The Penalty Box (Vancouver Wolves Hockey #3)(52)

“My mom has passed away. She raised me as a single mom.” I glanced at her defiantly. “We didn’t have a lot of money growing up, but we had lots of love.”

She lifted Sasha into the air above her head. “Mica was the opposite. More money than we knew what to do with, but we were short on love.”

I paused and looked at her. “That’s sad.”

She held my gaze. “I know.”





Chapter 16





MICA





I sat in front of the dark house. I should have never left Charlie like that with my mom. That was unforgivable. How bad had the rest of her day been, after I tore out of there like demons were on my heels? I had to leave. My mom had pushed all my buttons, opening something inside of me I couldn’t close, and I had been afraid of what I would say or do if I stayed home. It was more for my mom’s protection that I removed myself before I caused irreversible damage to our relationship. I still felt raw and on edge.

Does nothing ever change?

One conversation with her and I was back to being a kid, feeling all those things I no longer wanted to feel. It had been years since I had lived in Russia, but the moment I got into the same room as my mom, all the same issues cropped up.

Poor Charlie. I had forced her to deal with one issue after another since she had married me. How much did she hate me for leaving her alone with my mom? Would she still talk to me? Or had she lost her patience and spilled the truth of this marriage? Whatever happened, I couldn’t blame her.

I came into the house and Sniper greeted me at the door. I kicked off my shoes and walked to the bedroom, tapping lightly on the door.

“Come in.”

I opened the door. Charlie was lying on her side with her back to me. She looked over her shoulder. “You don’t have to knock. This is your bedroom.”

I came in and shut the door behind me. Moonlight pooled in the room, giving me enough light to gauge exactly how pissed she was. She rolled over on her back and studied me back.

“Are you okay?” she asked, her voice full of concern with not one trace of anger in her tone.

I moved to the edge of the bed and sat down. “I’m sorry.”

“Are you okay?”

I meant to say that I was fine. Everything was under control. I would take care of her and this situation. But could I really make those promises? To date, I had been doing a shit poor job of taking care of her. Why would she believe me? I lay down on my side next to her and looked her in the eyes. The truth escaped out of me. “Not really.”

Her face was so open and beautiful. I watched as real emotion crossed her face. Concern. Care. Understanding. “Want to talk about it?”

I wanted to share with her, set my truth at her feet and for once in my life trust that it would be okay. But I didn’t know how to be that man. Instead, doing the only other thing I could do to be close to her, I leaned forward and pressed my mouth to hers.

I loved the gasp that came out of her. And I took that as permission. I poured everything that had been swirling inside of me into that kiss, ravaging her mouth, unable to stop myself. When her fingers pushed into my hair, giving me an inch, I shamelessly took a mile. I moved towards her, angling my body so my face was above hers and I could use one hand to trace slowly down one arm. Her skin felt like silk beneath my fingertips. She shivered in response.

“Charlie,” I breathed into her mouth. I lifted my head so I could look at her. When had she become so fucking beautiful? I needed to touch her. I needed to connect with her. I still felt so on edge, but her body beckoned me, promising me some level of peace. Tonight, I wasn’t going to just cross the line between us. I was going to annihilate it.

Her chest heaved. Our eyes met.

Please don’t say no. I reached up and slowly pushed the covers off her body. She wore a white tank top and a pair of the sexiest panties I think I’d ever seen. God help me. I kissed her again until her mouth was trembling beneath mine. I moved a hand until it rested on her stomach. Her breath was harsh. I held her gaze as I slowly slid my hand down so it rested between her legs. I could feel her heat through the lace, beckoning me.

“I want to watch you come.”

Her trembling thighs clamped shut on my hand.

I leaned down and teased her mouth with mine, kissing her to distraction until I felt her legs fall open.

“That’s it,” I breathed, tracing the top of her panties with my fingertips. “Let me make you feel good.”

She whimpered when my fingers slowly, tantalizingly dipped beneath the fabric. Smooth skin beneath my fingers and then hot wet heat as I slid further down.

Her head lifted. “Mica.”

I bent to kiss her again, speaking against her mouth. “Stay with me, Charlie.”

God, she felt good. Slick, petal-soft and so fucking feminine that I had to work to not tear off that offending fabric and bury my face where my fingers played. My hard cock strained against my jeans to the point of discomfort.

My fingertips found her bud and lightly circled it, playing and teasing. She was staring at the ceiling, panting lightly in that pre-sex haze as I expertly worked to wind her body up. Her chest heaved, and she moaned when I deliberately, delicately stroked her clit.

I bent my head, finding her nipple through her shirt, lightly biting. I circled with my fingertips with a feather touch, faster and faster, matching the short gasps of her breath.