Alex (18 page)

“I had a first kiss, Sutton.”

Her eyes light up, just as I knew they would, and she looks at me expectantly so that I can give her some softly painted picture of my life that will make her feel better about my lack of a normal upbringing.

“My dad bought a whore for me when I turned sixteen,” I tell her in a low voice. “I wanted to ask one of my classmates to a school dance, something my dad translated into meaning I wanted to get laid. And who knows, maybe I did want that too. So it wasn’t too much of a downer after my dad refused to let me go to the dance but instead brought me to a hotel room…shoved me inside after handing me a condom. Clapped me on the back and said, ‘Have fun.’ I mean…what’s a kid to do when he walks in and sees a naked woman on the bed. So, you see…I had my first kiss, Sutton. It just wasn’t very conventional.”

I instantly regret telling Sutton that story, because now her skin pales and there is a light sheen of moisture in her eyes. The story has sickened her, no doubt, but she pushed and I let her have it.

“Your dad was wrong to do that,” she whispers.

“I agree,” I tell her as I take a step closer to her. “He’s done a lot of things that put him straight in the monster category.”

“Like what?” she asks, no hesitation whatsoever in her voice.

I take one more step and then I’m standing toe to toe with her. Lifting a lock of her hair that hangs over her shoulder, I tug on it thoughtfully. When I lift my eyes to hers, she’s staring at me with clarity, and the look of sickness is gone from her expression. Dropping her hair and reaching my fingertips out, I skim them across her cheek. “You don’t want to know those stories.”

“Maybe I do,” she counters boldly.

Giving her a sad smile, I slide my fingers to the back of her head and grip her neck firmly. “Well, then I don’t want you to hear those stories. They have nothing to do with me anymore.”

Sutton wraps her fingers around my wrist and I think briefly of pulling my hand away from her neck, but she holds me tightly in place. “Your past has everything to do with who you are today.”

I start to point out that I’ve warned her I can be an asshole but my words dry up when she steps in and lays her cheek against my chest. The move is tender and caring, causing my heart to lurch in response.

“But,” she says with utter defiance. “I’m finding I like who you are a lot, so maybe your past doesn’t have quite the hold on you that you think it does.”

My stomach flips inward and a hollow, bottomless feeling courses through me because she’s so wrong about that. My past controls almost every action I take and every thought that comes out of my fucked-up head. Sutton’s arms wrap around my waist and she nuzzles against me, her cheek warm against my skin. It’s a move calculated to show me she cares for me, and the empty feeling is immediately filled with something warm and comforting.

I wish I didn’t like that feeling so much, because it pulls me in deeper. It makes me want to experience it more, which is very dangerous for both of us. For me, it will make me susceptible to her goodness. For her, it will make her vulnerable to my darkness.

Glancing at the clock hanging on my kitchen wall, I see it’s getting late. I have to get up early tomorrow for a practice skate and then a team meeting to prepare for our evening game. But I want her again, probably more than once, and I have to budget time for that. I want her to explore me as well, and this could potentially take hours.

So we better get started.

Reaching behind my back, I pull her arms away from the comforting embrace she’s offering me and lace my fingertips through hers. Turning, I lead her back toward my bedroom, neither of us needing to say another word.

Both of us know that we are perfectly happy with getting lost in each other for a bit of time. In particular, I know that the comfort of her arms provides me with a peace that I’m starting to appreciate, and even starting to crave.

Yes, I know it’s dangerous for me, but I’ve never been one who scares easily. I’m more worried about the time that will come when I’ll probably hurt her, but I’m still selfish enough to put that thought aside and take advantage of what she is offering me.

As expected after a hockey game, Hoolihan’s is packed and there aren’t any tables or booths available. I decide to order a beer at the bar while I wait for Alex and Garrett. I know from past experience of meeting Alex here after a game that it will be a while before he gets here.

I take a moment to check my phone. Brandon has finally stopped texting and calling me. I eventually called him and apologized for the way I snapped at him. He also apologized for not understanding what a crappy day I had had and said that he realized it was a little rude to just show up like that and ask me to cook dinner.

Once the apologies were out of the way, it got awkward when Brandon immediately asked me out to dinner. It was at this point I had to tell him that this wasn’t ever going to go where he wanted it to.

“I’m sorry, Brandon,” I had told him gently. “But I can’t go out to dinner with you. Not now, not ever.”

He was silent for a moment, then he asked, “Is it me? What I did to you? Or is it something else?”

At that moment, I knew he knew, so I laid the truth out to him. “It’s someone else, in particular.”

“Alex” was all he said.

“Yes. But even if Alex wasn’t in the picture, I don’t think you and I could have started over. I think we were done for good.”

He was fairly understanding and we talked for a bit more. We made vague promises to keep in contact and to continue our friendship, but I knew that wasn’t going to happen. Those things never work out as we hope they can.

I do have a text from Shelley. She’s taken to watching hockey now, in particular the Cold Fury, so we can dish about Alex. She thinks it’s beyond exciting that I’m dating an NHL player, but I never look at Alex that way. I just see him as Alex.

Not a good game,
she texted along with a sad face.

I wrote her back,
I know. I feel terrible for Alex.

Love on him good. That will make him happy again.

I wrote back a last message.
Head out of gutter. Talk to you later.

I’m nervous as to what type of mood he’ll be in. The Cold Fury have been on a winning streak and tonight’s game was only the second one they’ve lost since I met Alex. He didn’t look happy after the 3–2 beating they took by the lowest-ranked team in their division. It didn’t change the Cold Fury’s standing, but even I know enough about sports to know that a loss does not make for happy players.

I texted Alex as soon as the buzzer went off ending the third period, offering to take a rain check on getting together. He didn’t respond, so I had no choice but to head to Hoolihan’s as we had originally planned and wait for him. He had asked me earlier in the day if I minded if he invited Garrett, and of course, I didn’t. I was anxious to learn more about the man who was apparently becoming a good friend to the self-admitted loner, Alex Crossman.

“Sutton?”

Turning toward the feminine voice, I see Monica standing there, her blond hair in a riot of curly ringlets. She’s wearing a Cold Fury jersey, obviously having just come from the game. When Alex had gotten me a ticket for tonight, I was slightly surprised it wasn’t in the same spot where I had previously sat beside Monica. However, the change was nice because he put me in The Fury Club, which is a section of the upper-level seating that has plush leather seats, a food buffet and free alcohol. Not that I partook of any of that since I’d be meeting Alex later.

Still, the seats were amazing and even though the Cold Fury lost, I had a wonderful time cheering on Alex and his team. I was even proudly sporting the Crossman jersey Alex had given me this morning just before I left his apartment, right after he had wrung two orgasms out of me.

Sighing deeply over the memory, I smile at Monica and pleasantly say, “Hey! What are you doing here?”

Monica leans in to give me a quick hug. “I came over for a drink with some friends after the game,” she says, pointing to the front door area where two other girls are waiting. “I saw you standing here and thought I’d come say hello.”

“It’s good to see you,” I tell her genially, because it is. I truly had fun with her when I watched my first-ever hockey game.

Monica waves her friends over to make introductions and I give warm smiles to her buds, Amy and Carrie. They too are sporting Cold Fury jerseys and are bearing the slightly dejected look of having suffered a loss.

“Sutton here is friends with Alex Crossman,” Monica says with a mischievous grin as she wraps her arm around my shoulders, giving me a squeeze.

As Amy and Carrie squeal, I smile inwardly to myself and think,
Yeah, I’m much more than just his friend now.

This, unfortunately, brings scorching hot memories of the unbelievably stellar sex we had last night and this morning, and if I may recommend it to anyone who is considering a safe and healthy monogamous relationship, sex without condoms is the fucking bomb. I swear, I could feel Alex inside of me with such exquisite detail, the memory of it has me clenching my legs tight together to relieve the ache starting to build. I take a swig of my beer to moisten the dryness in my throat and tune back in to the conversation.

“Are you meeting him here tonight?” Carrie asks.

“Um…uh…yeah, I guess so,” I say lamely, because I know that it will probably be impossible to get rid of Monica and her cronies now. I assume that once they get a gander at Alex and Garrett, all hope of a cozy evening with my man and his numero uno buddy will fly out the window.

The girls lapse into talk about the hockey game and I find myself enjoying the commentary. I realize how far I’ve come as a hockey fan when I can actually contribute to the conversation, joining in the lamenting of the fact that our boys just played shitty tonight. Alex looked off in his play, a thought that worried me a little, because I’m just insecure enough to wonder if I have anything to do with that. Or maybe that’s me having too big an ego?

Still, after our conversation last night about his “first kiss,” I’ve been thinking a lot about Alex and the burdens he carries in his soul. I was shocked and disgusted that his father would remove his childhood and then try to replace it with a whore. It’s despicable and I hope to God I never have the pleasure of meeting the man. Of course, the likelihood of that happening is slim, because while I believe Alex is developing feelings for me, he still remains closed tight as a clam when it comes to much of his personal life.

We girls order a round of beer—their first and my second—and we continue our play-by-play of the game. I find myself enjoying their company, even Monica’s overt exuberance for all things that make up hot hockey players. It doesn’t even bother me—that much—when she waxes poetic about how beautiful Alex’s eyes are. I sort of have to agree with her.

After an hour, my second beer is gone and I’m into my third. I’ve checked my watch only about a dozen times in the last ten minutes and my text messages just as often. No word from Alex, and I’m starting to think that he’s going to be a no-show. I’m hoping it’s just because he’s bummed about the game and not because after two nights of glorious, sweaty sex, he’s decided to move on from me.

God, I hope he hasn’t decided that. The thought makes my stomach hurt, which makes me realize that my feelings run pretty damn deep where Alex is concerned.

Glancing at the door to the bar one more time, I don’t see Alex and my bladder is close to bursting, so I lean over to Monica and tell her I’m heading to the restroom. I hope if she sees Alex come in while I’m gone she’ll let him know where I’m at. Turning away from her, I start to head toward the bathroom when someone grabs my elbow and pulls me backward. I can’t even get my body turned to see who has me when strong arms circle around my waist and I’m being drawn back into a tall, hard male body that smells faintly of citrus and eucalyptus. It’s the scent of Alex’s body wash and I immediately relax backward into his embrace, placing my hands over his arms as they enclose me completely.

He hugs me…tightly…possessively, and relief courses through me because in all honesty, I had some doubts about how real these feelings between us were. Putting his mouth near my ear, he murmurs, “I’ve missed you.”

Turning my body, I snake my arms up and wrap them around his neck. “I missed you too.”

“Sorry I’m late,” he says, his face hovering over mine. “Coach gave us a ‘pep talk’ after the game.”

My eyebrows rise in question and Alex clarifies. “That means ‘ass-chewing.’ ”

“Oh,” I say softly, my fingers rubbing the back of his neck. “I’m sorry about the game. I thought you might be bummed and not want to hang tonight.”

Rubbing his thumb along the waistband of my jeans, he says, “I am bummed but two things you should know about that. First, no matter how bummed I am about losing a game, I imagine being with you will make everything better. And second, it’s been a long time since I’ve been sad over a loss. I think that says something, don’t you?”

His blue eyes search mine for understanding, because he wants to know if I get him. And oh, do I get him. I get what he’s saying. I get that he’s found some passion for his craft again, because otherwise he wouldn’t give a shit about a loss. It’s odd that the fact he’s bummed over a loss warms my heart.

“I think it speaks volumes,” I tell him, standing on my tiptoes to give him a kiss. He has to bend slightly to meet my lips, and when mine lie against his, I revel in how soft they are yet still firm against me.

It’s just me and him, standing here in this crowded bar, and it feels like the rest of the universe is a million miles away. I wish the rest of the universe
was
a million miles away, and it could just be me and Alex, right at this very moment, because the tenderness and longing revealed in the way his mouth touches mine makes me want to seclude myself in the feeling, without anything else to divert my attention.

“God, you two need to get a room,” I hear a man say. Alex groans slightly into my mouth before he pulls back and turns to look at someone to my left. The slight lift to Alex’s lips tells me he’s amused.

“Fuck off, Samuelson,” he growls, but he’s not really mad. He releases his hold around my waist just enough to turn me toward a man I know is Garrett Samuelson, Alex makes official introductions. “Garrett…this is Sutton. Sutton…this asshole is Garrett.”

Smiling warmly, I stick my hand out for Garrett to shake. Alex stiffens slightly next to me when Garrett takes my hand and brings it to his lips, grazing them over my knuckles. With a devilish grin and a smoky seductive voice, he says, “It’s definitely my pleasure. When you get tired of his grumpy ass, I’ll be waiting for you, Sutton.”

When Alex growls the second time, it’s not with as much amusement. Garrett chuckles and releases my hand, after kissing it one more time. I just roll my eyes. “You love torturing Alex, don’t you?”

“It’s so much fun to get a rise out of him, don’t you think?” he says with a wink.

“You have no idea,” I say conspiratorially, although my definition of a rise and his definition of a rise are probably two different things.

Turning back to Alex, I place my palm against his chest. I can feel the heat of his skin through the dress shirt he’s wearing. “I’m headed off to the ladies’ room.” He stares down at me with affection but deep within his baby blues I see possession and desire. As he leans in just a bit closer to me, his voice sizzles when he says, “I don’t want to stay long. Just one beer, okay?”

“Why is that?” I ask silkily, although I know the answer. I see it in his eyes.

Sneaking a quick glance over at Garrett, he leans in even closer, placing his lips near my ear. “Because I want you so bad I can actually taste it. Now, we both know that’s just my imagination on overdrive. So what I really want is the reality of your taste…on my tongue…my lips.” He accentuates his seduction by grazing his teeth against my earlobe, and I swear a mini orgasm courses through me.

“Oh,” I breathe out softly.

“Any other questions?” he asks gruffly, then pulls back to stare at me with a tight look on his face.

I do nothing but shake my head, words not seemingly important at this moment. He smiles at me then—radiant, triumphant…joyful. Taking my shoulders, he spins me back in the direction of the restroom and gives me a slight push. “Hurry up. Sooner you get back, sooner we can drink a beer, sooner we can…well, you know.”

I scurry off to pee, completely obsessed with how I can forgo the beer that Alex must have committed to drink with Garrett before we could make our exit. I briefly consider faking an illness, but instead quickly pee and opt to guzzle my beer.

My legs are spread wide, my hips raised off the mattress because Alex has my ankles resting on his shoulders. He’s pounding away inside of me, pausing every few thrusts to ravage my lips, once even biting down when I dared to disobey him and closed my eyes in pleasurable abandon. He had previously ordered me to keep my eyes on his, but that proved difficult when I felt on the verge of slipping into a coma of lust.

After a particularly hard kiss where we both try to push groans past each other’s lips, Alex pulls back and stills his hips for a moment. A sheen of moisture covers his face and his arms are locked at the elbow while he supports his weight above me, causing his muscles to look sharply cut. He looks down at me with such fiery need etched on his face, my heart skips a shocking beat as I return his gaze. I’ve never seen anyone look so hungry for something before…like he is starving and there will never be enough sustenance to fill the void that is ravaging him.

He opens his mouth as if he’s going to say something, and whatever it is, I can tell it’s going to be profound by the look on his face. But then something clouds his irises and he gives a slight shake to his head as if clearing it of cobwebs.

Without warning, Alex pulls out of me, lowering my legs from his shoulders. He’s a large man in every way and I keenly feel the loss within me. Before I can ask what’s wrong, his hands grip my waist and he flips me over on the mattress, immediately pulling me up on my hands and knees.

I hang my head low, letting my hair float in a curtain around me, not even daring to look over my shoulder at him. I’m afraid if I see the same intensity in his gaze that I can actually feel vibrating off his body, I might spontaneously combust.