Come Undone: A Hockey Romance Read online

  “Ready for the pasta?” Mackenzie asked.

  “Is it ready?”

  “It’s crawling down the wall like a caterpillar . . . so, yeah.”

  I couldn’t help but grin. “Let’s do it.”

  Mackenzie drained the pasta in the sink while I stirred the thick pasta sauce. Three minutes later, I was tipping my mom’s renowned pasta sauce over the top of some pretty al dente spaghetti.

  “Want to pour us the wine?” I asked her.

  We sat at the small table, two big plates of pasta and spaghetti sauce, and two glasses of red wine. It could be a romantic date but it wasn’t. There was nothing romantic about it.

  Because she was my agent. And I wasn’t interested.

  I watched as she devoured her meal.

  “This is ah-maaaazing!” she said, scooping up her pasta and all that sauce using both a spoon and fork to pile it into her mouth. With her mouth full she tried to talk. “Ohmagord . . . thispastaisamordan . . .”

  “You like?” I asked, desperately trying not to look at her mouth and those dimples deep in her cheeks.

  She swallowed her mouthful. “Must be the pumpkin mash.” Red pasta sauce was smeared on her lips and I had an urge to reach over and wipe it off with my thumb.

  But I didn’t.

  Because I wasn’t a weirdo.

  “Oh, my God,” she moaned as if the food in her mouth was giving her an orgasm. “I’m serious, Jake. This sauce is turning me on.”

  That erection I had earlier? Yep. It was making a come back.

  Hard.

  I took a sip of my wine and fought with the images in my mind. The moaning. The pasta sauce on her lip. The way she kept tucking her hair behind her ear. Jesus Christ, I was horny as hell.

  I took a desperate sip of my wine. It was going to be a long night.

  I needed a distraction.

  And I needed one now!

  * * *

  Chapter Ten

  Mackenzie

  If I was smart, I would go to bed, sleep off my intoxication and stop myself from doing anything stupid.

  But, of course, I didn’t.

  Instead, I suggested we play more games, because clearly that was what a professional sports agent would do in this situation. But the copious amounts of bourbon and wine marinating in my veins convinced me it was a good idea. No. It convinced me it was a totally awesome idea.

  Jake clicked his fingers as something suddenly occurred to him.

  “I’ve got an idea.” He rose from his chair and crossed the room to the TV area.

  “What?” I asked, surprised by his uncharacteristic enthusiasm.

  Crouching down he rummaged through the TV cabinet. When he found what he was looking for, he pulled it out and began hooking it up to the television. He removed a DVD from a case, then threw the cover across to me.

  “StarMaker?” I looked up at him. “You want to sing karaoke?”

  He grinned. “Nope.” He stood up and handed me a microphone. “I want you to sing karaoke.”

  I started to laugh like he was crazy and had a snowball’s chance in hell before I would sing a thing.

  “You want me to get on the ice again, fine. But you have to do this first,” he said with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

  “You mean you’ll play hockey again . . . if I sing karaoke?”

  “Maybe. That depends on how well you sing.”

  “You do realize that is blackmail, don’t you?”

  “I like to think of it as negotiating the terms of our deal.”

  I rolled my eyes and grabbed the microphone from him. “Whatever. Do your worst. But I have to warn you, I am pretty damn good at this.” Then summoning my inner Beyoncé, I added in a sing-song voice, “I don’t think you’re ready for this jelly.”

  Jake turned away to fiddle with the TV remote. “I’m going to pretend you didn’t just do that.”

  He scrolled through the commands on the TV screen and then hit random. StarMaker selected Olivia Newton-John’s “Magic.”

  Of course it did.

  It had to be a seductive love song.

  Where were the Metallica songs? Hell, where was Slayer?

  Okay, not that I knew any Slayer.

  But anything other than some sexy, come-on song would have been better. This was not the time for sexy or come-on.

  As soon as those heady, seductive first notes of the song filled the little cabin, I knew I was in trouble.

  At first, I hesitated. I was awkward and a little bit flat. But then the bourbon and the wine took over and I started to sing the fuck out of the song like the karaoke queen I was!

  But after a minute or so, Jake shook his head and paused the karaoke.

  “What do you call that?” he asked incredulously. “You look like you’re on your way to a funeral.”

  “What? I was pitch perfect!” I protested.

  He folded his arms across his broad chest and grinned. “Sure, you sound pretty perfect. But what’s this—” He walked around me and put his hands on either side of my hips, which immediately shot little tingles of happiness throughout my body. I shivered, suddenly wanting them to roam all over me. But Jake didn’t notice. He gently shook me to loosen me up. “You’re as stiff as a frozen shadow. I thought you said you were good at this.”

  “I’ll have you know, I am a karaoke queen, thank you very much.”

  “So you keep saying, but I dunno—” His bright eyes glittered over me. “I’m not feeling it.”

  “Okay, hotshot, you show me how it’s done. Pitch-slap me.”

  His eyes glinted up at me as an irresistible smile tugged at his lips.

  “Fine.”

  “Fine.”

  Clearly, Jake and I were the same when it came to challenges. Neither one of us could turn one down.

  He hit PLAY and once again, Olivia Newton-John’s seductive lyrics filled the room. Immediately, Jake proceeded to completely over perform a sexy dance that involved rocking his hips from side to side and running his hands up and down his body seductively. Apparently he didn’t take himself too seriously when it came to his karaoke and I couldn’t stop the laughter. He scooted over to me in time with the music and facing me, placed his hands back on my hips. It was like third-grade dancing all over again. Jake’s seductive hips swung from side to side, while his hands slipped up to my waist.

  “Come on, baby, summon your inner Hello Kitty stripper girl for me.”

  “You did not just say that to me,” I giggled. “Anyway, you thought I was a hooker, not a stripper.”

  His hands on my waist made me all hot and bothered.

  “Damn, Z, your waist is tiny.”

  And then he said shit like that and I couldn’t think straight.

  Did it just get hotter in here?

  “Come on, Z, show me what you got.”

  He wanted a performance? Fine. Challenge accepted.

  I started mirroring his moves and my eyes flashed up at him as I walked him backwards. When it came time for the vocals again, I shoved him down on the dining chair behind him and proceeded to over perform like a Glee class on crack. Slow and controlled I raised my leg like a skilled gymnast over his body so I could straddle him, then lowered my body onto his and slid my crotch along him like I was a lap dancer from Vegas.

  Holy hell, where did that move come from?

  But I was too caught up in my act to worry. I was singing the bitch out of the song and reclaiming my Karaoke Queen crown. Because obviously that was important.

  Jake was happy. He was smiling but it faltered a little as I gently rocked against him in time to the beat of the music.

  You would think I’d be grateful the power went out at just that moment. But while it killed the karaoke machine and ended my sexually charged performance, it also left me in a very intimate position on Jake’s lap.

  Silence filled the cabin except for the gentle lick of flames in the fireplace.

  I glanced around the dark room and when my gaze shifted to hi
s, our smiles faded. The moment had turned very intimate. Jake still had his hands on my hips while I was still straddled on his lap. The slow, pleasurable pressure that had begun to build back at the start of the last chorus, now pulsed and unfurled in the most intimate parts of me, making my stomach muscles tighten with need. There was enough sexual tension in the room to kick-start a porn film.

  I knew it.

  And Jake knew it.

  And apparently so did Jake’s body, gauging by the huge erection pressing into me.

  I shifted, ever so slightly, and a deep exhale escaped his beautiful mouth. My eyes dropped to his lips and I was suddenly desperate to kiss them. Just like I was desperate to feel more of what was pressing into me where my parted legs met his crotch. I swallowed hard and licked my lips to stop myself from leaning down and sealing my mouth over his.

  I knew I should move. Just climb off and move away from the hot hockey player’s erection but my body had other ideas. It wanted what was pressing into me from under those sexy pair of cargos. So much so that I momentarily lost my mind and let myself imagine what it would feel like, and a traitorous moan escaped my mouth.

  In a pathetic attempt to cover my sad display of rapacious want, I rushed to say the first thing that came to mind. But as soon as the words came out of my mouth I wished to God I could gather them back up and throw them back in again.

  “We should go to bed,” I blurted out.

  Oh, God no.

  I squeezed my eyes shut. I had just invited Jake to go to bed with me.

  While straddling his big erection.

  His. Big. Erection.

  I opened my eyes and Jake cocked an amused eyebrow at me.

  “I mean to sleep! Just . . . sleep.” I added quickly.

  Heat flared in my cheeks as I climbed off his lap. But his big cock was suddenly a huge white elephant in the room, and when I say huge, I mean huge—and damn, why wouldn’t my eyes stay away from his lap?

  “Sorry about that.” While his mouth said he was sorry, his grin said otherwise.

  I face-planted into my palms, only raising my gaze when Jake chuckled.

  “Come on, Z, what did you expect? A hot woman gyrating on his lap does something to a guy.”

  And that something was huge.

  “I’m not going to have sex with you!” I practically shrieked at him.

  Jake’s grin barely wavered. “I didn’t realize I was asking.”

  I nodded toward his lap. “That’s a pretty big invitation . . .”

  “Why, thank you.”

  Oh, hell.

  “I mean . . . it’s just that . . .” I gave up and sighed. “Can we just go to bed already?”

  Jake grinned as he stood up. “Damn, I like a woman who’s forward.”

  I rolled my eyes. “You are so annoying.”

  “Oh, I’m annoying? Says the woman who stalked me across two countries.”

  I furiously searched for something to say, just so I wouldn’t keep staring at his cock . . . I mean, his crotch. Seriously, it was like it had a microphone and was calling out to me.

  I glanced down at my jeans and shirt. They would be as uncomfortable as hell to sleep in yet dressing down to my bra and panties would be crazy.

  “Perhaps I could borrow something to sleep in?”

  Jake gave me an amused grin. “Of course.”

  He walked to a small dresser tucked away by the bed, and removed a folded shirt.

  “The bathroom is to your right,” he said, handing the clothes to me. “I keep a spare toothbrush in the medicine cabinet. Help yourself.”

  “Thank you.”

  The bathroom was small. The same checkered curtains that hung over the kitchen sink covered the small window above the claw-legged bath tub, completely blocking out the outside world. To the left was the toilet and the sink, and above the medicine cabinet a small light provided the only light in the room.

  I washed my face and scrubbed my teeth, using the spare toothbrush from the medicine cabinet, and then slipped on the shirt Jake had given me. It smelled clean, like soap, but also of something else. Something intoxicating. Something deeply masculine and warm, and terribly, terribly sexy. Him. My body began to tingle. Yes, him.

  I gave my reflection in the mirror a very stern look.

  “No. Just . . . no.” I raised a pointed finger at myself to emphasize my point. “You know exactly what I am talking about.”

  When I came out of the bathroom, Jake had changed into a clean pair of sweats that hung low on his slim hips. He was shirtless and when he turned around, his spectacular torso came into view. I stopped in my tracks. Holy hell!

  He grinned when he saw me in his flannel shirt.

  I shifted self-consciously from one foot to the other. “I guess I was thinking it would be something a little more . . . hockeyish.” I said, holding down the short hem.

  He rolled his eyes. “Because that’s what we hockey players do—save our hockey uniforms for sleepovers.”

  I exhaled deeply, wondering about the sleeping arrangements. There was only one bed.

  As if he could read my mind, Jake said, “Relax, Z. I’ll take the couch.”

  It was a good, decent offer in theory. But in practice, it was a frustrating fail. Jake was way too big for the squeaky two-seater sofa, and every time he tried to get comfortable the springs moaned and groaned beneath his weight.

  Lying rigid in his comfortable bed, I finally had enough and sat up. “Oh, for Christ’s sake, you can hop into bed with me.”

  But Jake decided to play the martyr. “I’m fine. I will fall asleep soon.”

  “When? Dawn?” I sighed. “Will you please just come and share this bed with me, Jake?”

  The two-seater sofa wheezed as he sat up. “Fine. But just so you know, I’m not having sex with you.”

  I watched him cross the room. “You’re hysterical.”

  “I mean it. I’m not that type of guy,” he said, standing next to the bed in all his six-pack glory.

  “Trust me, I’m not that type of girl.” I sank back into the pillow. “You’re completely safe with me.”

  The mattress sank beside me as Jake climbed in and moved about until he was comfortable.

  Awkwardness hung between us as we both lay there and stared up at the ceiling.

  “Want to cuddle?” Jake finally asked, totally breaking the awkwardness between us.

  I broke into laughter but threw a spare pillow at him as a warning. “Stay on your side. I warn you, I bite.”

  He shoved the pillow I’d thrown at him behind his head. “Now you’re just coming on to me.”

  I chuckled. “Pervert.”

  He looked over and grinned, and goddamn if I didn’t want to kiss him.

  I quickly turned away to study the ceiling.

  Yep. I was in trouble.

  * * *

  Chapter Eleven

  Jake

  “Want to trade war stories?” I asked, staring up at the ceiling.

  We were lying on my bed and my mind was at war with my hard-on. It wanted a distraction from the fact that a beautiful woman was horizontal in the bed next to me and the fact that I hadn’t had sex in close to a year. The lights were still out, thanks to the blizzard, and the fire had died down so there was only a hint of light left in the cabin. Something about the situation made me want to talk—maybe get to know the woman I appeared to be stuck with for the next day or two.

  She turned her head to look at me. “What makes you think I even have a war story?”

  I turned my head to look back at her and for a moment I was distracted by how beautiful she looked in this light. “Something tells me you have one.” And when she looked away to stare at the ceiling, I knew I was right.

  “What about you? What’s your war story?” she asked in an obvious attempt to change the subject.

  “The whole world knows my story,” I said, folding my hands across my chest. “I want to know yours.”

  There was silence—except f
or the gentle lick of flames in the fireplace stretching out between us. Finally, Mackenzie sighed.

  “What happened?” I asked.

  “His name was Derek Jones.”

  “Your war story involves a guy?”

  She turned her head to give me a pointed look. “Do you want to hear my story or not?”

  I smiled at her and then turned back to the ceiling. ‘Sorry.”

  She sighed again and I was beginning to realize how much I liked the sound.

  “I didn’t even know he existed,” she started and I was expecting a love-gone-wrong story about heartbreak and unrequited love. But then she kept talking and I started to feel an ugly tingle in my stomach, realizing her story was going to be so much worse than that.

  “Until my last year of college he was no-one to me. But apparently I had smiled at him once and it had set off something inside of him. Something crazy. Something delusional. So when I was busy cramming for exams, he was busy taking sneaky photographs of me and plastering them to his bedroom wall.” She closed her eyes and I had a terrible feeling about where this story was heading. “I don’t remember our first meeting, but he did. And that night he decided he was going to make me his.”

  “Z, you don’t have to do this,” I whispered, I didn’t want her to relive whatever nightmare I imagined she had suffered.

  She turned her face to look at me. “It’s okay. Now. It’s good to be able to talk about it without the nausea and fear that used to cripple me.”

  I felt an unexpected wave of protectiveness spread through me.

  She sighed softly. “Derek was unwell. And in his sick mind, he and I were in some kind of relationship. He became obsessed with the idea of the two of us together.” I felt her pause and lick her lips before continuing. “I didn’t realize I was being stalked but then I started to notice strange things happening. At first, it was just little things, you know. The odd hang-up in the middle of the night. A bottle of my favorite wine turning up on my doorstep. Things being moved around in my bedroom. Then things started to disappear. A pen. A pair of earrings. My watch. Knick-knacks. Underwear. . .”

  Disgust swirled in my belly and I felt my fingers curl at my sides until they were balled into fists. I couldn’t let myself imagine what he did with her underwear.