Slap Shot (21 page)

His orgasm tipped me into mine and the explosion that shook my pussy was cataclysmic. It went beyond pleasure, it penetrated my soul, claimed my mind, body and spirit. Brilliant bursts of light shot through my vision as release swept through my nerves, my senses and my heart.

He gave a final thrusting jerk, groaned low and guttural and buried his head in my neck.

I clung to him for a long time, feeling sated, replete and safe, and realized that within Rick’s arms I had finally found my place in the world.

Chapter Ten

Tuesday dawned and as the lemony morning sun filtered into the bedroom I knew I needed to spend the day with Rick. My emotions were calm, my body recovered from the shock of the previous day but I was sure that if we were apart the threads of my regained composure would unravel.

“Stay with me today,” he said, winding an arm around my waist and pulling me close. “Don’t go to work.”

I shifted on the pillow to look at him.

“I’m sorry,” he said, frowning. “I know I shouldn’t ask it of you again, but I just can’t imagine not having you within arm’s reach all day.”

I touched a curling lock of hair falling over his brow.

He grinned. “Well, at least within sight. I have a game later. You could come, sit in the stands.” He touched his lips to my cheek. “Nothing will hurt you, I promise, no one will even speak to you if you don’t want them to. I’ll make sure there are security guys swarming all around you.”

“Laurie’s gone,” I said gently. “She was the problem, not you, not hockey.”

“But I still want you to feel safe if you come to the rink.”

“I’m sure it will be fine.”

“So you’ll come?”

I nodded. “Yes, I’ll come.”

“And you’re not about to rush off to work now, are you?” He tightened his hold on me.

“No.” I slipped my hand over his waist, tickled over his trail of pubic hair and brushed my knuckles over his stiff, ready-to-go shaft. “I’m not rushing off anywhere.”

While Rick worked out in his gym, I called Maddie and filled her in on the events of the day before. She gasped and cried out in horror then begged me to spill the juicy details of my relationship with Rick “Ramrod” Lewis. I could feel the smile on my face as I chattered about the last few days and how he made me feel and how I seemed to make him feel.

“Take as long off as you need,” she encouraged as the conversation came to an end. “Cassie and I have it covered and I haven’t known you take any days off in all the time I’ve been working for you.”

“Are you sure?”

“Of course I’m sure. Best Laid Plans is ticking along like clockwork. I took a Christmas booking from Jed Lanson’s assistant yesterday. He wants a big medieval party.”

“Jed Lanson? The politician?”

“Yeah, the hunky one with the silver hair.” She giggled. “Should be fun.”

“That’s great, we were thin on the ground for Christmas bookings.”

“Won’t be after next week when the two-page advertisement in
Fun in the Sun
hits the shelves.”

“Oh yes, I’d forgotten. In that case I’ll definitely take a couple of days off. If business picks up like it did last year after the
Fun in the Sun
ad we will be overrun next week.”

“You go girl, enjoy and refresh yourself. About time you had a man in your life.”

“Thanks, Maddie, I couldn’t do it without you.”

“Sure you could, but it’s sweet of you to say so.”

* * * * *

That evening, wrapped in a winter coat, I was escorted up the red-and-white-painted steps to join Carly in the stands.

“Dana, how are you?” she asked, jumping up. “Are you feeling better today?” She threw her arms around my shoulders and hugged me tight.

“Yes.” I squeezed her, feeling that although our friendship was new, the horror of yesterday had brought us close quickly. “Much better, thanks.”

We sat and I glanced at the two beefy security guards who’d placed themselves on either side of us. They had stern faces and holstered guns peeked from beneath their thick jackets.

“It was such a fright, so awful, wasn’t it?” Carly said. “We went straight home and Brick poured us both a whiskey.”

I nodded and tugged on chenille gloves to keep the chill air from nipping my fingertips. “Thank goodness no one got hurt.”

“And thank goodness she’s been locked away, crazy bitch.”

I nodded and looked around the rink. We were early, it was still the pre-skate game and only the first eager fans had taken their seats.

“It’s Rick’s four-hundredth game as captain,” Carly said, pointing at a big banner over the tunnel that had a picture of his smiling face on it and “Ramrod—400 Caps” written next to it.

I raised my brows. “Really?”

“Yeah, it’s a Viper record.”

“He didn’t mention it at breakfast.”

Carly giggled. “Well, he either had something else on his mind or he’s a very modest guy.”

I glanced across at a group of teenagers all sporting red-and-white scarves printed with “Ramrod 400 Caps”. “Mmm, I guess he’s just modest.” Nothing to do with the fact that we ate breakfast in bed and he was most concerned about some sticky maple syrup that landed on my chest and
had
to be licked off.

“So how are things going for Saturday?” Carly asked, jolting me from my sexy memory.

“Great, we’re all set.”

She tipped her head and studied me. “You’ve given me a dilemma now though, Dana.”

“What? Have you thought of something else? Have we left something out that you asked for?”

She smiled. “No, not at all, it’s a nice dilemma. As I already told you I’ve known Rick a while now, and this is the first time I’ve actually seen him
with
someone.” She paused. “And I want him to be able to come to the party with you as his date if he wants to. And, of course I want
you
there too.” She pulled a woolen hat onto her head and frowned. “Is there anyone else who can take over the practicalities on the night so you and Rick can enjoy the party together?”

“As it happens, yes. Lately my assistant Maddie has been taking on extra responsibilities, and I was thinking of letting her attend events on behalf of Best Laid Plans. Saturday would be a perfect opportunity for her to run the show. I would still be there if she ran into difficulties—”

“But unless she did, you would be our guest.” Carly rubbed her hands and her face lit up. “Great, that’s set then.”

I grinned. “Are you sure?”

“Well, only if you’re sure you want to come to the party?”

“Of course, I wouldn’t miss it for the world. It’s going to be great.”

Carly linked her arm with mine and gave it a squeeze. “It’s all set then and you’re going to love the other wives and girlfriends. Brooke is just great, though about to give birth so no champagne for her. Mae, of course you already know and Raven’s girlfriend, Tyler, is a scream.” She leaned close and lowered her voice. “And often Fergal, the Vipers’ owner, brings Giselle. He’s married, but not to her.”

I widened my eyes at this bit of gossip.

“They are apparently
just friends
, but she’s the tall, supermodel type with sharp eyes and an even sharper wit and he never takes his eyes off her when she’s around. She’s nice, Brooke knows her really well. The guys just all go along with it and nobody would dare ask the boss outright what the situation is, though of course it’s obvious to anyone with two brain cells that they’re sleeping together.”

“And his wife has no idea?”

Carly shrugged. “If she does she turns a blind eye. I guess being married to a multimillionaire can make some women very forgiving.”

I nodded and thought of sharing Rick with another woman. A shiver snaked up my spine. Just the thought of someone else touching his body, kissing his mouth made me feel nauseous. I’d never tagged myself for the possessive type, but I guess I’d never fallen so headlong in love with someone the way I had with Rick.

As Carly and I chatted, the noise in the stadium gradually grew to a loud hum. Glancing around, I noticed that all the seats were taken. The smell of hot dogs and nachos was getting stronger and the Vipers’ alligator mascot was circling the ice, his head wobbling as he bobbed to the music and threw sweets into the crowd.

Suddenly the lights went out and the whole arena plunged into darkness except for two huge Vipers logos illuminating each half of the ice.

“Here they are,” Carly said, clapping wildly as the Vipers shot like bullets from the tunnel onto the ice.

Rick was out first with “Lewis” printed across his back in thick black letters. My heart did a flip. Even though it was less than an hour since I’d seen him I missed him.

He did a lap of honor, punching the air with his stick and looking completely impenetrable. The crowd went wild, chanting his name and holding up their scarves as if they were flags. I glanced at the giant screen above the scoreboard and saw his dark eyes sparkling through the cage of his helmet.

The hairs on the back of my neck prickled with pride. That big man in the even bigger outfit down there was
my
boyfriend. He had to share himself between fans and his team but at the end of the day he was mine. We would go home together.

I pulled in a shaky, excited breath of cold air. He was clearly adored by Vipers followers, they were frenzied when he passed near them. The group of guys behind me were shouting about his four hundredth captaincy. The words “legend”, “awesome” and “out of this world” seemed to dominate their conversation.

“You think they’ll win?” I yelled across to Carly.

“Yes, but not easily. The New York Islanders are their greatest nemesis, it’s always a tough match.” She grinned. “But if they do win the celebrations are wilder than ever.” She smiled wider and a naughty glint caught in her eye.

I laughed and clapped along with the crowd. Carly pointed out Brick, Wolf, Phoenix, Raven and the newcomer Todd Carty, a formidable team of huge bodies, padded and protected, gliding gracefully over the ice. The lights went up and the opposition pelted out of the tunnel, dressed in blue and orange. The crowd hissed so loudly I thought my eardrums would never recover and I almost felt sorry for their outnumbered fans whose claps and cheers went unheard.

Rick slid into the center circle, whacked down his stick and the first period began. “Kick ass, Ramrod,” shouted one of the men behind me.

Skates whizzed over the ice. The puck shot backward and forward. I kept my gaze on Rick and he was quick to take the puck from the opposition. Next thing he was speeding down the wing nearest our seats. I saw his fierce, determined gaze home in on the net.

Out of nowhere, a huge player with his beard protruding from his helmet cage appeared and body-checked Rick into the boards. Curses peppered the air behind me. The Plexiglas shook and rattled so violently I felt sure it would break and Rick would end up in the crowd. But Rick didn’t even fall down, he simply elbowed his way back out to center ice, the puck still under his stick.

“Go, Rick,” I shouted, waving my hands.

“Go, Ramrod,” yelled one of the teenagers in front of me. “Don’t let him get the better of you. Show ’em what you’re made of.”

Another Islander player went for Rick. Again the collision was car-wreck brutal but still not enough to topple him over. Swiftly he passed the puck to Raven who sent it on to Phoenix. The crowd went crazy. Phoenix shot around two defenders as if they were amateur skaters and in a move so quick, so precise it was like a bolt of lightning, he sent the puck to the back of the net.

I jumped up cheering, and so did several thousand others. The giant screen zoomed in on Phoenix’s delighted face as all the team bumped gloves or patted him on the helmet. The Islanders spat on the ice, shook their heads and moped back to position.

By the end of the first period, the Vipers were one goal up and I knew I’d never watched such a fast, exciting game of hockey as this one. In the second period, Brick paid a visit to the penalty box and Raven missed a penalty shot. Carly and I ate nachos and swigged a beer, kindly fetched by yet another security man.

The Islanders scored within ten seconds of the third period. I watched Rick doling out instructions to his defenders, pointing at the ice with his stick then shooting back up to center ice and skidding to a halt amidst a spray of ice chips. I crossed my fingers and toes that the Vipers would win. I was keen to experience the celebratory sex that would accompany success.

Carly nudged me and pointed at Rick. He was tussling with an Islander, his stick fighting for the puck. The other guy started to get away and with a gasp I watched Rick hook his stick into the Islander’s skates. The Islander instantly went flying and landed sprawled on the ice, all four limbs akimbo and his stick skittering away from him.

The referee charged up to Rick pointing and shouting. Rick dragged off his helmet and shrugged. He placed a gloved hand on his chest and feigned such an expression of innocence that I wondered if perhaps he would get away with it.

“Fair hit, ref,” shouted the gang behind me. “Not Ramrod’s fault if number nine can’t skate.”