The Penalty Box (Vancouver Wolves Hockey #3)(37)

Go home? Too far away.

Get a room? Takes too long.

Drag her around the corner and take her up against the wall? That would work.

“Get a room, Petrov.” I heard drunk laughter. I lifted my head to see three of my teammates, staggering out towards a cab.

I turned back to Charlie and pressed my forehead against hers, my breath uneven. “I want you.”

She stared back up at me in a daze. “We need to stop.”

I pulled her against me so I could grind my hard, straining cock against her stomach. “Wrong. We need to keep on going.”

She lifted her mouth back to mine, and I groaned as I kissed her like a savage. My mouth followed hers as she pulled back from me.

Her face was flushed, and she was panting slightly. “Roommates, remember?”

My brain went to war with my body. Every cell of my body wanted to pin her up against a wall, any wall, and bury my cock so deep inside of her she would never think of anyone but me again. My mind barely overruled that with a muted protest. Charlie had signed up for a platonic relationship. At the end of this, I had nothing to promise her other than a lot of hot sex and divorce papers.

Reluctantly, I stepped back from her, fighting to overcome my desire to close the gap again.

“I’m sorry,” I breathed. I wasn’t sorry, but it sounded better than I need to fuck you senseless.

I stared down at her, trying to understand why, after two years of knowing her, I suddenly lusted for her more than I could remember wanting anyone. Was it because she was forbidden fruit? The lines I wanted to cross were always the ones I knew I shouldn’t cross. Maybe it was because I knew sex was off the table for me for a year, while she was there, within reach? Or perhaps it was because I was used to women throwing themselves at me, while Charlie seemed to work to keep me at arm’s length. Maybe her resistance made her that much hotter. Regardless of the real reason, all I knew is that she unexpectedly tasted like hot sex, and I wanted more. A lot more.

She pushed shaking hands into her hair. “I don’t want to fall for you.”

It felt like she’d doused me in ice water.

“Charlie.” I didn’t even know how to respond to that.

She bit her lip and looked mortified. “I’m believing the hype.”

“What does that mean?”

She waved her hand around dramatically. “This, all of this. It feels too real.”

I put my hands on my hips, so I didn’t reach out and touch her again. “Our physical connection is more than real.”

“But this relationship isn’t.”

I couldn’t believe I was pulling out the marriage card. “You’re my wife.”

She flinched at that word. “This marriage has an expiration date.”

I couldn’t argue that logic. It pained me, but she spoke the truth, and I needed to respect that. “What do you want to do?”

She swallowed. “I want to go home.”

That was something I could do for her. “Come on, let’s grab a cab.”

“What about the party?”

“Everyone is so drunk, they won’t even notice.”

“What about your car?”

“I’ll pick it up tomorrow.”

We didn’t speak on our ride home. She sat glued to her side of the seat, staring out the window. The gap between us was back, and it felt like an uncrossable chasm. I respected her restraint and understood her need for self-preservation, but this distance wasn’t what I wanted. Hell, I didn’t know what I wanted.

At home, she disappeared into her bedroom and shut the door. The only thing I knew was I didn’t want that.





*



I woke up in the morning, hungover and with a dry mouth. I walked through the house, but Charlie was gone. She left a note in loopy handwriting on the island. Went to work.

I groaned at the fact that she had gotten up early and found her own way to work while I had slept.

I picked up my phone.

Me: Did you get to work okay?

Charlie: Yes.

Me: Why didn’t you wake me so I could drive you?

Charlie: Your car is at the hotel.

Fuck me. I needed to be at practice in an hour, and I completely forgot I didn’t have my car.

Me: Let me pick you up tonight. What time do you get off work?

She didn’t respond. I texted Ryan.

Me: Ryan, you have wheels?

Ryan: You need a ride?

Me: If you’re sober.

Ryan: Ha, ha. Barely. Yeah, will be there in 15 minutes.





*



I climbed into Ryan’s SUV and he handed me a smoothie.

“Are you serious?” I gratefully took it from him.

He looked behind him as he reversed. “Why is it, when you have a party, I leave completely shit-faced and feel hungover for two days minimum?”

“I hold no responsibility for that party.”

He grinned at me. “I saw Mark Ashford puking outside the hotel.”

I laughed so hard it made my skull hurt. “Shut up.”

“We had fifty-one people on the guest list because Mark wanted to keep it an intimate Wolves party. But word got out, and they stopped letting people in when they hit a capacity of two twenty-five. That’s all you.”