Delayed Penalty (22 page)

Light the lamp – To score a goal. A light above the net turns on when a goal is scored.

This girl was going to be the fucking death of me and my frequent need for cold showers. Never in my life had I one, enjoyed a cold shower, or two, had to take care of my own needs as much as I had to once she moved in with me.

I was dying. It was pretty much official.

Saturday morning I left Ami sleeping in my bed to go get some breakfast. I got her donuts, which she said she loved, and coffee.

When I walked into my condo, thinking she would still be asleep, a few things caught my attention.

My cat had moved and was on my couch, a place I had specifically told him he wasn't allowed to be, the little bastard. The second, Led Zeppelin's "D'yer Mak'er" was blasting, and Ami was dancing around in my old junior hockey jersey and a pair of my sweatpants rolled up just to fit. The combination suited me just fine.

When she saw me, her eyes lit up like a Christmas tree. "Dance with me, Evan!"

There was no telling her no, not with my jersey on.

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."

"Goddamn 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 motherfucker sometimes. Yep. Leo.

His reasoning was, get this, every man needs a loyal pussy. Like I said, nasty motherfucker.

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 sex, 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 shirt.

"You don't know?" I asked, sliding my hands down her back until they came to rest at the hem of her shirt, 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 shirt. Following my lead, they boldly slid under my shirt.

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 shifted 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.

Fucking jerk.

"Go away!" I yelled, resuming what Ami had started, and I intended on finishing.

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 shit 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 pissed 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 shit that's happened to you. So yeah, I get frustrated and confused because so much shit 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.

"It's just hard," I relented. She might have been the only person that could understand. Even if she didn't, it'd feel good to get it off my chest. "Evan is…well, he's probably the best guy I've ever met, but he acts like I'm some kind of delicate flower he's going to rip the petals off, and damn it if I don't want a few petals ripped off. Yeah, what happened to me was really shitty, but guess what?" My voice got a little louder, and I may have even slammed my water glass down. "Maybe I want the aggressive hockey player and the occasional pulling of hair. But he won't do anything aside from kiss me. What's wrong with me?"

"Well for starters..." Callie took a slow drink from her flask and then set her it down. "...your hair isn't long enough to be pulled, so that's out of the question for a few months. And then we have the whole aggressive Evan thing." She smiled, trying to be honest. "It's not going to happen."

Way to burst my bubble.

"But he was with you," I pointed out, grasping for anything as a reason.

"He cares about you. Be glad he's treating you with respect. He'll come around, but you didn't see what he saw. Yeah, it happened to you, but Evan found you. He was there when they were trying to revive you and praying that you survived it. Then by some weird twist of fate, he fell for the girl he saved, and now you're asking him to get physical when he saw the aftermath of you being raped...and you were a virgin."

Well, now that she put it like that, I felt like an ass.

"Just give him time. I don't know Evan that well, okay? But I know he doesn't do anything without putting his heart and head into it first."

"Callie..." It took me a while, but this had been on my mind for a while, and I knew eventually I would ask. "This might sound weird, but what was it like to sleep with Evan?"

Callie squinted, mid bite. "You're right, that's weird."

I knew it.

"It'll be different with you, so I can't really say."

"Why?"

"He likes you. We never had that. I'm sure he liked what we were doing, but that's all it was, motions. There was never anything there besides friendship, not love."

Ignoring her love comment, thoughts rolled through me, and I asked, "Was he rough?"

"Only when I wanted him to be."

"Damn it, Callie!" I grew frustrated with her vagueness. "I need details!"

"My God, you're such a girl right now. Fine..." she leaned forward, "...but don't get all weird on me." I nodded eagerly so she'd continue. "The first time I fucked him, it was not long after the first game of the season and they'd won. Everyone was at the bar. I was messing around with Jake Sedin at that time, but things were kind of going south, so I was flirty. It wasn't like Jake and I were dating, so it wasn't a big thing. Evan was there, fresh off a win, smiling, flirty, and nice. He bought me a drink, I bought him one…next thing I knew he was in my bed showing me all about a D-man's strength." She winked and gave a sigh. "Defensemen are some of the best in bed I've come across."

"Oh."

"See, you didn't want details, did you?"

"No." I waved my hands around. Surprisingly, I didn't feel jealous like I thought I would. Instead, I felt like I was getting some kind of behind the scenes look at Evan. "So was he good?"

Her gaze glistened with amusement. "Made me come three times in a matter of fifteen minutes…I'd say he has some skills."

"Do the guys know that you sleep with more than one at a time?" I asked, wanting to know. It was another question I had been dying to ask her. I'd never met a girl like Callie before or the way she regarded her sexual encounters like they were no big deal.

"Yeah, most of them know. Evan knows, Leo, Remy, Tyler, most all the guys on the team do. I had a boyfriend once, and when he found out that I had slept with most of the starting four lines on the Chicago Blackhawks, well he made me feel slutty. They don't. Just because I sleep with them doesn't make me a slut. People put too much weight into being with just one person. I'm not saying that being with just one is bad because to be in love, that's cool, but I haven't found that yet. So I have fun until the day I find love."

I thought for a moment, picking through my salad, her words sinking in. "That makes sense."

And then she added. "I thought I was in love with Evan…"

I dropped my fork.

Callie laughed. "I'm sure you can understand his appeal. He's got the looks and the heart. Evan's a good deal, and that's hard to find these days. But then we got to know each other, and it wasn't that we didn't like each other...it was just that we were both very different from one another. I'm a lot like…" she tried to think of someone I might have known to compare herself to, "...Leo, suggestively open about everything. Mase has this quiet confidence about him that you feel. It's really what attracts you to him, the mysterious quiet that you want to know. Then you understand who he is, and you fall for him."