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She seemed to be fine, but her house had been seriously damaged. That was stressful and heartbreaking since she said she grew up in the place. It was literally the only home she ever knew. There had been no tears, only a spine of steel as she tackled the fire department, the utilities guy, and an insurance call like a general leading her troops. Her list, which she always seemed to have from the sound of it, just got a hell of a lot longer.
That was why she needed a distraction. And not just from this, but from life. Everyone needed to shut their shit down every once in a while. Some went running. Or to yoga. Or skydiving. A cruise. Sex. I wasn’t sure what Lindy did, but I didn’t think she was getting many orgasms.
I didn’t even want to think about who’d be giving them to her. No fucking way was another guy pleasuring her. And if she took things into her own hands, well, that was fine, but it didn’t seem to be enough.
From what I could tell–and I’d been observing really fucking closely–Lindy Beckett was a straight-laced perfectionist.
Who needed to be kissed and touched. Licked and fucked.
Nothing would help with a tree falling through her house more than my dick in her pussy. Because that kiss? Foreplay.
She’d been surprised at first, then she’d let go. The second she melted against that window, fuck, it had been incredible. The fight, every thought in her head, just vanished. If a kiss did that, then getting her beneath me would make her forget her own name. Every woman deserved that kind of pleasure.
Mav and I watched as Bridget tugged Lindy across the yard and were now in a deep conversation in hushed voices. I assumed it was about the house, but who knew with women.
“She’s staying here,” I finally told Mav.
I held the pizza boxes and shifted it so the side of them rested against my hip. The to-go container of salad sat on top.
“Here? With you?” He sounded surprised.
“With me.”
He was quiet as Lindy whipped her head around and gave me a death glare. I winked in return. They definitely weren’t talking about the house if I got that look. And I definitely needed to get my hands, and mouth and other things, on her so her entire attitude changed.
She would soon be begging me to do things to her. I’d get her to burn for me, turning that list to ash. I had a list of my own with everything I planned on doing to, and with, her. It was really fucking long. Longer than the one I had in my phone.
She spun back around and returned to their conversation, then slapped her hand over her sister’s mouth.
“It’s like that?” he asked.
“She’s mine.” That kiss proved it. Clinched it. No trade backs.
“Lindy Beckett?”
I finally looked away from my woman and at Mav. “Say her name that way again and I’ll rip your head off. I may not be as big as you, but I’m younger and can fight dirty, even on ice.”
His eyebrows went up at my I’m-not-fucking-around tone.
He held up his hands as if to keep me from jumping him. “I’m just surprised. She’s a lot older than you.”
“That’s what you’re going with?” I asked, surprised.
“Good point.” He was almost fifteen years older than Bridget. An age gap should be the last thing he considered an issue.
“You’re right. She’s just… high maintenance and high strung. Didn’t picture you with her, that’s all.”
I couldn’t argue with either of those observations. Standing side-by-side, one sister looked like she was ready for a summer picnic at the lake, the other looked like she was ready for the interview portion of the Miss America pageant. One dark, the other fair. One petite, the other tall.
“Yeah, well, you haven’t seen a picture of me with anyone.”
“Except in that bar fight,” he reminded, much to my annoyance.
I clenched my jaw. Nothing came from the incident. No issues with the team or the league because they knew the truth, that the guy had been drunk, handsy and an asshole. Team players who’d witnessed it backed me. Even the woman I’d protected had spoken out in my favor. Except the media didn’t care about that, only click bait.
“The media will find something else to report about soon enough. I’m just a hockey player.”
He tilted his head and gave me his serious look. “You’re just a hockey player? Right. That’s what Lindy thinks?”
