Slap Shot (13 page)

“The police will pick her up.” I wrung my hands and shifted my feet. “Then it will all be over.” Fury was blazing from him and his anger infiltrated the hallway as if it were another physical presence. He was so damn big and I didn’t want to get in the way if he was about to lose it.

His hands stretched open and he leaned forward and placed them flat on the wall. Hung his head down and became utterly still. “Shit,” he muttered after several long seconds. “What if she
had
hurt you today? I would never have forgiven myself.”

I stepped up to him and placed a hand between his sharply angled shoulder blades. “But she didn’t, I’m fine.” I ran my palm down to the small of his back. A thrill wound through me as I remembered doing the same thing the night before when his taut skin had been laced with sweat from our exertions. “I’m fine, she didn’t hurt me, just scared me, and I’ve been scared before. I’ll be okay.”

He released the wall and straightened, forcing me to lift my hand from his back. “That’s just it,” he said, gently pinching my chin between his index finger and thumb. “I don’t want you to be scared, harassed or worried even for a millisecond because of me. I just want to make you feel good.”

I smiled. “Like you did last night?”

“Yeah, like I did last night.”

With relief I saw a shift in his expression as memories of last night moved through his mind.

I wound my arms around his waist and squeezed up against him. “Do you have to go back for practice?” I asked softly.

He frowned. “And leave you alone? Hell, no.” He pulled me tighter. “Luckily I wasn’t on the ice when you called. I was in a meeting with Fergal and just about to head down to the locker room and get changed, otherwise it would have taken me even longer to get to you.”

“So that means,” I twitched my brows, “we can enjoy celebrating the rest of your birthday together, here, now.”

“Some fucking birthday. We’re under house arrest.”

I pouted. “What did you say to me last night about turning negatives into positives?”

One side of his mouth twitched and his eyes brightened. “So you
were
listening.”

“Of course, now come on, let’s grab a coffee, then you can have your present.”

His lips touched mine. “Mmm, I like the sound of that.”

There were doughnuts in the fridge so I set them on a plate. Rick sipped coffee and made a call to Fergal as I munched a Krispy Kreme.

Rick finally clicked shut his cell, just as the intercom system buzzed.

“Hopefully that will be your stuff,” he said, pacing from the room.

I heard his voice in the hallway then the front door opened and shut. He was back within two minutes, just as I was licking frosting from my fingers. He popped half a doughnut into his mouth and, chewing, touched the crease of my lip with his thumb. A tremble of desire went through my body. Just the simple act of him removing sugar from my mouth was enough to create a spark of lust.

What is it about this guy? He’s a goddamn walking aphrodisiac.

“You want to head upstairs?” I asked, trying to keep the desperate need out of my voice. “For your present?”

He swallowed and shook his head. “Not upstairs.” His eyelids were heavy as he dropped his gaze down my body.

I nodded at the marble over his right shoulder. “I’m not fancying that much,” I said. “A bit cold and hard.”

“Not what I was thinking either,” he said in a deep, rumbling tone, setting his half-eaten doughnut on the counter.

I raised my brows. “The spa?”

“Mmm, might keep that in mind for later.” He grinned wickedly, his dimples digging into his cheeks.

I tipped my head. “So what were you thinking, Captain?”

He linked his fingers with mine and lifted my knuckles to his lips. He hesitated, then, “I want you to dance for me, Dana.”

Dance!

My heart rate trebled and, phew, it had been thudding pretty fast anyway. “I…I don’t know, Rick, it’s been a long time. So long…too long.”

He swept his tongue over his lips. “The girls were sweet yesterday but the thought of you, my own private dancer performing is one hell of a turn-on.” His voice lowered. “I can get hard for you then make love to you afterward, and that, wild thing, is one hell of a fantasy.” His lips brushed my knuckles again. ”Which you could realize…on my birthday.”

My mouth went dry and my stomach churned. I shook my head. “It’s not who I am anymore. I left that part of my life behind. I told you, I’m a new person now.”

“But why leave such amazing skills behind? It doesn’t make sense.” His eyes widened challengingly.

“I don’t think they’re amazing skills really. Dancing around a pole?”

He chuckled. “I think ninety percent of the male population would consider it a very good skill indeed.”

“And the other ten?”

“Gay.” He shrugged nonchalantly.

I untangled my hand from his and walked to the window, stared out at the gravel driveway and the neat lawn. It was a scorching day. The sun burned down onto the palm trees lining his grounds and sent shimmers of heat rising from the roof of his car.

Dance for Rick? At the pole
?

If I was honest, I had no doubts that I could still do it. I was supple and fit thanks to regular trips to the gym. But let old Dana resurface and do her thing with Rick watching? Was that really a sensible idea?

He stepped in close behind me, his voice quiet by my ear. “If you don’t want to, that’s fine.” He wound his arms around my body and the hard tendons of his forearms brushed the lower curve of my breasts.

I leaned in to him. It was amazing how quickly our bodies had become so comfortable together.

“I just thought,” he said, “since the pole is there, and it’s just you and me…and it’s not like I haven’t seen your hot little body naked already, it might be kind of fun.”

Turning within his arms, I looked up into his handsome face. His brow was creased with concern though his eyes still brimmed with hope.

“I’m not sure,” I said quietly.

His lips touched mine. “Forget it, wild thing. I don’t want you to do something you’re not okay with. If you don’t want to do it then I don’t want to do it either. Let’s go upstairs.”

I tightened my hands around his biceps. “No,” I said, “I’ll do it.”

His nostrils flared slightly as he smoothed his hands into the curve of my back and tugged me close. “Are you sure?”

Aware of his erection prodding my stomach, I hardened my determination and prayed I wouldn’t regret letting bad Dana surface. “Yes,” I said. “But give me half an hour to change and warm up.”

He released me and his fists balled at his side. ”Half an hour,” he said in a strained voice.

“Yes.”

He walked from the room.

“Where are you going?” I called after him.

“To the gym and then for a damn cold shower. I’m gonna need all the stamina I can muster for this.”

Alone in the cinema room, I fiddled with the complicated stereo system and opted for Norah Jones. Her soft, wistful voice trickled through the ruby lighting of the room and instantly soothed my nerves.

Stepping up onto the stage, I curved my hands around the cool metal of the pole and sucked in a deep breath. It had been a long time since the chill of smooth steel had seeped into my palms.

Gently swaying my hips to the melancholy tune, I tossed my hair over my shoulders and glanced down at my new white underwear, which fortunately had been in the delivered suitcase. The bra was balcony style and pushed my breasts upward. The slightly spilling flesh shivered softly as I moved. The panties were thong and had pretty lace detail over the hips. Teamed with high silver stilettoes, the look was virginal and naughty all at the same time. I liked it. It felt right. I hoped Rick would like it too.

Reaching one hand above my head, I locked my elbow straight, pushed off and swung one-eighty in a spiral, landing on my heels. Easy. I hooked the back of both my legs around the pole and completed a high three-sixty with one arm flung out behind me. It was like flying, gliding through the air.

I took a fast step, jumped and reached higher still. Winding my limbs around the metal, I arched my back, dropped my head, kept on spinning until I wanted to stop. Around and around I went. It was freeing, liberating, and soon my love of dancing took over. It had been ballet to begin with at an after-school program, then more modern street styles, cheerleading for a while. I had been good at that, fearless at throwing myself into the acrobatics. I guessed all of that added up to being a pretty good pole dancer, not that I had any certificates for it. But dancing was a part of me, a part of my soul. It was something else I’d been denying myself for too long.

Suddenly white light from the hallway poured into the darkened room.

I stopped.

Rick stepped in.

The door shut with a resounding bang.

My stomach was full of butterflies, but I wasn’t sure if they were the result of desire or anticipation. The anticipation of showcasing my moves, strutting my stuff.

He strode into the room, right to the front and folded down into the center chair, his eyes never once leaving mine, his body as tense as a primed bull.

“Do you know the rules?” I asked, leaning back against the pole with one knee bent and my heel resting on the metal.

“Remind me.”

I licked my lips, slowly, from one corner to the other. “No touching, just watching.”

He nodded and swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing low. I couldn’t help but wonder just what I was about to unleash. His face was dark and shadowed, his knees apart, and his fingers were digging into the arms of the chair so hard the plush material was dented inward.

It was too late to change my mind.

I didn’t
want
to change my mind.

Rolling my hips, I walked around the pole, trailing my fingers on the cool surface as though caressing it. When I had my back to him I squatted low, folding my legs beneath me with the pole hard against my spine. Slowly I smoothed back up, reached high and flung myself into a three-sixty, one leg out straight, the other around the pole. When I landed, I gripped and stepped around it, rolling my hips to the music with each exaggerated step and locking my gaze with his, gauging what he thought of my first move.

His breath hitched, his lips tightened into a straight line.

I pivoted, turned my back to him and gave him a good view of my thonged butt as I rotated my hips. The pace of the music picked up and I lunged into a series of complex spins, twisting and flexing, my arms and legs clinging to the pole, my back arched, my hair flowing. I’d been worried that memories from the clubs would fill my mind but it wasn’t like that. It was just me and Rick and my love of dancing.

I went for a single-handed fly, both legs spread around the pole in a side split and only one hand clinging on. Flashing the gusset of my thong, I swung around twice, three times, head tilted, the speed floating my hair behind me.

Coming to a graceful halt, I strutted provocatively to the edge of the stage and reached for the front clasp of my bra. Slowly I unhooked it. It shimmied down my arms and with a flourish I tossed it at him. The white material landed on his lap and he fisted it, never once taking his eyes from my exposed, aroused breasts.

I began to dance again, enjoying myself now, showing off. My breasts were soft and free as I moved, the air on my nipples made them spike and when they touched the pole the coolness darted through my flesh with extra intensity.

Jumping high, I grasped tight and leaned right back, my spine curved and my hair, I guessed, skimming the floor. Upside down, I studied his darkening expression. His jaw was set, his eyes flared with hunger. My panties dampened and my pussy clenched. He looked so dangerous, so primitive, a huge pile of barely harnessed lust watching me, waiting to take me.

I shivered even though I was quite hot now from exertion.

Stretching my legs apart again, I performed a strength-hungry windmill maneuver and landed facing him, gripping the pole above my head. I pulled in a breath. My cleavage held beads of sweat, my breaths were rapid.

Trapping his gaze with mine, I squatted down once more, this time facing him with my knees together as my butt hit my heels. I tipped one side of my mouth into a smile—I knew he was going to enjoy this next bit. Placing one hand over my cheekbone, I lightly brushed my fingertips over my parted lips, tugging them slightly, then dropped them to the hollow of my throat. His gaze followed my fingers as though hypnotized. I moved lower, circled and tweaked my left nipple, pulled it to a hard point with my thumb and index finger then repeated the process with the right.

He shifted on his seat, his mouth twitched.

I skimmed my hand over my belly to the waistband of my panties. Stretching my knees wide, I exposed the thin, damp gusset of my thong. “Is this what you’re waiting for?” I asked, tucking my finger into the material between my pussy and the juncture of my thigh but being careful not to expose myself.

“Hell, yeah,” he all but growled.