Forbidden Puck: A Hockey Romance Page 15

  “What's wrong, Ella? Lose your appetite?” Lance asked.

  ***

  After suffering through dinner, Lance suggested that the team go to Club Regret—then caught my eye to see my reaction.

  Okay. He definitely knows. I'm screwed.

  Outside, an armada of cabs was once again waiting for us. Lance and I grabbed a cab, but this time, he told Ilya to ride with someone else.

  We climbed in.

  “I think you'll like this Regret place,” Lance said. “Unless, of course, you're going to inform me that Regret is also a chain, and you conveniently have one of those in New York, too.”

  I gulped loudly.

  “Something you want to tell me, dear sister?”

  “Seems like Radar already told you,” I muttered.

  “He sure did. So how'd it happen? Did he take advantage of you?”

  “Of course not. It 'happened' because you bailed on me to go hang out with Lindsay, and then Radar felt bad for me because I hadn't even eaten dinner.”

  “Oh, so it's my fault.”

  “It's no one's fault, it just happened.”

  “So Radar treated you to dinner. Wow, he's such a nice guy, isn't he?”

  I rolled my eyes. “Yeah, he was, actually.”

  “And that's why you were willing to lie for him, when you made up that ridiculous story about catching him with the puck bunny?”

  I sighed. “I guess so.”

  “It's funny, because I thought you never told a lie, and you lorded that over everyone's head as proof that you were better than everyone else. But I guess in the end, that turned out to just another lie too.”

  I tutted. “Stop being so dramatic. It's not like I wanted to lie about it. It's very simple, Lance: Radar and I got caught up in the moment last night, and we did something we shouldn't have. And then he begged me not to tell you, because he thought you'd freak out and get him kicked off the team. I went along with it, because I didn't want to see his career get wrecked.”

  “Which it will, by the way.” Lance smirked. “I have to say, Honey Badger, sleeping with my roommate is pretty damn low. I wouldn't expect that from you.”

  “Uh, excuse me? I didn't sleep with him.”

  “Whatever you two did. I don't want to know, honestly.”

  I stared at him. “You know … that's pretty ballsy coming from you, Lance.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Quinn? Hello?”

  “Oh, here we go with Quinn again. So that is what this is about, isn't it? I asked you if you planned to fuck Radar to get back at me—and you said no. Remember when you said you weren't the kind of sister who'd fuck her brother's best friend? What was that, lie #47 you've told so far this trip, Ms. One Hundred Percent Honest?”

  “I didn't plan on fucking him—and I didn't fuck him, either! This wasn't some plot of revenge. It just—”

  “It just sort of happened?”

  “Yes …!” I let out a heavy breath. “He was sweet to me, Lance. Not just last night, but the night before, too. He didn't have to take me out to dinner, but he did, and we started talking to each other and getting to know each other more, and yes, I liked him enough to kiss him.”

  Lance rolled his eyes. “Oh, great, you like him, too. The more I hear, the more nauseating it gets.”

  He thought it was nauseating, but my heart fluttered at hearing that.

  “… Ryan told you he likes me?”

  Lance sneered. “Ugh. You call him 'Ryan'? Seriously?”

  “Forget it. Where did he go, anyway?”

  Lance shrugged. “He went home, like I said.”

  “Did you guys have a fight?”

  Lance didn't answer, so I grabbed his hand and inspected it. “Your knuckles are puffy and bleeding. You punched him, didn't you? Is he hurt?”

  “He'll be fine.”

  “I can't believe you, Lance. You think you can solve everything with violence? You think you can hit a guy just because he likes me?”

  “Radar doesn't like you, Ella. The guy always has some new slut he's banging, practically every weekend. Did you know he never brings a girl around a second time after he fucks her? Wanna take a guess who his new slut was last night?”

  My jaw dropped, and my eyes narrowed with rage, and that was when I caught Lance with a back-hand to the mouth.

  He recoiled and dabbed at the blood trickling down his lip. “So this is the thanks I get, for inviting you out to my place for the weekend. You try to bang my roommate, you hit me—”

  I interrupted him. “You are so selfish, Lance. You lied to me about why you wanted me to visit. You weren't even home the first night I arrived in town. You bailed on me last night to hang out with your girlfriend, all of which created the perfect storm of me and Radar hanging out together. You also aren't even sorry about the fact that you fucked Quinn, my best friend, and sabotaged our friendship in the process. But when the same thing happens with me and your best friend, suddenly it's some egregious crime?”

  “Uh, yeah. Exactly. I'm a guy, so I'm supposed to try to sleep with your friends. But if your sister tries to sleep with your guy friends, it's like, wrong and stuff—”

  “That is so stupid. You are so stupid.”

  I told the cab to pull over.

  “Wait, where are you going, Ella?”

  “I'm going home, packing my things, and staying at a hotel for the night. I've had enough of you and Radar both.”

  I slammed the car door shut before he could say anything else.

  Asshole, I muttered as the car drove off.

  Chapter 26

  What's in the Box

  Radar

  Back home, I needed a long, hot shower before I managed to get the grime of fry grease off of me. My shirt and pants were ruined, so I threw those away.

  I threw on my favorite pair of sweatpants and laid in bed. I had a pounding headache, thanks to the punches I'd taken. Wondering what was going to happen next wasn't helping relieve the throbbing pain, either.

  Should I call my agent and let him know?

  Sometimes it helped to get ahead of the media blitz. If word of this was going to hit the media, it might be best to get the damage control started …

  I really fucked things up.

  I had such a good thing going in Boston. I knew I wasn't a top-line player—but Lance and I just had that intangible chemistry. I never clicked with a top-six guy before. My only hope was to compete for a bottom-six roster spot on another team …

  And I might make that work for a season or two. But once my new team figured out I wasn't the same player as I had been in Boston, their patience would start running thin. I'd find myself on the third line, then the fourth line, then struggling to stay with the big club at all …

  You really shouldn't have fooled around with her, moron, I thought.

  But then another part of me thought, surprisingly: it was worth it. You did the right thing, and took a chance because you liked her in the first place.

  An hour or so later, I heard the condo door open and someone came in.

  Great, I mumbled under my breath. If it's Lance, he's probably still furious.

  But it wasn't Lance's body that entered the condo. The foot steps were lighter, softer, more elegant, and I knew it was Ella, and she was alone.

  I didn't go to see her. I knew well enough to leave her alone, after the train wreck I'd created.

  Ten minutes later, there was a soft rap at my door. “Knock knock,” Ella said.

  “Come in.”

  She stepped in, saw me, and covered her mouth. “Oh my God. Your face.”

  “Handsome, right?”

  “You look awful, Ryan.”

  She spun around and left the room immediately. I thought, huh, I guess she really can't stand the sight of me.

  But she returned a minute later holding a bag. “Here. I brought you some ice.” She neared, sat at the edge of my bed, and pressed the ice bag to my eye. “How's that?”

&n
bsp; “Helps. Thanks.” I couldn't look her in the eye. “How was dinner?”

  “It was MacAllister's, for the second night in a row. Hardly the place you bring a girl you want to impress, right?”

  “Where's Lance?”

  “Club Regret, with the rest of your teammates.” She paused. “Lance and I had a fight on the way over.”

  “Funny. We had a fight too.”

  “Yeah. Our fight was about your fight.”

  “I figured.”

  She leaned closer and lowered her voice. “Why would you tell him about last night, Radar?”

  “So you wouldn't have to lie to him anymore.”

  “But why?”

  “I told you, I wanted to make things right. Did it work?” I gave my best shot at giving her a cocky grin, but it must've looked pitiful, given my black-eye-and-ice-bag condition.

  She smiled coyly. “Well, you certainly pissed him off.”

  “As you can see.”

  “He says he's going to make sure you get traded, you know.”

  “Yup. I know.”

  “Why would you tell him all that, Radar? I wouldn't have told him about last night. You could've continued on, like nothing ever happened.”

  “But you told me you vowed to live a life without telling a lie. And here I am, forcing you into that kind of life. I guess I didn't realize how important it was to you, until I made you do it … and saw how angry it made you.”

  She didn't answer. She pursed her lips and looked at me with a half-smile, half-frown.

  “So, Ella, even if I got away with the lie, you would've had it buried inside you for the rest of your life. Who knows, maybe in the grand scheme of things, that lie wouldn't be a big deal. Maybe, eventually, you'd only think about it once every other year. But it'd still be there, a little piece of proof that you weren't living your life the way you wanted, and worse, it would all be my fault.”

  She put her hand against my cheek, the non-swollen one. “Ryan …”

  “I like you, Ella.” I covered her hand with mine—and then I gently removed it from my cheek. “But I don't deserve you. And that's why I was only trying to do the right thing last night.”

  “What are you talking about, that you don't deserve me?”

  “I sleep around. You don't. You're the complete opposite of me.”

  “I already know that about you.”

  “And how does it make you feel?”

  “I mean … I'm not wild about it. But it's not like you're unique in that regard. I'm the odd one, sitting around and waiting, for what, exactly? I'm not even sure anymore.”

  I shook my head. “No. See, you don't know how bad it is for me.” I climbed off the bed and pulled the trunk out from underneath the bed. “Here. You were asking me what's in here. You really want to know?”

  She looked at me and gave an uncertain dip of her shoulder. “Er … I don't know … I don't know what you're trying to tell me.”

  “It's proof of how fucked up in the head I am, Ella.”

  She gulped. “It's not like, dead body parts, is it?”

  “Of course not. I'm not a murderer.” I unlatched the locks and opened the lid.

  Ella peeked in at my shame. “Um. Well, I see … a jumbled pile of women's panties? Are you a cross-dresser?”

  “What? No! It's a panty collection.”

  “And what is a panty collection, exactly?”

  I sighed and explained it to her. Every last mortifying detail. Each pair represented a girl I'd slept with. They were almost all puck bunnies from MeatMarket, the hook-up app I used.

  “… How did this get started?” she asked, her brows furrowed with uncertainty.

  “One of the first girls I hooked up with, once I went pro, accidentally left her panties in my room. I texted her the next day and told her, in case she wanted to pick them up. But she said, 'add them to your collection.' I told her I didn't have one. She said, 'start one then, duh.' And so … I did.”

  She had more questions, and I had answers:

  No, I didn't steal any damn panties; the puck bunnies always willingly gave them to me because they knew about my collection and were more than willing to help me add to it.

  Yes, of course they were all clean; every pair went through the wash before I placed it in the box.

  No, I never did anything weird with them … besides collecting them, anyway.

  After I answered all her questions, Ella didn't look at me like I was a monster. In fact, she started to look—amused. Like she were biting her cheeks to keep from breaking out into a laugh.

  “I guess I'm just confused why you … ah …” she stifled some giggles, “ahem, why you would want all these panties in the first place?”

  “Wait, are you laughing?” I asked, appalled.

  “Yes! I am! It's sort of funny, okay! Some people collect stamps, or bottle caps, or baseball cards, but you collect panties.” More giggles.

  “I collect them because … I don't know.” I looked into the stupid box and gave it a shake. “It's kind of dark.”

  “Tell me.”

  “I've always had this idea that, as long as I was an athlete, I should never settle down and date anybody. Because, first of all, there's all these girls who just want to fuck me because of my name and profession, right? But that's a double-edged sword. How can I ever trust that someone I meet is actually interested in me, the person, and not just 'Radar' the hockey player? All these panties are proof that women only like me because I'm a pro athlete.”

  She nodded while my words sunk in. “I get it, Ryan.”

  To say I was shocked doesn't even begin to explain my surprise. “You do?”

  “Yeah, I think so. I'll be honest, it's a little weird, but I still get it. I've got sort of the same problem going on, don't I? I mean, I don't collect the boxers of men I've rejected or anything,” another stifled giggle, “but I have the same fears about finding a guy who actually likes me and isn't just trying to get laid. It's the same problem, it just manifests itself differently, right?”

  “I never thought of it like that …”

  She shut the panty box. I took her cue and tucked the box back under the bed.

  “Why'd you want to show me that, Ryan?” she asked, scooting next to me on the mattress until our thighs touched.

  “Because, that's what I meant when I said I don't deserve you. A guy who does something like that shouldn't be your first.”

  She covered her mouth.

  “You're still laughing,” I said.

  “Only because I think you're a sweet guy who doesn't even know that he's sweet.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “Ryan, the kind of guy who compulsively collects panties because he's a perverted monster isn't the kind of guy to turn a virgin down because he thinks she deserves better for her first time.”

  “Then what am I?”

  She grabbed my arm and made me drape it around her shoulders. “A guy who actually cares. And I've dealt with enough creeps that I'm normally pretty good at spotting them by now.” With my arm around her, she snuggled against my side. “You're the first guy to turn me down, I'll tell you that much.”

  She was so close, her warmth crept over me, and that dangerous scent of hers clouded my mind. I stroked her hair.

  “Hardest thing I've ever done,” I said with a smile. “I like you, Ella.”

  “I know. I like you too.” She smiled at me and took the ice bag from my face.

  “How does it look now?” I asked.

  Carefully, she touched the skin around my eye. “Much better. It's kinda sexy, honestly.”

  I leaned in and softly kissed her. It wasn't the naughty, forbidden kisses that yesterday's make-out session on the couch was. Instead, the embrace of our lips was something deeper, something more meaningful. Our lips locked, and we explored each other deeper. Like we were truly seeing each other, for who we really were, for the very first time.

  Her head hit the pillow and she invited me between
her legs. I climbed on top of her, and she squeezed her legs around my back and pulled me into her.

  Ella snuck her hand down to my crotch and fondled my growing penis.

  “Ella,” I panted. “We don't—”

  She put her finger to my lips. “I'm tired of waiting, Ryan,” she said with a twinkle in her eye. “I'm ready.”

  “But … what about Lance?”

  “I don't care what he thinks. Besides, he's staying at Lindsay's tonight.”

  I stared at her. Should I?

  But as she tugged me through my sweatpants, and my firming cock began to throb in her dainty hand, my troubles grew.

  I gulped.

  I couldn't … Lance would kill me if I slept with his sister after everything that had already happened … but …

  “I want it, Ryan. I want you.”

  Chapter 27

  First Time

  Ella

  I could see it all over Ryan's purple-and-blue eye: he still wasn't sure he should do this.

  Give the man credit: even after his best friend punched him in the face and he'd basically lost his job, Ryan still wanted to do the 'right thing.'

  But with my legs wrapped around his muscle-bound trunk, and with my hand pulling at his cock, he could fight me off for only so long. With each tug, his cock grew bigger and harder in his sweatpants, and I felt his resistance melt away, like a heap of snow quickly melting under a warm day's sun.

  “I haven't been able to stop thinking about how bad I wanted you,” I told him.

  “I thought you hated me,” he said, his voice a gravelly hiss.

  “Oh, I did.” I nodded profusely. “But that only made my feelings worse.”

  His pupils darkened with sin. He kissed me deeply, crazily, an undeniable heat in our lips and growing between our bodies.

  “You're so big and thick and long,” I teased him with a warm whisper in his ear. “I bet you'd feel so good inside me, Ryan.”

  Showing vulnerability in the face of temptation, he grunted.

  I knew I was winning this battle. I pressed on. “How do you think your big, hard cock would feel, thrusting insid—”

  I was stunned when Ryan cut me off with a roar, a primal noise of pure, pent-up animal need. And with that, he let himself go. He grabbed my dress and quickly whipped it over my head, tossing it aside. He tore off my bra just as hastily and flung it across the room.