Love Me, Goaltender, page 11
I received a few more nods from the boys and a sharp high five from Mason as I sat down at my assigned cubby to strip off my pads. Once I was down to my sports bra and underwear, I unraveled the platinum braids I wore under my headgear and took off for the showers. My short amount of time on the ice didn’t allow me to work up a big sweat, but I had an even sheen of stickiness covering my body that I was eager to get off.
As I stepped around Jones on my way, I felt, more than saw, Kingston’s eyes glue themselves to my barely dressed figure. His equally bare body flirted at the side of my vision, and I struggled to keep a straight face and not make eye contact with him over Jones’ shoulder.
I would have been able to ignore him before. Before the elevator. Before I knew how hot his tongue was when it slid against mine. Before it felt like my body knew the moment he stepped into a room.
Since high school, I had been surrounded by half-naked, good-looking, muscular men, but I had a hard-and-fast rule to not stare. It wasn’t always easy, but I used my perceived sexuality as a shield. Any accidental stray eyes were brushed away with the excuse that I was gay. It was a system I’d used for my entire career, and it had worked out flawlessly until I met Sebastian fucking Kingston.
I had tried to keep my eyes off of him, but temptation was a strong opponent. I knew Kingston caught me looking when we were in the locker room alone. Had I managed to be more professional, he may have brushed it off entirely. Then the elevator happened.
Now I had to explain my bullshit to him. I could basically kiss his respect and our fledgling friendship goodbye.
I made it into the showers, turned the water to ice cold, and scrubbed down viciously.
As the bus pulled up and parked in the Snow Globe lot, a wave of relief crashed over me. We were finally home. Thank God. Vancouver had been rough on my mind. With all the drama, I couldn’t even fully enjoy our wins.
The whole reason for letting people think I was a lesbian was to cause less drama, but I went and fucked that right up, didn’t I? After the excruciatingly long plane and bus ride back to the arena, I didn’t care that it was two in the morning. I was more than ready to talk to Kingston and get the inevitable awkward conversation out of the way.
I nudged Mason awake. It had been a bumpy ride from the airport, yet Mason had passed out immediately and hadn’t stirred for anything. Typical.
We grabbed our backpacks and got off the bus in a crowd of zombie-like hockey players. Road trips were hard for everyone, and we all just wanted to go home and crash. Everyone but me and Kingston, that was. While the team got their luggage from the bus carriage, Kingston came up to me, a pointed look on his face.
I sighed and moved off to the side of the crowd. He must be eager to get the “you’re an amazing girl, but I just don’t see you that way” speech over as well.
“We can’t be seen leaving together,” I mumbled to him. “I rode with Mason here, so follow us to my house. We can talk there.”
He nodded then went into the mass of players and grabbed his suitcase.
I was about to wade into the fray myself when Mason popped up beside me, both our bags in his hands. He glanced curiously at Kingston’s retreating back. Mason wasn’t stupid or blind; despite being distracted by his relationship problems, he knew I was hiding something.
“Thanks, Mase. Hey, do you mind if I drive?” I asked, taking my suitcase from him and popping up the handle.
Mason shot me a questioning look but fished his keys out of his pocket and handed them over. “Sure.”
Once at his green monstrosity of a Jeep, we threw our bags in the back, and I claimed the driver’s seat. I needed a little bit of distraction from this conversation, and I didn’t trust Mason not to crash us in surprise when I spilled my secrets.
“So … something happened last night,” I started.
“No shit, Riles. You’ve been weird as fuck all day. What the hell did you do?”
I pulled his giant car out of the parking spot and made my way down the aisle slowly. Kingston’s truck lights appeared behind me, and I drove out of the lot, taking a deep breath as I launched into my story, telling him everything that happened last night and today.
Thankfully, I lived close to the rink, and as I pulled into Mason’s usual spot behind my car, he was just winding down from his storm of questions. In the rearview mirror, Kingston parked behind me and killed his lights.
“Is that Kingston behind us?” Mason asked, finally noticing our tail. Note to self: Mason would die immediately in a spy movie.
“I have to go face the music.”
I hopped out to get my bags, and Mason followed to grab his own.
“You staying here tonight?” I asked.
“Yeah,” he answered and jerked his head to the right. Drew’s car was parked in front of mine. Ah. “Do you got this, Riles? You need some backup?”
I smiled tightly. “Nah. I got it, but can you take this inside?”
Mason took my suitcase, but I kept my backpack. Then he went to the door, took one last look back, and disappeared inside.
Time to get this over with.
I marched to Kingston’s car, opened the door, having heard the locks click, and planted myself in the passenger’s seat. “Okay.”
Surprisingly, instead of immediately bursting out with questions, he put his car into gear and drove. Guess we were going somewhere. I had expected to just talk in his car. Not arguing, I buckled my belt as Kingston headed … farther down my street? What?
A minute later, my question was answered when he parked in front of a brownstone a street away from mine. It was almost a mirror of my house, except it didn’t have the rose bushes that my father had planted in front of mine. We got out, and I gaped at his house as he grabbed his bags from his truck. “You live a minute from me?”
“I guess I forgot to mention that earlier,” he said casually and went to the door. I followed behind, stunned.
That was so weird. I’d never seen him or his car around, but to be fair, I’d only been back in town for less than a week. Though that was more than enough time to gain and lose the first friend I’d made in hockey since Mason.
Kingston unlocked his house, stepped inside, threw his bags off to the side, and held open the door to the lion’s den for me. How kind.
Chapter 10
Kingston guided me into his house, and it was like looking into a funhouse mirror. His house had the same layout as mine. But where mine was filled with things and memories from my childhood, his was decorated with modern furniture and was spotless. It was more than a little jarring.
I stopped under the arch separating the living area and the foyer and leaned against it, wanting to stay close to the door.
Mirroring me, Kingston propped his hip against his black cotton sectional. His suit, just as dark as his couch, sat on him like a second skin, emphasizing his broad shoulder and cutting sharply to his waist. He crossed his arms over his chest, and I was thrown back to when we first met, him staring me down and trying to get a read. I couldn’t even begin to guess what he was getting off me. Hell, I barely knew what I was feeling.
He, in turn, was as stoic as a king.
The silence only lasted a few moments before I broke it, wanting to get this over. I stood up straight, channeling all the power that my fierce, navy pantsuit and sharp stilettos gave me, and let the words rush out of me like water through a dam. “We don’t need to do this. Trust me, I get it, and I’m sorry. I’m sorry I kissed you and put you in an awkward position. You don’t need to let me down gently. It won’t happen again, and we can go back to being friends.”
He cocked his head. “Friends? Is that what you want?”
I paused. No, I didn’t want to be friends with him; I wanted to be more. But that wasn’t happening in this lifetime, so I would just have to suck it up and settle. “Yeah? I mean, ideally? If you can get over this and if we can move on. That’s why I’m here, right?”
Again, he just stood there, his brain working behind his eyes.
I hated this. Hated not being able to read him. I read people for a living! I knew when someone was coming straight at me or when they were going for a deke. I could tell what any given player would do based on their play style and past actions. It was my job, and I was damn good at it. But staring at Kingston was like staring at a brick wall. Except this brick wall was studying me just as intently as I it. It was driving me crazy, and I wanted to claw out his pretty little eyes!
Say something, damnit!
“So, you’re not a lesbian?”
I blinked, the abrupt change letting most of the wind out of my sails. “Um … no. Not entirely. I’m bisexual.”
He hummed curiously. “Then why aren’t you out as bisexual? Wouldn’t that have been just as easy as coming out as gay?”
No, it wouldn’t have been. “Do you know when being gay in professional sports is actually beneficial? When you’re a woman on an all-male team,” I answered before he could guess and took up pacing across his living room.
His gaze followed me as I went back and forth, trying my hardest to put this into words.
“My teammates in high school were kind of dicks. Thankfully, I wasn’t changing with them, so I didn’t have to deal with their shit while half-naked in front of them. On the ice, when Mason was away from me, some of them got sexual though. It was harassment, and looking back, I should have reported it, but I didn’t want to cause more drama on the team. I just ignored it. Then, during my sophomore year, I got a girlfriend. Her name was Kara, and she was the sweetest person I’d ever met. She was the first person I ever dated; I didn’t have a lot of friends, and there was no way I was going to get with one of the Neanderthals on the team. Of course, I wanted to keep it secret, but you know how that shit goes; everyone knew the next day. At first, I was nervous. Not only was I the only girl on the team, but now I was the only out queer person too. I was dreading going to practice, but the weirdest thing happened. They quit with the shitty jokes. I mean, they didn’t stop completely; that’s impossible. But no one was flirting with me or asking me if I liked what I saw. It was like I became one of the guys overnight.”
“So, you stuck with it.”
“Yeah. I even became friends with some of their girlfriends because they knew I wasn’t trying to steal their boyfriends. It was weird, but it worked, so I just rolled with it. And it’s still working now. None of the guys here or in Seattle has ever tried to flirt with me. I have yet to get a question from the press about which teammate I think is cutest or who has the best ass or biggest dick.”
Kingston’s lip twitched. “Berk has the biggest dick.”
Laughter burst out of my chest suddenly, and I stopped pacing to throw Kingston a smirk. “On this team, sure, but Marcus Castillo would put him to shame.”
“Really?”
“Oh, yeah. I accidentally got a peek in Seattle and was honestly terrified.” My laughter turned into light chuckles as I remembered Mason’s reaction when I told him.
“Accidentally?”
“Of course. I don’t look at teammates in the lock—” I stopped short, remembering why I was at Kingston’s house in the first place. He noticed my pause, of course, and shoved off the couch to stand straight, dropping his arms to his side.
“Except for me.”
I didn’t say a thing.
There was about eight feet separating us, and while Kingston didn’t step any closer, the air between us shrank until it was as if he was standing inches away, watching every flicker of my eye or twitch of my face. “Are you into me, Warren?”
I grimaced at my feet. Fuck.
“You are,” he said. It wasn’t a question.
I talked to my black Louboutin pumps, focusing on my pink-painted toes that peeked out the front instead of the immovable force in front of me. “Don’t worry. We can go back to being teammates. I didn’t mean to drag you into this. I’m sure you’ve had to deal with shit like this before. You don’t need to let me down easy. My feelings will go away.”
“Let you down easy? Why would I do that?”
My chin dug into my chest. I guessed he did need to make this a little painful. Make sure he didn’t leave me with any hope. I understood. Bracing, I waited.
When he next spoke, his voice was closer than before. I was so startled by the deep rumbling of his voice that it took me a second to register what he said. “I like you too.”
I snapped my head up. He had moved closer, and his grey eyes pierced my soul from only a couple feet away. “Wha—what did you say? Are you fucking with me right now? Because that’s cruel.”
He threw his hands up in exasperation. “Of course, I’m not fucking with you, Warren! I would never do that.”
I squinted at him. No, he wouldn’t do that, would he? I hadn’t known him that long, but I knew he would never be that cruel. He was serious. He liked me. Like he liked liked me. The second I thought it, I wanted to smack myself. What was wrong with me? Was I going to ask him to hold my hand on the way to the bus next? Leave a note in his locker? Check yes or no.
He continued. “Ever since that first fucking game. Anybody else would have quit, then and there. Hell, I probably would have, but you just kept on smiling. We threw you to the wolves, but you didn’t care. You were having fun. I honestly wasn’t sure if you were just taunting us or if you were actually fucking crazy.”
“Did you come to a conclusion?” Even in my shock, I couldn’t help teasing him.
“I’m pretty sure it was a little bit of both.”
“It was. You bunch of assholes didn’t even know. I would have faced down SEAL team six on skates if it meant I got to play on that ice.”
And I meant it. Playing by myself was amazing. I played against a whole team of NHL players all by myself. I definitely wasn’t fantastic, letting in more than a few pucks, but it would probably be one of the defining moments of my career. I didn’t know if I could ever top that.
“Well, it was damn hot. You just stared me down, all sweaty and worn out but still smiling. I swear I got hard in the middle of the ice.” Most guys would have been ashamed to admit that, but Kingston looked like he was reveling in the memory.
I snorted. “Well, sorry about that.”
He finally closed the last of the distance between us until we stood chest to chest in the middle of his living room, my heels allowing our eyes to meet on an equal level. “You should be. You’ve been driving me insane this past week. I thought I was losing it. Sometimes I could have sworn that you were flirting with me, but I knew you couldn’t have been. I was so confused and half convinced that I was hallucinating the looks you gave me. I mean, you didn’t like men, and I was trying so damn hard to not be a creep. It’s borderline impossible when you wear those tiny fucking panties in the locker room though. Or when you chirp at me over ice cream. Or kiss me in elevators. It’s impossible not to fall for that.”
The grey orbs that were always stone on the ice, full of determination, were now filled with desire. My breath hitched. We shouldn’t be doing this. We were teammates.
I leaned toward him as if pulled by gravity. He caught me by the waist, just like he did in the elevator then … nothing. Our lips paused inches apart, breaths heaving between us. He was waiting for me. This would have to be my decision.
I gripped his biceps in desperation, fighting for one more second, then gave in and plunged my hands into his hair. I pulled him to me, and we clashed together, mouths greeting each other as if they had missed being separate for so long.
He grunted deeply as our tongues entangled, and a desire that had been building since we met exploded from me. I tore my hand from his hair and groped at his jacket with an impatient whine. He got the message and tugged it off but didn’t stop there. He unbuttoned his charcoal shirt, and I helped pull it down his arm.
Fuck, he was gorgeous. I stroked his tattoo-covered torso, marveling at how solid it was. I had forgotten how hard the male body was. I pressed into his abs. They had no give. Oh my God.
His hands immediately returned to my waist and pulled me close, so he could rain down gentle kisses on my neck. I jerked backward, ripping him from my neck. A confused sound left him but was quickly silenced as I ripped my jacket off and stripped off my blouse. He didn’t seem to care that my sports bra smushed down my boobs as he returned my earlier favor and ran his hands down my torso.
“Gorgeous,” he breathed out, petting my stomach.
I let him touch for a second before I stepped back again. We had somewhere to be.
“Bedroom?” I asked.
“Upstairs.”
He grabbed my hand, and we booked it to his room.
The layout of the top half of his brownstone was slightly different from mine, but I didn’t get a chance to look around because as soon as we stepped inside his bedroom, he was on me.
He pushed me up against the wall beside the door, and it was the elevator all over again. Our mouths devoured each other as he drew up my leg around his hips. I pulled myself up by his shoulder, brought up my other leg to wrap around his waist, and locked my ankles. Hanging onto him, I kicked off my heels into a far corner. I didn’t think Kingston even noticed, as distracted by my tongue as he was.
He eventually pulled away when the need for oxygen became too strong, my legs still wrapped around him. My boobs undulated under my sports bra with my heaving breaths as I stared at him. God, and he called me gorgeous? Had he ever seen himself in a mirror? He was physical perfection, and the hunger for me in his eyes only set me aflame further.
He pulled away from the wall, turned, and carried me the short distance to his bed, not even flinching from my weight. His legs hit the bed, and he bent at the waist, placing his hands down on either side of me. I knew I was supposed to drop onto the mattress, but I held on, dangling like a spider monkey, and smiled up at him. His back flexed under my hands as he struggled to hold me up. His face strained, but he held firm.
