Parental Guidance (Ice Knights #1)(46)
Hand gripping tighter, moving faster, he closed his eyes and pictured sliding those panties off her. He’d toss them to the side, yank her down to the edge of the bed, and feast on that perfect pussy of hers. Her hands in his hair, her hips raising off the bed to help put his mouth exactly where she wanted it. Hearing her soft pants and the low, husky pleas to lick here and suck there. Then he’d reach down to squeeze his dick as she came all over his tongue.
The fantasy played in his head, so real he could almost taste her on his lips as he jacked his cock rough and fast until he came in a rush of sensation that left him breathless with his forehead pressed against the shower wall.
Zara Ambrose was taking over his brain, his fantasies, his plans. Hell, he’d already added taking her to Chef Greg’s Soul-N-the Wall someday to his list of must-dos in the next off-season. If he kept going like this, he would end up like Phillips, in a messy situation with a woman who couldn’t be his.
He only had her for two more dates. That’s when rule number one would kick in—no relationships.
He was starting to fucking hate rule number one.
Chapter Thirteen
Caleb had three new stitches and a beauty of a shiner thanks to a high stick in the Detroit game when he walked into Fido’s Café on Forty-Third Street and Westin Avenue for date number four.
Calling it a café was a local joke. It was a dog park surrounded by benches, and some entrepreneurial food truck vendors had set up on the street beside it. Every Saturday morning, the place was packed with dogs in the fenced-off play area making furry friends and their human counterparts milling around, trying to do the same.
He scanned the massive outdoor brunch crowd for a short redhead with a giant dog, spotting Anchovy first—or was it that the Great Dane spotted him? Either way, the beast came galloping across the green space outside of the fenced-in section, pulling Zara behind him. Bracing himself, Caleb prepped for the onslaught as an older woman next to him let out a squawk of alarm and a pair of young dads yanked their toddler out of the way. Anchovy was clueless to all of it. The dog didn’t stop until his paws were on Caleb’s chest and the dog’s wet nose practically touched his.
“Hey there, fella.” He scratched Anchovy on his special spot behind his ears. “Miss me?”
It was a rhetorical question when it came to the dog, but he really wanted an answer from Zara, because he sure as hell had missed her. The air around them was electrified as he watched her, wondering if she was wearing black panties again today. Were her nipples already straining against the material of her bra? Had she woken up wet, knowing they were in a countdown to getting to see each other again? Fuck, even thinking those questions had his dick getting thick against his thigh as he adjusted his stance before he embarrassed himself.
The dog must have realized there was an undercurrent, because Anchovy went back down on four legs, then sat down on the ground.
“Oh my God,” Zara gasped, taking off her sunglasses and peering up at him. “Your face.”
His hand went to the bandage covering his stitches. It looked worse than it was. “It’s nothing.”
Raising herself up on her tiptoes, she took a closer look. “It was that asshole who got away with that high stick, wasn’t it?”
He was about to answer when the meaning behind her words sank in. “You watched my game?”
“It might have been on.” She took a half step away and slid her sunglasses back on. “You know how Anchovy likes to sit on the remote.”
“Don’t try to cover it up,” he said, his ego growing twelve sizes in three seconds. “You interrupted your Law and Order binge to watch my game.”
“Fine. I was curious,” she said. “Before I met you, I’d never watched a game before.”
He almost fell over. “Never?”
“I’m more of a baseball person.” She fanned her face with both hands. “There’s nothing like those pants.”
Caleb had spent his life in locker rooms; he knew when someone was busting his chops. “I’m going to take this as a challenge to win you over to the hockey side of things.”
They spent the next half hour talking hockey while Anchovy played with a bunch of other dogs in the park. She’d just finished a question about the point of icing when a guy in a T-shirt emblazoned with the Doghouse Boot Camp logo on it blasted a whistle.
“Bramble daters! Bring your good boys and girls over here—it’s time for Doghouse Boot Camp.”
“I’ll give the Bramble app one thing, the dates are definitely not your typical dinner and a movie,” Zara said, getting up from their bench and holding out her hand. “You ready for date number four?”
He took her hand, entwining his fingers with her much smaller ones as if it was the most natural thing in the world. “I don’t know about Anchovy, but I am.”
…
Zara fought to hold in her laugh as Anchovy broke down Caleb one treat at a time.
Hands on his hips, ultraserious expression on his face, Caleb told the dog to sit. Anchovy just stared at him and wagged his tail.
Caleb nudged the stubborn dog’s hind end. “Sit.”
Her devious little beast didn’t sit. Instead, he did that whole puppy-dog-eye thing, and the big tough hockey player folded like a half-cooked pancake and gave him the treat anyway.