Grudge Puck: A Hockey Romance Read online

  “Yeah. Same here. What's that about?”

  She giggled. “I dunno. But we better stop agreeing. Or else we might end up—”

  Whatever she was about to say, she apparently thought better of. Looking embarrassed, she grabbed her glass and busied herself with her drink, sucking on the little straw between her lips and hoping I'd just drop it and move on.

  So I did.

  “Hell. Works for me,” I said.

  My arm had slipped from her shoulder and slowly trailed down her side, inch by inch. She hadn't resisted. If anything, she'd leaned into it. When my hand reached her hip, I grabbed a handful of her flesh and pulled her closer.

  Could've sworn I heard her softly sigh.

  And I knew it then: I got her.

  Then I felt something surprising: Camille's dainty hand, softly laid on my thigh.

  I don't know if she knew it was there, but I did. It wasn't at all like when those MeatMarket girls touched me, either. When they did it, it was almost always for a reason—to get me excited, to steal my attention from another girl.

  With Camille, though, it felt different. Just different. It wasn't like she was trying to tease me or get me hard. It was more like, she was comfortable. And like I said, she might not have even known her hand was there at all.

  It just was.

  But it wasn't there for long. She lifted that hand and checked the time. “Jeez, it's getting late. I need to head home.”

  I pawed at her, tried to pull her back into my orbit. “Nah. Don't go.”

  “Sorry, but I gotta. Tomorrow's our grand opening and the last thing I need is to be all hungover for that.” She gave my cheek a pinch and then a pat. “It was fun catching up, though. Even if you're still an ass.”

  I whipped out my phone. “Hey, we'll have to take a selfie. It's not often you get to catch up with old high school friends.”

  She gave a sharp laugh. “We were never friends. And I thought you didn't do selfies? That's what you told that one guy earlier.”

  “Yeah—because he was a guy.” I gave a smirk. “But I'll take a selfie with a hot girl any day.”

  “Wow. You're too much, Beau.” She gave a shake of her head, but battled a smile. “But fine. Go ahead.”

  I turned on the camera and aimed it at us. Camille nearly jumped into my lap for the photograph. She wrapped her arms around my neck and we both smiled for the picture. I snapped it.

  “Lemme see it!” she said, resting her head against my shoulder.

  We looked at it together.

  “Hey, that's not half-bad,” she said.

  Actually, we looked kinda good together. We were close. And we wore two big, genuine smiles.

  “Wow, yeah. I love that picture.” I pointed at her amazing rack. “Your tits are right in my face.”

  “Ugh,” she playfully groaned. She gave me a shove and started scooting away, out of the booth. “You haven't changed, Beau Bradford. Still a sleaze.”

  I grinned and stared at her ass while she climbed out.

  And in a way, I was content to let her go. Earlier, yeah, I'd gotten myself all worked up over the grudge-fuck idea. And, yeah, it probably would be hot as hell for the two of us to take our frustrations out on each other.

  But something told me that Camille wasn't like those MeatMarket girls. I don't know what the hell I was thinking, but that's how I felt. I guess it was one thing to pump-and-dump random girls you didn't care about … but you probably shouldn't treat girls like that from your past.

  Not that it ever stopped me before.

  Hell, I dunno.

  Camille went to pry Piper off my teammate, Jack. She'd been all up in Jack's business ever since the girls came to sit with us. Funny. Jack's a rookie this year, and just turned 21. A real good kid from a small town in Iowa. He's quiet—doesn't have a lot to say. That's normal for rookies. Young guys like him just sit and watch and learn, soaking things up like a sponge until they're more comfortable to be a voice in the room.

  “Piper,” Camille said. “Piper. Piper!”

  She shook her friend's shoulder. But Piper's eyes didn't open, and she smacked her lips and mumbled some nonsense.

  “Wait, is she asleep?” I blurted out.

  Jack looked at me and nodded seriously.

  “How long has she been sleeping?” I asked him.

  “Um. Basically since the minute she got here,” he muttered. “I didn't want to wake her. Every time I nudged her, she kind of made this tired, angry grunt—like she was mad at me for moving. So, uh, I let her sleep.”

  Camille clasped her hands and made a puppy-dog face at Jack. “Aw! That's so sweet of you, Jack.”

  “Are you kidding?” I laughed. “That's pathetic. He's just too shy to tell her to get lost.”

  She looked at me and that puppy-dog face was gone in an instant. “Shutup, Beau. You wouldn't know how to be sweet if your life depended on it.”

  The boys all cracked up—that was the first time they heard how me and Camille talk to each other. All around the booth, they made their remarks:

  “Hey, I like her!”

  “She's right, you know.”

  “Beau found himself a firecracker!”

  Camille went on with trying to wake Piper. But the girl seemed completely knocked out. Even when Camille tried to physically pick her up, Piper slumped right back over and spilled against Jack's big body like a bag of potatoes.

  “See?” he said, raising a hand. “She's really determined to use me as her pillow.”

  “Damn. Is she even okay?” I asked with a hint of concern.

  “Yeah, she's fine. I know it looks bad, but this is normal for her,” Camille said. “Thing is, she's a heavy sleeper. Once she's out she doesn't wake up. I don't even know how I'm going to get her up to her apartment. She lives on the 9th floor …”

  I checked my watch. I still had plenty of time before curfew. Plus, the devil on my shoulder started whispering things in my ear—

  I slammed the rest of my drink. “I can help.”

  Relief washed over Camille's face. “Really? You don't mind?”

  “It's no problem.”

  Her brow grew heavy with appreciation. “Wow. Thank you. Seriously, Beau, thank you.”

  Don't thank me too much.

  I climbed out of the booth and waved at the boys. “I'll catch up with you guys later.”

  “Later Beau.”

  I bent over and grabbed Piper. In one easy motion, I scooped her up and hoisted her over my shoulder. Camille seemed surprised; her eyes went glossy and her lips made the tiniest o-shape.

  “Ready?” I asked her.

  “Yeah,” she said with a swallow.

  “Okay. Let's go.”

  Chapter 9

  Sworn Enemy

  Camille

  It's not exactly easy to find a vacant taxi on a Friday night in New York City. Thankfully, there's a certain glamour to a 6'3 muscle-bound athlete dressed in a sharp suit, with a girl slung over his shoulder like an action-hero from a movie.

  Go ahead, ask me how I know.

  The second Beau picked Piper up, as if she weighed nothing, and threw her over his broad shoulders …? I couldn't hope to explain it—but flares of jealousy exploded in my heart, and my insides twisted and throbbed with a pathetic yearning.

  But it was a relief to know the taxi drivers of New York felt the same way as I did. Because once Beau stepped to the curb, and his long arm rose straight into the air to hail a car, the traffic immediately parted. And not one, not two, but three cabs all veered over to the curb and pulled up alongside Beau.

  He turned to me with the breezy, charming smile that said it all.

  Amazing. Amazing, isn't it, how life just works in magical ways for one Beau Bradford. You could hate him for that if you wanted. Lord knows, that was how I'd spent my whole life up until now. But once you spent some time with him, you had to admit—he truly had a charm. And it was nice when he used that charm for the powers of good rather than bad.

/>   We climbed into the first cab. Beau gently set Piper down in one side. I slid into the middle seat, and Beau climbed in last. I gave the cabbie the address, and we took off for Piper's place on the Upper East Side.

  Beau reached into his pocket and passed me his cell phone. “Here.”

  “What's this for?” I asked.

  “Put your number in,” he demanded.

  I laughed. “Why?”

  “So I can send you the selfie,” he said.

  I started tapping in my number.

  “Is that all you want my number for?” It was my voice, plain as day. But I couldn't believe those words had come out of my mouth—and sounding so sultry and playful to boot.

  Was I seriously flirting with Beau Bradford? I mean, God, I know I was drunk … but … ugh.

  Beau smiled. “Maybe not.”

  I handed him his phone back. “Well, I don't want any dick pics, FYI. So if that's what you're thinking, you can just stop. If you send me any, you're dead.”

  Beau laughed. “Really? After I go out of my way to try to be a nice guy and help you and your friend out? I think I have the right to send you at least one dick pic.”

  He was only joking.

  I let out a groan that was only for show. “Fine. One dick pic, but that's all.”

  I was only joking, too.

  “But for real, Beau, I owe you. Thanks again. Really.” I set my head against his round shoulder. Normally I wouldn't. But I owed him my gratitude. And I was drunk.

  And oh hell, I can admit it, it felt nice. All that hulking muscle made for a fantastic pillow. No wonder Piper had passed out on Beau's teammate.

  “You're welcome,” Beau said. “To show you what a nice guy I am, I'll even forget how you said I couldn't do anything sweet if my life depended on it.”

  I giggled. “Stop it.”

  Beau put his arm around me. Again.

  And, for some reason, I put my hand on his thigh again, just like I had in the club. I guess because his thigh was there for the taking.

  And because I want to touch him, damn it.

  Under my palm, I could feel the deep ridges of his hard, muscular thighs. It was a dangerous texture: one that tempted you to run the tips of your fingers over his trousers, visually mapping out the peaks and valleys of his impressively carved thighs.

  What are you doing, Camille? You're playing with fire and you know it!

  After a brief internal struggle, I forced myself to stop touching him. I returned my hand to my own lap as if it'd never happened.

  But the damage had been done.

  The cab went silent—the only sound was the hum of tires on the road, the impatient honks of the traffic around us, and Piper's soft, rhythmic breathing.

  But the moment had grown tense. The air was electric. Something had to happen next—the moment called for it. I knew that. I knew what was coming.

  And then it did.

  Beau turned to look at me. Hesitantly, I turned my gaze up at him.

  “Beau,” I said.

  I'd meant it to sound like a warning, to ward him off, but instead … I only sounded breathy, weak, vulnerable. Like I wanted him.

  Beau didn't say a word.

  Instead, his giant hand cupped my face and steadied me.

  “Beau,” I said, softer, as he leaned in.

  All the anger I felt towards him, all the bitterness, all the teasing I'd endured … all of that had built up for years, like a giant tidal wave that grew ever-larger and loomed ominously over the coast. And now, just now, I realized that I'd been standing and helplessly staring at it all along. Watching that wave grow just before it broke over my head and wrecked me.

  Boom.

  All those conflicting feelings crashed and surged over me as his lips met mine.

  He's not so bad! I told myself as my lips parted, and I kissed Beau back. His fiery lips were soft and juicy, like slivers of a perfectly ripe peach.

  A wave of self-loathing rolled over me. What the hell are you doing! Of course Beau is bad!

  I pushed against him and tried to wiggle away—but that only made him want me more. His huge hand swiped at my side and pulled me right back beneath him.

  Oh God.

  I couldn't make up my mind.

  The only thing I knew was that I'd never, ever been kissed like that before. It was hot, undeniably hot, to share a forbidden kiss with a sworn enemy.

  I kissed Beau back, my hand against his cheek as we kissed deeper.

  I'm going against everything I believe in. I'm kissing a guy I hate. A guy who was way too cool to ever be seen with me in high school.

  His tongue searched my lips. I whimpered, delighting in the grit of his stubble as it roughly scraped against my fingers. With a wildfire rising between my thighs, I met his tongue with my own.

  And then Beau's titan-sized hand went between my legs, his fingers tracing the soft skin of my inner thigh.

  Surprised, I pulled back and gasped.

  “Shh.” He quieted me with another one of his perfect fucking kisses.

  I kissed Beau back. I softly moaned into his mouth as hand slid higher up my bare thigh.

  My legs parted, granting him access—and betraying me in the process.

  No, I thought. We really shouldn't be doing this. At all. Ever.

  Easy, then—tell him to stop. Right?

  But … his touch … it's so good.

  His fingers brushed and traipsed and danced all around my soft inner thigh. He was teasing me. His kiss had already gotten me worked up, but this wasn't fair.

  But then, finally, he slid his thick finger against the crotch of my panties.

  I had to stifle a long, deep moan, hoping the cabbie hadn't heard me.

  Beau grinned. He whispered in my ear, his breath hot and warm on my lobe.

  “Your pussy's so fucking wet, Cam.”

  Those words were so wrong, especially coming from the tongue of Beau Bradford. They were so wrong, yet my pussy heaved helplessly. And a rush of juices dampened the crotch of my panties worse.

  Beau noticed.

  “Damn,” he groaned, rubbing his fingers along my slickness. “God, I want you so fucking bad.”

  Under my dress, Beau burrowed his thick finger beneath my thong. He stroked my folds gently, teasing them apart until I throbbed, yearning for him to push in and enter me. But no—every time he glided by my entry, he only threatened me with the tip of his finger, but refused to give it to me.

  I grabbed hold of his forearm. But to make him stop, or to guide him deeper into my wetness … I wasn't sure.

  And I didn't have time to find out. Because at that very moment, Piper suddenly stirred.

  “Mmm?” she moaned.

  We both scrambled to sit upright and look proper.

  “I tooooold you. She ordered two red velvet cakes,” Piper mumbled. She smacked her lips, leaned her head back against the door, and her breathing resumed.

  “She's sleep talking,” I said to Beau. I let out a sigh of relief, but my heart kept racing.

  He gave a nod.

  And we settled back into our seats as if nothing had happened.

  But I knew the storm hadn't passed. We were only in the eye of it now.

  And now all we could do was sit in stiff, awkward silence, wondering what the hell I'd just done.

  Chapter 10

  A Really Bad Idea

  Camille

  The cab pulled up outside Piper's apartment. I opened my clutch and reached for my wallet, but Beau beat me to the punch and paid the fare.

  “You don't have to do that, you know,” I said.

  “I know. But I'm rich.”

  I rolled my eyes. How many times did he have to remind me of that?

  I tried to wake Piper one last time. She didn't move. She only responded with more sleepy babble.

  “Sorry Beau. Looks like you have to do your strongman thing again.”

  “No problem.”

  I watched as he pulled Piper out of the car an
d slung her over his shoulder once more. The effect was the same: I bit my lip, wishing it was me thrown over his shoulder instead.

  We entered Piper's building and started climbing the nine flights to her floor. I walked behind Beau. He was faster than me. Even with Piper on his shoulders he bounded up the stairs effortlessly, taking two steps at a time.

  “Jeez, you're fit,” I muttered with awe.

  Once we made it outside Piper's door, I fetched the keys from her purse and unlocked the door. Beau carried her in and gently set her down on the leather couch. I went into the kitchen and poured a glass of water for Piper in case she'd need it.

  “You'll have to show me where the bedroom is,” Beau said.

  Bad idea, Camille.

  “O-okay,” I answered anyway.

  I led Beau to Piper's bedroom—but he didn't bring Piper with him. He left her on the couch instead.

  Uh oh.

  I flicked on the light and stepped in. “Well, this is it. Piper's bedroom. So if you want to go get her and bring her in—”

  “I don't.” Beau stepped into the bedroom and shut the door behind him.

  “Beau—” I warned as I retreated. “No. We can't. Not in my friend's bedroom.”

  “Can't what? I just wanna kiss you again. You got me so worked up in the cab. See?”

  He gestured down, at his trousers.

  My eyes flicked down. Oh. Oh wow. Beau was big and hard. A long and mouth-watering thickness ran half-way down his thigh.

  “But … but Beau … we really, really shouldn't …”

  I retreated until the back of my legs hit Piper's bed. I knew better than to do anything with him in here—a friend's bed was completely off-limits. It might as well be sacred ground.

  Beau neared. And the second his massive hands touched my shoulder, I knew I couldn't trust myself.

  “One kiss,” I gasped, knowing perfectly well I was lying to us both. “One kiss and that's all. Then we're going to say goodnight.”

  “Okay.”

  Beau leaned down for his one kiss. With my hand planted on his firm chest, I stood on my tip-toes and kissed him back.

  But what was one kiss, really? Our lips locked, and we kissed each other just as ravenously as we had in the cab. His hand glided up and down my waist, stirring up a forbidden longing …