Misconduct (Hot Ice series Book 6) (10 page)

“Well, how could you have known?”

“Because it makes sense now why you wanted to play Price.
Fill my space with a much cheaper player and then trade me.”

I stayed silent and let him sift through the facts. He
seemed pretty mad at himself.

“I’m right, aren’t I?” he asked. “You didn’t insist I sit on
the bench first period against the Rangers because you’d taken an instant hissy
dislike to me. You were genuinely seeing how the Vipers would cope without me
if I wasn’t around.”

“Why would Dad have spent money on a rookie if he was no
good?” I shrugged. “I needed to find out. That was the only way. Throw him in
at the deep end.”

“He spent the money because he saw potential. That’s what
Jackson Price has by the bucket load, but he’s not there yet. He will be, I’d
bet money on it. Another season.” He stood, paced to the edge of the deck and
put his hands behind his head, threaded his fingers together and let his elbows
stick out to the sides. “Besides, you need two goaltenders who can play, not
one and a half.”

“Isn’t that what I have now?” It was certainly a thought
that had been rattling around my head.

“No way, the kid’s good, seriously good. Just not when
Todd-fucking-Carty is around. He might be pretty but he’s a fucking menace.”

I waited for him to speak again, or move or something, but
he didn’t. He stayed like a statue staring out at the inky water. The owl
hooted again and a cricket started up in one of the planters.

After a couple of minutes I gathered the plates and stacked
the tray. Shit. I really shouldn’t have told him any of that. But at least he
knew the truth now. That I couldn’t afford to pay his multiple zero wages, and
certainly not commit to that kind of expenditure for the next three years.

I didn’t
want
to not want him. That was just how it
was.

The first thing I heard the next morning as I rose from the
depths of sleep was the sound of the waves. I’d slept with the small windows on
top of the French doors open, loving the melodic rolling and crashing sound as
I’d drifted off and thankfully let pleasant dreams wash me away.

I stretched and noticed how my inner thighs felt a little
tender. The memory of Dustin throwing me over his shoulder, and then us fucking
like possessed demons rushed back to me. There was a little nugget of shame and
mortification there, but mostly the emotion was lust, a sexy, hot sweep of
desire that transported me back to the moment my goaltender had shucked off his
clothes and stood, for the sweetest thread of time, all dark and handsome and
massively aroused before me.

He’d been right, there was nothing that could stop us.
Screwing had been the only thing on our minds.

I glanced at the door—it was shut—then slid one hand over my
chest and the other between my legs. I’d started the day feeling turned-on.
There were worse things to be greeted with after an eight-hour slumber.

My nipples were tight, my pussy a little damp. I slid my two
longest fingers through my folds and then a little way into my entrance.
Yesterday Dustin had just rammed home. He’d aimed and fired. No chance for me
to get used to his length or his girth. He’d hit the jackpot on one determined
ride to completion.

I added another finger, shunted in roughly and tried to
recreate that thick, rapid filling sensation he’d given me. But it was nothing
like it. Barely a tickle in comparison.

I bit my lip and suppressed a moan of frustration.

Then, oh, then I’d ridden him. Flipped him over and sank onto
his cock. I’d taken him so deep I was sure I could feel him in my throat. My
clit had captured wonderfully on his pubis and he’d jerked his hips in time
with my grinding movements.

Searching out my clit, I began to finger it, just the way I
liked, rubbing and squeezing. He’d gripped my thighs as I’d fucked him, pressed
his head so hard into the pillow that all of his neck tendons had stood out.
He’d been at my mercy, so big and intimidating yet pinned down and being
screwed by me. I’d had him. In that moment he’d been mine—but only in that one
blip of time, one stolen memory, a deviation from the path of my destiny.

I shut my eyes again, allowed heat to flood my pelvis and
harnessed the first rumbles of a building climax. It wouldn’t be long. Morning
orgasms were always generous to me. Whether I was with a man or alone.

I was sure there would be a bruise on my side from where
he’d flipped me. One quick flick of his hips and he had me on my stomach,
captured by his body lying over me.

He’d got my G-spot just right then. The fabulously wide
domed head of his cock rubbing it over and over, pulling it down, shoving it
up, generating the deep, blissful feeling that made me want to pee but not.

I was frigging my clit faster now. I held my breath, knew
the climax was just there. To tip myself over the edge, I recalled how I’d
masturbated yesterday with him inside me. Combining the internal and external
sensations had catapulted me into a state of ecstasy I could happily have
existed in for hours. And him pumping too, no barriers, nothing except flesh on
flesh, his hot seed just spurting into me accompanied by his gasping groans.

I came. A toe-curling orgasm that I was in complete control
of. I eased through to the end, enjoying how my pussy clamped down, throbbing
and releasing moisture as my clit bobbed beneath my fingertips.

Not as good a climax as yesterday. But I had to take what I
could get, and what I had now was some wonderful wank fodder that would last me
for months, or at least until I found another man. A suave, sophisticated guy
whom Dad would approve of.

Because if Dad ever found out Dustin and I had gone for it
on the bed outside the villa, and, oh my God, if he knew that afterward Dustin
had licked me all over, then I would be disinherited. I was pretty damn sure my
father had other hopes for my romantic future than a rough and gruff hockey
player.

I jumped through my en-suite shower, washed my hair, and
then pulled on a little red-and-white polka dot bikini. It had frills over the
cups and around the waistband.

I had plans, spending the day sunning myself and reading
through some of the reports I’d brought from the office. I figured if I had to
do work, then what was better than breaking the back of it on the beach?

Wandering into the main living area, I glanced through the
open doors, half expecting Dustin to be where I’d left him the night before,
standing on the decking, staring out at sea.

He wasn’t, but a white Vipers t-shirt lay over the back of
one of the chairs, so I figured he was up if he’d left clothes lying about.

I poured orange juice, grabbed a slice of melon from the
fridge and wandered outside. The sun was scorching despite a glance at the
clock telling me it wasn’t even ten o’clock.

The tide had come in high during the night and a slim line
of debris, thin sticks and small pebbles, sat halfway between the villa and the
shoreline. I set my drink on the table and nibbled the melon.

Splashing out at sea caught my attention. I peered closer.

Oh God, it was Dustin, it had to be. He was a distance away
and swimming at quite a speed, parallel to the beach.

His head was turning, his face and then his dark hair, as
his arms powered forward. A slight trail of disturbance, white froth, told me
he was kicking furiously beneath the surface.

I finished my melon and dropped it onto the table. I was
compelled to go down to the water’s edge, check for fins, or signs of something
that would attack him.

The sand was warm so I walked quickly, hunting all the time
for those lethal gray triangles that stuck out of the water. He was so far out,
he wouldn’t stand a chance. Was he on some kind of suicide mission?

My stomach tensed for him. I wondered if I would bring up
the melon. Why was he going farther away? Was he nuts?

I twisted my hands together, worried at my bottom lip.

He suddenly ducked beneath the water. The trail he was
leaving behind just stopped.

“Shit!” I shouted, stepping into the first bit of the waves,
where the salty foam bubbled around my toes.

He’d gone. That was it. Dragged under and never to be seen
again. Some hideous creature had savaged him and was taking him to the dark
depths to enjoy his thick muscles for its breakfast.

I could just imagine the headlines.
Vipers’ Goaltender
Eaten By Great White, No Remains Found.
This was awful. What should I do?

The surface of the water broke about fifteen feet from where
I’d last seen him. He was powering ahead, swimming fast.

He’d got away, thank goodness, from whatever was after him.
Whatever had pulled him under.

He turned toward the shore.

I sent a quick prayer heavenward that he could outswim his
attacker. Good job he was fit.

It seemed he could swim at great speed and, as I kept my
attention peeled on the water behind him for signs of him being followed, he
reached the waves breaking in front of me.

I paced left and right, hardly able to watch in case a last
minute attack happened.

Finally he was in the shallows. I was relieved to see that
he had on the dazzling green trunks he’d bought the day before.

“Are you all right?” I called.

“Yeah, you?”

“What was it? Did you see?”

“See what?”

“Whatever was chasing you?”

He looked confused. “There was nothing chasing me.”

“Out there.” I pointed. “You went under, came back up at one
hell of a pace. Something must have scared you.”

“Nothing out there that’ll scare me, sweet cheeks.” He
grinned and I knew I’d made a mistake. How stupid was I?

“I was just swimming,” he said. “No gym, no ice, I gotta do
something to use up my energy.”

I was about to retort that he’d found a different way to
expend his excess energy the day before, with me. But I kept my mouth shut.
That was an incident never to be mentioned again.

“You really should try it,” he said. “It’s wonderful.”

“You have to be joking, it’s like death soup out there.”

He laughed. “You’re so dramatic.” He held out his hand.
“Come here. Just to this bit.”

The water was around his waist when the swell of the tide
ambled up his body. He was far too deep for my liking. “No way.”

“Yes way, come on. This is silly, this fear of yours.”

“Silly to you. Rational to me.”

“But there’s so much water here, why would anything be
interested in a little thing like you?” He nodded at me and let his attention
slip down my body. “Not like you’ve got much meat on your bones.”

I fiddled with the tassels on my bikini top and stepped back
as a slightly bigger wave rushed forward. “I don’t suppose a great white really
cares as long as it’s food.”

“A great white isn’t interested in you, and besides they
spit people out, they think we taste like shit. They like seals for dinner, not
humans.”

I frowned. I was sure that wasn’t right.

He stepped forward, lowering the water to mid-thigh. “Here
then. This is really shallow.”

“But they can—”

“I know they can go in shallow water, but there aren’t any
here. I would have seen them.”

“How?”

“Because I was looking, when I was out there.” He nodded
behind himself. “There’s a few fish and a bit of seaweed, that’s it.” He
smiled, a devil’s smile hidden in a sexy man’s face. “Come on, be brave. How do
you expect to run a hockey team if you can’t step into the water a few feet?”

“I can.” I frowned.

“Come on then.”

“You’re too deep. Come shallower.”

“Ah, this is real shallow, just here.”

“But I’m shorter than you. It will be up to my waist.”

“I think you’re exaggerating, but okay.”

He took one step closer. It hardly made any difference. But
even so I moved into the water until it was well over my ankles. I didn’t like
to be told I couldn’t do something, especially by him.

“Keep going.” He put his hands on his hips. “So you’re right
here, next to me.”

I gulped, glanced around and then moved four fast paces
through the skittering waves. It was cold and little splashes bounced up as
high as my thighs.

“Well done, keep going,” he said. “That’s nearly halfway.”

I held my breath, stepped deeper, blew the breath out. The sand
was squidgy beneath my toes, seeping between them. I stared at the seabed,
searching for predators that had sensed my arrival and couldn’t wait to get a
taste of me.

There was nothing there, not even a stray bit of weed. It
was just clear water.

“Don’t look down,” he said. “Look ahead, look at me.”

I did as he’d asked. Wondered what the hell I was doing
facing my phobia so early in the damn morning. Where had the idea come from
anyway?

The tide was over my knees now. It stung a little too, on my
grazed one. When small waves headed toward the shore, the surface swelled up to
my thighs.

“You’re doing so well, sweet cheeks. One more step and
you’ll have done it.” He held out his hand.

My heart was racing as I took that final step, reached for
his hand and found myself up to my waist in water.

It was the deepest I’d ever been.

“You did it.” He grinned down at me. His lashes were heavy
with drops, his stubble even denser than the day before. Now it was almost as
long as the hair on his head. “I’m impressed.”

A nervous laugh bubbled up from my chest. I might be in the
sea, facing my phobia, but I was scared shitless. The cold was bad enough,
seeping into my private places, but the thought of what was looking at me,
eyeing me up as a target, was downright petrifying.

He squeezed both my hands in his and steadied me as a larger
wave buffeted us.

“That will do, we should go now,” I said, glancing nervously
around. Had the gush of water brought with it a sea monster?

“It’s fine. Stay for a minute.”

I gulped. I really didn’t want to.

Something hard touched my ankle, swept around it and then
hit against my shin.

“Oh fuck,” I shouted. “There’s something there.” I hopped up
and down.

Dustin glanced downward. “It’s probably just a small fish or
something, or a bit of weed.”

“No, it’s big, and hard.” I stared at the water but I
couldn’t see much, the bottom was hazy at this depth. “Fuck, there it is
again.” A flash of silver and a nudge on my knee. “I think it’s got teeth.”

I leapt upward, out of the water, and climbed up Dustin’s
body, clinging to his shoulders and wrapping my legs around his waist so that
only my ass was touching the surface.

He laughed loudly and held me up, scooping his hand beneath
my butt and his arm around my waist. “Jesus, it’s just a tiny fish. I can see
it now.”

“I don’t like it. Get me out of here.” I whacked his wet
shoulder. “This is your fault. You made me come into the sea.”

“And you were enjoying it until Nemo came along. Chill out.
He won’t hurt you.”

“No, you chill out. Chill out and get me to shore.”

He didn’t move. “Say please.”

“What?”

“Get me to shore…please.”

I looked into his eyes, felt him brace as another wave tried
to wash us away. “Please, please, take me to the shore, pretty please with
sprinkles. I really, really don’t like being in the sea.”

“Well, because you were brave and did try, I’ll take you to
safety like the good knight in shining armor I am.”