Grinder (Seattle Sharks Book 1) (6 page)

Fuck, I wanted to kiss her, to run my hands up the sides of her stomach and see if her skin was as touchable as it looked. I wanted to taste her mouth, sink my hands into her hair, and bury myself so deep in her that I’d never find my way out.

“Gage?” she repeated, her eyes darkening.

“Tell me no,” I begged.

Her lips parted. “You’re the one who said this wasn’t a good idea.”

“I know what I fucking said, Bailey. I need you to tell me no.” It took every ounce of willpower to stand immobile when my body was raging.

The tension thickened as she glanced away, and then back to me. “I don’t want to tell you no,” she admitted softly.

“Bailey,” I warned.

“I want to know what it’s like to kiss you, even if it’s only this once.”

Only this once.

Once was brilliant. Once was just right, just to get her out of my system, to kill the mystery.

I crossed the small distance between us, took her face between my hands and slanted my mouth over hers.

Fuck, she was sweet. Her mouth opened for me, and I plunged inside, stroking her tongue with mine, exploring every single inch I could with quick sweeps and longer thrusts. She tasted like berries from the workout water she loved.

Once will never be enough.

She kissed me back and nearly brought me to my knees. Every moan pushed me higher, and when her fists tangled in my shirt, pulling me closer, I snapped.

My hands skimmed the soft skin of her sides. I was wrong before—her skin wasn’t just soft and touchable, it was silk, hot and vibrant under my fingers.

She whimpered when I grabbed her ass, fulfilling my fantasy, and arched up against me. That sound broke me like nothing else could. Fuck, she was everything I’d dreamed, and then some. I lifted her by her ass and she wrapped those perfect legs around my waist.

Her back hit the washer as I leaned against her, one hand coming back up to cradle her face. While my hands were tender, my dick wasn’t—grinding against the seam of her pants until she gasped my name.

I swallowed the sound and went back to her mouth, kissing her harder and deeper every time she rolled her hips back against me. She fit perfectly with me, moved just right, tasted like heaven, and drove me utterly mad.

I had to stop this before it got out of hand.

Or out of your pants.

Her fingers tangled in my hair, and she bit my lip gently when I pulled back. Then she yanked my head to hers and kissed me for everything she was worth. Her tiny flame of a tongue slid into my mouth, leaving me groaning, desperate to get inside this woman and fuck her until I couldn’t remember why I’d ever thought it was a bad idea.

Everything about this was right and hotter than hell.

My dick screamed at me, cursing the miniscule barriers between us, and I had to agree that it had a point. My fingers slid along her ass toward the seam between her thighs, the warmth of her pussy radiating through the thin material.

She moaned my name, rocked against my hand, and I thought of every unsexy thing I could to keep from coming in my pants.

“Bailey? Daddy?” Lettie’s voice was faint but clear, and as effective as a giant bucket of ice water.

“I’ll be right there, honey” I answered, leaning my head against Bailey’s forehead as we both struggled to calm our breathing.

Her legs slid from my waist, and I lowered her gently to the ground.

“I’ll go,” she said softly. “You’re still…”

“Hard,” I offered, well aware that my dick could probably hang laundry at this point.

“Yeah,” she said, running her tongue along her bottom lip.

I groaned, wanting to suck on that lip...and that tongue.

“At least we know, right?” She asked, and then slipped out from under my arms to tend to Lettie.

I leaned forward on my elbows, bracing my forehead on the edge of the front-loader, and told my body to calm the fuck down.

I’d never been so glad to be cock-blocked, let alone by the very reminder of why I needed to keep my dick in my pants and my hands off my daughter’s nanny. What the fuck was I thinking? If Bailey belonged to anyone in this house, it was Lettie. I’d never taken anything from my daughter and I wasn’t about to start now.

At least we know, right?

Yeah, I knew that she was the hottest, most perfect kiss I’d ever had, and now I was totally and completely fucked.

That could not happen again.

Ever.

C
RACK
!
A player’s helmet bounced off the wall as Gage slammed against him, his skates steady while the other’s slipped. Lettie jolted in my lap, and I wrapped my arms around her, comforting both of us. I knew he was in the best shape of his life, but I was terrified he’d reinjure his shoulder. A second surgery would most certainly mean he wouldn’t be signed to the Sharks again, or quite possibly any other team either.

I could barely make out his face under his helmet, so I couldn’t be sure, but it looked like he grimaced. I suppose I could be imagining things—I’d done quite a bit of that since he’d crossed his own line in the laundry room.

The cold bench beneath me heated up as the memory of his taste filled my mind. The man was intensity and warmth and sex all combined, and when he let me in…good God, it was incredible. He’d practically made me come from a few touches and a deep kiss—I might as well have been a teenager again for how often that kiss was on replay in my brain.

An excited squeal from Lettie sharpened my focus in time to see Gage pass the puck to Rory, who shot it so fast the goalie didn’t have time to flinch. The two were an unstoppable force, complimenting each other in every regard—Gage was strength, strategy, and intimidation; Rory was speed, stamina, and aim.

The two gave each other a quick glove-covered fist bump after the shot.

“Daddy’s a badass!” Lettie shouted.

I gasped, biting my tongue so I didn’t laugh.

“Lettie,” I said and shifted her on my lap so she could look me in the eye. “You shouldn’t say that word.”

“What?” Her little forehead wrinkled before she smirked. “Daddy?”

I tilted my head at her, she was Gage’s daughter all right. “You
know
what. I won’t repeat it because it’s not a nice word.” Though I guaranteed she heard it from her father or Rory or Warren. When the trio came together at the house, it was hard for them to keep their animalistic sides in check—it was sexy as hell to me, but not so great for Lettie’s vocabulary.

“Say,
Daddy’s awesome
, or
Daddy’s a rockstar
, instead. Okay?”

She nodded, her brown curls framing her face. “Okay!” She hugged my neck and turned back around, her attention recaptured by the game.

Lettie and I went to as many games as possible, even traveling with Gage on the road most of the time, and she was such a trooper. Never once complaining about the cold, the smells signature only to the rink, or the fast food we ate too much of because of the number of away games. The girl didn’t care what we did, as long as she was near her daddy. Gage couldn’t stand to be separated from her, so it worked out beautifully.

“Whoohoo!” Lettie shouted, jerking her fist in the air when Gage zoomed by. “Daddy’s a rockstar!” Her little voice cracked she yelled so hard but she earned several
awhs
from the small crowd scattered throughout the bleachers. Glancing over her shoulders, she beamed at me.

“Good job!” I said and nuzzled her neck. I loved it when she actually listened to me. She was three, so my chances always averaged fifty-fifty.

I hissed when Gage slammed another player into the boards so hard the poor bastard hit the ice with a loud smack. It gave Warren the advantage and he raced toward the goal with the puck.

“If he isn’t careful he’ll rip himself up again,” a woman said from behind me.

“Think it’s inevitable at this point. He won’t let up.” Another responded.

I held Lettie a little tighter.
Don’t feed the hockey wives. Don’t feed the hockey wives.

“I was hoping to see the new kid start today. He’s got to have chops because Gage’s skates will be hard as hell to fill.”

Lettie turned her head toward the women before glancing at me. “Is Daddy giving away his skates?”

Oh hell no.

“No, baby. He’s not.” I stroked her hair until she turned back around to stare at the action on the ice.

I whipped my head around, focusing on the group of women sitting a couple benches above us, all wearing matching yoga pants tucked into Uggs, some with their husband’s jersey’s worn over white long sleeved shirts. The bunnies—who were easy to mark because of their lack of warm clothing—decided tight white t-shirts were smart clothes for an ice-cold rink.

“Gage is stronger than he’s ever been,” I said as calmly as I could. “He’s not going anywhere.” The last thing I wanted Lettie to hear was someone tearing him down. Where the hell did these women get off?

The wife on the left cocked an eyebrow at me, crossing one leg over the other. “Who are you, again?”

I swallowed hard, her tone was near identical to the puck-bunny parade I’d been subjected to as Lettie’s nanny. Didn’t matter to these women that I’d went to every game, supported Gage both on and off the ice, and took care of his daughter. It mattered that my ring finger was absent a huge rock. Or—because for some reason they treated bunnies better than bystanders—I wasn’t fucking him.

Not my choice.
Given the chance, I would have mounted him in the laundry room faster than the slew of women standing in line to, and I wouldn’t be rushed out of the house the next morning either. I’d just simply go back to my room and…

Oh God.
Gage was right. The stakes were incredibly high if we crossed that line as much as I wanted to. What if it went south? How could I keep living in his house, raising his daughter, and watch him return to the sex-every-night routine he had?

“She’s just the nanny,” wife number two said, stopping my agonizing in its tracks. “Gage is still a free agent.” She winked at a pretty girl in bunny-getup, a red-head whose color definitely came from a bottle. She licked her lips, her eyes following Gage as he raced after a player on the ice.

The flare of jealousy that burned my insides was enough to make me turn around and keep my mouth shut. I’d wanted to claim him as mine—just like I had his mouth as he pressed me against the washing machine—but I didn’t know what the hell we were doing. He’d kissed me like he wanted to put his brand on me, and damn it the man clearly already
had
, but his words…

I sucked in a shaky breath, desperately wishing for some balance. It really didn’t matter what the wives or bunnies thought of me. What mattered is they didn’t spin their negative shit around Lettie. I kissed her cold cheek.

“Want to share some hot chocolate?” I asked. She bounced up and down in my lap but the conflict in her eyes was clear as she locked on to Gage. “We’ll be really fast, I promise.”

“Okay, let’s go quick!” She leaped to her booted feet and held my hand as we navigated down the stands.

Less than five minutes later, armed with one medium hot chocolate and one box of gummy bears because I couldn’t resist those begging blue eyes of hers that matched her daddy’s, we took new seats farther away from the women, a few rows closer to the ice in the family section.

We shared sips of the delicious warm liquid after it had cooled, and Lettie clapped for Gage every time he skated by. It was adorable, and I was relieved her ears were no longer subjected to any more of the gossip those women spouted worse than high school students. As much as I loved the game, and loved watching him play, I hated the
cliquishness
outside of it.

“Daddy! Daddy!” Lettie giggled, shouting at the top of her lungs when Gage body-checked another player into the wall. The player spun around and swung at Gage, who dodged the attempt, and quickly landed a retaliation punch of his own.

“McPherson! Two-minute penalty for unnecessary roughness!” The ref called out.

Gage’s hands shot in the air, clearly not agreeing with the bullshit call, but he skated into the box regardless. He ripped his helmet off, shaking out his sweaty hair, and shot us a quick glance.

Lettie waved so enthusiastically he couldn’t help but smile at her. Even in the midst of a pre-season opener, his first time back on the ice in an official capacity since being injured, and in the penalty box no less, the man still couldn’t resist his daughter.

My heart swelled at the love shining through his eyes. It turned me on nearly as much as watching him dominate on the ice, skating with speeds I’d never reach, hitting men with the force of a mack truck, utilizing his sheer strength in all the right ways. I shifted in my seat, my panties practically on fire, the ache wrenching between my thighs so strong it almost hurt.

I could almost taste him again, and the incident in the laundry room felt like the biggest tease in the history of teases.

His eyes locked onto mine and my breath caught in my throat. They switched from the pure love and adoration for his daughter to an uncontrollable, undeniable look of
want.

My mouth watered and the air returned to my lungs as he slipped his helmet back on and darted back onto the ice. With each push of his skates, each strong glide, each opponent stopped, my ache for him amped up another degree.

Another opponent went down, and a vision of Gage pinning me against a wall, his hands free-roaming while mine were tied, flashed in my head. Gage shredded the ice in a fast stop to quickly change directions, and the image of riding him while I took control of the man who couldn’t be contained on the ice sent warm chills racing through my core.

A stick jabbed in just the right way at the absolute wrong time sent Gage to the ice with a sickening crack. I jumped to my feet, Lettie on my hip, as my heart stalled—all naughty fantasies evaporating. I held my breath.

Please get up. Get up.
He’d landed on his shoulder,
hard.

Oh God. What if he was hurt again? My lungs burned, my heart slamming against my ribs.

Seven agonizing seconds later, he got up, gripping his stick and skating faster than ever to catch up to the asshole who’d pulled the move.

He was okay.

The relief that uncurled the tension in my chest made a light bulb click on in my brain.

I
wanted
Gage. Not just on top of me or inside me...but by my side.

I wanted him at breakfast
and
at nighttime. On zoo trips and club trips. I wanted
all
of him.

Shit. I was falling for him.

The same kid who’d made mud pies with me in the back of his mother’s country home. The same kid who’d pulled on my braids, and threw lizards at me just to hear me scream. The one who’d taught me how to ride a horse and who visited me every day after I’d fallen off and broken my elbow when I was twelve. He’d brought me books and Oreos.

Holy hell.
Maybe I’d been falling for him all along.

I looked down at Lettie, my heart overflowing with the realization because I’d already possessed so much love for her I didn’t know I could fit any more in there.

Gage skated by, lightning fast, and my stomach flipped.

I wanted to try with him, despite the risks.

But I’d have to convince him and convincing Gage to do anything he hadn’t already decided to do was harder than getting Lettie to eat green beans.

* * *

L
ettie’s eyes
were barely open as I strapped her into her car seat after the game. Gage tossed his gear into the back of the car before coming up behind me and peeking at her. She gave him a soft smile before her eyes shut completely.

Gage stood so close I could smell him—like the ice of the rink and the crisp clean scent of his body wash—and I turned toward him. “Played one hell of a game.

He pressed his lips together and nodded.

I reached up and lightly traced the muscle of his shoulder and collarbone, just above the fabric of his cotton shirt. “How does it feel?”

He clenched his eyes shut as I added some pressure behind my fingers.

“Good,” he said, his voice low and rough. He opened his eyes again, the blue in them on fire.

I stepped closer to him, my chest brushing against his. “You sure? Some of those hits looked intense.”

He sucked in a deep breath, his hand slipping around my hip and to the small of my back. The easy touch ignited sparks underneath my skin and my thighs heated up with the feel of his hard body so close.

“I’m solid.”

Yeah, you are.
My heart raced, my realization earlier pushing me to cross the lines he’d drawn, and I moved my hand behind his neck. “Gage,” I said, my breath quickening. I’d watched the man play on the ice for hours and couldn’t stand the distance a second longer. I rose on my tiptoes, attempting to reach his lips, which he kept steady a breath away from mine.

“Bailey,” he growled and gently nudged me away from him.

I settled back on my feet and crossed my arms over my chest. I hadn’t mistaken the want in his eyes or the battle he raged with himself. He wanted me, too. I knew it without a doubt. It still hurt, though, a sharp sting in the chest I didn’t know how many more times I could soothe.

“I told you…we can’t---“

“Tell me something, Gage,” I cut him off. “Be honest, am I being too forward for you? I assumed with your track record this would be just another day for you.”

He pinched the bridge of his nose before glancing at Lettie still asleep in her car seat. “You know it isn’t that.”