Delayed Penalty (Crossing the Line, #1)(54)

"I'm pretty awesome," I mocked with a purse of my lips that erupted into squeal when he hip checked me, catching me off guard with the sudden movement.

"You have no idea what you just started," he warned, grinning, lingering back a bit. I could tell he was still poised to move at any moment should I let me guard down.

"I'm surprised they let you play in the NHL with moves like that. Weak." My lips curved up in a knowing smile as it finally sunk in that I wanted him to actually put some effort into this.

He groaned quietly, as if actually working for it was unheard of.

Deciding to play with him a little more, I lifted my arms and stick over my head, arching my back and pushing my chest out. The jersey moved up my body to reveal my bare legs and panties.

His stick hit the ice with a tap, and when I looked up, he was gone, vigorously skating up the ice toward the other end. When he got to the goal, he swept around the outside, his head down as he made a rush back at me. He had the puck this time, sweeping it with choppy motions from one side of his stick to the other. Each time he hit the ice with his stick, the sound echoed like someone slowly chopping vegetables.

It was such a swirl of movement it was hard to follow, but I knew enough that I was about to be schooled.

I was schooled. He was by me in a whirl, and the next thing I heard was the puck bouncing off the crossbar and the grate of Evan's skates as he cut right away from the goal.

"Play the pipes honey," he said, bumping his shoulder against mine when he came back around. It knocked me just slightly but not enough to take my balance away.

I was going to need to rethink pushing around hockey players.

Watching him gloat in his victory goal dance at center ice, I couldn't stop laughing at him. "Done this a few times?" I tried to tease him and come across sarcastically.

He looked over and wiggled his eyebrows at me, skating closer. "Just a few."

He stopped a foot in front of me, shifting uneasily back and forth between his feet. I felt myself giving in, just like every other time I was around him, my eyes drifting closed. I held my breath in anticipation of the feel of his lips on mine.

I didn't have to wait long.

I felt the warmth of his body close in behind mine. His hands reached down and found mine, intertwining our fingers and raising our arms together. His chest moved to press against the back of my shoulders.

He brought our arms up over my head and then twirled me around to face him. Evan could skate backward perfectly. I could not.

So then he was carrying me. I wrapped my legs around his waist. And that position was awesome. His eyes were dark and intense, his fingers digging into my bare thighs.

When he noticed that I was watching him, he swallowed and looked away, continuing to skate around the rink with me around his waist. It should have been hard, but not for Evan Masen.

"Don't," I urged him quietly, stopping him from turning away from me by brushing his hair from his face. "I like it when you look at me like that."

For a moment, I thought he caught on because his lips parted, but no, he just stared.

Then he seemed to snap out of it, grinning back at me. I had to fight a moan.

"Board me," I blurted out.

Evan gave a slight dip of his head, a nod maybe, as his slow skate all but halted and his damp hand slipped around my thigh when he lowered his head even more. He was looking at my body, all of it. My pulse went crazy when he didn't say anything. Was he going to reject me? Or maybe I used the wrong term? Maybe it wasn't even a term in hockey. Damn Callie. She was always saying shit I didn't understand, and now I felt stupid because I had repeated it not knowing what it meant.

"Ami," he growled softly, possessively, against my lips, drawing back with a smile. "Don't say things like that to me."

"And why not?" I countered, my voice low. Leaving one hand on his shoulder, I dipped my hand lower to run over his hardness between us.

His hand caught mine and put it above my head.

"I'm a hockey player..." His eyes roamed over my body. "...We're rough."

I wanted to say more. I was going to say more, but his mouth was suddenly on mine. His lips intoxicating as they moved softly over mine with the slightest hint of tongue. I felt my head spinning with each movement, and then I was jerked forward with a grunt as he boarded me like I wanted, pressed against the boards and glass. The echoing bang against the glass was hard to register over our breathing.

He was right. He was rough, but his arms of steel cradled me in a protective way. I felt the movement deep in my bones and was sure there'd be bruises on my ass later. But f*ck if I didn't want those bruises on my ass from Evan.

"Hi," he said, completely Evan-like and grinning.

I giggled. "Hello."

I breathed in deeply, lacing my fingers into his hair, gently pulling him into me, wrapping my legs around him a little tighter. We melted together so seamlessly that it seemed impossible that we could be separated, ever.

In a fury of kisses and touches, for a moment, Evan was losing control and taking what he wanted.

The jersey rode up, his hands underneath it, right where I wanted them. When I started to slip, from all his touching and my wiggling, Evan took a deep breath, readjusting his hold on my legs. His hips pressed against mine, securing me against the glass. He watched me, waiting for my next move.

I kissed him. I couldn't think of much else to do at that moment besides kiss him. There was so much about being with Evan that made me feel like it was too good to be true: a private showing of where the Chicago Blackhawks play and being boarded against the glass, his hands up my shirt and being able to feel him, obviously just as turned on as I was.