Across the Line (In The Zone) (6 page)

Chapter Nine

Calder held on to her tightly as the orgasm claimed her. Although his ears were covered by her thighs, he heard her cry out as her pussy clenched and released, clenched and released. Her body went rigid above him and he felt the tendons in her legs flex hard.

What a fucking rush. He didn’t care if she pulled some of his hair out. He had plenty. Making her come on the first try was better than scoring a one-timer in overtime.

His dick was rock-hard and ready. He licked her softly as she came down from the high, rubbed his palms in slow circles over her flanks.

“That’s what I’m talking about,” he said.

She gave a shaky exhale. “Oh my God. That was incredible.”

Calder sat up. “Got condoms?”

“Bedside table,” she said.

He rolled one on, crumpled the wrapper and dropped it on the floor. He turned to her and made his way up the bed. Their kiss was hot and hungry. She opened her mouth to his tongue and wrapped her arms around him tightly. As his cock touched her thigh, the contact sent a shock through him. When she reached down and took him in her hand, he groaned and kissed her harder.

He tried to roll onto her and get his body into the space between her legs, but his knee objected. He winced and broke the kiss.

Damn it.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.” He smiled at her. “You’re so damn sexy, I forgot about my knee for a second.”

She pulled him back for more kissing. He attempted the move again, and made it but with difficulty. She pretended not to notice. She even tried to help him as he used his left knee only while trying to get into position. Shit.

“You ready for me?” he asked, slicking up the tip of his cock in her wet folds.

“Oh, yeah. Do it.” She put her hands on his shoulders and smiled up at him, her legs open, her pussy primed.

Leaning to the left, he nestled the head of his cock into place. She canted her hips upward as he pushed himself a little deeper.

“More,” she gasped.

He gave it to her, more of his hard length, deeper still. He pulled back and went inside again. She was encouraging him with soft, hungry little gasps but just as he was working up a rhythm, his body started sending warning jabs of pain. He paused and ground himself against her clit. He tried to distribute his weight differently and she tried planting her foot on the mattress and turning toward his good knee. He felt like a fucking virgin who didn’t have a fucking clue how to do shit. As they continued to try to find the right position, she mumbled an apology, like she was doing something wrong when it was actually all his fault.

“Fuck, this is a nightmare.” He started to pull out, but she grabbed his ass.

“Calder, wait. We’ll figure it out. How about if I get on top?”

Ticked off by now at his own incompetence, he didn’t say anything, just rolled off her onto his back. “Fucking embarrassing,” he muttered.

“Calder, really. I like being on top.” She threw a leg over his hips and grabbed a hold of him. “Besides, you got me off before, so now it’s just me evening the score.”

His pride bruised, he was unwilling to let it go. He hated appearing inept, especially in bed, but the moment he felt her wet heat enveloping his cock again, the sting to his pride faded away. He looked up at her face and her half-closed eyes, then at her breasts, beautifully soft and sexy, the tips taut and tempting. He reached out and squeezed, rolling the nipples. Her head fell back as she rode him and for a moment, he was lost in the visual. She crossed her arms behind her head, rocking. She had a beautiful body, one he knew he’d never get tired of looking at. He loved how uninhibited she was.

She leaned forward and offered her breast to him. He didn’t hesitate and pulled the nipple into his mouth and sucked. She gasped. He tried his best to remain still, but that wasn’t in his nature. He was an active guy who liked taking an active role in sex and right now he felt like a bystander, not a participant.

Putting his feet on the mattress, he bent his legs. No pain. Carefully, he thrust his hips. His knee didn’t move and he still felt no pain. Encouraged, he thrust again, a little harder. “I think this is gonna work,” he said with a slow grin.

“Don’t hurt yourself.” She braced her hands on his chest.

“I won’t,” he assured her.

They started moving again, together this time. The brace kept his knee aligned, and he was glad he hadn’t given in to his first impulse and taken it off. It wasn’t long before he’d figured out he could only thrust directly up and down. Any angle or deviation gave him a twinge. Fine. That was fine. At least he could move.

He looked up at her. She had her eyes closed and her mouth was drawn taut. He put his hands on her lower belly and thumbed her mound.

“I want you to come again, Becca.”

She didn’t reply. He eased his thumbs downward and found her clit. He stroked the side of it, all the while watching her face and listening for signs that she was close to climaxing. He hoped she was, because he could feel his own orgasm, anxious and ready, like a Thoroughbred at the gate. The intimate contact did the trick. She tensed, her breath hitching, her fingers digging into his chest, and when he pressed the sides of her clit with his thumbs, she went over the edge. As before, she went rigid and gave a keening series of gasps as he continued to thrust. She was still coming when he lost control, his cock pulsing deep inside her body. Damn he’d missed having sex.

* * *

They spent the rest of that night and a good portion of the morning in bed. When they weren’t talking or having sex, they were eating a snack she cobbled together from the stuff in her kitchen. Becca felt lucky her fridge was well stocked. She had all the ingredients needed for the Classic Chicken Lettuce Cup he wanted her to make. One thing led to another, and she ended up teaching him the recipe. He was a good pupil despite his insistence that he was a microwaver.

As they ate, he tried to get her to create a soup inspired by and named after him. “You know, like they do with sandwiches in delis or hamburgers in sports bars. You could put all my favorite stuff in it.”

“What stuff is that?” she asked.

“Candy, candy canes, candy corn and syrup.”

“Oh my God.
Elf
is my favorite holiday movie.”

“One of my favorites too. But I’m kidding. Ice cream is more my thing than candy. I love ice cream.”

“I can’t make soup out of candy
or
ice cream.”

“Sure you can. It’s called a milkshake.”

“Buster’s Burgers over on Fourth serves milkshakes.”

“I was just kidding.”

“Besides, I’m going into the latte business.”

He made a face.

“What?” she asked.

“I just...I think Cups is perfect the way it is. You have a tight focus. You know what you do best and you do it.”

“But I know I could be really great at making lattes too.”

“I’m sure you could, but it’s not a matter of excellence. I just think it would be...confusing to the customer. That’s all.”

Chapter Ten

After leaving Becca’s, he texted his mom to tell her he was on his way home and she said she wasn’t feeling well.

What’s wrong?
he asked.

My back hurts.
Nothing serious.
Can you make yourself a sandwich for lunch?

Mom
,
I’m a grown man.
I
can make my own lunch.
How about I make you lunch for a change?

He stopped at the grocery store and got stuff to make the Classic Chicken Lettuce Cup. Becca had showed him how to make it and he knew his mom liked the food at Cups. He let himself in using the spare key she’d given him and went straight upstairs. His mom was on top of the bed, her hands folded over her stomach. The TV was on. A couple was dancing. The woman was wearing a tight dress that would have been pretty hot, except for the pink-and-yellow feathers all over it.

His mom brightened when he entered the room, but she quickly frowned. “What happened to your finger? Did you do that playing hockey?” She shook her head. “Stupid question. Of course you did that playing hockey. Is it broken?”

“Yeah. It’ll be fine.”

“Other than that, how was your date?” she asked. “Must have been good if she let you sleep over.”

“Mom,” he said, coloring. “Please.”

“She’s a nice girl. Isn’t she?”

“Very nice. She didn’t get upset over that pickup game. A lot of women I’ve been with would have thrown a hissy fit.”

He made them a batch of lettuce cups and iced tea. They ate on her bed, watching a show about sharks.

“I’m very impressed, Calder. I can’t believe you cooked this.”

“Becca taught me how. It’s pretty good, huh?”

“It tastes just like Becca’s.” She glanced at him. “She’s so beautiful and young but she works so hard. Eve says she never takes a day off.”

“Who’s Eve?”

“The owner of A Good Yarn, the store where I’ve been taking knitting lessons.”

“You’re taking knitting lessons? Since when?”

She smiled, pointing at a canvas tote bag propped up against the TV console. “I’ve been taking lessons for a month and I’m almost done with my baby blanket. It’s in that bag on my dresser if you want to see it.”

Calder got the bag and pulled out a pale yellow rectangle about the size of a pillow case. “This is...great, Mom,” he said with only a slight pause.

He could see a basketlike pattern struggling to emerge, but it was messed up. It reminded him of a Mother’s Day place mat he’d made for her in kindergarten. The project had required an over-under weave of strips of construction paper and his strips were uneven due to his difficulty with paying attention to something for more than two minutes. Even as a child he’d done better with activities that were fast-paced. Hart’s place mat, made three years before, had been flawless of course.

“Hey, I’m learning,” she said. “I have trouble with the tension. That’s why it looks so uneven.”

“Practice makes perfect,” he said. “You’ll get it.”

“I’m determined to make you a sweater for your birthday or for Christmas.”

That promised to be entertaining.

“Please don’t make it yellow,” he said with a grin.

She slapped at his arm playfully. “I was actually thinking about hot-pink.”

“Not if you plan on me wearing it.”

“If I make it, you
will
wear it. Just like I wore that necklace made out of Froot Loops and the macaroni bracelet and—”

“Okay, okay,” he said, laughing. “I get the picture. I promise, if you make me a sweater, I will wear it proudly.”

* * *

Becca walked into Cups with a critical eye, as usual. She ran a tight ship and was proud of it. She’d seen those exposé shows on TV where secret diners or reporters infiltrated a restaurant in hopes of uncovering roaches or filthy grease traps or some other gross health violation and she’d vowed that would never happen to her. She had lists of daily tasks and the staff knew she’d check up on them to make sure they were completed.

Today everything looked fine, but Savannah had been in charge that morning and Savannah was her best employee. She treated it like her own place and privately Becca thought of her as her mini-me. She even quoted Becca from time to time, “If you have time to lean, people, you have time to clean.”

“Hey, boss,” Savannah said brightly as she handed change to a customer.

“Hey, Savannah. I’ll be in the back.”

“Cool.”

Becca checked her desk. Savannah had left the receipt from the butcher and a phone message from a PTA mom wanting a gift certificate donation for a teacher luncheon. She took care of the PTA thing, filed the receipt, then checked the numbers from yesterday on the computer, compared them to last year’s and smiled in satisfaction.

Despite what Calder had said, she spent a half hour looking at reviews of professional-grade espresso machines online and eventually realized she needed to get her notes from the expo. It would have to wait. The lunch rush was about to hit.

As she made her way to the front of the house, she asked Eddie, the cook, “Are you cool with the lettuce special today?” It was a fairly new recipe.

“The Shrimp Fajita? Yeah. I got that.”

“Awesome.”

“Hey, Becca,” Eddie said. “You make a decision on the Greek Gyro Lettuce Cup idea I had?”

“Not yet, Eddie. I’ll get back to you.”

“It’s a good recipe,” he said as she hurried past.

“I know. I just need a chance to fiddle with it and crunch the numbers on the lamb.”

Frowning, he sighed and read an order that Savannah had just put in.

Becca agreed a lettuce cup with grilled lamb, fresh tomatoes, cucumbers and tzatziki yogurt sauce sounded fantastic, but she felt proprietary about the recipes at Cups. They were all her creations and she liked it that way.

They were busy until two and had almost sold out of the Shrimp Fajita Lettuce Cup. They often sold out of specials. She liked that, too, as long as it didn’t happen too soon into the rush. When people saw “sold out” on the menu board, Becca thought it boosted the desire for that particular item. People remembered that, and the next time they came in, they might be more inclined to get it since they’d been deprived the last time. It also cut down on waste.

As soon as it slowed down, Becca saw Savannah sit down with a cup of the Alfredo Chicken Noodle, a roll and a diet soda for a well-deserved break.

“Mind if I join you?” Becca asked, a mug of tea in her hand.

“Go ahead,” Savannah said, looking guarded. “Is something wrong?”

“No,” Becca assured her. “I just wanted to touch base with you about last night.”

“Is Calder’s finger okay?”

“It’s fine. We splinted it.”

“Good.” Savannah dipped the roll into the thick, creamy soup. “I love the rolls with this soup. They taste so good together.”

“So, I was wondering,” Becca said. “You didn’t tell anyone about last night, did you?”

“Of course not. Please. I wasn’t like, ‘Hey, guys! Guess what Becca did last night!’”

“I didn’t think so, but I just wanted to be sure.”

“No, definitely not.”

Becca exhaled in relief. “Thanks.”

“But can I just say, Calder is adorable? So cute. So nice. Not full of himself at all. A real sweetie pie.”

Becca allowed herself a small smile as she looked at her tea. Memories of last night had made it hard for her to concentrate this morning. If she didn’t count the awkwardness of working around his hurt knee, the sex had been crazy good. He made her consider letting her crew run things without her so she could kidnap the man and tie him to her bed. Maybe for the summer.

As if.

In all likelihood, she’d never see him again. Becca knew Jenny loved her sons very much and looked forward to their visits. And honestly, Becca would lose respect for Calder if he ditched his mom to be with her. You could tell a lot about a guy by watching how he treated his mother.

“He’s cute, all right, but he lives in San Diego.”

Which hadn’t bothered her that much earlier. Back when they’d gone on the hike—was it only two days ago?—she’d thought,
Nice guy.
Fun
,
cute.
We’ll have a good time and move on with our lives.
Now, she was having second thoughts, which she knew darn well were impossible. There were long-distance relationships and then there were
long
-distance relationships.

“And that really sucks,” Savannah said. “Believe me. I worry about that with Oliver too. I mean, he’s being scouted right now and...” She trailed off, putting the roll down on her napkin. “I don’t know what he wants to do. He’s got to think about his future, but we’ve been together for three years and we’ve talked about marriage someday. I keep expecting him to tell me he’s signing with some team somewhere in no-man’s-land, Canada, and when he does, I don’t know what’s going to happen to us. I mean, I’d want to go with him, but he’s so closemouthed about that stuff, and I don’t want to just assume that’s what he wants.”

Becca became alarmed at the catch in Savannah’s voice. She hadn’t intended for the conversation to become so intense.

“Because what if a major team wants him?” Savannah went on. “His every waking minute will be about hockey, even more than it is now. He’ll want to make a good impression on them, show them that he’s got what it takes. Maybe he won’t want a girlfriend hanging around, making demands, being a time suck...” Savannah bit her lip and looked at Becca with watery eyes.

Shit.

“Savannah, if he looks at you as a time suck, he doesn’t deserve you.”

Sniffling, Savannah nodded. “I know, and he doesn’t. He really doesn’t, but being picked up by an NHL team could change him. I’ve heard stories. Guys going crazy with the money and stuff. Girls throwing themselves at them as they exit the rinks. Orgies. Chinese sex drills.” Savannah looked stricken. “Oh, shit. I forgot you’re Chinese...”

Becca shook her head. “Don’t worry about it. Just tell me what the heck a Chinese sex drill is.”

“I’m actually not sure,” Savannah sighed. “I think it’s where a bunch of guys are in a hotel, like on a road trip, and they each get a willing girl in their room and they, like...switch around and go from room to room.” She shuddered.

“That’s...” Shocked, Becca couldn’t even finish her sentence.

“I know. But that stuff happens. It does.” Savannah dropped her roll into the half-empty container of soup. She’d apparently lost her appetite. “What do you think I should do?”

Becca wished fervently that she had never brought up the subject, but now she was stuck. Savannah was looking at her with wounded-animal, pleading eyes. This was exactly why Becca avoided having unnecessary personal conversations with her employees. Finding out so-and-so needed the day off to attend his grandmother’s funeral was one thing. Giving out relationship advice like she was Savannah’s BFF was another.

“I think you should calm down, first of all. Oliver doesn’t seem like the kind of guy who goes in for Chinese sex drills.”

“You don’t know that. I heard after getting drafted—or even
at
the draft—guys that come from small towns go insane, they change when they get to the big city. I know it sound cliché but they get seduced, literally, by the clubs and the women. They get caught up in the nightlife and if they turn twenty-one around that time, it’s even worse because, you add alcohol to the mix...?” Savannah shook her head woefully.

“How old is Oliver?”

“Twenty.” Savannah’s voice trembled.

“Okay, listen. You need to stop letting your imagination run wild, because no one wants a girl who gets hysterical over hypotheticals. Do you think Oliver is the type of guy to do any of that stuff?”

A small wrinkle appeared between Savannah’s eyebrows. “No.”

“Do you think he would cheat on you if some really hot chick threw herself at him, no strings attached?”

She shook her head, slowly at first, then with more certainty. “No. He wouldn’t do that.”

“So, there you go. You have nothing to worry about.” Becca pushed away from the table. “Let’s get back to work.”