Scoring Lacey (18 page)

He caressed the back of her knees, loving the softness of her skin. “You can’t fix that with barbecue and wishful thinking.” He stood up and kissed her mouth. “I want them gone,” he whispered as he rubbed his thumb up and down her cheek. “All of them gone because I’m running out of time with you. I’m selfish enough to want every minute with you to myself. Why are they here, Lacey?”

She wrapped her arms around his neck. “Because you won’t be,” she whispered.

Fuck. He lowered his face to the curve of her neck. “Get rid of them. God, Lace, just get rid of them.” He stroked the small of her back and he didn’t want to go inside where too many people breathed. He didn’t want to hear them laugh. What the hell was there to laugh about? He didn’t want to talk because he had no small talk in him.

A hand pushed on his chest and he sank down, exhausted suddenly.

She settled on his lap, her head resting on his shoulder. “There. Just us.”

He caressed her bare leg. She had the softest skin anywhere. He draped his arm over her bent knees, spread his hand over the swell of her ass then lowered his face to her neck. How the hell was he going to leave her?

How was he going to sleep without her beside him?

She stroked the back of his neck. Suddenly her arm hooked over his neck and he felt a dampness on his neck. “Shit, don’t,” he whispered as his hand slid up her back. “Don’t.”

The little hiccup slashed at his insides even as her bent legs pressed into his ribs. More dampness as she cried. Fuck. His hand fisted on the back of her shirt.

God, all the lies they had told themselves were falling apart at the seams. He was leaving her. He could stay another week. Training started two weeks from Monday to work off the summer rest. Then the pre-season began a month later. Then the season would begin.

Maybe they’d get one or two visits in. Maybe. But school started soon and she’d be busy at MHS and with her own girls. How long, he wondered with panic, would they last with him flying everywhere but here and her here? His time was dictated by games and that was just the regular season. There were the playoffs.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

A hand pressed against his cheek, turning him so her damp mouth found his. She tasted sad and salty.

All those can’ts were coming home to roost and becoming two inevitable truths: he was leaving, she was staying.

A tear slid over his nose as she kissed him, frantic and hurried as if this moment was about to vanish. A hand clutched his sleeve as her tongue met his, her tears blending into the kiss. He was greedy enough to take the kiss, claim it for himself.

“You need to know,” she whispered in the little cocoon they made.

“No,” he said interrupted her. “No, I don’t.” God, he didn’t need to know anything. “Please, Lacey, don’t.” This was already hell. He drew her mouth back because if they were kissing they weren’t talking. “Lacey.”

“Make it last,” she whispered. “Make it last.”

He wished he could. God damn it. He reached down and dragged up her skirt, shifting her so she straddled his lap. She cupped his face in her hands as they kissed a little more desperately.

“Now, here, take an inch, Shayne. Take an inch.”

Fuck. He leaned back and gazed up at her. With the backs of his fingers, he wiped away her tears. Whiskey eyes looked at him as she rested her hands between them, fingers plucking at his shirt. He cupped her face and drew her down. Her lips were damp from her tears and their mouths. He felt her hands unbutton his jeans and ease the zipper down. He wasn’t hard.

Hard to be ready when she was crying over him. Her lips sealed over his, her tongue flicking in as her hand began to caress him. Her touch was hot as she stroked from base to tip. His cock twitched to life because a Lacey touch had conditioned it to know soon it would be fucking her.

She leaned against him as she teased the swelling head with fingers. “An inch,” she whispered and his eyes opened.

So it was.

“Look at me,” he ordered as he caressed down her arm. Lashes lifted as his fingers folded over hers. “Are you wet?”

Her tongue licked her lip and she shook her head. Yeah, he figured. He reached down and tugged aside the swatch of her bikini panties. “Make yourself wet, baby.”

She blinked then exhaled slowly. “Shayne.”

“You made me hard, now make yourself wet.” He traced the line of her spine through her top. “Another inch,” he whispered as he guided her hand between her legs.

He forgot that on the other side of the glass door was her family and friends. That steaks were cooking a few feet from him. He watched as her fingers brushed over the dark curls and approached her clit. “It’s not a bomb, baby.”

She snorted then smiled. She leaned in and kissed him, slowly and deeply. Her tongue meeting his in slow, sensual glides while he felt her fingers begin to explore all her sexy softness. He knew when she was getting wet by the way her breathing changed. He caressed her back, letting her continue what she started.

She navigated him so the head of his cock brushed her clit. She gasped, sighed then did it again until she was rubbing him, her flesh growing damper. Sweet God. His head fell back as she drew him down to the damp entrance. Her body gave a little jerk, a shudder and cream spilled over him. He clutched her ass as he looked down to watch her tease her pussy with his dick. “Oh fuck,” he moaned arching when her hips rolled forward taking him deep into that warm, damp channel.

She reached back, gripping his knee as she eased back then forward. He watched as he slipped into her, spreading her with his flesh. “Shayne.”

All those tiny feminine muscles squeezed him as she pushed forward over him. Her head fell back and his gaze shifted to her face, to the quiver of her breasts with her tight nipples, then back to where she kissed him intimately. One more slow thrust over him had her entire body jerking. His fingers dug into the flesh of her ass as she clenched around him then came with a hard shudder.

“Fuck,” he whispered. “Fuck.”

He grabbed her ass and pinned her against him as his own body shuddered in response. She cried out as she felt him spill into her. Fuck. His knuckle traced the damp curls then the flesh still holding him deep then he lowered her face to her breasts, his body shaking with pain.

“Shayne.” She bent over him, holding him. “It’s okay. It’s okay.”

“Lacey. Fuck. Just...fuck.” In days he was going to be in his condo. There would be no Lacey. No more inches. He would be alone.

He wanted her to come with him. It was a stupid, juvenile thought, but if she loved him, she’d come with him.

Just once, he lowered his face to hide his thoughts, he wanted someone to love him enough.

Five AM was a horrible time when a body slid away. Lacey refused to open her eyes to watch him leave. A knuckle ran down her spine. He pressed a kiss to her head but she would not watch him leave. There was the slid of denim, the zip of a fly. The muttered word “fuck” then him walking out of her room.

Out of her life.

She opened her eyes when she heard him heft up his hockey bag then open the door. She rolled out of bed and on her tip toes she ran into the living room. Todd’s truck rumbled at the curve and she watched Shayne toss the two bags into the back box. She knew he swore again as he climbed in.

Resting her head on the glass, she flattened her hand as the truck rumbled away.

God.

Her knees buckled and she sank to the floor, watching until a neighbor’s car blocked the taillights. Gone.

She wasn’t ready for the ache in her chest as she bent over her knees, flattening her hand on the floor. It hadn’t hurt this much when she had realized Kevin was having affairs. It hadn’t hurt this much when she made him leave. Had she even cried?

“Mom.”

She felt Carmen’s hand on her back as she knelt beside her. There was all this pain inside her. He was gone. She choked on the sob because she could imagine the truck would be approaching the lights now. They’d turn north. Then a left turn to the bridge. Over the tracks. In more minutes they’d pass the Box then MHS. Five minutes after that they’d take the cloverleaf turn and hit the highway where they’d go south. Two hours.

“Mom, please.” Carmen’s hand flattened on hers where she was mapping out the route her brother would take as Shayne left. “Please,” her daughter whispered. “I don’t know what to do. Mommy, I don’t know what to do!”

Lacey grabbed that shaking hand because neither did she. She could only sob at the pain inside her, uncaring that she was frightening her daughter. Because he was gone.

Shayne was gone.

He had come into her life, swept her off her feet, reminded her heart it felt, reminded her body it was alive and then he left. No words, no promises because there were none.

And he didn’t know she loved him because he didn’t want to know.

“If he sucked any harder, he’d be giving Payne a blow job.”

Lacey looked away from the television she was pretending to ignore to study Todd. She paused as she looked closely at him. He looked tired around his eyes. When had she become so self-involved she hadn’t noticed? She rose up, her feet braced on the lower rung of her stool and reached over the bar. He caught her hand then lowered it to the smooth wood surface. “Todd,” she whispered, “what’s wrong?”

He shook his head as he grabbed a pretzel from the bar, tucking into the corner of his mouth. “His pre-season sucked,” he said, folding his arms over his chest. He watched her as half the bar cheered and the other half booed. Someone fired a plastic dart at the television screen.

Lacey fought the urge to look. She lost.

Looking up for the replay of the puck sliding right through his legs, his glove barely making it as he tried to get the puck. God, Shayne. She could almost see him mouthing a curse under his face-mask as he smacked the ice with the glove.

“His game’s for shit,” Todd said as he braced a foot on the cabinet, watching the goal be played again in slow motion. His bright blue eyes shifted to Lacey. “Fix it.”

She once more looked at the television. “This is my fault?” The Steam were down by three now and the second period was almost over. The first game of the regular season was not going well.

Todd knocked on the bar and she looked away as Payne faced off against a Steam player. “You have his heart. He needs it to play.” Todd dropped his foot and braced his hands on the bar as he leaned forward. “Give it back.”

She scrubbed her finger over a gauge in the wood, focusing on it was easier then meeting her brother’s gaze. “Todd–”

“You’re miserable, Lacey. You’re fucking breaking my heart. Carm says you cry at night.” He rapped his knuckles on the wood to catch her attention again. “
Every
night. He’s so goddamn miserable he may as well be catching bowling balls.” He waved at the television. “I worried so goddamn much about you hurting that I forgot about him.”

She swallowed as her gaze flicked to the TV. The commentators were talking about how it was looking to be a bad season for Shayne Donnelly.

“Look at him, Lace. Look beyond the mask, beyond the padding. Fucking look
at him
. I love you. I goddamn love you but you’re fucking destroying him.”

She lowered her head to the bar, resting it on her arm.

“So fix this.” He leaned down and kissed her head. “Do you love him?”

“Yes,” she whispered as she stared at the television.

“Then, big sister of mine, what the fuck are you doing in my bar?” Todd left her as the buzzer drifted from the sound system. On TV, the camera tracked Shayne as he glided off the ice. God, she missed him.

It was this constant ache inside of her. She missed that smell of him where it was the faint cologne still clinging to his skin beneath the sweat of his run. She missed seeing him sitting beside Carmen in the backyard, his body so large and protective beside her daughter. She missed the feel of him against her as he whispered lewd images into her ear. She missed how she didn’t feel so alone with him nearby.

Every day.
Every day
.

A few weeks ago she had dragged her sorry, self-pitying ass to the store where she had bought a pregnancy test. She hadn’t felt pregnant or anything, but two condomless times weren’t good. So after praying to the hockey gods that she didn’t fuck up his life, she had peed on the stick to find she wasn’t pregnant. She had cried. Part relief, part sadness that there was no little bit of Shayne left in her.

She didn’t want to watch the Steam lose. Sliding off her stool, Lacey walked out of the Penalty box and headed for her car. She leaned forward and rested her head on the steering wheel.

For some reason she was surprised that two angry fists didn’t slam down on the hood, revealing a very drunk hockey player who swore he was
not
leaving her. “But you did.” She slid the key into the ignition then drove home.

The light was on in the living room and she stared at the old Toyota parked in front of the house. Now what was Kayla doing here when she had school? More importantly, what was so horribly wrong her daughter hadn’t called her to say she was arriving?

As she walked in, she heard the hockey game back on. She set her keys beside Kayla’s and kicked off her sneakers. Her daughters sat identically on the couch. Sideways, facing each other with their legs bent though their attention was on the game. “Another shot went in,” Carmen said quietly.

Damn it, Shayne
. Lacey sat down between the two sets of bare feet. “What’s wrong?” She looked at Kayla and blinked. She didn’t look like a kid anymore. Sometime this past year, her daughter had started to grow into a young woman. Her face didn’t look so youthful, so like the child girl she remembered. Her bangs were longer and hung over one grey blue eye. At Christmas she’d be twenty. Her baby wasn’t a baby anymore.

A gasp from Carmen had her looking at the television. Oh God. Payne had the puck and was an arrow down the ice. Stop it, she pleaded. If it went in...oh God. The puck went left, right, left then was slammed by Payne. It was a blur as it flew at Shayne. His left hand shot up, the glove snapped closed and the net rippled from where the puck hit.