“They’re putting me up in a hotel room in Boston for two weeks. I need to settle in and find a place.”
“Are you leaving me again?” Her voice shook, yet it was strong as if it took everything in her to force the question out. She was so brave. So fucking inspirational, putting herself out there, all her raw emotions on the line, exposed to excruciating sudden death. I wanted—needed to get a grip, suck it up. If she could take a chance on me, I could.
“No,” I said, gruff, clearing my throat. “I don’t want to leave you. I want you in my life more than anything. Being away so long taught me that lesson well.”
“Then— “
I put a finger on her lips, stared into her soul melting eyes and with the soft feel of her mouth against my finger, just that small touch, the warmth in me shot to hot-and-bothered in a nanosecond. She must have felt it too because she sucked my finger into her mouth then, lathed it with her tongue and let it pop out again. My eyes almost rolled into the back of my head with the sensual overload. The way my body responded to her went so far beyond physical and I knew it, but I knew how to make good on the promise of physical satisfaction, knew our chemistry transcended everything, all the trouble. Knew when I held her in my arms all the bad disappeared, the bad that happened in my life and the bad in me.
“Bed.” I gripped her face in my hands and as I kissed her, pulled her with me back to the stairs and then lifted her, gripping her sweet round ass and hauled her up the stairs with me to my room. Tonight I’d take her to the promised land and never let her go. Tonight would be the night of multiple orgasms, endless love and running my cock so deep inside her we’d be the same person, locked together, connected as absolutely as two people could be. My blood raged through me and straight to my cock, making it strain and drool.
The tight jeans she wore was no match for my quick hands and she did a hell of a job on my zipper. When I reached down to touch her and found her pussy weeping for joy, my cock stiffened bolt upright and ready for play.
“This is gonna be fast and hard, angel.” I had to warn her, the swirling rage in me had coalesced into mad lust.
“Bring it on. I need that feel of you inside me, pounding. I have a lot of pent up— “
Backing her up to the bed as she spoke, I fell on top of her, cutting off her words with my mouth over hers, owning her mouth, claiming every last corner with my tongue and teeth and lips, taking in her panting breaths as she shoved my jeans aside and released my cock.
There was a condom in my back pocket and I moved my hand up her body from between her thighs to get at it, but she beat me to it, having better access.
