On the Surface (In the Zone) (13 page)

Chapter Nineteen

Tim had a great time with the Orcas. He understood their initial disappointment. These kids didn’t know him like they knew Calder Griffin. But Tim was good with kids and it didn’t take long before they were eating out of his hands. Being a guest coach was one of his favorite things to do. He liked working with boys who dreamed of playing for the NHL.

When Tim had been on the Bantam level Silver Wolves, Wyatt Dubinski, a real live Blackhawk, had run a team practice. The Silver Wolves had been beside themselves. Every single one of them had practiced harder than they ever had before, all wanting to impress the pro. Afterward, Tim had been stunned when Dubinski took him aside.

“Tim, you have a great wrist shot and you’re smart on the ice. You know where you’re supposed to be and you get there and stay there.”

“Thanks, Mr. Dubinski.” Tim had felt fifty feet tall at that moment.

“Call me Dooby.” Dubinski rested his hand on his hip. The other gripped his stick. “You want to play pro, Tim?”

“Yeah.” It had come out squeaky. Not surprising considering Tim had been going through puberty at the time.

“You’re sure? You don’t sound too sure.”

“Yeah,” he said with more conviction. “I want to play in the NHL. I want that more than anything.”

Dubinski had smiled. “Good man. You work hard then and I think you could make it. I gotta warn you. It won’t be easy. You’ll have to eat, breathe and sleep hockey.”

“I can do that.”

“But the most important thing, the key to being successful...”

Tim remembered holding his breath, waiting for the magic words, the key to everything. Wyatt Dubinski was on his way to being a Hall of Famer and here he was imparting his wisdom upon Tim.

“...is to have fun. Always love what you do. If you stop having fun out there, you should quit and do something else.”

“Okay, Dooby,” Tim had said, standing straighter.

So far, that advice had served Tim well. Every time Tim met a kid who stood out from the crowd and seemed to have that fire inside him, Tim would tell him the same thing.
Work hard.
Commit to hockey.
Have fun.
Stephen Shaw seemed to be that kid tonight, so even though he knew Erin was waiting, Tim took Stephen aside and gave him that speech along with a good dose of encouragement. To Erin, those five minutes wouldn’t matter, but to Stephen, they might be huge.

* * *

“Sorry it took so long,” Tim said as they sat at a red light. It was already quarter to nine, but CityView was only about five miles from the BIC.

“It’s all right. I had fun watching you. You’re really great with kids. I noticed that at the hospital too.”

Ignoring the pinch of sadness, he lifted his foot off the brake and accelerated through the intersection. “Thanks.”

He should probably tell her about Mollie, but he didn’t want to, not now. Tonight was the big night, the one they’d been waiting for and anticipating so keenly, and he refused to put a damper on it by unpacking his emotional baggage.

“And the skating didn’t suck as badly as I thought it—” Suddenly she sat up straight. “Hey, wait a second. You just passed the Marriott...”

“I sure did.”

He felt her eyes on him and imagined her mental gears turning. “So you’re not a guest there anymore,” she said.

“Nope.”

“So we’re going...where?”

“It’s a surprise.”

A few minutes later when he flipped his turn signal to make a left into the CityView underground garage, she gasped. “Did you...did you buy a place here?”

As the attendant noted the parking sticker in the corner of the windshield and raised the gate, Tim’s smile grew broader. “I’m renting.”

He parked in his designated space and they got out. He walked with purpose toward the elevator. Normally, he would have slowed his steps to accommodate her shorter stride, but not tonight. Erin had to hustle to keep up.

“So you up and moved while I was in San Francisco? That was fast.”

He punched the button then looked at her. “I didn’t want our first time together to be in a hotel room.”

She said nothing. Her lips parted. They looked moist and very soft.

Ding.

The elevator doors opened to an empty car. Perfect.

He backed her up against the wall, his hands on either side of her head. She looked up at him as he zeroed in on her mouth. But before he could kiss her, a voice called, “Hold the elevator!” Rapid footsteps echoed through the garage.

With a huge sigh, he straightened and faced front again. She snickered.

“Nineteen, please,” a man said, slightly out of breath.

Tim leaned over and stabbed the buttons for nineteen and twenty-five. He stared daggers at the guy’s back until he got off. By the time the elevator opened to the twenty-fifth floor, Tim had calmed down. The caveman urgency had faded, thank God. He didn’t want her to think he was a total barbarian, especially since this was their first time.

As he opened the door to his apartment and let her in, he took several long, deep breaths.

“Well, this is it,” he said like a lame ass.

She went straight for the circular aquarium.

“This is gorgeous, Tim. Are these barracudas?” She peered at the silvery fish, touching the glass with her index finger.

“Yes. Vic and Claire gave that tank to me as a housewarming gift. And Claire helped me decorate and furnish the place.”

“They’re very generous. When I moved into my place, they gave me a refrigerator and a flat-screen TV.”

He walked to the kitchen and she followed.

“Did you want something to drink? Dessert? I have frozen yogurt.”

“Frozen yogurt? Is this that part of the foreplay you were talking about earlier?”

A laugh burst out of him. “Yeah. We hockey players think anything frozen is sexy as hell. Gets us all excited.”

“I always knew hockey players were weird. This is a very nice kitchen.”

He shrugged. “It’s just like Claire’s.”

“Still very nice. I like the dining set.”

He did too. Solid wood, vertical slats in both the chairs and the table, it looked classic and modern at the same time.

They wandered into the living room, apparently on an impromptu tour. He didn’t mind, actually. As long as the master bedroom was the last stop.

She nodded at the gigantic wall-mounted television in the room off the kitchen and clucked her tongue.

“There you go, overcompensating again.”

He chuckled, remembering how she’d blurted out that observation when she’d seen his Escalade.

“I’m a man,” he said, “and that means never having to apologize for the size of my TV.”

“Same with us women and the number of shoes we own.”

A few more steps brought them to his office. With a soft gasp, she lingered, looking carefully at everything he’d displayed, as if she were in a museum. In a way, she was. This room covered his entire career.

“You look so serious here. So fierce,” she said, pointing to a
Hockey News
magazine cover.

He nodded. “It was a make-it-or-break-it game. If we won, we advanced to the Stanley Cup Finals. If we lost, we were out. I’d just scored a goal after we’d been down 4-0 for the entire first period. About three minutes later, I scored again. That got our momentum going. We ended up winning in double overtime. It was a great night.”

She went back into the hall and poked her head into the laundry room. “How big
is
this place?” It’s bigger than Claire’s, I know that.”

“Thirty-two hundred square feet.”

“Holy moly. That’s a lot of space for one person.”

Tim agreed, but figured sooner or later there might be two people living here. He’d had a good feeling about Erin from the moment he’d met her in the Q Burger parking lot. He admired her dedication to her job, her humor, her willingness to go to bat on behalf of some nonexistent Little Brothers. And if all went according to plan, he’d soon be admiring her naked body, maybe even worshipping it.

“So, this is the home gym.”

As she went in, he wondered if she worked out. She seemed fit. He could easily imagine the two of them exercising side by side. Her face would be pink with exertion, her hair up in a cute ponytail. She’d be out of breath and sweaty. So would he. They’d look at each other and suddenly be overcome with lust and he’d take her right there on the weight bench. Or maybe she’d straddle him. Either way. Or both.

That reminded him that the bedroom was the next and final stop on the apartment tour.

“I should exercise more,” she said.

He took her hand. “I know a really great workout,” he said, pulling her toward the hallway. “But it takes two people. And you have to be naked.”

“I know that workout. I also know some versions where you don’t have to be naked.”

He grinned as they approached his bedroom. “Which version do you feel like doing tonight?”

“Just a second there.” She turned to face him, planting her hands on the doorjamb. “You’re pretty sure of yourself,” she said. “What makes you so sure I’m in the mood to...work out?”

“Erin, I know it. I feel it.” He flipped the wall switch and the bedside lamps cast a dim light. “There’s an excitement in the air like there is in the arena before a big game. Something electric.” He reached for the top button of her blouse and popped it free. He had big hands and the buttons were small, but he was motivated. He patiently worked open the second, third and fourth buttons until her blouse fell open.

“I wouldn’t know,” she said, not protesting when he pushed it off her shoulders. She let it fall to the floor.

“That’s right.” He paused briefly to catch her gaze. “You’ve never been to a hockey game before.”

He led her all the way into the room. “First thing tomorrow I’m getting you two tickets for a preseason game.”

“I’d love that,” she said as he took his own shirt off.

“Good.”

He took a moment to appreciate the fact that she was in his bedroom. He’d wanted her here for what seemed like years. While she’d been in San Francisco, he had fantasized about her and how she would look in his bed, in his shower, bent over the kitchen table. It was hard to believe she was finally here and that in a few minutes, she’d be naked, in his arms, opening her body to him.

She stood at the foot of his bed in her bra, tight jeans and heels, so beautiful. Her bra was light blue satin and lace, and the tops of her breasts swelled above the cups. Her stomach was so smooth with the kind of soft curve that was all woman. Fuck. He wanted to touch and kiss and lick every single inch of her.

“So, are we doing the fully naked thing or the partially naked thing?” He took off his shoes and socks. She thumbed the strap down off her heel and kicked one shoe off, then the other. “I’m sort of leaning toward all the way naked.”

“I’m good with all the way.” With a deep breath, she reached behind her and unhooked her bra but kept her arms up. “I’m small though,” she said, almost too softly for him to hear.

“You’re perfect,” he said.

“You haven’t even seen them yet,” she protested.

He stepped closer. “I don’t have to.”

They faced each other, anticipation heavy in the air. He took her face in his hands. He didn’t want her tense or worried, especially about a nonissue like the size of her chest. He wanted her warm and pliable and ready for love.

Drawing out the moment as long as he could, he lowered his head and touched his lips to hers. She sighed. He kissed her again. He nibbled on her lips, slid his hands around to the back of her head. She moaned softly, giving back as good as she got. She let her hands roam over his back. They left a trail of heat and lust in their wake. It felt so good to feel her actually touching him. He fought the shivers that threatened when she scraped her fingernails across his skin.

After a long while, he finally drew back. Without taking his eyes from hers, he caught the loosened straps of her bra with his fingers and slid them down her arms. Not until he heard it hit the floor did he break eye contact and gaze at her naked breasts.

He stared, slack-jawed for a good minute. He needed that long to take in all the details—the gentle curves, the perfect symmetry, the small nipples hardening into tight buds.

“You’re beautiful,” he murmured, still half-brain-dead. His jeans felt incredibly uncomfortable, like he had a straitjacket around his crotch.

“You are too,” she said, blushing. “Those workouts with your friends pay off great dividends,” she said, tracing her fingers over his pecs and abs. His nipples hardened. She brushed them with her thumbs and he gritted his teeth. “Take your pants off,” she said.

He stripped quickly. “You too. Everything off.”

She tried to be discrete about it, but she was watching him. Her eyes widened slightly when he took his underwear off and her smile told him she liked what she saw.

Soon after, they were naked on the bed.

Fuck. She was beautiful. He took his time gazing at her again. She was so much more amazing in person than in his fantasies, and he had a pretty damn good imagination.

He insinuated a knee between her legs and leaned over her, his target: her bare breast. He put a hand on it and squeezed gently. Holy fuck. His dick throbbed almost painfully.

“Gorgeous,” he said.

He bent his head and flicked his tongue against her nipple. She gasped. Back and forth, circling, squeezing. He loved breast play and luckily so did she. She arched upward and clutched at his head as he took her into his mouth and sucked. Excited by her breathless moans, he enjoyed himself there for a long time, until both nipples were swollen and wet and she pulled him back up where their mouths met again.

God, he wanted to devour her whole. His dick and balls ached. When she wrapped a leg around his hips, he gave in and pressed himself against her hot crease. She was so hot and wet that he couldn’t help it. He rubbed up and down, reveling in the slippery heat on the underside of his cock. She moved her hips to increase the friction and it was all he could do not to pull back and ram himself inside her.

Suddenly she grabbed his head and gasped, “I can’t take it anymore. Get a condom.”