Part 15 (2/2)

Being that close was a problem for me. A big problem.

Ami was carefree and happy to be alive right now. The energy radiated from her, and I loved that about her. It was what made me so comfortable around her.

When the song ended and I needed another shower, she smiled.

”You're wearing my jersey. It's hot.”

”You can't tell me you've never had a puck bunny wear your jersey.”

”G.o.dd.a.m.n that Leo. Stop talking to him. Give me that phone,” I teased, reaching for her phone. ”I'm deleting his number.”

We wrestled around on the couch for a minute, and then I looked over at the cat glaring at me. ”Get off my couch, you little jerk.”

”If you hate cats, why do you have one?” Ami laughed, removing herself from the couch and reaching for the coffee.

”I don't know. He showed up here, and I couldn't get him to leave.” I tried to reach down to pet him, testing the waters, but his hiss proved my theory. ”The thing is, he hates me, too, but he won't leave.”

I later found out the cat didn't just show up. I'll give you one hint as to who's to blame for that. His name starts with an L and he's one nasty motherf.u.c.ker sometimes. Yep. Leo.

His reasoning was, get this, every man needs a loyal p.u.s.s.y. Like I said, nasty motherf.u.c.ker.

It wasn't long before we found ourselves kissing again. I didn't want this to be moving so fast, but it was clear we had an attraction to each other, both mentally and physically. Her age bothered me. I was exactly three years older than her, and in my head that was a big gap. Maybe if she was twenty-one and I was twenty-four that wouldn't have been such a big deal.

Ami giggled, and the breathy moan that followed was enough to send me over the edge and change my direction.

I was pressed against her and between her legs, torturing myself. All this kissing led me to believe that maybe, if I gave her something, not s.e.x, but something, maybe we could slow down a little.

”What do you like?” I whispered in a low, husky tone.

”I don't know,” she whispered back hesitantly, almost questioningly. Her eyes closed as her breathing hitched. I pressed my lips to her skin, just below her ear and then lower, trailing down her neck until I reached the opening of her s.h.i.+rt.

”You don't know?” I asked, sliding my hands down her back until they came to rest at the hem of her s.h.i.+rt, sliding just beneath the fabric where my fingers found her skin, the tips of my fingers dipping lower. ”Why not?”

I didn't think she could speak. Her heart was pounding so hard I could feel it against my chest as if it was trying to beat for mine. My lips returned to her skin. ”You can tell me what you like.”

”Just kiss me,” she demanded, letting out a moan.

My lips found hers and her hands drifted over my chest, stroking down my sides until they reached the bottom of my s.h.i.+rt. Following my lead, they boldly slid under my s.h.i.+rt.

I moaned, a low, throaty sound, deepening the kiss. She must have caught onto my intentions at some point, probably about the time I switched our positions on my couch, and I was hovering over her, my arms tangled around her.

She sighed, parting her legs and curling one over my calf to urge me forward. When she felt my erection against her, she wiggled against me, instant pleasure vibrating through my stomach as she rocked once until she s.h.i.+fted again.

I pulled my lips from hers, panting for a moment, before my kisses got a little rough.

And then Leo knocked on my door.

f.u.c.king jerk.

”Go away!” I yelled, resuming what Ami had started, and I intended on finis.h.i.+ng.

Her body transferred a familiar warmth when I pressed against her, not wanting to ever leave this position. My eyes focused on hers, moving my hips against hers. She felt me there, her fingers tightening in my hair as she wrapped her legs around me. I wanted to do it again, feel the friction once again, but Leo was still knocking.

Unfortunately, Leo was there for a reason, we had to get to practice.

With a heavy sigh and a necessary adjustment, we untangled ourselves, and I stood up, reaching for her hand. Her fingers linked with mine, her heavy eyes told me she wanted nothing more than to pull me back down on her. I wanted that, too.

I ended up leaving for the rink, but I did have the idea that maybe I could take this in a different direction tonight. A direction both satisfying and safe.

The blue line The line separating the attacking/defending zones from the neutral zone.

We ate Chinese food while sitting on the couch before Evan left for game 69 in Anaheim. I couldn't keep my mouth shut anymore. He was heading out on a three game road trip, and since the incident with my family, I wasn't going to hold anything back from him.

”Is there something bothering you?” I asked seriously, around a mouth full of noodles.

”No, why?”

”I just feel like maybe you're holding back.” A little part of me knew what it was. Evan wasn't hard to read.

”Nope,” he said, taking a bite of chicken, his fork prodding at the container looking for another piece as he chewed slowly.

”I just thought with uh...well, we've been getting more serious, and you seem...scared maybe.”

”No...I'm not scared.” He shrugged it off, stuffing his mouth with another piece of chicken.

Frowning at his response, and wanting to smack his forehead for not looking at me, I set my own container of noodles down on the coffee table. ”You can talk to me about it. You know that, right?”

”I do talk to you. We're talking right now.”

”You're right. We do talk...a lot. We tease each other a lot, too,” I conceded. ”What I mean is you seem to hold back with me like you think I can't take what you'll say or how I'll react because of the s.h.i.+t I've been through. I'm not a china doll, and I don't know how many times I have to tell you that. If you're scared or don't want me here, I need to know.”

He blew out a breath, setting his box beside mine before turning himself toward me. ”You're really young, Ami. You're eighteen. I'm twenty-one. I'm scared,” he admitted. ”I'm frustrated and mostly p.i.s.sed at myself over this whole thing. I can't get it out of my head. Every guy I see, I think it's him, and then I want to run to you and make sure you're safe. I can't do that. Not only can I not because of my career, but I can't because that's not fair to you either. I can't do that because you didn't ask for this overly aggressive hockey player to fall for you. You didn't ask for any of this s.h.i.+t that's happened to you. So yeah, I get frustrated and confused because so much s.h.i.+t is happening right now, and I can't get my head straight. Playoffs are right around the corner. I need my head straight.”

”Guess this is something we need to work on then.” I smiled, leaning in to brush my lips against his. He turned his face a little to the side and leaned further into me to rub his jaw against my neck, the hairs tickling me. I giggled, shoving him away playfully. ”Get your head straight, Mase.”

I wasn't sure how I could help him get his head straight. I had a few ideas, but then again, would that make it worse?

Game 77 New Jersey Devils.

Friday, April 2, 2010.

”Is there something you want to talk about?” Callie coyly inquired as she looked over at me. I continued to mull over how I wanted to ask the question when she offered me her flask. We were sitting in Evan's condo, watching the game, but my mind was hardly on the game. Once again, I declined the flask and settled on water.

”What?” I asked, genuinely confused.

”Are you doing all right?” Callie questioned.

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