by Sarina Bowen
Leo almost followed him, because O’Doul made him curious. The dude was not easy to read. But he didn’t feel like a trip to the bar. His ribs ached, and he was too tired to drink. So he headed to the elevator instead, where he texted Georgia. Hi, honey, I’m home. It sure would be good to see her face.
As soon as he reached his room, he got out of the suit and into his favorite sweats. With the remote in hand, he climbed onto the bed and wrapped an extra blanket around his body. Only then did he tuck the ice pack they’d made him under his shirt.
Silas walked in a minute later. “Hey! How’s the ribs?”
“I’ll live. Not partying tonight? I’ll bet you won’t have to pay for any drinks.”
“I’m beat,” Silas admitted. “Long road trips really take it out of me. Imagine what would happen if I actually played.” He did a face-plant on the other bed.
Leo laughed, and then his phone buzzed with a text. He picked it up quickly, hoping to hear from Georgia. But it was his mom. Are you okay? I waited 90 minutes to ask. My new record.
He had to laugh. Nice work, and I’m fine. I’d feel better if I’d scored, though.
We love you no matter what. Even if you lose to the Rangers next week. But try not to.
I’ll see what I can do.
The game is on my birthday. Can you have a late lunch with us beforehand?
Sounds great, Leo replied, feeling guilty that he’d forgotten that his mom’s birthday was coming up.
There was a knock on the door, and Silas picked his head up. “You order room service?”
“No, but I like that idea.”
Silas slid off the bed and went to open the door. Leo heard him greet somebody, and when he reappeared, there was amusement on his face. “Leo, a visitor.”
Georgia appeared behind him, looking tentative. “Hi.”
“Hi.”
“I just . . .” She cleared her throat. “Are you okay?”
Aw. “’Course I am, baby. Come see me.”
Silas pulled off his suit coat and loosened his tie. “You know, I think I’ll have a drink downstairs after all. See you in a little while.” He tossed his jacket on a chair and made a quick exit.
“I hope he doesn’t tell the whole bar he’s giving us a few minutes alone. You and Coach don’t seem to be getting along as it is,” Georgia said, still hovering near the door.
“Who cares? Come here and kiss me.”
She approached him slowly, eyeing the ice packs under his shirt. “Are you really okay? Would you tell me if you weren’t?”
“Probably.” Leo chuckled. “Your dad got really weird about the whole thing. He wouldn’t let me skate. He kept sending the trainer over to prod me.”
“Maybe he was worried about you?”
“No way. I think he’d run me over with the Zamboni himself if given the chance. Tonight I felt like he wanted to make me look weak, or something.”
Georgia shook her head. “He doesn’t embarrass anyone. It’s not his style.”
Leo used to believe that was true. But he didn’t want to trash Coach to Georgia any longer, either. It wasn’t fair to make her choose sides. Instead he lifted his shirt. “See, it’s not that bad. Give me a day, I’ll be fine.”
She made a low, concerned noise in her throat. And when she placed gentle fingertips on his bruised skin, something in Leo’s chest tightened. It had been a long time since anyone he’d dated had worried about him. The Amys of his past had found the game-day bruises sexy. Like warrior’s marks. But Georgia’s touch was all worry, no glee.
“That wasn’t a fair hit,” she whispered.
“Coulda been worse,” Leo pointed out, tugging her closer. She grabbed the headboard to avoid falling on his injured chest. But Leo would risk a little pain for a kiss. I love you, he thought, pulling her in. Their lips met softly, and the tenderness made for a wholly different sort of ache in his chest. He kissed her again, knowing that his meddling brother had been right. Nobody had ever mattered to him the way Georgia did. Kissing her felt like coming home.
He grabbed the backs of her knees and swung her onto his lap. “Missed you today,” he whispered between kisses.
“Mmm,” she said, her sweet lips brushing his. Then she tipped her forehead against his and peered at him seriously. “I hate that asshole who hit you.”
“You’re very loyal,” he whispered. “Even though you avoided me at the rink earlier.”
Her expression turned guilty. “You were busy.”
“Uh-huh.” Leo kissed her on the nose. “You had on a different sexy publicist outfit today. And I couldn’t get close enough to you to admire it.”
Georgia rolled her eyes. “You can’t admire me with your hands, mister. That’s not allowed.”
“Sure it is.” He gave her ass a little squeeze, and then wondered how long it would take for Silas to have that drink . . .
She caught him by the chin. “Be good.”
“Baby, I am good. You said so yourself the other morning.”
Another eye roll. “Leo, we can’t be a couple right now. There are complications. It’s not that easy . . .”
He grabbed her in a hug and buried his nose in her hair. “It’s exactly this easy. You and me, alone together. There’s not one thing about it that’s complicated. You’re mine, Georgia Worthington. I don’t care what your fucking dad thinks. I spent six years trying to get over you, and it didn’t take. Our time is now.”
Georgia took a deep breath and seemed to relax against him. One soft hand stroked the whiskers on his chin. “The whole guns-a-blazing thing is sexy, hunk. But you need to remember that the trade deadline is in two weeks.”
He grunted. “You think your father would trade me for spending time with you?” Though “spending time” was a euphemism, and they both knew it.
“Maybe. I don’t know what he’s got against you, but this couldn’t possibly help.”
He nuzzled her neck with his lips. “So you’re saying we need to stay in the closet for two weeks? I can do that.”
“At least.” She sifted her fingers through the short hair at the nape of his neck. “Then there’s my job to worry about.”
“Why?” Leo moved his head back so that he could see her face. “Is there, like, a policy against it?”
“I’m not sure. I never had any cause to go digging through the employee guidelines for a fraternization rule.”
He grinned. Maybe it made him a Neanderthal, but he didn’t like the idea of Georgia dating anyone else in the organization. Surely she’d had boyfriends, but he didn’t want to meet any of them.
“A few weeks before you showed up, the head of PR quit. Nate and Hugh Major aren’t sure yet what they’re going to do with the position. I only have the chief job on an interim basis. And that press conference you bombed? It was my first one.”
He blinked. “Shit, really? I’m sorry.”
“What I’m saying is that I need to at least string together a short stint where I manage to look professional.”
Leo lifted her palm to his mouth and kissed it. “All right. I get it. If you need to be stealthy for a while, I’m not going to wreck things for you. But I need to see you. Often.” He kissed her wrist, and then her forearm. “And I need to show you how much I missed you.” He kissed the inside of her elbow. Then he leaned closer and kissed her shoulder. Her neck. The place beneath her ear that made her shiver.
Georgia whimpered against his shoulder. “You’re making me crazy.”
“Good.” He put his fingers to the buttons of the silky blouse she’d worn tonight.
“No.” She sat up a little straighter. “We can’t. Silas will come back.”
Leo held back a groan. He was pretty sure that Silas had made himself scarce for a while. But Leo wouldn’t push it. He didn’t want to make her uncomfortable. “Watch some TV with m
e, then.”
“Okay.”
“Can you get the clicker? It’s a pain in the ass to arrange the ice packs.”
“Sure, old man.” She crawled away from him, toward the edge of the bed, and in her skirt it was quite the image.
“Wait. Just stop right there,” he said before she managed to hop down. “This is a better view than TV.”
She rolled her eyes at him and then fetched the remote. She chose a late night comedian.
“Not the highlights?”
She shook her head. “I don’t want to watch your hit on replay.”
“But I’m right here!” He put an arm around her shoulders.
“I know you are.” A soft hand landed on his stomach. “Does it hurt here?”
“No, baby.”
She swept her hand a bit lower. “Here?” Her fingers teased the sensitive skin just north of his sweatpants.
He chuckled. “I’m not sure. Touch me some more so I can figure it out.”
Georgia slid her hand right underneath the waistband and wrapped her hand around his thickening cock.
“Ahh,” he said, surprised. “No pain there.”
“Good.” She released him, sadly. But then she got off the bed again and went over to the hotel room door. He heard a clunk, which he decided was the sound of Georgia repositioning that U-shaped barrier lock which frequently appeared on hotel room doors.
Yesssss. A nice little wave of lust rolled down Leo’s groin just hearing it. And when Georgia came back to the bed, he reached for her again.
“No,” she whispered, steering his hands away. “Just let me take care of you tonight.” Then she reached into his sweats and pulled out his dick. “Mmm,” she said, licking her lips. She leaned down and tongued the head of his cock.
Leo exhaled in a great gust. And when she opened her mouth and took him in, he pressed his back into the pillows behind him. “So fucking nice,” he rasped, gathering her silky hair in one hand. She released him, but then licked him from root to tip. “Whew,” he said, beginning to tingle everywhere. “Are you sure you don’t want me to . . .”
Georgia chose that moment to swallow him, and he couldn’t finish the sentence. She was working him over, and it was so, so good. When he finally caught his breath, he made another suggestion. “Flip around. There’s only a skirt and some stockings in my way.”
She shook her head, then tongued his tip. She raised her chin, and the view was straight out of his fantasies. His girl between his legs, looking up at him with lust in her eyes. “You’ve had a long night. Just let me soothe you. Tell me how you like it.”
As if she didn’t know. “I like it from you. That’s how I like it.”
“Mmm,” she said, dropping a hand to cup his balls. Then she bent over him again, taking him into her heavenly mouth. She gave a good, hard suck, and Leo sank into the pleasure of it. He was a lucky, lucky man, and not about to forget it.
TWENTY-THREE
SATURDAY, FEBRUARY 13TH
15 DAYS BEFORE THE NHL TRADE DEADLINE
BROOKLYN, NEW YORK
TOP TEAM HEADLINE:
“Bruisers to Face Boston, Washington, and Rangers in Home Game Spree”
—New York Post
Going home to Brooklyn the following day had been a relief. But Georgia was still swamped at work. So on Saturday morning she went in to the office for a few hours to finish what she hadn’t gotten done the previous day. But even that wasn’t enough. There were still two hundred unopened e-mails in her inbox by the time it grew dark outside. There were media requests to answer and player bios to update. And the head of Nate’s charitable foundation wanted to put the finishing touches on their next benefit dinner, slated for the following week.
She was still there at seven when the GM stuck his head in her office door. “Everything okay? When I see a publicist working on a Saturday night, I think, scandal.” He chuckled.
“Everything is fine, Hugh,” she said quickly. “Really.”
He frowned. “You must need some help, though. We’ve been busy with the trade deadline approaching, but we need to find someone else for publicity.”
“I’m good for now,” Georgia said quickly.
Hugh gave her a thoughtful nod. “You’re a really good sport is what you are. G’night.”
Georgia listened to his footsteps retreating, then called Becca’s Katt Phone. “Fire up the dumpling cannons,” she said when her roommate answered. “It’s been a long day, and I’m going to need some trash TV to relax.”
“Buddy, I already ordered for you. Jade dumplings and spring rolls from Thai Me Up.”
“Yes!”
“I won’t be home, though. I have a date.”
“Um, what?” Georgia wasn’t sure she’d heard correctly.
Becca laughed. “You don’t have to sound so shocked. I just figured you’d be spending all kinds of time with Leo now. And it made me realize I needed to get out more. So I let my sister fix me up with one of her coworkers. We’re all going to a comedy club in Chelsea.”
“Wow. Have a great time.”
“I plan to. Get your butt home, though, because—dumplings. And I’m leaving another little surprise for you on the sofa.”
“What is it?”
“Just come home.” Becca hung up on her.
Motivated by dumplings, Georgia shut her computer down and finally left the empty office building. She hurried across the cobblestones and into her apartment building, then jogged up the stairs. She unlocked the door and pushed it open. “Hi, honey, I’m home!”
“Awesome,” a voice answered. But it did not belong to Becca.
Georgia’s heart did a backflip with a double twist. She peered around the corner to find Leo relaxing on the sofa in tight jeans and a form-fitting thermal shirt, drinking a beer. “Well hello there,” she said, suddenly shy.
His smile was so warm that some of the strangeness of the moment evaporated. “I rang your buzzer about a half hour ago, and Becca told me to just come up.”
You can ring my buzzer anytime. Georgia’s eyes got a little stuck on the long, muscular legs propped onto her coffee table. “No plans tonight?” she asked.
“Oh, I have a few,” he said, his brown eyes flashing. “But you should eat your dinner before it gets cold. Becca left it in the kitchen.”
Georgia’s tummy fluttered as she scurried off to find the Thai food that Becca had left her. There was a note on the bag. I won’t be home until midnight.
Everyone had big ideas for her evening.
She made a plate for herself and carried it into the living room, taking the spot beside Leo.
“Nice apartment,” he said.
“It’s cozy. That’s Brooklyn for ‘small.’”
“The brick fireplace is neat, though. Santa can visit you.”
Georgia offered her plate to Leo, but he shook his head. “I went to Grimaldi’s with Silas. He said I needed initiation into the Brooklyn pizza cult.”
“Nice. You can lord it over DJ, too.”
Leo grinned. “My brother, the pizza snob. Can’t believe you two have kept in touch. That’s cool.”
“I love that kid,” Georgia admitted.
Georgia took a bite of her first dumpling, and it got quiet between them. There had been many times during the past six years when she’d imagined how nice it would be to have Leo sitting beside her on the sofa. Now that he was actually here, she didn’t know what to say. The silence felt heavy, and it gave her a twinge of nerves. Maybe there was only so much separation a relationship could bear before it collapsed under its own weight.
“This is a spectacularly ugly couch,” Leo offered.
Smiling at him, Georgia relaxed by a couple degrees. “We call it the Beast. No uglier upholstery has ever been sighted this side of the Rockies. But it’s comfortable as hell.”
He lifted his eyebrows suggestively. “I’ll bet.”
Georgia felt her neck get hot. “Can I put on a movie?”
“Sure. Anything you want.” He put a hand on her knee.
“Even a chick flick?” she teased.
Her knee received a squeeze. “I really miss you, Gigi. If you’re going to let me crash your Friday night, you can put on My Little Pony for all I care.”
“Let’s not get carried away.” She chose Working Girl, which she knew by heart, and sat back to watch the opening montage. The camera swept past the Statue of Liberty and New York Harbor. There were glimpses of the very Brooklyn shoreline where she and Leo now sat. And she’d always had a thing for Carly Simon’s anthem about chasing dreams. This was her go-to pick for the evening after a tough week.
The weight of Leo’s hand on her leg was almost as delicious as the dumplings she munched. She was living out her fantasy right now—holed up with Leo at home after a long day.
When she finished eating, Leo paused the film so she could clear her plate. She stopped on her way to the kitchen. “Can I bring you a drink? I say that not knowing what the choices are. I’ve been out of town . . .” That and they rarely had visitors. But she kept that to herself.
“I brought a six-pack,” he said, holding up his empty bottle. “I noticed you don’t drink.”
“I drink at home,” she argued, taking the empty from him. Though she never felt like drinking in public. A rape survivor was never supposed to blame herself for what had happened, and Georgia didn’t. Many hours of therapy had made it clear that the only one responsible for a rape was the rapist. But that didn’t mean she was comfortable with the idea of losing control in a place where she was vulnerable . . .
Leo studied her, his head tilted to the side, as if considering whether he wanted to ask a follow-up question. “Bring two, then,” he said instead. And then his mouth curved into a smile that made her knees feel a little squishy.
She retreated to the kitchen to rinse her plate. The weirdness of having Leo back in her life hadn’t worn off yet, even if he seemed immune to discomfort. You’re mine, Georgia Worthington. In between phone calls at work today, those words had bounced around in her head. They were exciting and more than a little terrifying. She wanted him. And there was little doubt in her mind where the night was headed. If Leo wanted to take her to bed, she wasn’t about to say no.