The Season: Rush (Austin Arrows #1) (19 page)

21

Kingston

I’m not sure who’s more on edge, Ellie or Spencer. Both of them are acting strange tonight.

For the past couple of hours, I’ve witnessed Spencer damn near break out in hives from having to talk to so many people. If they would’ve asked him to go up on stage, I’m pretty sure he would’ve passed out.

As for Ellie, I think I make her nervous.

I can see that, though. I mean, I did practically maul her when I arrived at her house earlier, but I hadn’t been able to resist the kiss. On top of that, we’ve got the bet hanging between us. I’m sure she’s expecting me to jump her any second and strip that sexy fucking dress right off her body.

I’d like to, sure. But that’s certainly not my intention.

Not tonight, anyway. And that isn’t a decision I came to lightly.

You don’t know how badly I want to spend the night with her, to sink so deep into her body that she only remembers my name… I’m trying to hold back for her benefit. I intend to make love to her at some point, but I certainly don’t want her to think that it’s only because of a bet. When she’s ready, she’ll let me know. Until then, I’m planning to be the perfect gentleman. Even if it does make my nuts turn cobalt.

Now, as we sit in the back of the limousine—alone—I think she’s debating on whether or not she should jump out of the moving vehicle. Ever since Spencer said he needed to stay a little while longer, Ellie has been sneaking glances at me. The kind meant to gauge my next move.

The ride to her house takes about half an hour, and I watch as Ellie fidgets the entire way. I thought about bringing up the bet, but I’m not sure what to say to her. The fact that I want to sleep with her isn’t something I can deny. Nor is it something I intend to play off as though it’s little more than a game. When the time is right, I’ll make my move. But right now, I think Ellie needs a little time to process whatever it is that has her clenching her hands together and tapping her feet.

When the car stops, the driver opens the door and I exit, then help Ellie out.

“Give us a minute,” I tell the driver so that he’ll get back in the car. I don’t need an audience when I kiss this woman good night.

And I fully intend to kiss her good night.

“You don’t have to walk me to the door,” she says as she practically sprints up the sidewalk.

I don’t respond. I can’t. I’m ready to laugh, but I’m trying to hold back. She’s so damn cute when she’s nervous.

Once she has the door unlocked, I reach for her arm, spinning her around so that her back is against the wood and I’m crowding her. Without a word, I cup her cheek and press my lips to hers. She tastes like champagne, sweet and addicting.

“Thanks for going with me tonight,” I say, my lips brushing hers.

I pull back enough to meet her gaze. Her eyes are wide, and I know she’s thinking the same thing I am. Sex right now … would be hotter than hell.

Only it can’t happen. Not yet.

And that’s not to say that I’m a man of endless willpower, but I am a man who can hold out for the right time. I want her more than anything, but I want her to be ready.

However, I do need another kiss to tide me over until next time. Sliding my hands down her shoulders, her back, then over the glorious curves of her ass, I grip her tightly and pull her to me. I know she can feel the ridge of my erection, but I can’t hide it.

Ellie moans when my tongue slides into her mouth. She’s so damn sweet I think I’m addicted already.

Her hips press forward, and it’s my turn to groan. My dick is pressed against the soft warmth between her legs. It would be so easy to lift her up, carry her in the house, and spend the rest of the night exploring every inch of her.

But I can’t.

Not yet.

My dick hates me when I break the kiss, pressing my forehead to hers while we both try to catch our breath.

“Good night, Ellie,” I whisper, leaning in and stealing another kiss. This time I draw it out, sliding my tongue past the seam of her lips. She opens to me, her tongue gliding against mine. I swallow her soft moan, willing my dick to chill the fuck out.

When I pull back this time, there’s a question in her eyes. I think she expects me to follow her inside, but I’m not.

“Good night?” She definitely sounds confused.

“I’ll call you later,” I tell her, her hand still clutching my fingers as I take a step back. She doesn’t release me until our arms are straight out. It makes me chuckle because I don’t think she realizes she’s still holding on.

“When do you leave town?” she asks, finally letting go.

“Not until Wednesday.”

“Okay. Text me.”

She sounds a little stupefied, which is also cute. Unable to resist, I step forward again, pull her against me, and crush my mouth to hers. This time electricity sizzles in the air around us as the passion ignites. I groan against her lips as I attempt to inhale her. She’s so damn soft and she smells so good I don’t want to walk away, but I know I have to.

Remembering that we’re on her front porch and the limo is still idling at the curb, I manage to break away, though I would prefer to slip into the privacy of her house and make love to her for the rest of the night.

Another groan escapes me as I force myself to step back.

“Good night, little girl.”

“Night.”

Heat sparkles in her eyes, and I have to turn away or I’m going to pick her up and carry her inside.

And as much as I want to do that, I’m going to have to put that on hold a little while longer.

Ellie:
Is it wrong that I really wish you would’ve come inside?

Kingston:
Do you?

Ellie:
Yes. No. I don’t know. When I think about it, I definitely wish you had.

Kingston:
Are you hot for me, little girl?

Ellie:
Maybe.

Kingston:
How hot?

Ellie:
Are you wanting me to sext with you?

Kingston:
Do you want to sext with me?

Ellie:
You’re a bad boy, Mount Rushmore.

Kingston:
You don’t even know the half of it.

Ellie:
I’m just curious… Why didn’t you collect on the bet tonight?

Kingston:
Because it wasn’t the right time?

Ellie:
For you or for me?

Kingston:
For both. When the time’s right, we’ll know.

Ellie:
Why does that make me like you more?

Kingston:
More? Does that mean you like me?

Ellie:
No.

Kingston:
Right. But you would’ve liked me to strip that pretty dress off you with my teeth.

Ellie:
Do you know I haven’t had sex in three years?

Kingston:
Uh…

Ellie:
No comeback?

Kingston:
Three years? Are you fucking serious?

Ellie:
Very.

Kingston:
I wish I had known that
before
I left you standing on your front porch. It explains why you always look like you want to eat me alive.

Ellie:
I do not.

Kingston:
Oh, you do. You definitely do.

22

Ellie

Monday, October 31
st

If someone tries to tell you that Halloween is just for kids … they haven’t been to an adult Halloween party. If it weren’t for the fact that my daughter isn’t a fan of the holiday—since she was little, she has only wanted to hand out candy—I’d be at home tonight. Instead, I’m at the Penalty Box, watching a bunch of people dressed up in costumes act like children.

It’s kind of cool, actually.

We’ve done this since we opened, and it seems to get a better turnout every year. It helps that I’ve got a handful of Austin Arrows players in attendance, wearing their jerseys. They might know how to navigate on ice, but no one said they would win for creativity. However, their presence alone has brought the place to capacity.

“You doing okay?” Noelle asks as she passes by with a tray of chicken wings, fried pickles, and seasoned fries.

“Good. You?”

Her smile is bright and sweet, and if I’m not mistaken, she is oddly … happy.

“Never better.”

Not happy in the normal sense of the word, because Noelle is always happy. No, this is different. Maybe wistful is the better term. I’m not sure what’s causing that, but it could possibly be the fact that Spencer is here tonight.

That or she really, really likes Halloween. Which is true. Tonight she’s decked out from head to toe, and she looks so cute in her cat outfit. Although she’s short, Noelle definitely has the body to pull it off. Petite and curvy with toned legs and big boobs… Each time she passes by, I see heads turn and eyes follow her. My brother’s included, although I can tell he’s trying to hide his intrigue.

I haven’t seen Kingston tonight, but I’m hoping he’ll come. I haven’t seen him since Saturday night, and we didn’t talk at all yesterday. Not even by text. I think that’s my fault. I’m still a little freaked out about my body’s ridiculous reaction to the man. On top of that, Bianca came down with a pretty nasty cold yesterday morning, so I took advantage of having Julie here and went home early.

Thankfully, the cold is gone and Bianca is back to her normal self. Only at twelve can that happen in twenty-four hours, but hey, I’m not complaining. Of course, she’s over at Gabby’s for a little while, handing out candy to the little ones coming to the door. It’s what she does, or so she tells me. Gabby’s mother is going to bring her home around ten because they’ve got school tomorrow.

When I notice one of the bus boys sweating because he’s running back and forth, I grab a cloth and go after him, wiping down the table while he carries more dishes to the back. Poor kid has been busting his ass all night. We should’ve had another one here, but of course, it’s a holiday, which means someone will call in sick. And they did.

“Thanks,” the kid calls out before he’s off once again.

As I’m leaning over a table, a warm body presses up against my back, and I pause momentarily to see if I recognize who it is. I don’t want to hurt someone I know, but not many people are stupid enough to approach me without warning, much less get this cozy.

“Why aren’t you dressed up tonight?”

Kingston’s deep, rumbling growl is soft against my ear. It sends chills down my spine. Another tremor shoots through me when he wraps his arms around me and pulls me into him. I glance over my shoulder and see that he’s not in costume, either.

“I’m working. What’s your excuse?”

He smiles, then kisses my nose before pulling back. “Didn’t have time.”

“Right.”

He follows as I head back to the bar.

“What brings you by?” I ask as I pass him a beer.

“Wanted to see you.”

I’m not sure how I’m supposed to take that, but it warms me from the inside out. I’m sure he means it in a friendly manner, but my body is taking it completely out of context. Truth is, I’ve missed him. There for a while, it seemed like I was seeing him every day. And if I didn’t, we were talking on the phone or texting. Yesterday and today, he’s been MIA. I know it’s only been two days and he has a life of his own, but it feels as though he’s avoiding me.

Considering what transpired between us at the charity dinner—and the texts leading up to it—I can’t say I blame him. The attraction we have for one another is like an unyielding force. I think we’re both trying to fight it, but I don’t think it’ll matter in the end. I’m just glad he’s got more willpower than I do because if it was up to me, I would’ve had Mount Rushmore in my bed on Saturday night. And I would’ve enjoyed every freaking second of it.

And okay, there might’ve been a smidgeon of regret in the morning. An itty, bitty, tiny bit.

Now that I think about it, Kingston must’ve realized that, too, hence him being the perfect gentleman and kissing me good night on my front porch.

“Well, I’m glad you’re here.” I offer a smile before I move down to the other end to help a customer. I can feel Kingston’s eyes on me as I work. Even when Seg joins him at the bar, it’s as though he’s unable to look away. I won’t lie, that makes me feel good.

Probably a little too good.

I’m not sure how I got to my house but I’m fairly certain it is all thanks to the sexy goalie currently keeping me upright as he unlocks my front door and helps me inside. Most of what happened tonight is a blur, and I remind myself to offer him a sober thank you tomorrow for being thoughtful enough to bring me home.

“Thanks,” I say, chuckling, not sure what exactly I find amusing.

“For what? Letting you get blitzed with my team?” Kingston asks, his voice unusually deep tonight.

Perhaps it’s the tequila trickling through my veins that has something to do with that. I didn’t realize I’d indulged in so many shots until it was too late. I generally stick to a two-shot rule at night when I work, usually aiming for none. I wasn’t able to resist tonight.

And I have a feeling it’s Mount Rushmore’s fault.

All. His. Fault.

I honestly didn’t expect the night to take such an interesting turn. It started when a few more of Kingston’s teammates showed up, followed by a handful of puck bunnies. At that point, a strange possessive feeling took root in my chest. Something I’ve never felt before. In an effort to ignore it, I accepted the shot challenge that one of the players pulled out of his ass when he’d been blatantly flirting with me.

Shot challenges suck.

My wayward thoughts make me giggle, but then I briefly sober when I think about my daughter.

“I need to check on Bianca,” I mumble when I realize Kingston’s leading me down the hallway to my bedroom.

“I’ll check on her,” he says. “You just get ready for bed.”

“Aye, aye, captain.”

When Kingston releases me, I stumble and would’ve fallen had he not wrapped his big arm around my waist and pulled me up against him. With his chest at my back, the deep rumble of his “Are you okay?” sounding in my ear, the effects of the alcohol dissipate, and I’m suddenly inundated with a jolt of lust so powerful I think I might melt right into the floor.

The room stops spinning, and the only thing I can focus on is the man pressed intimately against me. The hard plane of his chest against my back, the seductively rough scrape of his beard on my cheek as he leans close to my ear. That and the way I’m leaning into him, wishing his hand would slide a teeny bit higher so I can feel his palm on my breast.

“I’m gonna check on Bianca. I’ll be right back.” It takes a moment to process the words because the only thing I notice is the warmth of his breath against my neck.

“’Kay.”

With his help, I sit on the edge of the bed, watching his ass when he turns and walks out of the room and down the hall.

He has a killer ass.

Like, top ten best asses ever. Right up there with … I don’t know, but still. Top ten. Maybe top five. Yes, definitely top five.

And I want to bite it.

No. No, I don’t.

“Uggh.” I’m in so much trouble right now.

Three years is a long damn time to go without sex, and there is something about Kingston Rush that makes me want to do dirty things to him. Dirty, delicious things that involve him very naked.

Mmm. The goalie god naked. I wonder what he looks like.

In my defense, I’ve ignored my attraction to him for most of my adult life. It’s a hell of a lot easier during his serial dating episodes. But I know he’s been single for quite a few months, which is a new thing for him. Is there a reason for that? Did the last girl—the alcohol won’t allow me to think of her name—break his heart? Has he sworn off women for the time being? Forever, maybe? Is he now gay?

I giggle. Clearly my thoughts are getting away from me.

“Sharon? No. That’s not it,” I whisper, staring down at the floor, my brain working to come up with the name of his last girlfriend. “Shanilda? No, that’s probably not even a real word. Shania? Chelsea? Shit.” I think I’m getting closer. “Chancy? No, that’s a strange one, too. It’s a normal name. Not Cherry, but something like ... Cheryl? Yes! Cheryl!” I exclaim, proud of myself for remembering.

I look up to see Kingston standing in my doorway, leaning against the jamb as he stares back at me. His eyebrow is cocked in that sexy way that says he’s amused by me.

“Bianca’s asleep,” he says in that no-nonsense tone that makes my insides quiver.

Good to know.

God, he is so fucking hot.

He’s got that whole inverted triangle thing going on upstairs. Wide shoulders. Broad chest. Narrow waist. He makes my mouth water. Not to mention those long, muscular legs. Mmm. I really do want to see him naked. And maybe, just maybe, I really want to take a bite out of his tight buns, too.

“Ellie?”

“Hmm?” I ask, not stopping my appreciative perusal of the sinful masculine package standing before me. I might be drunk, but I’m definitely not blind. I know beneath that shirt he sports tattoos on his arms and chest, but I’ve never had the pleasure of seeing every glorious inch of him sans clothing.

“You need to get some sleep.”

The last thing on my mind at the moment is sleep. “Not tired.”

Am I drooling?

I reach up to wipe my mouth, praying I’m not—because, you know, that’s really not sexy—but not really caring if I am because the alcohol tells me it doesn’t matter.

When I meet Kingston’s gaze, I’m momentarily transfixed, unable to look away. Neither of us says anything, but the tsunami of heat that washes over me speaks louder than any words could have.

I want this man. I want to strip him slowly, kiss every inch of his body, tease him the way he’s teased me for so many years, then make him lose every ounce of that control he seems to cling to like a lifeline.

“Ellie.”

I notice the warning tone, blinking slowly as I swallow, trying to wet my suddenly parched throat.

“What are you doing, Ellie?” he asks.

The question confuses me.

I’m sitting here. Staring at him. What the hell does he think I’m doing?

When his gaze drops to my chest, I look down, realizing I’m unbuttoning my shirt.

Ahh, that.

My fingers apparently have a mind of their own, because even though I now know what I’m doing, I can’t seem to stop.

Apparently Kingston isn’t interested in what I’m about to offer him, because as I stare down at my fingers, I see his close over mine, effectively stopping me.

“Get some sleep,” he whispers, taking my wrists in his big hands and helping me to my feet.

I continue to stare up at him, fearful that this moment will be lost if I let him walk out of my bedroom, but not able to speak a word as he leads me around to the side of the bed. After pulling back the comforter, he urges me to sit down, which I do without complaint.

I know I’m to blame for everything that has happened thus far tonight. Or maybe I should blame the tequila.

But what happens next…

That is definitely not my fault.

I don’t think.