Dirty Score, A Rough Riders Hockey Novel (5 page)

“This is… What are you…” Sweat crept along his forehead. “Fuck, Mia…”

“There you go. Now we’re on the same page.” Reaching for his tie, she began working the knot open. “And let’s ditch these clothes, because I really
am
sick of the starch in my life.”

She leaned into him. Her flat belly rubbed his cock and launched a craving that clawed through his lower body.

“Oh yes,” she purred, rocking into him until he saw stars. “We are
definitely
on the same page.”

He was losing the battle. He felt the last threads of control slipping from his grasp. And Rafe’s mind transitioned from denial to damage control. But that tiny shift opened the floodgates on a desire unlike any he’d ever known before. “What…what about your brother?”

She laughed. “He’s not my type.”

“Mia.”

She glanced around the empty elevator. “Do you see my brother? I don’t see my brother.”

“What if he finds— Holy fuck.” He reached up and stilled her hands with one of his. “Kilbourne. Kilbourne is going to tell everyone—”

“You’ve
got
to be kidding me. Cole is going to be your best friend tomorrow.

If he does what I told him to do, he’s going to be taking Ashlee to bed in about half an hour and calling you the dumbass tomorrow for bailing. Just tell him if he talks, he won’t be getting any of your leftovers next time.”

She unbuttoned the top button of his shirt, and he cut a look at the numbers lighting the strip above the door. This had to be the slowest elevator ride in the history of the twenty-first century.

“You’re not talking like you,” he said. “You’re not acting like you.”

“You wouldn’t know, would you? You haven’t seen or spoken to me in a year. A lot can happen in a year.”

Ouch.
. “Okay, I totally deserve that. But this isn’t—”

“As for Tate, I’m certainly not going to tell him about this. And neither are you. None of us needs the useless stress that would create. Don’t even get me started on the topic of how many of
my
friends
he
fucked during visits home after I left for college. Besides, we’re grown adults, Rafe. We can fuck whoever we want to fuck. I certainly don’t tell him who to—”

“Please stop saying that.” He couldn’t breathe.

She wrapped her arms behind his neck, leaned into him, and pulled his head down. Her breasts pillowed against his chest, full and soft. Her abdomen rested against his gut, flat and tight. Her hips pressed and rocked against his, rubbing against his cock.

He had never felt anything so heartbreakingly perfect in his entire life.

“What don’t you want me to say?” Her lips were a breath from his, her eyes hot, heavy lidded, and direct. “Fuck?” She said the word slowly. Deliberately. Softly. And Rafe couldn’t keep himself from watching her mouth move as she said the dirty word he preferred not to hear out of a woman’s mouth. A word that—coming from Mia—created flash-fire in his blood. “Does it turn you on to hear me say I want you to fuck me?”

“No.” He had to stop and deliberately focus on drawing his next breath. “No, no, no.”

She laughed, the sound soft and naughty. “Oh yes. Yes, yes, yes it does.”

She moved against him, and pressure pulsed in his cock. Spread through his pelvis. Gathered at the base of his spine.

“Jesus.” Nothing had ever felt as good as Mia’s body against his. He’d dreamed, fantasized, but never,
never
believed he would ever know the reality of it—so much sweeter, so much stronger, so much deeper than his imagination had been able to conceive.

But part of him, that deeply loyal part she’d talked about, knew he
shouldn’t
know the reality.

Rafe squeezed his eyes closed to cut off the sight of one of his longest-standing fantasies: Mia’s beautiful face drenched with the raw desire of wanting him.

He needed to push her back and walk away.

He needed to pull her closer and hold on.

“I want you to fuck me, Rafe.” Her voice was husky and dripping lust. “And I want you to fuck me like you mean it. Like you want it. Like you love it. I want you to fuck me like you’re hungry for it. Like you can’t get enough. I want you to fuck me so perfectly, I’ll never need you to fuck me again. I want us to fuck and forget.”

Ding.

Rafe heard the doors slide open. Felt Mia ease away. But he didn’t move.

“… fuck me so perfectly, I’ll never need you to fuck me again…”

Something stirred inside him. Something vague, deep, and unpleasant.

“…fuck and forget…”

His heart, so full and aching just seconds ago, deflated until it felt like it was crumbling. He shook his head and opened his eyes. Mia stood between the doors, holding them open, her gaze expectant.

“No, Mia.” Hurt darkened his voice, and hearing it made him realize just how quickly she’d fileted him open. Just how stupidly hopeful he’d been. How completely unrealistic. “I’m not a
rebound
guy.”

“Rebound?” Her voice held a note of incredulity. Turning, she hit the Door Hold button and approached him. Winding her arms around his neck again, she slid that delicious body along his and held his gaze with a look that was pure Mia—open, kind, warm, and affectionate. “You’re right, Rafe, you’re not a rebound guy. You could
never
be a rebound guy. And you sure as shit are not, and will never be,
my
rebound guy.”

The heat of anger thrumming through his belly transitioned into need. He released the bar and gripped her waist. “Then what is this?”

With one hand combing into his hair, the other cupping his jaw, her beautiful green eyes softened and her lips turned in a little smile. “It can be absolutely anything you want it to be. But only for tonight.” Her thumb slid over his cheek, and her gaze lowered to his mouth. “Only one night. And it stays between you and me.”

Again, a conflicting sense of disappointment stabbed his bubble of hope. But before he could ask any more questions, the hand in his hair tightened, and Mia pulled his head down. She rose on her toes to meet him, pressing her lips to his for the very first time since they’d met two decades ago. The way he’d dreamed she would for at least ten of those years.

Her lashes didn’t dip until after their lips touched, and in that split second, before he let his eyes close, Rafe witnessed the most beautiful wash of emotion drift over her face. Emotion that eased her features into an expression of such desire and bliss, it turned him inside out.

When her lips moved against his, suckling and sliding, Rafe’s breath eased out on a moan. He curved his arms around her until they’d doubled at her waist and her delicious little body was as close as he could get it while they were clothed. Mia answered with her own sound of satisfaction and hunger, parting her lips and demanding more from Rafe.

After the sheer number of women he’d kissed over the years, he didn’t know how it could even affect him anymore. But the feel of Mia’s supple lips under his didn’t just affect him, it moved him. A mountain of emotion shifted inside him, absolutely none of which he understood, but all of which overwhelmed him in a way that made it instantly clear he couldn’t let her go now. There was no turning away. No heading home. No pretending this didn’t happen. At least not to himself.

He didn’t give a shit why she’d chosen to bring this up tonight. He didn’t care that she’d come here to screw Kilbourne and ended up with Rafe. Nothing mattered to him now but getting his chance with Mia.

The elevator buzzer sounded, signaling they’d held the door open too long. But Mia didn’t care. Her tongue slid over Rafe’s lips, pouring liquid fire into his groin. He groaned, opened to her, and stroked his tongue into her mouth. Her warm, wet, sweet mouth.

At the same time, he lifted her off her feet and carried her out of the elevator, letting the door close behind them. Rafe pushed his hand into her hair, cupped her head, and held her as he took the kiss deeper. She softened and swayed into him. And she tasted so damn good, like abandon and bliss and forever. She felt so right, like that missing piece, his other half, his soul mate.

He loved the slide and roll of her tongue. The way she varied the pressure of her lips. The scrape of her teeth over his bottom lip with a little whimper, like she needed more. Like she wanted to eat him.

“What room?” he said, barely clearing his lips from hers to ask before tasting her again.

She tapped the keycard against his shoulder, and he took it from her, all without breaking their kiss. Rafe took one more, long, deep taste of her before he pulled back and fought to focus on the sleeve holding the card for the room number. But Mia’s mouth moved to his neck, then his throat. One hand worked on the buttons of his shirt. The other slid down his belly, past his belt, and cupped his cock through his slacks.

Pleasure ripped through Rafe’s groin, and his entire body jerked. “Ah God…”

He grabbed Mia’s shoulder to steady himself, but that left him defenseless against her assault, and she took great pleasure in exploring every hard inch of him.

“Mia,” he begged, breathless. “Let me read this so we can get out of the hallway.”

“Want to taste you,” she murmured against his throat, but eased the pressure on his cock and lifted her hand to his face. “Want to lick you…and suck you…”

He blinked the white flashes from his vision, read the number, and glanced for room directions. Then stepped away from Mia, took her hand in his, and hurried her down the hall toward the room.

“I can’t believe I’m doing this,” he muttered, his gaze blurring over the richly patterned gold-and-green carpet. But what he really meant was he couldn’t believe he was
finally
doing this. He couldn’t believe he was
getting
the chance
to do this.

He forced his mind off Tate and Joe, men whose trust and respect he would lose if they discovered this fling with Mia. This was just one-and-done. Something Mia instigated. Something Mia wanted.

Justifying it helped him get the keycard into the door. He turned the handle, then pushed the door open and held it for her to go first. The door closed behind him as she flipped on a light, and Rafe paused when he got a look at the room. Correction: the mini suite.

One dim lamp burned on a side table, casting the room in an intimate glow. Everything was done in gold and white. The bed was a four-poster with a matching footstool and nightstands. There were two upholstered chairs with ottomans and a table in one corner, a working desk in another, a curved settee in another.

This was the epitome of Mia’s life now, filled with fashion shows, cocktail parties, and meals at fancy restaurants. She dated suits that took her to the symphony and Broadway.

Rafe had plenty of money, but money didn’t buy sophistication or experience. And as Mia tossed her purse on the stool at the foot of the bed, Rafe was more than a little uneasy to realize he wasn’t sure exactly how to handle a woman who deserved more than a hard fuck and a slap on the ass on the way out.

“This room had to cost a mint,” he said, trying to ease the new nerves with small talk. “That job of yours in New York must be paying better this year if—”

His words cut out as his gaze returned to Mia, her hand tugging on the single tie at the back of her neck.

The dress’s neckline softened, and the fabric fell off her like molasses over vanilla ice cream. Slowly, smoothly, sensually, inch by slow inch, Mia’s gorgeous body came into view until her dress pooled at those sexy heels.

Rafe’s body temperature spiked. His brain short-circuited. He couldn’t breathe. He could only sweep his gaze over her again and again, taking in the black lace bra, panties and naughty garter holding up sheer black thigh-high stockings. All finished off with those flashy heels that screamed
do me now and do me hard
.

He didn’t know how many women he’d slept with. Didn’t remember names or places or specific encounters. But he knew he’d never met a woman as beautiful or as brave as the one standing in front of him right now.

“Jesus Christ.” The words reached the room as barely more than a whisper. And he couldn’t utter another when she came toward him. This time, he did step back. And he put his hands up. “I… You’re… This is…just so much to take in all at once.”

She smiled and continued toward him, until her abdomen pressed against his hands, until his back hit the wall. She lifted her hands to his shoulders, slipped off his jacket, and tossed it on a side chair. “No rush. We have about eight hours until morning.”

Only eight? Only eight hours to do everything he’d always wanted to do with her? Suddenly, it wasn’t near enough. But when she reached for the buttons of his shirt, Rafe grabbed her wrists. Her eyes darted up to his.

“I’m not a suit, Mia,” he said in warning. “I wear one to and from the games, but you know me. And you know I’m nothing like the men you date in New York.”

“I thought I knew you. This last year has proven me wrong.”

That was the second time she’d stung him in the last half hour. Deserved, but…
“Then why do you want me?”

“Why does it matter? Do you give all your one-night-stands the third degree over their motives?”

“It matters because you’re not all women.”

It also mattered because this wouldn’t be like any run-of-the-mill one-night-stand.

He walked her backward, holding her wrists. He pushed her to a seat on the edge of the bed, set his stance wide, straddled her knees, and pressed her hands to her thighs.

She tilted her face up to his.

“And because,” he said, looking down at her, “you’re probably used to certain behavior in the bedroom. Things that I don’t do. Or that I do differently. Things you may not like.”

“Like what?” she asked in a husky almost-whisper, her eyes sparkling with lust.

Rafe felt the snap of his restraint as a rush of adrenaline spurted through his body. “I’ll have to show you.”

He pressed one knee to the bed and pulled her arms over her head as he laid her back on the gold embroidered coverlet. Transferring both her hands into one of his, he traced his fingers slowly down the side of her face and across her lips. He pulled her mouth open and leaned down to kiss her. When he barely touched his lips to hers, she arched and pulled against his hand, mouth open and reaching for his.