Simmering Ice Page 7

  “Please. We don’t need luck.”

  Alec smirked and punched his shoulder as he walked by. “What you need is to keep your eyes open when someone tries to score.”

  “Thanks for the advice.” Grinning, Mikael shoved him in return. “If you think I have vision problems, maybe you should drive yourself to the arena.”

  “I’ll meet you outside.” Alec waited until Mikael closed the door behind him and then gathered Annie in his arms. He gently tipped her face toward his. “Rest today.”

  She nodded, and he dipped his head lower, his lips meeting hers in a soft kiss. Her arms slid up his back, and she held on until a series of knocks interrupted the quiet.

  “Let’s move it, Sequoia. Coach’ll get pissy if we’re late.”

  Annie sat in the den, drinking tea, and watching the Hustlers’ game. On screen, the players seemed out of sorts, taking stupid penalties, missing shots. Tempers flared. Even Alec seemed tense. When the first period ended, she stood and stretched. Recovering in Alec’s home was akin to staying in a fancy hotel, completely the opposite of living in the constant disrepair of the tiny house on the bay. As much as she appreciated Alec’s generosity, she missed her little apartment, and she missed Elsie.

  As if on cue, her phone rang. Elsie’s name appeared on the display. Annie snatched it up. “Hello?”

  “Hi, sweetie. How are you feeling?”

  “Much better now. The headaches have stopped and the soreness in my neck and chest is almost gone.”

  “Thank God. Will you be home soon?”

  Annie opened her mouth, then hesitated. Every time she brought up leaving, Alec insisted she wait until she’d fully recovered. She enjoyed his attention, but didn’t want to overstay her welcome. She was disrupting his routine. She needed to go home. “Probably tomorrow, that way I can get things ready for work on Monday.”

  “I’m glad. Vito said to tell you hello. I had dinner with him last night. He brought me flowers. Isn’t that sweet?”

  “Very.” She couldn’t understand why they kept dancing around each other. Both lit up when in each other’s presence.

  She finished her call and then dialed her mom’s number. She hadn’t mentioned the accident to her. Why bother, when it would just be more ammunition in her mother’s “Annie is a screwup” arsenal?

  “I can’t talk long.” Her mother’s voice carried over the line. “I have a quiche in the oven, and a special guest at the restaurant tonight.”

  “Sure, Mom. I’m just checking in.” Like she did every week.

  “Have you tried the new shampoo and conditioner I sent you? It’s supposed to work wonders on unruly hair.”

  Her hand flew to her hair. She’d never thought it unruly. “I’ll try it as soon as I finish up the bottle I’m using now.”

  “Good.” She shouted to someone in the background, then came back on the line. “Your sister is having Josie’s birthday party next weekend. You’re coming?”

  “I wouldn’t miss it. I’ll call Lynn and see if she needs me to bring anything.”

  “Bring something nice to wear. Some of Josie’s friends’ fathers are single and are bringing their kids to the party. On second thought, you can just borrow something of Lynn’s. She has such good taste.”

  Annie shook her head. “Listen, Mom—”

  “There goes the timer. I have to run.”

  Click.

  Annie stared at the phone. No amount of arguing or sticking up for herself had ever made her mom stop with her comments or suggestions. She wasn’t as harsh with Lynn, but then again, her sister was a carbon copy of her mother in looks and talents. Lynn became a chef, Lynn loved to knit and crochet. Annie’s sole attempt at knitting a scarf resulted in an ugly trapezoid, after countless hours of frustration.

  Restless, she paced the room. Why the hell couldn’t she ever be good enough? Would it be so hard for her mom to say, Good job, Annie. I’m proud of you?

  Boos echoed from the speakers. The Hustlers were down by two goals. An opposing player rammed into Alec from behind, sending him crashing into Mikael. The ref didn’t call a penalty on the obviously dirty play. Her irritation spiked. As soon as the second intermission began, she climbed the stairs to the second floor. Maybe a shower would wash away her mood. She passed the master bedroom. Even though Alec had been gone since late morning, the scent of his aftershave lingered in the hall. She inhaled and relaxed.

  After her shower, Annie wandered back into the guest room and tugged on a pair of skinny jeans and a black shirt, the V deep enough and the material soft enough to draw more than Alec’s eye to her curves. No matter what, even if she had to tie him down, she wasn’t taking no for an answer. Tonight was the night.

  She curled up in the large easy chair and watched the third period of the game. They still weren’t playing well. The camera flashed to Alec battling for the puck in a corner of the rink. An opposing player’s check sent Alec face-first into the boards. She gripped her mug. Was he okay? He pushed to his feet. A thunderous expression darkened his features, but he charged after the puck with lightning-fast movements. The uneasiness tightening her muscles loosened.

  Slash jumped onto her lap. He stretched his long gray body and then curled up with his front paw resting on her knee. She rubbed her fingers over the soft fur on the top of his head.

  Fights, the crowd’s displeasure, and the media coverage telegraphed the stormy emotions circulating throughout the arena. She cringed with every bad goal Mikael allowed and every unnecessary penalty the Hustlers racked up. Finally, the buzzer sounded. Annie let out a sigh of relief. At least now the messy play on the ice would stop.

  Alec’s text arrived a few minutes later.

  Grabbing dinner with the guys.

  Her fingers paused over the keys. Since Wednesday, he’d only left her side to go to the arena on Thursday night for a game, the practice rink for a few hours on Friday afternoon, then back to the arena for another game Friday evening. He’d come home immediately after each had had ended. As much as she wanted to see him, he needed to relax and unwind, and spend time with his teammates. She sent him a photo of the cat asleep on her lap, and typed her response.

  Slash and I will hold down the fort. Have fun.

  Replays of goals and fights flickered across the screen. Hopefully, whatever set the Hustlers off their last three games would be rectified before the next time they hit the ice. More than anything, she wanted Alec to make the playoffs and win the Stanley Cup. He deserved it more than anyone.

  When the nightly news program began, Slash stretched and jumped off her lap. Annie followed him into the kitchen and fed him. The ringing of her phone drew her back to the den. Alec.

  She grabbed the phone. “Hey, miss me already?”

  “Did I ever tell you how sexy your voice sounds over the phone?” Loud music and male voices drowned out Alec’s rumbling tone.

  The warm, happy, fluttery feeling that stole over her whenever she was in his presence or heard his voice was an intoxicating elixir. She leaned against the wall and smiled at his bust on the mantel. Definitely not as good as the real man. “Do you think you’ll be out late?”

  “Not if you come pick me up now. How about it, Annie?”

  “You’re serious… Are you hurt or sick?”

  His laugh echoed through the speaker. “I’m fine. Mikael’s having way too good a time to want to leave. You can drive the Escalade.”

  “I can’t drive that thing, it’s like driving a boat. It’s huge.” She’d never been comfortable with driving big cars.

  “Then take my Corvette.”

  He’d shown her the shiny, red Stingray a few days earlier. His brand new toy, perfect for summer driving, didn’t have a scratch. “What if something happens? I don’t want to mess up your car.”

  “You won’t. Hanging out with the guys isn’t what I want tonight. I need to be with you.” His voice lowered and deepened and pulled currents of longing through her core.

  She reached for a
piece of paper and a pen. “What’s the address?”

  Fifteen minutes later, she pulled up in front of a nightclub by the boardwalk. Alec stood framed against the light pouring out of the open door. Black pants, a black sweater, and biker boots showcased his body. Hair drawn back into a low ponytail, he was far more intimidating than the bouncer at his side. Catching her gaze, he strode past a group of gaping women and pulled open the driver-side door.

  Eyes sparking with an intensity that increased her pulse, he leaned down and captured her lips. For a moment, the world faded away, leaving just the two of them and the blood-stirring notes of the love song playing through the radio’s speakers. His hand closed over hers, and he gently lifted her to her feet. “I’ll drive.”

  “Thanks.” She rounded the hood and settled into the seat at his side. “I’m sorry you guys lost the game.”

  He shrugged and clicked his seatbelt into place. “Losing streaks happen. We need to concentrate on the game and avoid off-ice distractions.”

  She studied his profile. The firm set of his jaw telegraphed tension.

  Distractions…like her car accident?

  Distractions…like her living in his home and disrupting his normal routine?

  Distractions…like the chemistry burning between them?

  When he stopped at a red light, she silenced the radio and cleared her throat. His gaze met hers, and her stomach clutched in a mixtures of nerves and needs.

  “Am I a distraction?”

  “You? Only in the best way.” He must have read the anxiety on her face because he pulled over to the shoulder of the road and cut the engine. His hand squeezed her thigh, just above her knee.

  Heat seeped through the thin denim. The stroke of his fingers over her jeans ignited her need to feel him elsewhere. No more waiting. On a charge of anticipation and thrill of certain victory, she laced her fingers through his, tugged his hand along her thigh and then pressed his fingers against her center. His brows rose, his gaze heated and the muscles in his forearm flexed.

  “Annie.” Her name exited his lips on a groan.

  “You’ve been distracting me, too. I spend way too much time thinking about sex with you.” She smiled at his muttered expletive then moaned when his fingers contracted on the seam of her jeans.

  “You should see my fantasies.” His other hand gripped the steering wheel so hard his knuckles turned white. “We can’t yet. Your head and neck—”

  “Are fine.” She rubbed his hand against her core. Alec shifted his body and evidence of his arousal bulged beneath his pants. She angled herself toward him and lowered her voice to a whisper, “Or maybe you don’t want me.”

  “Trust me, I want the hell out of you.” He leaned across the center console, and his large hand cupped her cheek. His eyes darkened, gaze hungry and intense, but her breath caught at the tenderness in his expression. “But I don’t want to hurt you.”

  Annie brushed her hand over the hard muscles of his chest. His heart beat increased to match hers. “I trust you. And right now, I need you.”

  The slow stroke of his thumb along her cheekbone increased with his satisfied smile. “Let’s go home.”

  Sex changed things. It could take a normal relationship and make it better, or it could create awkwardness or neediness. Alec had wanted to take things slow after Annie’s accident, but the vixen at his side seemed ready for more.

  “Wine?” he asked when they arrived home.

  “Sure.” She stared at him with the intensity of a lioness on the hunt. Her long hair draped over one of her shoulders and the casual, but oh-so-sexy outfit she’d probably tossed on without a thought, obliterated his ability to think clearly.

  He carried the glasses over to the couch and sat next to her.

  “Cheers.” He lifted his glass toward her and then took a sip.

  Annie, never one to do what he expected, didn’t take a sip of her wine. Instead, she lifted the glass from his hand, and touched the blood red liquid to her mouth. A sweet sheen of pinot noir glistened over her bottom lip. When she placed their glasses on the coffee table, she leaned toward him, her eyes focused on his.

  His mouth brushed over her lips. He savored the taste of wine still lingering on her tongue. The slight moan that came from the back of her throat spurred him forward. His fingers grazed across her hair, careful to avoid any sore spots. They remained intertwined in an embrace that was growing more heated with every movement.

  Her hands electrified him as they traveled across his back and fell lower and lower until her fingertips slipped under the edge of his jeans.

  He pulled back to give her a chance to change her mind, still concerned about her injuries. “Maybe we should…”

  “Maybe we should lose the clothes.” Her hands continued their descent.

  Getting her undressed did seem a better idea than his. He glanced over at the side table and the photo of Tamara. A passionate redhead with a heart of gold. What kind of asshole thought of another woman when he was with another? A really fucked up one who had never placed her in the closet where she belonged. If he reached over and turned the photo down on the table, he’d probably kill the mood of the evening, and he loved the direction things were headed.

  “If you insist on stripping me down, we need to head to the bedroom,” he insisted, clasping her hand and pulling her from the couch. “How’s your head?”

  “Just don’t touch me where it was injured, and we should be fine.” Her free hand skimmed over his ass and made him an invitation he did not want to refuse.

  “Promise me you’ll tell me if anything hurts,” he said as he led her up the stairs.

  She eyed his crotch. “Are you that big?”

  “My nickname’s Sequoia for many reasons.” He couldn’t contain his grin, and neither could she.

  She burst out laughing.

  “I’m scared.” She opened her mouth and widened her eyes in an exaggerated expression of fear.

  His steps slowed. When she turned to see why he stopped, he frowned. “I won’t force a woman into my bed. Maybe we should wait until you’re more comfortable.”

  “Nice try, but I’m fine. More than fine.” She shook her head and then started walking to his bedroom again. Her ass swayed in a rhythmic motion that had him following her like a loyal dog. The second she crossed the threshold, she tugged on his shirt. “Off with it.”

  He lifted off his shirt and proceeded to take off hers, leaving her in a lacy black bra and jeans.

  One of his fingers lifted her chin to angle her head toward him. Her mouth covered his and tempted and tormented him. She couldn’t press herself closer, but she certainly seemed to be trying. Her investigation of his mouth became so passionate he pulled back for a moment. Breathing as though he’d just finished playing a triple overtime, he slowed the intensity by slipping off her jeans and a tiny black silk thong. Stupid idea. Her body was the stuff of erotic dreams.

  She placed her hand on his zipper. He grew harder at her touch. His need grew as well. An all-consuming need for the woman on his bed.

  “Slow down. I still have boots on.”

  He lifted her in his arms, unable to stop himself from brushing his fingers over the soft skin on her breasts. The vixen shifted and began a direct assault on his neck with her lips and teeth. After he placed her on the bed using all his willpower, she stretched across the mattress and patted the spot beside her. The image of this beautiful woman, with her saucy grin and her long hair spread across his white comforter waiting for him, seared itself into his soul.

  “Are you going to stay there all day staring at me?” she asked.

  “Maybe.”

  “Could you at least lose the boots?”

  “Compromise is my middle name.”

  “No compromises, I want all of you. In fact, take all of your clothes off.” She shimmied up to the headboard.

  Part of him felt self-conscious taking his clothes off in front of Annie. He preferred looking at her. He sat on the edge of the
bed and flipped off both his boots and his black socks.

  “Keep going.” She motioned to him with her hand to continue and catcalled like a construction worker on break.

  So he did.

  He unzipped his jeans and stepped out of them.

  “You’ve got moves.” She laughed and looked so incredibly beautiful directing his undressing.

  Then he slid off his boxers, shifting his hips from one side to the other to free himself. Her grin faded, and her eyes widened.

  “Nervous?” he asked.

  She straightened her back and shook her head. “Never.”

  His show was done, and he wanted her. Now. “Come here.”

  Their hands explored each other over bare backs and stomachs. He ran his fingers across the edge of one breast and down her tight stomach. She reacted by arching her back and rubbing against him. The warmth of a woman who wanted nothing but to please him took this out of the dating category and into something a little dangerous. Once he had a night with Annie and her intensity, would he ever want to return to shallow waters?

  His hands rubbed over her thighs and between her legs. He found her wet and ready for him. Contented moans became desperate whimpers while he explored and played with her. He wasn’t ready for this to end. He continued to kiss her and enjoyed her body curving around him in an urgent need for satisfaction.

  She groaned out his name. “Please. Now.”

  Her words urged him on. He took a condom from his nightstand, moved to the bed, and sat against the headboard the way she’d been sitting earlier. She helped him put the condom on with long, soft strokes and then straddled his legs.

  When their bodies finally merged, the world shifted, and everything faded away but his need for Annie. They rocked back and forth, faster, deeper, and with an intensity he’d never experienced. The muscles in her thighs tightened, and her hands gripped his arms. He held himself in check until he felt her come apart and then followed her to oblivion.

  Chapter Six

  The week following her night together with Alec passed in a blur. Annie spent her days at the hospital and her nights with him. Although she’d moved back into her apartment that Sunday, she’d spent more time at his house than at hers. The world seemed kinder, brighter, and she was flying high.