Bound (14 page)

“What’s with the mood? You know I like it when you come to my games.”

“I’m not following you around the country like some groupie.”

I pressed my fingers to the bridge of my nose, aggravation rising in my chest. “You’re my wife, Mag. Coming to my games does not make you a groupie. You used to do it when we were dating.”

“That was different. I had my own life then. Now I’m just left behind waiting while you’re off having fun with God knows who—”

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean? I’ve never cheated on you.”

“Well, you flirt so damn much—”

I pulled the phone away from my ear and shook my head. The cabbie met my eyes sympathetically in the mirror.

“Who am I flirting with, Mag?” I demanded, unable to keep the peace anymore.

“Anything with two tits, apparently. I saw pictures of you on the Internet earlier cozying up to some teenager before the game.”

“We always take pictures with fans! Goddammit, Maggie, we can’t keep doing this! I’m not fighting with you every time I’m out of town. You’re my wife. I’m fucking tired of defending myself when I haven’t done anything wrong.”

She was silent on the other end of the line.

“You’re the only one I want,” I said, my tone softer now.

“It’s just hard,” she said, sounding defeated. “Being with someone like you. I didn’t know it would be this hard.”

Maggie was an up and coming model. She was beautiful, and I couldn’t believe she of all people was insecure.

“Why don’t you fly in for my next game?” I said. “It’s tomorrow night.”

“I can’t. I need to go, I have to be up early. I’ll just see you when you get back.”

“Yeah.”

She hung up then, without even saying goodbye, and I stared at the dark shape of my phone in my hand as the cab approached my hotel. Since Maggie and I had gotten married, it seemed like even when I did the right thing, it was still wrong.

Chapter 7

Kate

The arena Ryke’s team played and practiced in was overwhelmingly large. I stood next to a seat – one of thousands – and searched for him on the ice. A handful of people watched the practice from the seats, and I sank into the one next to me, sitting his shoe box in my lap and my purse on the concrete floor.

He’d asked me in a text to bring the black dress shoes fro
m his closet. Since the grief support meeting the other night, we’d been going through the motions, talking over our coffee while we both kept busy with our phones or the newspaper so we wouldn’t have to look at each other.

All the players had the same bulk from equipment and helmets, and I couldn’t tell which one was Ryke
until I caught a glimpse of his smile. My heart raced and I couldn’t look away as he glided down the ice, his eyes on the puck. He slid to a quick stop, fighting another player for control of the tiny disk. They shoved shoulders into each other and their sticks collided violently.

A gray-haired man with a whistle and a clipboard yelled out to Ryke and tapped his wristwatch. Ryke conceded the puck to the other player and skated toward the guy I assumed was a coach. They talked briefly and then Ryke scanned the seats. I got up and walked his way, figuring he needed his shoes. He saw me and waved me to the doorway he was exiting the rink from.

“Hey,” he said.

“Hi. I hope I brought the right shoes.”

“Those are perfect, thanks.” He clipped guards over the blades of his skates. “Jean wants me to go with her to meet a fan, so I’m leaving practice to do that. I can’t wear brown shoes with the suit I’ve got here.”

He pulle
d his helmet off, his hair beneath it soaked with sweat. As soon as he got his gloves off, he ran a hand through his hair, leaving it in wet spikes.

“I’ve gotta hit the shower,” he said. My cue to leave.

“Right, sure.” I held the shoebox out to him, but he didn’t take it.

Hockey stick, helmet and gloves in hand, he
grinned at me, cocking his head to one side. “Locker room’s this way.”

I followed him, my eyes glued to his back. The fabric of his thin, form-fitting black shirt was spread taut across his broad back and shoulders. A restless sensation rose within me. I was warm, eager and unable to think about anything besides Ryke’
s sweaty body.

Jesus, I was like an adolescent in puberty, hormones raging out of control. My extended break from sex was catching up with me.

We reached a door and I spoke up as Ryke reached out to push it open. “Um . . . should I wait here?”

“No, come on in.” 

“But . . . are there naked guys in there?”

His eyes sparkled with amusement when he turned back to look at me. “Not yet, but I’m not
planning on showering in my clothes.”

My body went into red alert, and I could feel my libido and my brain dueling the way Ryke had
just done with his teammate. My body wanted in that room. Now. But my brain was reminding me what a bad idea it was. I’d given in to desire with Quinn, and ended up with pain I’d carry forever.

“Right,” I said, and
he pushed through the door. “Should I . . .?”

“Come in.” He propped the door open with his foot so I could enter. “You can close your eyes if you want.”

His teasing tone made my defenses rise. “I wasn’t saying nudity offends me.”

“Great, then you can
watch. Wash my back if you want.”

My body raised its
hockey stick in the air and drove it into my brain, winning the battle. I wanted to be in here with him so badly right now, screw the consequences.

The locker room was large and open, with dark carpet and open wood lockers.
An old, sweaty smell overpowered the clean scent of lemon.

“How’s your day going?” Ryke asked, dumping his equipment on the floor in front of one of the lockers.

“Good. You know, slow and . . .
oh
.” He’d pulled his shirt over his head in a fluid motion, and now his sweaty chest and shoulders were
right there
. Swallowing, I looked at the floor.

“You look nervous,” he said, his amusement even more noticeable than before.

“And you look like you find it funny.”

He took a step toward me. “No. Cute, maybe. You’re all tense and worried. I can fix that, you know.”

Our eyes locked and I wondered if he saw the word
yes
in mine. He must have, because we both moved at the same time, covering the few steps between us in a moment. Still wearing his skates, he towered over me. Bending a little, he reached his large arms around me and I melted into him, my mouth meeting his desperately. Our kiss was hard and warm, the way he felt against me.

My feet left the ground and I wrapped my legs around Ryke’s waist. Hot desire coursed through me, and I couldn’t get enough of him. I sank my teeth into his lower lip, wanting more than a kiss. When I laced my fingers into his damp hair and pulled, I felt the rumble of his groan against my chest.

He walked us a few steps and pushed my back against a concrete wall, still kissing me with an intensity that created a build within me I hadn’t felt in more than a year. His lips moved smoothly down to my neck and I didn’t even recognize the strangled sound of my voice when I said his name.

I wanted to stop –
needed
to, even – but I couldn’t. I’d been hibernating in the depths of a dark cave, and the heat of his body against mine washed over me like warm sunshine upon stepping outside again. My dormant desire had awakened with a ferocity that was almost unbearable.

Feeling instead of thinking for once was exhilarating. When Ryke pushed his hips into mine, the crush of his hardness threatened to undo me on the spot. I wanted him, and not in an abstract way anymore. Here. Now.

I worked my hands down his wet, hard back to the top of his pants, which I tried to shove down. His fingers laced into mine, and he pulled my hands back up to his neck.

“I want you,” I said in his ear. “Right now.”

He gave a low grunt of frustration and met my eyes. “Kate . . .”

I pushed frantically at his pants again. “Please. Please, while I have the nerve.”

The desire that had been burning hot in him just seconds ago had been doused. He gave me a quick, soft kiss, his lips lingering in front of mine. “No. You don’t really want to.”

“
Yes, I do. I want this. It’s more need than want at this point.”

He was about to say something when the sound of the locker room door opening made us scramble apart. A tall blond man looked sheepish when he saw us.

“Sorry, man,” he said.

I bowed my head, embarrassment flooding me. I’d lost control, something I couldn’t afford to do. “I’ll see you later,” I
mumbled, moving for the door.

I drove home in a daze, still unable to figure out what had come over me. If Ryke had been willing, and his teammate wouldn’t have walked in, what would have happened?

Mimi was already gone when I got back to the apartment, and I was relieved. I needed time to think about what I’d say to Ryke when he came home. Pacing the living room was making me nervous, so I organized the already neat closets.

When he
walked into the apartment, I was lint rolling his winter coats. His expression told me I looked as crazy as I felt.

“Don’t say anything,” I said, taking a deep breath. “I’m just keeping busy while I wait for you. I wanted to talk to you in person to say I’m sorry about earlier. I pretty much attacked you and begged you to do me, which is so not me. I don’t even know—”

“Kate,” he said, his brows creased with confusion. “You didn’t attack me, it was mutual. And I liked it a lot, so don’t apologize.”

“I know some women can just take charge and go for it, but I’m not one of them. That was seriously a lapse in sanity for me
. I’m so embarrassed and . . . regretful, I guess.”

I stared at him, waiting
as seconds elapsed. He finally nodded, his expression unreadable.

“So, you want to just . . . pretend it never happened?” he said, sounding skeptical.

“Yes. Can we? I swear I won’t go crazy like that again.”

He turned his lips up in a small smile. “Can’t say I’m not a little sorry, but if that’s what you want, consider it forgotten.”

I breathed a sigh of relief. “Thanks. I have to go. See you in the morning?”

“Me and Ryan will be waiting.” His reference to my coffee mug made me smile. If I was going to have a momentary lapse in sanity for someone, I could see why it ended up being him.

***

My mom was looking at me out of the corner of her eye as I mashed together cookie dough with my hands.

“What?” I asked, glancing over.

“Nothing. I was just thinking you seem . . . content.”

I smiled at the way she stopped short of ‘happy’. “I kind of am. One of my college loans is close to paid off, and I have that camping trip with my friends from high school coming up. I feel good.”

“I’m glad. And Dale will really appreciate you making his favorite cookies.”

I tasted the oatmeal raisin dough as I finished mixing it. “It’ll soften the blow of the Scrabble ass kicking I plan to deliver tonight.”

“You’re a beaut
iful young woman, Katie. You ought to be out having fun with friends on a Saturday night instead of playing board games with us old folks.”

“I’m content, remember? Which is progress for me. It’s been a busy week of running and I’m glad to be home tonight.”

“What’ve you been doing?” Mom poured us both some sweet tea and leaned against the kitchen counter to drink hers.

“Well, Jason Ryker’s in demand,” I said wryly. “I’ve been delivering autographed photos for charity events, shopping for new suits and setting up fan meetings.”

“He doesn’t have suits?” Mom furrowed her brows at me.

“I don’t like the way they fit now because his sho
ulders and arm muscles got bigger in the offseason. He needs new ones.”

Dale walked in the back door carrying a paper sack against his chest. “Kate, did you get a new car?” he asked, his brows arched in admiration.

“I wish,” I said, grinning. “That’s Ryke’s Mustang. He’s letting me use it while my car’s in the shop.”

“Kate’s making oatmeal raisin cookies,” Mom said
. Dale slid his sack on the counter and gave her a quick peck on the cheek.

“We’ll have lots of sweets
, then,” he said. “I picked up some of that caramel corn from the candy store. And some fudge.”

My mom groaned and offered Dale a sip of her tea. “I need to lose weight, not gain it.”

I pushed a baking sheet of cookies into the oven and washed my hands. When I turned back to Mom and Dale, I opened my mouth to speak but clamped it shut again.

“What?” Mom asked.