FORCE: A Bad Boy Sports Romance Page 12

The two men made eye contact. Ian looked amused, and Tim looked a bit green around the gills. “You look like you need a drink, Tim,” Ian observed. “I know where they are. Follow me.”

  Tim practically sprinted behind him.

  “How’s he handling it?” I asked Donna, once her fiancée was out of earshot.

  She sighed. “He’s been—I dunno. Is numb the right word? Like, he’s there and he’s helping out, but he’s not really—I don’t know—there.” She pressed her lips together. “It’s like, he’s still moving around and talking, but someone hit the off switch in his brain.”

  I slung my arm around her shoulder. “He’s probably just stressed,” I said, as reassuringly as I could.

  She nodded, and then did this full-body shiver, the same thing she always did when she was trying to get past something that was bothering her. She looked up at the stage and smiled. “Man, if I weren’t engaged,” she muttered, as we both turned to watch the auction going on.

  The guy I recognized from that night in the bar—Ian had called him Jake—was drawing a really enthusiastic response. His chest seemed to puff out further with each successive bid, which had the add-on effect of making the bids come even faster.

  “I should probably go work,” I told Donna. “I need to be collecting the final bids once they’re in.”

  My sister nodded vaguely, her eyes fixed on the lineup of strapping hockey players strutting across the stage. I had to laugh. Yeah, she might be getting married, but she definitely wasn’t dead.

  The bidding was nearly done, and as I entered all of the winning totals into the spreadsheet I was running, my eyes nearly bugged out of my head.

  “You look happy,” Kyle said, sidling up beside me. He was dressed in his ever-present pleated khakis, but had marked the special occasion by donning an absolutely eye-watering amount of cologne.

  “I am!” I coughed. “We’ve raised over twenty fucking thousand dollars for charity!” I tapped a few keys, “And, holy shit, wow, the app is already up to over five thousand users, and is trending as a hashtag on Twitter.” I couldn’t help myself. I whirled and gave the startled Kyle a huge hug.

  “Ah, whoops! Okay, er—” Kyle pulled back, his eyes wide with fright. “I’m happy for you, um, for us, Candace, but uh—” he darted a look over my shoulder. “Please don’t make Ian have to kick my ass, okay?”

  I pulled back and looked at him. “Ian wouldn’t kick your ass just for hugging me.” I said, confused.

  Kyle gave a nervous chuckle. “Yeah, well, he’s probably never shown you his temper, but I know how that guy came by his reputation as a hothead. Honestly, I don’t want to be on his bad side.” He backed away, swiping his hands repeatedly down the pleated front of his khakis. “Uh, congratulations, Candace, I’m just going to—um, go now.” He disappeared into the crowd.

  I stood there, just blinking, for several moments. When I felt a hand slide around my waist, I yelped and nearly jumped a mile.

  “Hey, settle down, pretty lady. Do you need another drink?” Ian smiled, pulling me closer.

  I smiled back at him, trying not to betray my confusion, but he could tell immediately. “You okay?”

  I nodded, deciding to brush off Kyle’s odd behavior for now. Tonight was a night for celebration.

  “Yeah, I just can’t believe it. Everything worked out so well!” I stood up on my tiptoes, and brushed my lips across his. He answered with a hungry growl and nipped at my lower lip. I bopped him lightly on the nose. “Simmer down, big boy. I still need to make sure all of the winning bidders are paired off with their Blackhawks,” I admonished him when he moved in for a deeper kiss.

  “How about we do some matchmaking of our own?” Ian murmured.

  I batted his hands away, and turned back to my computer. “Oh my gosh, Ian, you have to look at this,” I pointed at the screen.

  “What am I looking at here?” He leaned forward, suddenly interested. “Wait. Is that Brad’s name?”

  I nodded. “And right next to him? Read that name.”

  “Olivia Bryant?” He looked up at me, a slowly dawning smile of realization on his lips. “Fertilize-my-eggs, Olivia?”

  I nodded, clapping in glee. “Brad’s your best friend, Olivia is my best friend—oh my gosh, I feel like I’ve just hit the fairy godmother-level status of matchmaking. This is like, the pinnacle of my achievements!”

  I grabbed Ian’s hand and dragged him over to where Brad was still standing nervously. “Brad, we’ve got your date!” I crowed.

  He blinked at me. “Somebody bid on me?” he asked, his voice tight.

  I smiled and grabbed his hand. “Somebody paid a lot of fucking money for you, my dear boy. Let me introduce you to her. See that woman standing over there?”

  His mouth fell open. “Her? She wants a date with me?” He chewed the inside of his lip, then suddenly blinked. “This is only just for fun, right?” Brad asked, his eyes darting over to where Olivia stood. “It’s not supposed to be a real date, right?”

  He looked incredibly nervous, and I could see why. Olivia was staring at him with a distinctly predatory look in her eyes.

  “It is whatever you want to be,” I reassured him.

  He stole a look over at Olivia again. “Seriously? She was the highest bidder? She’s a fucking knockout.”

  “You sound relieved.”

  “Oh, he is,” Ian interjected, snaking his hands around my waist and whispering in my ear. “He thought no one was going to bid on him at all.”

  “You are absolutely sure?” Brad asked again. “You’re not fucking with me?”

  I motioned Olivia to come over. She sidled up to Brad’s side and smiled at him over her drink. Then she licked her lips.

  I rolled my eyes. “This is Bradley Scott,” I told her. “Your date.”

  My best friend was in her glory. She cocked her head and arched her eyebrows, and I swear she pitched her voice lower as she spoke. “So, I was watching you up there onstage, Bradley. You were fiddling with your phone a lot,” she purred. “Were you texting your girlfriend?”

  “Uh, I don’t have a girlfriend,” Brad stammered.

  Olivia immediately stuck her hand out and grabbed his, pumping it up and down. “Then I’m Olivia,” she cooed.

  Brad was practically drooling.

  “Nice one,” I murmured to her.

  She tossed her head. “You like, Candygram? Well, watch this,” she instructed me.

  She reached out, quick as a snake, and snatched Brad’s phone from his hand. He stared at her openmouthed as she deftly dropped it into her cleavage.

  “I don’t want you losing this,” she said. “So we’ll just keep that here for safekeeping. If you want it, just reach in and grab it.”

  Brad’s look of shock dissolved into a look of pure, unadulterated admiration, mixed with a healthy dose of horniness.

  “I think Cupid’s Arrow Dating Service has made their first match of the night,” I told Ian.

  He was watching his friend with a look of frank astonishment. “He’s got no game, and she’s all game.” He turned back to me. “What were we saying about opposites attracting?”

  I was about to answer him, but he punctuated his question with a very long, very public, and very inappropriate kiss.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Ian

  I lifted my pint in Brad’s direction, but he was too busy gazing at Candace’s friend, Olivia. She was all over him like an octopus, and he was grinning from ear to ear.

  “Olivia looks pretty pleased,” Candace smiled, watching her friend shove her hand in Brad’s back pocket. “Aaaand, right about now is when we turn away to preserve their modesty, Ian,” she barked, forcibly spinning me away from the public spectacle that was unfolding.

  “They’re giving me a few ideas,” I grinned at her, pulling her close. “Feel that? That’s for you.” Candace was bright and smiling, flush with triumph. She wrapped her arms around my neck, pulling me in for an even more enthusiastic kiss.
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br />   I felt ripple of excitement go through my body, and settle directly down in my groin. Things between us had been so strained and stressed the past few weeks. It seemed like every night I had free, she had to work late, and every night she was available, I had a game.

  But now, with the launch finally behind her—and a rousing success, by the look at of it—maybe she and I could go back to the way we were.

  I was about to whisper that very thought into her ear when the world’s most irritating voice piped up.

  “Hey Carter! Yo, Scott! How much did you assholes sell for?” Jake sneered, swaggering up to us with his chest all puffed out.

  Brad barely gave him a glance. “I have no idea,” he mumbled. His eyes were fixed on Olivia, who had her hands down… Oh my God, I did not need to see that.

  Jake turned his head quickly away, cheeks reddening. “What about you, Carter?” he blustered. “Some chick bid almost ten grand for a date with me,” he boasted. “I was just wondering what kind of price an old fart like you could fetch.”

  I pressed my lips together to keep from laughing in his face. “I wasn’t up for auction, Jake,” I said, barely suppressing my laughter.

  He blinked, and his puffed out chest caved in a little. His face reddened to an almost purple color. He looked like he was about to explode. “You didn’t go on the block?” he said through gritted teeth.

  “Nope!” I grinned, reaching out and pulling Candace to me. “I already scored a million-dollar date, right here. Wasn’t worth it.”

  Candace smiled an adoring smile in my direction, and I pulled her closer to me. All I had to do was get rid of this irritating distraction, and I could take her home and…

  “Ha, it’s just as I figured.” Jake interrupted, looking at me, and then at Candace, and finally shoving his hands into his pockets. “You’re a total pussy.” It sounded like he was trying to tell a joke and failing.

  “If you say so,” I grinned at him. “But you’d better run along, huh? Some poor lady paid ten thousand dollars for you. Better make sure you’re worth it.”

  Jake opened, but then closed his mouth. “Oh, I’m worth that and more, Carter. Unlike some people on this team, I’m actually worth what people pay for me.”

  I smirked. “Sure, Jake. Whatever helps you sleep at night.”

  Jake stomped off. The minute he was out of sight, Candace leaned in. “I think he wanted to see how much you and Brad went for,” she mused.

  “Whatever. Jake is always trying to get me to whip my dick out and compare sizes.” I kissed her forehead as she laughed. “The guy is not worth my time.”

  She smacked my chest, and looked over her shoulder. “Oh my God, you are the loudest person I have ever met. He’s right over there, keep your voice down.”

  I was about to say something filthy, even louder, when we heard another voice call over the crowd. “Candace?”

  “That sounds like my sister!” Candy exclaimed. “Yeah, Donna?” she answered, twining her fingers with mine. I allowed her to pull me towards her sister. As we moved through the crowd, I caught a glimpse of Jake, standing and staring at us, completely ignoring the disappointed-looking woman on his arm.

  He looked pissed. In fact, he looked downright murderous.

  Had he heard me? For a second, I felt bad. But honestly, the guy was a complete pain in my ass. Sure, hearing me talk shit to my girlfriend about him wasn’t the nicest way for him to find out what I thought of him, but better to hear it eventually, right?

  Maybe now he’d finally leave me and Brad alone.

  Candace’s sister was staring out over the crowd, a worried expression on her face. “Donna? We’re heading out,” Candace announced, squeezing my hand on the sly.

  “Have you seen Tim?” Donna asked, ignoring Candace’s goodbye completely.

  My sweet, nice girl immediately dropped my hand…much to my chagrin. “No, I haven’t. What’s going on?”

  “He’s been gone for like twenty minutes.” Donna complained, twisting her engagement ring around her finger. “I wanted to get going, but we came together, and…”

  “We’ll help you look,” Candace volunteered immediately. She looked back at me. “Right, Ian?”

  My cock, which had been standing at rigid attention in anticipation of the evening ahead, slumped down at the same time as my shoulders. “Yeah. Sure,” I relented.

  “That’s so nice, thank you!” Donna said automatically.

  Fucking nice. It was going to be the death of me.

  “Where haven’t you looked?” I asked Donna. “Is he outside, maybe?”

  “I looked there already.”

  “I’ll go check again—maybe he was bringing around the car for you,” Candace volunteered. I smiled at her. This girl. Not only was she putting the best face on things for her sister, but she was also volunteering to go out into the cold for her sake.

  “I’ll look in the men’s room,” I offered. “I guess you probably didn’t check in there.”

  “No, I didn’t. Maybe he got sick from the food!” Donna said, brightening. “Oh, the poor guy.”

  Candace beamed at me. “Thanks, honey.”

  I nodded and headed across the floor. If Tim really was locked in the men’s room, shitting his brains out, the last person he was going to want finding him was Ian Carter. I tried to put myself in his shoes, getting caught with my pants down by one of my celebrity idols. Gordie Howe walking in on me squatting? I’d rather die.

  So I knocked first. “Tim?” I called. “Are you in there?”

  There was a squeak, and then some frantic panting. I pushed the door a little wider and looked in. “It’s fine, dude, Donna’s just looking for you, I’ll tell her—”

  Tim yanked his pants up from where they were pooled around his ankles.

  I had definitely caught him with his pants down.

  “Ian Carter!” the redhead kneeling on the floor in front of Tim squealed. “I’m your biggest fan!”

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Candace

  “Thank you for finding Tim,” I ventured. Ian had been quiet, brooding, and almost…sulking, ever since he found my sister’s fiancé. He didn’t answer me, though, only stared daggers at the streetlight.

  “I hope no one else gets sick, too,” I fretted. Food poisoning from the catering was the problem, Tim had explained, once he returned to the bar to find a relieved Donna waiting for him. I had immediately started quizzing him on what it was exactly he ate, but his answers were vague, at best. I figured he must have been embarrassed and laid off the questions, but that didn’t stop me from gnawing away at my nails the whole way home.

  “Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Ian said, slamming the heel of his hand into the steering wheel.

  I looked up and sighed. A bank of photographers were waiting for us outside of Ian’s building. The number of paparazzi seemed to be growing exponentially the closer we got to the playoffs.

  “It’s just paparazzi,” I said soothingly. “Just ignore them, like you always do.”

  “Fucking leeches,” he growled, staring at the flashing cameras with murder in his eyes.

  “What’s gotten into you?” I wondered.

  “Nothing,” he said sullenly. “I’m just thinking. That’s all.”

  I slid my hand into his lap. “Can I maybe get you to start thinking about something else?”

  He looked up at me and blinked, then a slow, crooked smile slid over his face, and I knew he was finally thinking what I was thinking.

  Playoffs were in three weeks. So much was riding on his shoulders. His whole team was depending on him. The papers had been nothing but wall-to-wall coverage of his life: his training, his background, the story of how hockey had turned him around in life.

  I couldn’t imagine the pressure he was under right now. “What do you want me to do?” I asked him as we rode the elevator up to his floor.

  He smiled that crooked smile again. “I want what you want,” he murmured.

  “I want—”
I paused and licked my lips as the door dinged open and we emerged into the hallway in front of his door. “I want to tell you what I’m going to do.”

  He jammed his key in and threw the door open, then turned and swept my legs out from under me to cradle me in his arms. “I want to hear it,” he growled into my neck as he strode across the now bare living room floor and into the bedroom.

  “Oh!” I exclaimed as I landed on the bed. Then I sat up and glowered at him as he tore his shirt over his head. “You’re not listening.” I complained.

  Then I reached out and closed my fist around his balls and squeezed a little.

  His eyes went wide. “I’m listening now,” he exhaled.

  “What I want,” I said, wetting my lips, “is to see how hard you’ve been training, Mr. Carter. Time to test your strength.” I began lazily stroking him.

  “Um,” his eyes rolled back. “What’s the test?”

  I grinned and knelt upward on the bed. When he tried to take me into his arms, I swatted him away and went for the fly on his dress pants. “Stay standing,” I commanded, as I slid down to my knees on the floor. “That’s all you have to do.”

  His eyes widened as he watched me pull his pants and boxers down to the ground. Without a word, he stepped out of them.

  I licked my lips again. “You never let me,” I complained. “Always getting what you want and never letting me get what I want.”

  “What do you want?” he breathed as I touched my tongue to his tip.

  I cleared my throat and looked up at him. “I want to feel your cock slide down my throat.” He choked out a moan as I opened my mouth and slid my lips down the silky length of him. Then I pulled back. “I want to feel you get hard in my mouth.”

  “I’m as hard as I can get,” he groaned tightly.

  I slid my fist down the shaft now slick with my saliva. “I’ll be the judge of that,” I growled, in a pretty good imitation of him.

  He sagged forward as I took him in my mouth again. “Stay standing!” I commanded him. “It’s an endurance test. We need your stamina to be in peak condition for the Stanley Cup playoffs.”