AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Why don’t you keep Corky at your place tonight,” she added, desperate to bring this night to a close. “You’re headed out on the road for a couple of days and you won’t get to see her.”
Blake hesitated, and Erika held her breath, praying he would let this conversation end here.
She needed some distance from him to…
Well, to think.
Erika wasn’t an impulsive person, so she really needed time to make sense of everything that had happened between her and Blake, to determine how she could avert any more mishaps. And so she could analyze all the dates and conversations and make rational, smart decisions about Doug.
Mercifully, Blake pushed away from the counter, bending down to scoop up Corky, who’d been prancing around their ankles.
“Night, Erik.”
His tone was gruff and…God…a bit angry. She chose to pretend she couldn’t hear it.
“Good night,” she said with a lightness she didn’t feel. “Thanks again.”
When the door closed behind him, she deflated, all the air seeping out of her body as her foolish head and stupid heart started playing out a different ending to the night.
One where Blake really did strip her out of her dress, lead her to the bedroom, and give her more of those amazing orgasms.
To quote Victor…she was fucking fucked.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Blake leaned back in his chair, taking a sip of his beer, letting his teammates and friends party around him. He should have skipped the damn celebration because he was a buzzkill.
While the Rays won tonight, it hadn’t been because of anything he’d done. Hell, if anything, they’d won despite him. His head hadn’t been in the game because all he could think about was Erika—who was out with Doug again.
Nearly a week had passed since he’d tried to kiss her good night after the charity event. Truth was, he’d been hoping to do a shit-ton more than just kiss her. He’d planned to do exactly what he’d said. Strip her out of that sexy dress of hers, kiss her senseless, then drag her back to her bedroom to?—
“What the hell is wrong with you tonight?” Tank claimed the seat next to him. “You’ve been in a foul mood since walking into the arena. We won the game, dude. It’s time to eat, drink, and fuck.”
Blake shook his head. “We won by the skin of our teeth, and it’s not like I have anything to celebrate. I stunk it up big-time.”
“So you couldn’t find the back of the net. Happens to all of us,” Tank reassured him.
Blake lifted one shoulder, not really interested in rehashing the game. The only reason they hadn’t had their asses handed to them was because Coulton was on fucking fire. Boston had twice the shots on goal they’d had, and Coulton had stopped every freaking one. Their goalie was catching pucks in midair like they were punches someone was swinging at his mother. Nothing got by him. Not a single goddamn thing.
The crazy thing was, Blake had gotten the impression Coulton had arrived for the game every bit as pissed off as he was. However, while Blake had served up a fucking pizza in the middle of the third that gave Boston a serious chance to score, Coulton had been their MVP, shutting them down hard at every turn.
Blake glanced around Pat’s Pub. “Where’s Coulton?”
“Said he had something to take care of,” Tank said. “I told him after the way he played tonight, Padraig would probably give him every round for free, but the dude was in as much of a mood as you are. What happened? Did your menstrual cycles sync up?”
Blake smirked. “You’re a dick.”
“And you’re killing my buzz. What’s wrong?” Tank asked again.
“Erika is out on a date.”
Tank frowned, confused by his response. “So?”
“So, I think she’s really into this guy. Doug,” he added, the man’s name tasting like manure anytime he was forced to say it.
Tank studied his face for a few seconds, then slapped him on the back. “It’s about damn time. Hey, Preston, Victor. Come here,” Tank called out, waving their teammates and buddies over.
“What’s going on?” Preston asked.
