Scoring Lacey (6 page)

“Don’t they give you time off for good behavior?”

It was hard to stifle the smile at the familiar voice. She looked up, camera at the ready and captured Shayne standing behind her. The sexy quirk of his mouth, the lazy, relaxed look in his eyes. All captured forever by her camera. “Who said I was good?”

“Nobody I know.” He dropped down beside her and leaned back on his bent arms.

He was gorgeous and yummy. It took all her self-control to not straddle his lap and devour his mouth. He grinned then winked at her. “When she was good,” he said, his head tilting back to study the night sky. “She was good. And when she was bad she was really, really good.”

She snorted as she copied his position, abandoning her camera. Her gaze landed on Carmen who sat between her grandmother’s legs while her hair was braided. Everyone got charming, fun Carmen. Lacey got the anger. Sometimes she could understand why she was the target.

Carmen’s world had changed. Her safe little world was no longer picture perfect. Her father was living with a twenty-two year old lollipop. Her big sister was away at university. Her parents were divorced. Everyone seemed to be moving forward and she wasn’t. Yes, Lacey could understand but that didn’t mean she liked being the villain in Carmen’s world.

Dana said something and Carmen giggled. It was a happy sound that twisted through Lacey’s heart.

Everything was a battle now. Everything.

And had been since Lacey had kicked Kevin out of the house.

“Sad Lace,” Shayne said quietly beside her.

She looked away from Carmen to meet the hazel eyes that were watching her. She nodded once. “Sad Lace,” she agreed.

“Wanna get drunk?”

One more nod. That sounded like a brilliant idea. There were plenty of beds in her childhood home. Her old bedroom had been redone years ago for the girls so they could have sleepovers even though Lacey was about five minutes away. It wasn’t the distance, but the adventure. Carmen still spent the occasional night here. Plus her daughter would get some desperately needed Grandma TLC. A lot had changed for Carmen in the past year, except this house.

Thank God. Lacey wasn’t sure she could handle this home changing too.

Shayne easily rolled to his feet and held out his hand. When she put her hand in his, that almost familiar skittering sensation moved through her. He snatched up her camera then led the way inside.

Even though she had her own house, this was home.

How many breakfasts had she had at that table? How many times had she helped her mom repaint the walls? She had been there when the dishwasher went on strike, flooding the kitchen while her mother gave a “Hallelujah, I get a new dishwasher.” It smelled of home. Of sweat and flowers, dinner leftovers and the dust spray her mother used.

Shayne took her into the darkened living room that always smelled of furniture polish and beeswax candles. “Hold this.” He handed the camera over then opened the glass cabinet that housed bottles of wine and hard liquor. When he squatted, she admired the way the old, faded jeans stretched over his ass. “Ahh, there you are.” He withdrew a bottle, took her hand then led her into the quiet family room.

Here it wasn’t as formal as the dining room. Here the family lived. He yanked the cushions off the couch, dropped them on the floor then turned on the gas-powered fireplace.

It was the only light in the room. He flopped down then with a flick of his fingers removed the cap. “Can you keep up, Magerin?” He set two shot glasses on the floor. When had he pocketed those? Fast hands. He could’ve been a thief.

She snorted as she sank onto the other cushion. “I was drinking before you were taking slap shots, Donnelly. Can
you
?”

He filled the two glasses, then dragged his finger up the neck of the bottle. He held it out to her. Unable to resist, she leaned forward and took his finger into her mouth. He tasted of wood smoke, salt and tequila. Her tongue licked along him, over the bumps of his knuckles and then the broad tip.

“Fuck,” he said then with a quick look at the doorway, he fisted his hand in her hair and kissed her.

The man did not kiss shyly. It was always bold thrusts of his tongue and hungry pulls of his mouth. He kissed like he played hockey, with all his concentration and determination. She hooked her arm behind his neck, just as greedy for his mouth.

She could run but she couldn’t hide from what he had stirred in her last night.

The kiss ended as abruptly as it began. Lacey blinked, focusing on Shayne as he grabbed a shot glass and slammed back the tequila with a shudder. His gaze drifted over her face before meeting her gaze.

Unwilling to look away, she located the second glass and downed the alcohol, setting the empty glass down.

He reached over, grabbed her cushion and pulled her closer. “You are seriously sexy,” he said in a low voice. “When did you become sexy, Lace?”

“Probably when you did.”

His thumb stroked along her cheekbone. “I keep telling myself last night was a mistake. That I was drunk and it didn’t count.” Only neither of them had been drunk. His thumb moved to her lower lip and she shivered at the slow exploration while he voiced everything she had thought throughout the day. “I vowed it was a one shot deal. I promised myself that...” He lowered his head and kissed her.

He tasted of tequila and sexy male.

“And then I’d see you.” His gaze looked deep into her, the color that delicious golden hue when he was aroused. “I’d get hard and my only thought, my only want, my only wish is to be deep inside you.

“You put me off my game, Lace. I saw you circling the rink, camera snapping and whirring and I’d have flashbacks to you arched beneath me, screaming my name as you came. Next thing I know there’s some asshole with the puck.”

“Poor big, bad goalie.” She caressed his cheek, moving to her back to see him better. Her head rested on his cushion. “Done in by a mere mortal.”

He sighed as he traced her neck. “There’s nothing mere about you.” He took her mouth again, his hand slipping under the neck of her tee. She arched as he traced the edge of her bra. “Tell me you’re wet. Tell me your panties are uncomfortably damp as they get to kiss that sweet pussy of yours. Tell me you still feel my cock filling you.”

“Shayne.” She could barely remember to breathe as he drew the fabric aside. Heat clenched through her when his fingers teased her nipple swollen for his touch.

“Tell me,” he rasped the words out. “Tell me you want me like I want you.”

She shouldn’t be doing this. This was madness. This wasn’t going to have a happy ending and she was tired of things ending in the shit. This was reckless and she hadn’t been that way since she had been a kid and she didn’t need to be a mom. This was insanity because of who they were to each other.

His thumb brushed back and forth over the tight flesh of her nipple so that she felt it in a responding touch lower down.

“Shayne.” She whispered his name because it was easier to say. His jaw was covered in dark stubble and she enjoyed the rasp of the whiskers against her hand. His dark hair was soft in comparison despite the short length. Her hand curled around the back of his head and she drew him down, kissing him because she couldn’t voice the arousal flowing through her for him.

His fingers pinched and pulled on her nipple as they kissed. His hand slid away and he pushed her cushion back, breaking the kiss.

She lay there, gasping for air and control while he tilted the glass and poured more tequila. Out in the hallway, she heard what he had. Footsteps.

“Fuck,” she sighed wistfully and with frustration before she rolled over. No one needed to know how achingly hard her nipples were.

“I wish,” Shayne muttered, glaring at the doorway. “Here’s to frustration.” He tapped the shot glass against hers then downed the alcohol. “You’ll never make it as a spy, Magerin.”

Lacey hated her brother as he came in. She downed the tequila then took control of the bottle.

“You’re into Coach’s booze? Oh, he’s gonna be mad at you.” Todd climbed over the couch, grabbed a throw pillow and joined them.

“Todd’s jealous,” Lacey said, “because he wasn’t invited.” Her brother took her glass and shot the liquid, coughing. “Sissy.”

“Bitch.”

She grinned because he was her brother and she loved him. Because it would annoy him, she messed up his curly hair.

“Ugh, you bitch. I paid seven dollars for this trim.” He smoothed a hand down his hair. “What are we up to?”

“Two.”

“Sweet.” He grabbed Shayne’s glass and downed it. “Now we’re even. Rack ’em up, toots.”

“Go get your own glass. And see if there are any cookies,” Shayne said. “Fucking love some chocolate chip.”

“Assholes everywhere.” Todd rolled to his feet and went to play fetch.

Lacey planted her hands on the floor and pushed herself forward. Fortified with a little more alcohol in her system, she put her mouth against Shayne’s ear. “I’m wet,” she whispered. “My panties are uncomfortably damp as they stick to a pussy that still feels you hours later. I want, Shayne. I want.” She bit his earlobe and dropped back into her original position. A shaky exhale came from him as a low moan.

They stared at each other. Arousal burned in his gaze.

She wanted to go home. She wanted him to come with her. Her body remembered his hands on her, caressing everywhere as he explored. Her body remembered and because of that it hungered for more. He picked up her camera and she was shocked when he took her picture. “Now you’ll see,” he said, “what I see.”

Todd returned with a plate of leftover cookies and Lacey willed her arousal to subside.

“Ahh, excellent,” Shayne said as he took a cookie. “I’ve been craving something sweet in my mouth.”

There were hangovers. And then hangovers on hardwood floors.

She was too old for this. That was her only thought as she opened her eyes to stare at the ceiling. There was a heavy arm on her stomach and a warm hand buried in her panties. He slept on his stomach, his face buried in her neck as he snored. After they had killed the bottle of tequila, her brother had started to nod off and only a nudge from her had him looking for a bed.

As soon as he had left, Shayne had been on her like water. They hadn’t gotten naked. That was good. She’d hate to be naked on the floor in her parents’ house, but God had he made her come with his hand and his mouth whispering every little naughty thing he wanted to do with her.

She caressed his arm then gently pulled his hand out of her pants. She sat up with a groan then zipped up her jeans. Her head hurt and her body ached. Tequila was a vengeful bitch.

There was a vague memory of saying goodnight to Carmen who had gawked at her mother and uncle drinking on the floor like a couple of idiots. Stellar mothering there. Sometime after midnight, her parents had come in and said good-night as if the three of them hadn’t been piss-drunk. They had made her laugh, Shayne and Todd. She couldn’t remember the last time she had laughed like that.

Or cried. She remembered crying against Todd’s chest.

She ventured into the half-bathroom on the first floor and shuddered when she saw her hangover face. Whisker burns. Awesome.

She readjusted her bra and washed her face with cold water, holding a cloth against her feverish skin. Leaning against the wall, Lacey sighed. Again the crazy thought raced through her mind.

What was she doing?

Fooling around with Shayne was dangerous. So many people could get hurt by this.

She folded the damp cloth and hung it on the holder then made her way upstairs for the shower. She was sticky between her legs and she felt as if a train had hit her. She had passed out on the floor.

With Shayne’s hand in her pants.

Where anyone could see. Her mom. Her dad. Her brother. Her daughter.

Brilliant. Yeah, she was smart.

She showered and began to feel human. There were whisker burns on her breasts.

And a hickey.

She traced it, trying to remember him sucking on the skin that hard. A lot was a blur from the time he had pounced on her until she had woken up. Tequila haze. A glorious thing.

The thought of getting back into her clothes depressed her. The panties she stuffed into the front pocket of her jeans and she winced at the denim on her bare skin. How embarrassing.

“Idiot,” she told her reflection as she combed out her hair. Upon exiting the washroom, she smelled the most heavenly scent. First she made a detour into her old bedroom. Her daughter looked so young as she slept, curled on her side, hand gripping the corner of her pillow. Her unhappy, hurting, beautiful child. Lacey brushed aside the dark brown hair. “I do love you, Carmen,” she whispered as she kissed her forehead, “no matter what you think.”

She left her daughter sleeping, venturing downstairs.

“Coffee,” she breathed the word like the blessing it was.

She followed the scent to see her father standing at the fridge. He wore a faded Winnipeg Jets t-shirt with his grubby khaki pants. She poured herself a mug of coffee and leaned against the counter. “I can’t believe Mom hasn’t thrown that out.” The t-shirt had to be at least as old as Carmen, since the team had moved to Phoenix in ’96. There was a hole under the left armpit.

“She tries. Morning, baby.” Coach kissed her cheek. “Omelet?”

The thought of her father’s cooking this early in the day made her hung-over stomach roll. “I’m fine. Thanks.” He gave her a beady eye and she tried to look innocent.

“Heard you crying last night.”

Shit. Had he heard her later with Shayne? “Sorry. Tequila haze.”

He cracked an egg like it was his enemy then muttered curses as he removed shell from the bowl. “Heard you laugh too. Good to hear that sound.” He smashed the hell out of a second egg and she felt sorry for the poor little things. They had no idea the suffering they’d have at the hands of Roger Magerin. He grabbed a whisk and beat the eggs, murdering the wee beasties. He set the bowl aside and she watched him hack up back bacon like he was psycho.

It was brutal watching what he did to some green peppers and cheese.