Out of Her League (18 page)

“I don’t see it as a risk. I trust you.”

Lachlan had thought his stomach was doing
funny things
before
, now it practically flipped over.

“Thanks,” he said. “I mean, it’s mutual,
for what it’s worth. But I get that it’s a bigger deal for you. So, thanks.”

Michaela didn’t say anything, but she slid
her hand over his knee and left it there. They were lucky he didn’t drive right
off a bridge and into the Charles River. He put his hand over hers, if for no
other reason than because if she moved a few inches higher, stripping down in
the locker room would be awkward, to say the least, and putting on his jock
impossible.

Also, it was kind of nice. He’d never
really done this sort of thing with a friend before.

He took off to get changed as soon as they
arrived, mindful that he needed to check in with the refs about some
administrative stuff beforehand. He felt bad leaving her in the stands, sitting
alone, knowing his sister and Rhian were in Anaheim. It wasn’t until he was
lining up for the first face-off that he saw Garrick sitting next to her, both
of them laughing over something on Garrick’s phone.

Lachlan turned to face his opponent and
forgot about anything but the game.

Two hours later he was a sweaty mess, in
desperate need of a shower and glowing with the satisfaction of another
victory. He hung around on the ice with their latest recruit for a while, talking
to him about his backcheck until the new guy’s girlfriend was shouting that
they had to go and how he didn’t have time to shower and would stink up her
car.

Lachlan chuckled and made his way to the
locker room. Everyone else was heading out, saying goodnight as they went. He
took a quick shower and threw on his clothes. He’d almost made it back out to
the stands to find Michaela when a delicate, familiar hand reached out of the
almost-closed trainer’s room door and yanked him inside.

He was kissing Michaela before he knew what
had hit him, which was his only excuse for taking a few seconds to get with the
program and drop his gear bag onto the floor. He pulled her close then walked
her backwards until her shoulders hit the door and he could reach the knob to
lock it. Once secured, he relaxed into the kiss, not coming up for air until
his lungs screamed at him that there was no other choice.

“What was that for?” he asked, breathing
like he’d just come off the ice after a hard shift.

“Watching you play hockey makes me hot.”

He let out an embarrassingly breathless
laugh. “Remind me to email you the rest of the schedule for this season.”

“You do that,” she said in a low voice
before kissing him again.

The adrenaline of the game was still
pumping through his veins, making him lightheaded
before
all the blood
in his head raced south, filling his cock so fast it ached with every brush of
her body. He ran his hands down her sides and cupped them around her ass. He
barely had to lift before she was hitching her legs up around his waist.

The first slow roll of his erection against
the apex of her thighs made them both moan.

“Are we
ever
going to make it to a
bed?” he gasped, dragging his lips over her cheek and down her arched neck.

She chuckled, as breathless as he. “God, we
can’t here, though.”

“But you want to,” he said, because he was
beginning to figure out a few things about Michaela.

She moaned and didn’t deny it.

“Just like you liked sucking me off in
Robby’s changing room,” he said, lifting his head to study her face.

She nodded, her eyes closed as if
concentrating on the continuous grind of their hips.

“And rubbing my dick in the back of the car,”
he added.

Her little smile slipped a little, her
expression serious when she opened her eyes to look at him. “I’m not an
exhibitionist.”

“No, you’re not,” he agreed. “But you do
like having sex in public places—just not
in public.
”

“How did you—”

He rocked against her, wedging the hard seam
of his fly against them both until they were panting.

“There are no cameras in here,” he
promised.

She licked her lips, her eyes dilating.
“Are you sure?”

“Absolutely certain. This is considered a
medical space. No windows. No cameras ever.”

Her fingers curled in his hair, tugging it
as she wriggled against him. He had to kiss her again, his tongue darting into
her mouth as she writhed, her back sliding along the door.

She needed to decide, and soon. As it was,
he wouldn’t be able to walk out of this room for a good five minutes if they
stopped right now.

He had another thought and pulled back.
“How complicated is your clothing today?”

She laughed. “I’ve learned my lesson. What
are the chances you have a condom?”

“I
was
a Boy Scout,” he assured her seriously.

She dropped her feet to the floor and he
caught her hips, steadying her while he tried to figure out what her next play
would be. He grinned when she kicked her shoes off, his eyes going wide as she
stripped the tight black things he thought his sister called leggings down and
off, a scrap of bright scarlet satin gone with them. Her long shirt brushed her
thighs.

“Holy shit, did you just…”

She grinned, clearly quite pleased with
herself. And goddamn, he was pretty fucking pleased with her, too, laughing as
she attacked the front of his khakis. He scrambled to get his wallet out of his
back pocket before his pants, and his underwear, were shoved down around his
thighs. The cold air on his hot skin and hard cock made him shudder, but he
managed to extract the condom without dropping it.

His wallet, on the other hand, fell from
nerveless fingers when she wrapped her cool hand around his shaft and tugged. She
plucked the condom from him and tore it open with her perfectly straight, white
teeth.

No one would ever know how he whimpered when
she rolled it down onto his cock. No one but Michaela and she still looked
delighted.

“Ready?” she asked.

He blinked, his heart pounding against his
ribs, which were still sore from the game. He was almost dizzy from the rush of
endorphins mixing with lingering adrenaline, and for once, he had no words. And
he really didn’t need them.

Their mouths crashed together and he dug
his fingers into the meat of her thighs, barely lifting as she jumped to wrap
her legs around his waist again. She yanked his shirt up before hooking that
arm around his neck. Her other hand stayed clenched around his cock, wedged
between their bodies as her shoulders, then her hips, hit the door.

He felt it the moment they were lined up,
felt how wet she was already, and pushed forward. She pulled her arm out of the
way and clung to his shoulder while he sank into her tight, wet heat.

She tore her mouth away and tipped her head
back, moaning, “Oh, fuck.
Lachlan
.”

He grunted, his face pressed against her
neck, shocks of electricity racing over his body as she twitched and rippled
around him, adjusting to his girth.

His hips were moving before she’d taken her
next breath.
He
wasn’t breathing at all. Every ounce of his attention
was honed down to his cock shuttling in and out of her body, the grip of his
hands on her firm ass. He tilted her, jabbing forward and the new angle made
her cry out with every sharp thrust.

“Fuck, harder,” she cried.

Their bodies thumped together, hers pinned
to the door as his hips worked frantically. A ball of fire was growing at the
base of his spine, tightening all his muscles until the need for release clawed
at him. He wanted to come so badly it
hurt
.

His options for getting her there, though,
were seriously limited by the fact that his hands were decidedly full. But
there was something she seemed to like. As much or more than sex in public
places, or having her ass played with.

He couldn’t reach her nipples. Or her clit.
But maybe…

He thrust forward and stayed there,
grinding against her clit with his pelvic bone. Then he pinched her ass,
hard.

She bucked against him, almost managing to
force him back a step before he slammed them back into the door and pinched her
again.

She sobbed and yanked his hair. “Fuck, yes.
That’s. That
hurts
.”

And that was most certainly
not
a
complaint.

His knees very nearly gave out as what
little blood remaining rushed from his head. He fucked her again, and again,
and pinched her ass as best he could, anywhere he could reach. When he was sure
he would die—or worse,
come
—before she reached her climax, she curled
her arms around his neck and pressed her face against her arm, muffling her
increasingly loud cries.

On his next thrust, she clamped down around
him, her legs like a vise around his hips, holding him there as she sobbed out
his name.

He didn’t have to think. Or move. Or do
anything
but hold on for dear life as his orgasm crashed over him. His hands slipped
across her damp skin as they shook against one another. He pinned her as hard
as he could against the door, locked his knees, and pressed his forehead
against the door, gasping against her shoulder as his cock pulsed inside her,
the heat of his own come filling the condom another shock to his overwrought
system.

Way
too much
adrenaline.

As the last waves ebbed, they wobbled
precariously. Michaela dug her fingers into his shoulders and tried to uncurl
her legs. The issue was, of course, she was still impaled and couldn’t go
anywhere without his cooperation.

With a deep, shuddering breath, he eased
back and she dropped her feet to the floor far more gracefully than anything he
could have pulled off at that point. She wrapped her arms around his waist and
he clung to her, trying to catch his breath.

“You okay?” she asked with concern.

“I think you broke me,” he moaned with a
hoarse chuckle. All joking aside, though, his heart was going
way
too
fast.

She laughed and pushed him back. He was
surprised his legs would hold him, but submitted to the indignity of letting
her dispose of the condom—he only groaned a little, so that was an
accomplishment—and pull his clothes back into place.

He didn’t snap out of it until she’d
pressed his wallet back into his palm and bent to pull her clothes back on.
Thirty seconds later they were almost presentable for the public, except
Lachlan still felt lightheaded, the edges of his vision alarmingly grey.

He leaned his back to the wall and took a
deep breath.

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

He grimaced. “Maybe you better get me a
Gatorade from my bag.”

She did. Quickly. He drank the entire thing
in one go as she watched, nervously biting her lip.

He sighed when it was gone, hooking an arm
around her waist and pulling her closer. She leaned into him, her head on his
chest, and for a few minutes they just stood there while he slowly regained his
equilibrium.

It was the closest they’d ever come to
post-coital cuddling, which was just sad, since they were
standing up
.
It felt good, though. Maybe better than it should, he thought with a frown,
since really, they were just friends. Cuddling probably wasn’t supposed to be
part of the deal.

“This is nice,” she murmured.

He smiled against her silky hair, glad, at
least, that he wasn’t the only one feeling it. And hey, there was no reason
they couldn’t make their own rules about how they did this, right?

To prove the point, he tugged her closer
and pressed a kiss to the top of her head. He hoped she understood that as his
answer.

The New England Aquarium was not nearly as
opulent as the ballrooms and homes in which fundraisers often took place, and
it was a hell of a lot dimmer, most of the light coming from the tanks and the
low-glowing fixtures that wouldn’t shine too brightly for the animals. This
restriction also meant that no flash photography would be allowed, which was a
welcome relief, since it was too dim for photographs to capture anything without
the added light.

For these reasons alone, Michaela thought this
event was pretty fantastic. She smiled down at the penguins splashing in their
pools below the walkways, charmed by their antics as they slipped and slid
around and over the rocks. When she looked up, she watched in awe as a shark swam
by in the huge central tank, the main attraction of the cleverly designed
space.

The very best part of the night so far, though,
was that Lachlan clearly
loved
this place.

“Did you see the electric eel, yet?” he
asked, tugging her hand to pull her to another tank.

She jumped when there was a loud zap, then
laughed as Lachlan explained the meter beside the tank and how it worked.

He was like a kid in a candy factory. It
was kind of fucking adorable.

He looked as dark and handsome in his
tuxedo as he had the previous weekend, but somehow even better. To her, anyway.
But maybe that was because every time she closed her eyes, she could still see
him propped against the wall in the trainer’s office at the rink, holding her
close while his still-drying hair stood on end and his long, hard body
cushioned hers.

Tonight, they’d not only survived their
arrival and a round of introductions without incident, but it had been
something of a success. She’d made him practice saying his own name, much to
his chagrin, over and over on the car ride here. Then she’d had him repeat,
“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” a few dozen times, ignoring how he rolled his
eyes at her the entire time.

He wasn’t rolling his eyes when he’d
deployed his new skills on the way in. He’d made it all the way through several
dozen couples without a single hiccough, even when one of the wives took the liberty
of drawing her hand down his chest the moment her husband looked away.

Though, his scowl hadn’t exactly been
subtle. Safe to say that woman wouldn’t try hitting on him again tonight. Not
where anyone could see his reaction, anyway. Then again, she probably hadn’t
missed Michaela’s fierce frown either.

Seriously, people were shameless.

She cast her eye around the gathering,
trying to find the people she needed to speak with while still paying attention
to her private tour guide. She jumped when a hard body slammed into her and
Lachlan, hugging them both.

Speaking of shameless…

“Princess, aren’t you a sight for sore eyes
tonight,” Robby cried gleefully, drawing a lot of attention, as was his wont. He
stepped back and grinned at them both. “And Dr. Morrison. It’s lovely to see
you again.”

Lachlan steadied Michaela with a hand on
her back. “Mr. Wigglesworth,” he said formally, his attempt at dignity belied
by the twinkle in his eye. “I do believe that was
your
hand on my ass
just now?”

Michaela grinned. “Honestly, Robby.” She
couldn’t help but notice Lachlan hadn’t stuttered or stumbled once.

Robby attempted to look innocent. “I have
no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Of course you don’t,” Lachlan said dryly.

“I just wanted you to know how happy I was
to see you both,” Robby said.

“You just wanted everyone here to know
exactly whose camp you’re standing with,” Lachlan clarified.

Robby smiled at him like he was a prized
pupil.

Michaela frowned. “Robby, I saw your
parents just a few minutes ago. Are you sure you want to do this?”

“I’m going to forgive you for asking me
that, princess, because I know you’re still getting used to the idea that I
would have stood by you this entire time. My parents are aware of it, and their
feelings on the matter are moot. Unless,” he said, studying Michaela’s face,
“they were rude to you. In which case, I will address it.”

“They weren’t rude,” she assured him.

“They were
cool
,” Lachlan added,
extremely unhelpfully.

Michaela sent him a baleful look. “Whose
side are you on, anyway?”

“Yours.”

She sighed, recognizing a losing battle. “Honestly,
you two are like a pair of bulls in a china shop.”

Robby waggled his eyebrows at her. “A bull,
huh?” He cast a pointed look at Lachlan.

Lachlan turned an adorable shade of pink
and cleared his throat. “
Anyway
,” he said sternly, “While chatting with
your parents, I learned I work near a building named after you.”

As deflections went, it was a good one. Now
Michaela was smiling at Lachlan like he was a prized pupil. Look at him,
navigating difficult social situations.

“Oh no, not me,” Robby said. “No one would
ever dream of naming a building after me. I believe that Wigglesworth was all
about divinity, and while I like to think of myself as divine, religion really
isn’t my jam.”

Lachlan leaned closer to Robby. “Oh, come
now, I’m sure you’ve been known to make a man call out to god now and then.”

Michaela’s mouth dropped open. She’d never
in her life seen Robby
blush
. She covered her mouth to muffle her
helpless giggles.

This was not at all how these sorts of events
usually went for her. God, when was the last time she’d had so much fun
surrounded by so many stuffy people?

“
Dr. Morrison
,” Robby drawled, “you
are
full
of surprises.”

“He really is,” she agreed, tucking her
hand in his elbow. “Now, let us find our table.”

“Oh, goody,” Lachlan muttered. “I hope
there is an hour of speeches to look forward to.”

Robby took Michaela’s other arm. “I don’t
care who I have to blow, I’m getting my plate moved to wherever you two are.”

The speeches weren’t quite as boring as the
last go round, so Lachlan found himself listening more carefully. Seamus’s
event had been very nice, but it had felt much more like a bunch of wealthy
people congratulating themselves for being so generous, just for the bragging
rights. The atmosphere tonight felt much more like it was about helping people.

When the meal and the speakers were done,
they remained at their table. Apparently, in deference to the animals, there
would be no music or dancing that evening. It wasn’t as though Lachlan had been
looking forward to that, particularly, but it had proven an escape from the
small talk he was now expected to make.

He was glad to have Robby there as a second
ally, since they’d been seated with a not-altogether-very interesting group,
none of whom were the people Michaela needed to speak with that night—nor were they
particularly pleased to be sitting with her, either. It occurred to him that this
was how it would have gone down a week ago, too, had Seamus not interceded.

In spite of her position with a powerful
and well-endowed foundation, Michaela still had to fight to get to the table,
so to speak. It was infuriating.

Robby seemed to think so, too.

“Let’s go visit my parents, shall we?” he
asked, rising to his feet and reaching for Michaela’s hand. “Do excuse us,” he
murmured deferentially to the rest of the table.

Lachlan stayed seated, a curl of panic in
his gut at the prospect of being left alone. At the very least, he knew that
with Michaela there she’d kick his shin if he started freaking out, or going
down the wrong conversational path.

“You, too,” Robby announced, pulling
Lachlan from his chair.

Michaela put her hand out, and he lifted
his elbow for her to take.

“I wouldn’t have left you,” she said
quietly.

“Nor would have I,” Robby promised.

Lachlan looked at Michaela. “Did you tell
him?”

She shook her head minutely.

“Tell me what?” Robby asked.

“Nothing,” Lachlan said quickly. “So, why
wouldn’t you leave me? I’m hardly likely to be of interest to your parents.”

“I think you underestimate your charms, Dr.
Morrison. I’ve watched the papers and followed her closely over the years. I
haven’t seen the princess’s
real
smile in a long time.”

Michaela blushed and Lachlan had no fucking
idea what to say to that, though he liked the idea that he was responsible.

“Well, then, let’s go meet your parents.
Again.”

He held out his other elbow to Robby, who
eyed it suspiciously for a moment, then a big smile bloomed on his face. He
hooked his hand through Lachlan’s arm. “My, my. It’s like you don’t even know
the rules,” he said gleefully.

“I don’t. And I don’t care,” Lachlan said
firmly, walking in the direction Robby indicated.

People didn’t even attempt to hide their
stares. A contraband flash went off and Lachlan blinked, but held his smile—he
was well-trained now—and sailed through the crowd. He glanced at Michaela to
see she was smiling, too. The real one, he thought. Just as Robby had said.

Robby chuckled and murmured under the din
of the party. “Oh my god, do you see the look on my mother’s face?”

Lachlan did and it made him hesitate.
Michaela and Robby, though, didn’t, forcing him to continue or risk falling on
his face.

 “Mother,” Robby said, grinning ear-to-ear.
“I understand you’ve already said hello to Michaela and been introduced to Lachlan,
but I thought you might like to spend some more time getting reacquainted.
Michaela is doing such wonderful things with the Price Foundation.”

Lachlan was painfully aware that at least
fifty people were watching this exchange with ill-concealed fascination. The
number grew as others drifted closer.

They were, it seemed, the entertainment for
the night. Lachlan had a terrible suspicion that this didn’t fall within the
acceptable limits of
Michaela’s Rules for Managing the Public
.

Mrs. Wigglesworth looked as though she
rather wished the floor would open up and swallow her whole. Mr. Wigglesworth
scowled, but rose to his feet and nodded to Lachlan and Michaela before turning
a stern look on his son.

“Robert, you were meant to sit with us this
evening.”

Robby shrugged. “I wanted to catch up with
an old friend, instead.”

“We invited the Lidens to sit with us
specifically so that you could get to know their daughter, Jessica,” his father
hissed.

Lachlan watched Robby’s smile harden into
something fierce and unhappy. On pure instinct, Lachlan tucked his elbow in to
pull Robby closer.

“Mr. and Mrs. Wigglesworth,” Michaela said
in a smooth voice. “I would love an opportunity to speak with you about possibly
working together on a project.”

Mrs. Wigglesworth frowned. “Perhaps. We
tend to focus more on the
family
.”

Which was code for “not LGBT”, Lachlan could
guess, even without Michaela and Robby digging their fingers into his arms so
hard he was beginning to lose feeling in both his hands.

 Michaela opened her mouth to respond, but
Lachlan was talking before he could stop himself.

“I should think, given your own family,
that your priorities would align well with the Price Foundation,” he said.

This was met with a startled silence, and
not just from his immediate audience. Even the eavesdroppers were apparently
stunned. Everyone turned to look at him and he swallowed, keeping his focus on
Mrs. Wigglesworth.

Lachlan prayed he wasn’t about to put his
foot in it.

“I’m sure you’re aware that over 1.6 million
children go homeless in this country every year, but did you also know that while
only five to ten percent of this country’s young people identify as LGBT, they
make up over forty percent of the homeless youth population? This is, in large
part, because over sixty percent of them have been rejected by their families.
Can you imagine that?”

Mrs. Wigglesworth appeared to have nothing
to say. Mr. Wigglesworth appeared mildly ill.

“More alarming,” Lachlan continued
ruthlessly, “are the suicide rates.”

At this, Mr. Wigglesworth positively
blanched. Michaela was looking at Lachlan as if she’d never seen him before.

He’d done a lot of reading over the past
week about homelessness and the issues facing homeless kids in this country. He
was ashamed to admit he hadn’t really known much more about it than what he’d
read in the papers, and it turned out they weren’t nearly as informative as
he’d thought.

He plowed on. “Homeless or not, gay kids
whose families have rejected them are more likely to commit suicide than those
whose families accept them. They’re also more likely to experience depression,
use illicit drugs, or engage in unprotected sex. I’m sure you’ll agree these
statistics are appalling,” he said, staring Robby’s mother down.

Mrs. Wigglesworth looked increasingly
discomfited the longer he waited for her reply.

“Yes, of course,” she finally blurted. And
she did appear sincere, which was something.

“This is what Michaela and the Price
Foundation are working with, only the children they are supporting have all of
that to contend with
and
are homeless. Their only families are often
each other and the people in the shelters that support them. Many don’t have
access to those, but the Price Foundation would like to change that.”

Mrs. Wigglesworth nodded vaguely in the way
of people who can’t quite believe what is happening to them.

“Given your focus on the family, perhaps
you’d interested in helping those LGBT children who haven’t been rejected by
their families, or have been but weren’t forced into homelessness. As members
of families ourselves, I’m sure we can all appreciate the importance of that as
a support structure and the need to bolster those within it, as well as those
who are forced to go without.”