Delayed Penalty (21 page)

He raised his eyebrows. "Don't let him brainwash you."

Just as I was about to say something else, that Dave guy came over with two other teammates, I assumed. Evan smiled up at Dave and pointed to me. "Dave, this is Ami."

Callie, who was still seated across from us got up and walked away. Dave gave her a look and then rolled his eyes, his attention back on me.

Dave gave me a nod. "Hey, glad you're okay there. Evan was pretty worried about you."

Evan gave an eye roll, as if to play it down, but I knew. "Come on, man, lay off."

Dave laughed, pushing against his shoulder playfully. "I'm teasing, buddy."

I grew to understand Evan didn't like his boys teasing him in front of me. It wasn't out of fear for his ego either. Any time they cussed around me, he looked like he wanted to knock their teeth out, as if it was disrespectful or something.

I think he knew better, though, because it was rare that Evan didn't slip
fuck
into every sentence he spoke. His boys were no different.

Dave and Evan spoke about the game, a penalty they were still upset about being over turned. Callie came back, but when she noticed Dave was still there, she immediately turned and walked away.

I wanted to ask her if she didn't like him, but wasn't sure if I should. Her reaction puzzled me. Dave seemed like a nice guy, not one I would ever want to date, or even hang out with, but at least he wasn't anti-social. There were a couple of Evan's teammates that didn't even say hello, let alone look our direction. Maybe it was because I was sitting there with him, or maybe they didn't get along. It was apparent they had a group that was tight-knit.

Dave left after that; a girl had caught his attention. "See what I mean?" Evan gestured to the girl on his arm. "He might not leave with that one either, but it won't stop him from taking her into the bathroom."

Sure enough, they disappeared down the hall. I didn't pay much attention to that. I had a feeling Evan might have been like that before he met me, but I also didn't want to think about it too much.

Evan's hands were never far from me, which I enjoyed. When I would respond, or curl into him, his eyebrow would quirk, and his mouth would turn up into that signature crooked smile. I eventually grew bolder and actually touched his back or his stomach.
God, that stomach was amazing
. The only acknowledgment he would give would be a wink. Other than that, we brought no attention to the flirting.

Leo caught on quickly, as did Callie, who finally came back to the table, when she whispered, "Now I know you were thinking about the way his hips moved."

I tried to play it off with a laugh, but I couldn't deny it. Yes, I had that thought about them a time or two. I most just thought about it. Given what happened to me, and the fact that I was a virgin that night, I would be far from ready for any type of physical relationship with anyone for a while. Well, that may have been true if I wasn't living with Evan Masen. And that may have been true if Evan Masen hadn't rescued me. And that may have been true if I wasn't falling for Evan Masen.

And as much as I tried to pay attention that night, Evan Masen was in my head. Thoughts of us naked, feelings of lust and desire, erotic thoughts bombarded me and frustrated me. Sexual tension was something I'd never experienced before.

Evan's condo in the Trump Towers was far more extravagant than his parents' home in Pittsburgh. You could tell their home was where a good family lived and well-rounded children were raised. Evan's condo looked somewhat like a playboy mansion, only on a smaller scale. It wasn't huge, but it had some nice amenities. A quick walk through and you easily understood it was a guy's pad. When you walked inside, straight-ahead was the living room. The smell was the first thing you noticed when you walked in. It smelled like Evan, and I wanted to bury myself in the wood floors and become part of its grain. I wasn't sure how, but he always spelled like some kind of pampered laundry sheet. Rich cotton, leather, boy, and the smell I remembered from that night. The smell of Evan was comforting.

His parents' home had a faint resemblance to the smell, but it was nothing like being here. When you walked inside there was a laundry room to the right, with a fancy stainless steel front loading washer and dryer. I was sure he never used either of them, but the pile of laundry told me otherwise.

Walking into the living room, with its floor to ceiling windows overlooking Northern Chicago, the view almost looked like some kind of skyline painting. The kitchen and dining room area were to the right; dark wood matched the cupboards and was met with stainless steel appliances and black granite countertops.

His furniture was a sage green, a couch and few chairs placed strategically around his large flat screen television that hung neatly on the wall. No wires or speakers in sight, but you knew they were there somewhere.

When I first set foot in there, judging by the arrangement and decorations, he was either gay or had someone do it for him. Turned out his sister wanted to be an interior designer and designed the layout for him. I was glad because it would be a shame to be so attracted to Evan and have him be gay.

Down the hall to the left were a few bathrooms, a spare bedroom, and then Evan's master suite.

The bedroom was spacious with a black sleigh bed and matching dresser. The walls were splashed with a light gray tone, and a few pictures of the beach hung above the bed. Large windows bathed the room in an airy winter frost that I loved and offered a beautiful view of downtown Chicago.

The bathroom had dark slate floors with a long counter that matched. In the corner was a shower that I was sure his whole team could fit into and a large tub that allowed you to look over the city, too. It was an unnecessary indulgence I couldn't wait to try out.

His closet was off the bathroom and was nearly the same size as his bedroom. A few jerseys that appeared to be from his early hockey days were framed on the walls.

After leaving the bar, we came back to his place where I was now officially staying. We were on the couch. He was watching SportsCenter, catching highlights from games he missed. Though he played, he was a huge fan of the sport and kept a close eye on the Pittsburgh Penguins.

"Evan, can you do something for me?" I whispered as I raised my head from his chest. He didn't answer but brushed my short hair behind my ears. This time it stayed in place, having grown a little longer, and he waited for me to continue. I opened my mouth to speak and forgot what I was even going to ask when I met his eyes. So instead, I leaned in and kissed him.

His hand curled around to cup my neck, urging my lips a little harder in to his, giving a groan when our mouths met.

I moaned when I felt the blend of warm and wet soft lips on mine. My hand fisted in the fabric of his dress shirt as his tightened around me. I needed a little more tonight; I wanted a little more and wasn't sure how much he was willing to give. To see just how far I could go with it, I moved to straddle him.

Evan moaned deeply at the change in our position and greedily moved his hands lower over my ass. A spike of nervousness and excitement pricked my skin and settled in my belly.

His fingers clenched into tight fists around the hem of my shirt. That was when I felt the hard length of him pressing against me, his hips straining a little closer to feel the friction I could provide. But then he stilled any movement I made.

"Ami," he groaned, his eyes squeezing closed. Hearing my name on his lips made my heart stumble. I wasn't ready to stop, but I knew the look on his face. He was about to pull away.

Lowering my lips to his neck, I kissed up the length of it, feeling the muscles straining. My hips fought against his hold to move.

"Jesus, Ami," he growled softly, possessively, against my lips. "Please stop. You have to stop," he asserted, pushing me off him.

"What's wrong?"

He rubbed his hands furiously over his face and groaned. "I want to fuck you so bad…and that's a really shit thing for me to want from you right now."

"Why?" I asked, completely confused and trying to fight that sting of rejection.

"Because, Ami, you're not ready for that," he paused, his eyes on my body and then my face again, "someone took something very sacred from you, and if I did what I so desperately want to do right now, how does that make me any different?"

"Uh, because this is willing…" I gestured between us trying to point out the obvious. "I want this...with you."

"I know it sounds like I'm trying to be some kind of saint here, and take things slow, but I'm not. It's a constant battle not to just give in and see just how far you'll let me take things when you kiss me. And believe me, I wanna see just how far I could push it. But sex..." He shook his head and a huffed breath came out, "...after what happened, it's important for us to slow down. I don't want it to be something that just happens one night and it's no big deal. With you it's a big deal. You're too important," he whispered, trailing his index finger down the length of my throat, trying to comfort me, and then drifting it across my collarbone. "I'm afraid that if we don't slow down, I'll push you before you're ready, and I'm afraid that you won't stop me, even if you're not ready."

Well Christ, he had me pegged, didn't he?

"What are you? Some kind of mind reader?" I fell back against his couch, huffing and a little angry that I was so frustrated and consumed by this stupid knight in shining armor hockey player that took my heart and wouldn't let go of it.

I wanted to knock him in the head with a puck.

"No, not a mind reader," he said in a low, thoughtful tone as he placed a hand on my thigh, turning me a little until I was facing him. "Just a guy looking out for a girl."

I scrunched my nose and pretended to glare. He leaned forward and placed a kiss on my forehead. What seemed playful and flirty with teasing wasn't; the kiss was intimate when his warm hands, that were gently resting on my thighs, moved to cup my face. He pressed a little harder, making the kiss a little deeper, like he wanted to leave the mark on my forehead.

And then he got up and took a shower.

A little while later we were lying together, watching the rain sliding like a waterfall over the windows in his living room, the condo completely dark.

He had taken off his shirt, and though it wasn't the first time I had seen him without his shirt on, I paid more attention, wanting to burn the image in my head. The muscles of his torso were lean and sculpted, evidence of his lifestyle as a hockey player. He wasn't completely ripped like some of the guys on his team seemed to be, but he was big and solid. He looked like an athlete, one that spent a lot time in the gym and used his body as his tool. There was a small dusting of hair scattered over chest and lower on his stomach leading to where his lounge pants started. The hair on his stomach was what tempted me to follow its path. Damn it if I didn't want to slip my hand inside there to where it disappeared into the thin strip of black cotton that stuck out from his pants.

But none of that happened. Just like every other time in his arms, against his bare chest, my mind emptied, and I was able to forget and drift off to sleep.