Delayed Penalty (Crossing the Line, #1)(59)

I may not have been the only man to do this to her. Fuck I didn't want to think about that right now, but I was the only one that was making her feel like this. I was sure of that.

I could literally feel her melt around me, her lips crashing to mine as her body collapsed in a blissful state as she reached her peak.

"Holy hell…" Ami panted, looking up at me.

I smirked and leaned forward to kiss the tip of her nose before rolling to my back, my arms resting behind my back.

Ami moved over me, straddling me. I could feel her wetness over me, and it was everything I could do not to slide back and forth and move my hips at the sensation it caused. I groaned a little, shifting my hips and trying to get her to move. I didn't want her to think I wanted her to do anything for me. Sure, I wanted her to, but I wasn't asking.

It took her a moment before she gathered her nerves, but then her hand slid south over my bare chest, and then farther, grasping me again.

"Fuck that's good," I groaned, thrusting against her hand, her soft, tiny warm hand.

"Is that okay?" she asked, stroking me again.

I wasn't sure if someone had told her or if she already knew how, which I didn't want to think about, but she had done this before. She used just the right amount of pressure and movement. Fuck.

I didn't say much more, aside from the occasional moan as my head dropped back against the bed, the muscles in my neck tense.

She seemed fascinated by what she was doing, naturally gaining speed when my hips moved with her motions. My hands found her body, pulling her flush against my side, desperately wanting to feel her skin against mine.

I groaned deeply, and I knew she could feel me throbbing against her fingers, my movements and hers growing more harried by the second. I didn't make much noise; my face was buried in her neck when I did come, but she knew what was happening when my body shuddered against her and the warm liquid coated her hand.

I turned my head to softly press a kiss against her temple. "Thank you."

"Thanks for understanding." She sighed, curling into my side.

"Give me a minute."

After washing off my stomach, I came back to my room with a towel to wipe her hand off. I felt like I needed to say something to her, but I had no idea what. I wasn't sure that it was the right time to say anything, so instead I just held her close.

When I was just about to say something, she grinned. "I hope you beat the Red Wings tonight."

She was definitely my girl.





Hooking – The act of impeding an opponent by placing the blade of a stick into their body.



Quarter Finals (Game 1) Nashville Predators

Friday, April 16, 2010

(Home Game)




It was hard to focus on the game when my attention was constantly drawn to the stands and those douchebags sitting behind the girls. Every play they were mouthing off and had something to say.

I knew Callie could handle herself, and unfortunately her own mouth had a way of getting guys riled up at times. When they started in, so did she.

When the Predators scored, the crowd hung their heads, dejected that we might lose. That was when the chirping of those fans picked up.

Leo and Remy both noticed; their heads kept turning to watch when we heard the commotion. One of the guys had shoved Callie, and I wasn't standing for that.

I took the end of my stick and hit it against the boards, scowling at the guy. He looked up, stunned, holding his hands up, and then flipped me off. Well played. What he didn't see was the security guard behind him.

That game was horrible. Not only were the fans distracting us, but we played poorly and for no reason. It was the start of the playoffs and we weren't starting off good.

Granger, a player known for his aggression and dirty hits, had it out for Leo all night. He finally got him near Nashville's goal. It was a chip shot right at the crease and knocked Leo out cold. Remy and I both went after Granger for that one.

That wasn't the way we wanted to start off the series, and every guy on that team understood that. We had something to prove, and goddamn it if we weren't going to prove it.

To try and ease our frustrations about the loss we headed to the bar.





"Hey, man," Remy nudged me. "Pay attention." I looked over to the group in the back. They were standing around a high top table listening to their left wing, Trey Swartz, tell a joke when Ami walked by from having used the bathroom. They must have made a few crude remarks because she raised her hand to flip Trey off and then spun around, making her way back over to us. Her scowl told me she wasn't pleased, and f*ck if I wasn't livid instantly.

If he touched her, I would f*cking kill him. That was just who I was at that point. They still hadn't found the guy, and every time someone looked at her, I wondered. When I'd been drinking, that wondering twisted on me and I was ready to defend her.

Hockey players were notorious for bar fights. It seemed the aggression on the ice had a tendency to carry over. I wasn't an exception, but I liked to start them, and then everyone else got involved.

If you were to get five hockey players in a bar and then they started talking shit—that was a pretty potent combination if you asked me. Get two rival teams in a bar, and you were asking for trouble.

Here was the thing: people liked to shove each other and acted like all around dicks in the bar. Some chose to ignore it, some didn't.