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# Other Books By Julie Bevan

Check out my website juliabevan.com for more information.

Submission Hold

My Football Romance

My MMA Romance

# My Hockey Romance

#

Julia Bevan
Chapter 1

Josie

"Hey, Ben, I can't talk now," I murmur hurriedly into the phone, cupping the smooth screen device against my cheek and peering cautiously around the corner of my office door before retreating back to my desk. My boss was no doubt lurking in some shadowed corner, just waiting for one of us to slip up and make even the tiniest of mistakes. He hadn't been shy about making sure that we all know just how replaceable we are at his architecture firm. It was well known that his office was one of the most selective, demanding, and esteemed in the city. Working under Peter Tullamore had been my dream all throughout college - at least until I could open my own firm someday. Unfortunately for me, Peter is more slave driver than employer. The hours are endless, and the breaks are zilch. He might as well own the half dozen other people and me that he hired. While in his office, and he made damn sure we knew it was his office, we could barely even breathe without permission. There wasn't a single one amongst us who would complain, however. Architecture jobs, especially one as highly respected as this one, were hard to come by. I'd all but put my entire life on hold to work here. That meant no vacations and no holidays. I hadn't seen my older brother in what seemed like years, though it was more like a month or two. I barely had time to even grab a coffee with him lately, which had once been our weekly tradition. "You're working again?" Ben sighs, the distant sound of chatter and the rustle of heavy hockey equipment echoing behind him. "Lord, sis. You ever take a breather? You're going to work yourself into an early grave." "You know I'm too high-strung for a break," I tease back, smiling when he chuckles. Ben and I only really have each other. Our parents were always more interested in living their dream than raising their two kids. I never really blamed them for that. Both Ben and I were accidents, as far as we could tell. They hadn't asked to be parents, and we hadn't asked to be born. We all just coexisted with one another. They did the bare minimum, keeping us fed and healthy but rarely interacting with us. I couldn't even say now which island in the Bahamas they were on at the moment. Ben and I raised each other instead, though I suppose Ben did most of the raising at first. Even though he's only a few years older, he'd held my hand and walked me to school every day, making our lunches and telling me stories until I fell asleep at night. If I let him, he'd probably march right into my office and give Peter a big dressing down for how many hours of overtime my boss was having me work, but I'd managed to convince my older brother to focus on his own life for now. As an up and coming hockey star, he had plenty on his own plate. I tried to tell him that he didn't have to protect me anymore, but that fell on deaf ears. It's not as though I was ungrateful for all that Ben did for me. It truly warms my heart that he was protective. I knew a few other sets of siblings who barely had anything to do with one another, but Ben is my best friend and the only guy I've ever really trusted. I appreciate him, heart and soul, but I am also my own person. Suddenly, a woman with a short red bob stuck her head around the corner, her eyes going wide with an unspoken warning. He was coming. "Damn," I hiss, throwing a pen off my desk and then dramatically leaning down to get it to hide my head behind the mahogany wood and cautiously peer around the sanded edge, "I can't talk anymore today." "Okay. I just wanted to check in with you. I haven't heard from you in a like a week. Are you sleeping?" I have to resist rolling my eyes, but the sincerity in his voice is sweet. It's nice to know I have someone who worries about me, though I wish Ben didn't insist on checking up on me so much. I'm twenty-three now, living on my own and working a fancy big girl job. I appreciated his protectiveness, but I didn't need it so much anymore. "Of course I am, and I'm remembering to eat vegetables and brush my teeth too," I add playfully, actually rolling my eyes this time. He laughs and then sighs. "-tell her about the award party, man?" another voice calls from behind him. "Is that sister of yours coming? We don't think she's even real!" The men all laugh, and though their words sting, it also doesn't surprise me. I hadn't been to one of Ben's hockey games in forever. I streamed them on my phone when I had the chance, but I did miss the feeling of sitting in the arena, freezing my ass off and cheering until my throat was raw. I didn't even know any of Ben's teammates or friends. Then again, I barely had any friends of my own. There wasn't enough time to juggle relationships, even platonic ones. All I really have time for anymore is my job. My heart thuds heavily against my ribs, but I try to push away the dull ache. If I didn't have any time to chat with my brother, then I certainly didn't have time to feel sorry for myself for working so hard. This job is what I've always wanted, isn't it? I knew just how much I would have to sacrifice for it. Isn't this what I expected, what I prepared for all through college? "Award?" I ask, focusing again on my brother's voice in the phone even though I had mere seconds left before I got a stern rebuking and a potential firing, "Ben, what award? That's amazing!" "Just some lame hockey shit," he mumbles shyly, in a tone that told me that it was more than just some lame hockey shit to him. "And there's a party for you?" "Yeah, but I know you're working like crazy. It's no big deal." Again, he spoke with that tone that told me just what a big deal this award is to him. That's it. I have to be there. I have to support my big brother. There have been so many times lately when I've failed to do just that, but this won't be one. I'm a smart girl, I can figure this out... hopefully. I glance over towards the door, listening, but I can hear Peter just down the hall reprimanding one of the other junior architect's buildings layout. It'll be any moment now that it's my turn. "I'll be there. I promise. Text me the address-" "Josie, it's at a club. We both know you wouldn't have fun. You don't like loud music or drinking or anything like that, and I'm sure you have to work early tomorrow. It's just a get together with some buddies." "I'll be there," I repeat firmly, before hanging up the cell and gliding it underneath on the chair to hide it away. Straightening, I hunch over my own plan and begin scribbling away at it just as my boss rounds the corner. He gives a slight hum, his arms folding across his chest. Though he's a small man, he has a powerful aura. He's barely over five foot five inches, but the scowl he presents could melt a gargantuan luchador's mask clean off his terrifying face. There's a reason Peter Tullamore is feared in the architecture industry, and it isn't because he's always giving out hugs and candy. "Good afternoon, sir!" I force a smile on my face, greeting the man. "Working through lunch again?" he asks, a lone eyebrow quirking upwards. Only the dark brow moves, not the rest of his face, like it's being controlled by a puppeteer. I can't help glancing up towards the ceiling, expecting to see a string. Working through our lunches isn't necessarily a requirement, in fact for legal reasons it couldn't be, but it is extremely recommended. "Of course!" I say with a beaming smile and a bob of my head, hoping that the enthusiasm will brighten the man's dour mood. It doesn't. "I just love to work!" I add loudly, hoping to mask the phone suddenly vibrating underneath my legs. No doubt it's the text with Ben's party location. He was right when he said I didn't enjoy bars or clubs. I can't even remember the last time I had a drink that wasn't a single glass of white wine while I tried not to fall asleep in my bathtub after a twelve-hour shift in the office. "That's nice," Peter answers idly, shaking his head as he starts to leave. "We have a deadline coming up. Everyone is staying 'til eleven." Brain-scrambling for any reason on how I can get out of staying at work late again, I suddenly clear my throat and then give a hacking cough. When Peter looks at me curiously, I groan and drop my head into my hands. "Are you alright, Josie?" asks Peter dryly. I can't tell whether he's actually concerned or whether he's just asking for the sake of civility. Either will do, in this case. "It's just..." I trail off weakly and cough again loudly, "oh my, I feel so very faint." I feel like one of those southern belles in an old western film, fanning my face and fighting off a pretend spell of the vapors. In the months that I had been working at this firm, I'd never once been late or missed a single day. Hell, I'd come in almost every weekend and I was always the first to volunteer to stay late. I deserve a single night off, and I'm willing to do whatever I could for it. A thoughtful rumble reverberates in Peter's throat as he checks his watch. He couldn't care less about my state. I cough again as loudly as I can, swaying in the chair and taking a second to peek at him through half cracked lids. He glances back towards me, that odd eyebrow lifting again. "Do you think, sir, that I could just leave a few hours early?" I plead, "I'll be back here bright and early tomorrow. You know me, I'm never late. I've never asked to go home." A disappointed frown tugs at his mouth. I'd never thought Peter was especially fond of me, but whatever brownie points I'd earned were definitely being erased at this moment. It'll be back to the bottom of the barrel now, but for Ben, it's worth it. "Fine, fine, just stop coughing. Don't get any... fluids on our plans. I don't need you infecting our clients." Excitedly, I sprang to my feet before remembering that I was supposed to be deathly ill and sinking right back down into my chair with a dramatic moan. My hand flutters to my forehead, pressing against it as though I'm checking for a fever. "You better be here at 7 AM tomorrow. Don't be late," he mutters with a roll of his eyes, striding back out the door and away from my germs as quickly as he could. With a silent squeal, I threw my arms over my head and scoop up the phone, texting my brother back that I would be at the bar for his award party in no time. As I collected my things and shoved them in my purse, making sure to look aptly miserable as I marched out of the building, my eyes catch on my reflection in a passing window. I gaze at myself with demure eyes, a black pencil skirt snugly draped around my knees and a modest white button-up blouse tucked into the hem. My only accessory is a severe black belt. All in all, I'm more boring than white bread without butter; and stale white bread at that. If I was really going to have a single night of fun, I'm going to have to at least try to look the part.
Chapter 2

Luke

Music came thumping in through the speakers, the deep bass vibrating through my bones. Within seconds of walking into the club, I might as well be deaf. At practice tomorrow, we're all going to be shouting at the tops of our lungs just speak to one another. People are packed in tight, an assortment of teammates, their girlfriends or hookups for the night, and Portland Puma fans. I like to think we've got the best fans in the NHL, but I guess I'd have to argue with every other team over that. We've never had a game that wasn't nearly sold out though, even when we're away. I scour the crowd while I wind and weave my way towards the bar, my gaze eventually finding the man of the hour. Grabbing a beer and balancing two overfilled shots of whiskey, I make my way over towards Ben. "Cheers, man!" I grin, passing him the shot. "Congrats again!" The night is still young, but it's apparent that the hockey center had already done quite a few shots with everyone else there celebrating his award. He sways just slightly on his feet, his whole face and neck flushed a bright candy apple red. "Thanks, Luke!" He calls back, words slurring just slightly together. With a huge grin, he tosses back the shot while I follow suit. The whiskey is like hot, delicious fire all the way down the back of my throat. I shake my head, lips smacking as a passing waitress takes the empty little glasses with a wink. She's all perky and smiling right now, but within a few hours, she's going to be so over the drunken people sloppily bumping into one another and shattering their glasses everywhere. I'm just glad I went into hockey young so that I never had to have any other job. There's no way I could do what she does every day. As far as I'm concerned, she's a saint. A liquor-laden, skimpy clothed saint. "I can't get too trashed yet," Ben says, even though he's already rapidly approaching that point. "My sister's coming out tonight. How great is that?" Ben is very much an I-love-you-man when he's drunk. Everything is the most awesome thing ever. Everyone is the best person ever. Every drink or food is the best he's ever had. "Oh, the mysterious sister of yours who never bothers to come to your games or visibly support you in any way?" My teammate's rosy glow of drunk elation hardens instantly into a protective glare, the look he always does when I speak ill of his little sister. It's not that I don't like her, I don't even know her, it's just that she's never bothered once to come out to cheer for her brother during the last few hockey seasons that Ben and I have played together. Even still, he barely ever stopped talking about her. I knew more about whatever lame-o architecture program she was in then I did about my own college courses. Growing up, I'd always wanted a sibling. I definitely wouldn't take a brother or sister for granted the way she appeared to be doing. "Just kidding," I add playfully, despite being completely serious. He's drunk enough to break back into a smile and a laugh. Tonight, I won't bring up his sister or my thoughts on the matter. Tonight's going to be all about having a good time. But if I ever do meet that girl, I'm definitely giving her a solid piece of my mind. She probably wouldn't even show tonight. How many other times had I heard Ben say that this girl was going to be at a game or an after party or ceremony? I'd lost count. Ben always just shrugged it off, but it made me angry. "This music is incredible!" Ben hoots, throwing his arms over his head and bobbing his head to the music. I hadn't realized it, but my body is swaying slightly with the rhythm of the music as well, my shoulders rocking, head tilting from side to side. It'd been a long time since I stepped away from the hockey rink and just had a good time. Hockey is my life, my heart, my soul. I'd been playing since I could walk, or at least that was the story my mom liked to tell. She says before that, I was always crawling towards the ice like I wanted a turn in the rink. Before I made it onto a little league hockey team, she was sure I was going to grow up to be a Zamboni driver. "You'd like her you know," Ben says abruptly, grabbing my shoulder with one of his hands and leaning closer to shout into my ear. The music is so loud that I can still barely hear him. The waitress returns with more shots, and to keep Ben from doing his, I do them both before he can notice their arrival. We've got practice in the morning, and while I can handle my alcohol, Ben can't. He's already sloshed, no reason to make it any worse. "Who?" I shout back, cupping one hand around my mouth to make my voice louder. The alcohol is simmering in my belly, making my blood surge warm through my veins. I move a bit more with the music, letting the tempo fill me like a balloon inflating in my soul. Ben is right, this music is great. "My sister. She reminds me of you a lot," Ben's drunken grin gets wider. "Every time I'm talking to one of you, I think how much you'd get along." I start to say that it's too bad she's too busy to ever hang out but remember my mental promise not to deride her tonight. It's so obvious how much Ben loves his little sister. I'm almost envious of that bond. My mom had given birth to me young, and our relationship had been much more friend to friend than parent to child, but it still didn't fill that void that I'd always wanted in having a sibling. My best friend abruptly belches, breath stinking of mid-shelf liquor and cheap beer, before giving an uncharacteristic giggle. A few of the people nearby glance over with mild curiosity, judgement on their own drunken faces. "You've got to give your speech soon to accept your reward. Can you handle that?" I ask quietly, grabbing his arm and pulling him over to a nice, quiet corner of the crowded bar. I catch the eye of the waitress who'd been walking around and gesture deliberately towards Ben. With a knowing nod, she returns a moment later with a tall glass of water which I force him to guzzle down with only a few complaints. "Is it vodka?" he slurs, "It's the best vodka I've ever had!" "Sure is, buddy," I have to stifle a chuckle. Fortunately, even if he slurred and bumbled his way through an incoherent speech, we were surrounded by friends who would think it was hysterical. Ben didn't tend to get wasted, but he also didn't tend to have people buying him shots left and right. I end up accepting more than a few on his behalf, and within the next twenty minutes, I'm sinking down to sit beside him with a big cup of water of my very own. Occasionally, Ben straightens up where he's sitting. Glassy eyes scan the crowd to try and find the familiar face he's seeking. I almost want to tell him to give up so that he'll stop but he looks too much like a little kid trying to spot Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer in the night sky on Christmas Eve. I don't want to be the Grinch that ruins it for him. "She's coming," he says when he notices me observing him from the corner of my eye, the water helping bring some clarity back to his tongue. "She promised. When we make promises to each other, we mean them." "If you say so," I shrug. I'd heard all about the situation with their parents and how hands off their mother and father had been. Maybe that's why his little sister is so disengaged as well. She couldn't help it, being a flake was in her DNA. "You don't get it," he insists. "She works so hard all the time. She's going to make something of herself. She doesn't date, she doesn't mess around, she doesn't go anywhere but the office and her apartment. She works her fingers to the bone," a glimmer of pride sparkles in Ben's eye like he's a father talking about his daughter. I wonder if, in the way that my mother was more like a lighthearted friend than a parent to me, that Ben is more like a protective parent to her. I also wonder if she knows how lucky she is to have someone in her life that cares for her so much. "Nachos," Ben abruptly gasps, his face going somber. He pushes deliberately up to his feet, sticking his nose up in the air like a dog sniffing for a bone. With his brain focused intensely on drunken sustenance, his body no longer has that same drunken swagger that it did only moments before and his eyes are no longer vacant. "Need nachos," he mutters, like a zombie hunting brains. If there's one thing Benjamin Mills is, it's stubborn. If he wants it, he's going to get it. I don't even know if this bar serves nachos, but I know Ben will end up with a big plate of them in no time if he has his way. He's the type of person that could convince a snake to merrily shed its skin six months early. I hold up my pointer finger, tilt my head back to finish gulping down some nice cool water, then climb up to my own feet and point him in the direction of the bar behind us. "Go on, they'll hook you up," I chuckle, giving him a light push. He saunters away, his nose following the hunt of salsa and crispy, salted chips. I'm about to follow him when a woman suddenly sidles up to my side. I glance down at her distractedly, trying to step around her swiveling body, but she presses her pelvis against my hip and bats her eyes. "You're the goalie, aren't you?" she asks, wetting her full lips, "That's, like, so cool." I'd met women like her a thousand times. She probably doesn't even know what an NHL goalie does, just the salary. Every time the team went out, there were flocks of women with dollar signs in their eyes who try to hook their claws into an unsuspecting player. All they really need is one night, one mysteriously broken condom, and they'll have a pro athlete on the hook for life. That isn't what I'm looking for. I don't have time to date or for mishaps like that. I only have time for the game. I live for hockey. The feel of the ice under my blades, the chill on my nose and cheese, the sound of the puck skidding towards me and the crowd cheering when I block it. That's all I need. It's all I've ever needed. "Excuse me," I grunt, gently grabbing the wrist of the hand pressed to my chest and carefully pushing it away. Her jaw drops, eyes wounded as I make my way past her. I've lost sight of Ben in the crowd now, but I'm sure he's probably chowing down on some nachos in a corner somewhere. I chuckle again, though the sound is muted by the loud music, and turn in a slow circle to take in the gyrating bodies of the dancing crowd. Then, across the room, I see something - someone - who makes my whole body freeze. It's like my blood has frozen in my veins, like my brain has skidded to a halt. Every thought that was going through my mind vanishes, replaced by one single one. Damn. She isn't doing anything in particular to grab my attention, but her legs are endlessly long under a short denim skirt. There's something about her that forces me to keep staring, but whether it's the almond-shaped eyes, the button nose, or the way she twirls her hair around her finger, I don't know. She's perusing the crowd as well, her long spine pressed lithely back against a wall. She looks vaguely uncomfortable, like she wants nothing more than to leave. When our eyes meet, every single hair on my body lifts on electric edge, my lungs screaming for a breath that I can't convince my body to take. Never once has a woman had this captivating effect on me before. All I know is that I need to find out who she is, and fast.
Chapter 3

Josie

"Excuse me!" I grab the elbow of a waitress passing by, her tray loaded up with three big plates of sloppy looking nachos, "Sorry! I'd been trying to get the attention of someone for what felt like forever, unable to press my body through the dizzying crowd of wiggling bodies. It's claustrophobic in here, sweltering and suffocating. She shoots me an impatient glance, shifting her tray to the other side. She says something, but the words are drowned out by the blaring music that's making my ears throb. I can't hear her at all, and she probably can't hear me either. I haven't seen hide nor hair of my brother since arriving a few minutes ago, but I imagine he's in the middle of some big crowd of his friends somewhere. It'd always been easy for him to make friends, while I typically get all shy and flustered when meeting someone new. Even as a teenager, when most boys his age would be repulsed by the idea of a little sister tagging along, Ben always made sure to include me in his plans. If his friends argued with him, he would always pick me instead. I was never lonely as a kid, thanks to him. "Benjamin Mills!" I say as loudly as I can, "Do you know where he is?" The woman blinks, edging closer. "... where the tea is?" she mouths back, hurriedly pantomiming lifting a cup to her red painted lips. "I'm looking for my brother!" I have no idea how to mime that, so I just lift both my palms up in utter confusion. She squints her eyes like it would help her hear me better somehow, "What would you like to order?" I stare at her, exasperated, then shake my head. "I'll just take the tea, please!" I mumble, feeling sorry for wasting her time when clearly this isn't headed anywhere. With a somewhat halfhearted wink and a grin, she vanishes through the thick throngs of people. Everyone is packed so tightly together that it's impossible to see farther than a foot or two ahead, and the lights flash so brightly that they leave stars in my eyes. I feel like I'm on a whole other planet, unable to speak the language or move under the changed gravity. I'd always been a wallflower. I am in way over my head. No wonder Ben had been so insistent that it was fine that I skip out on coming to this party, but I'm glad I managed to make it. I'd already texted him, asking where exactly in the club he was, but I'd only gotten a random assortment of emojis in return. Still looking for my brother, my gaze lands on a man across the dancefloor, the swarm of dancers between us parting like the Red Sea. The guy standing over across from me is handsome as hell, the pure epitome of tall, dark, and beautiful. Ebony hair hangs in dark eyes, dark stubble rough along his square jaw. If I didn't know better, I'd almost think he was looking right at me. Surely, there's no way... A guy like that would never notice me. My throat goes tight, my fingers instinctively curling around the hem of my short skirt to tug it lower down my thighs. I'd had no idea at all about what to wear to this sort of club, and compared to everyone else, I was extremely underdressed. While the men wore slacks, polished shoes, and button u shirts, the other women lounged about in skin-tight dresses and sky-high heels. Then there was me, sticking out again like a sore thumb in my frayed jean skirt, a shimmery pink tank top, and matching sandals I'd gotten from the clearance bin at Target. I was honestly a bit surprised that they even let me into the venue with how everyone else was dressed. Ben's going to tease me for sure when I finally manage to track him down. The waitress suddenly reappears, her tray empty aside from my drink which she thrusts hastily into my hand. Thanking her, I took a long sip, not realizing just how thirsty I was. The iced tea is strangely sweeter than normal, making the tip of my tongue tingle, but then again what was I expecting from a club? It wasn't like they were tea brewing experts. I sidle backwards through the crowd, the people blocking my way from the handsome stranger once again. Someone grabs at me, their hands on my hips. The sudden touch makes me yelp and almost drop my drinks as he draws me closer to his body. He dances behind me, pelvis grinding into my ass, but I whirl around and wag a defensive finger at him. "You touch me again like that and I'll pour my drink in your face!" I raise my voice as much as I can, a furious scowl contorting my eyes. "Yeah, baby?" he grins, licking his lips, "You'll sit on my face?" With a squeak, I wrench away and march determinedly back towards the other side of the room where I can hide away in a corner far from the dancefloor. The air in the club is hot and thick with the scent of liquor and perspiration. There are so many people in here that it feels like it must be a thousand degrees. Beads of sweat form on the back of my neck, dripping slowly down my spine and leaving thin trails down the back of my shirt. I look desperately for Ben, but he's still nowhere to be seen. When I duck into a corner, the waitress from before gestures at my almost finished drink. "Another?" she asks. With a shrug and a nod, I drink it down and then pass the empty glass back over to her. For a moment I close my eyes, take a deep breath of dank air, and focus on relaxing. I must be getting used to the music, I realize, because it's no longer as painful on my ears. I'm not as nervous anymore either, even though I'm surrounded by people. If that creepy guy had asked me to dance now, I might just have said yes instead of being offended. What in the world was going on with me? Was I just that in need of a night out on the town? "Another Long Island!" the waitress beams, leaning in close to lightly place a fresh cup of iced tea into my hand. I look at it, then back at her, startled. "Long Island? That has alcohol in it, right?" I ask in confusion. "Girl, that's like all alcohol," she laughs in response, shaking her head and then turning on her heel. Her makeup, which had been bright and flawless when I first walked in, was beginning to streak down her face because of the humidity of the writhing bodies within the club. Her tray is loaded up with nachos again. I guess it's the favorite munchy of the night, that or someone's ordering a bunch of it. I almost call out after her to take the drink back, but the waitress vanishes amongst the writhing, damp dancing crowd. Thoughtfully, I stir the straw in the glass. The drink stares up at me, beads of cool condensation dripping slowly against my fingers, the ice cubes tinkling merrily against the rim of the glass. I'd never had a Long Island before tonight, but I could distinctly remember a good friend who'd gotten completely trashed off a few of them on her twenty-first birthday. No wonder I'm already feeling a buzz. Both my brother and I turn red when we drink liquor, though it affects his whole body and just my face. As long as I didn't end up dancing like a crazy person up on top of the bar, I'd be fine. Tentatively, I press my lips around the tip of the straw, sucking in a slow gulp and savoring it on my tongue. Now that I knew what I was drinking, I could taste the hidden notes of vodka, and only God knows what else, but it was subtle. This is a dangerous drink, I can already tell. To my surprise, I like it. In seconds, I've finished the drink, and I'm tempted to get one more. I set aside the empty glass, hips wiggling to a song that I didn't know, my awkward movements spurred by a mix of treacherous liquors. My hands find their way into my hair, my head tilting back to greet the music and the flickering neon lights. Right now, I probably blend in with everyone else that's dancing. I'm gyrating and swaying just like them to the beat of the song. My mission to find my brother is all but completely forgotten now, lost in the blur of booze and music. "Finished your drink?" a deep voice asks, so close that the breath is hot on my earlobe. My skin prickles, but I don't open my eyes. I don't want to lose this moment. I feel so impossibly free, like a bird who's just been let out of a cage. I don't want to open my eyes and realize I'm still stuck. "You can take the glass," I murmur to the waiter. He laughs, the sound rough and smooth all at the same time. This time I have to open my eyes. I have to know what the man whose voice that belongs to looks like. "It's you!" I gasp, sucking my lower lip between my teeth and biting down in surprise. The man, the handsome one with the broad shoulders and dark hair who I'd noticed across the club earlier, stood near me now. My nostrils flare with surprise, inhaling the scent of cologne and male musk. It makes my head spin, more intoxicating than any drink I've had tonight. If there's anything temptingly dangerous here, it might be him. "Me?" he echoes curiously, leaning against the wall. He's so tall that I feel dwarfed in his presence. I have to tilt my head back just to get a good look at his face, but the flickering lights and the lingering alcohol make it hard for me to focus. It's odd, however, that I don't feel intimidated by his muscled bulk. If anything, I feel like I'm suddenly safe and secure, shielded from the other men in the room. Normally, I would shy away. I would make an excuse to vanish. I would run as quickly as I could from the attention. Tonight, however, I feel like a different person. Maybe it's the drinks. Perhaps it's the music. Maybe it's the thrill of skipping work. Perhaps it's just me. "I saw you earlier," a coy smile works its way to my mouth. Holy hell. Am I flirting? Do I even know how to flirt? He smiles back, a faint dimple appearing in his cheek that makes my heart knock against my ribs harder and harder. I suddenly feel swallowed whole by that lopsided grin and the dark specks of his eyes. My knees feel weak, like I'm being held up by nothing but pure luck. "Are you alright?" he asks when I totter to the side, sudden worry blooming in his eyes. His fingers brush my hip, steadying me, and even the slightest touch of his hand against my body makes a lightning bolt of something that I don't recognize pierce through the whole of my body. It's like I've had twenty of those dangerous drinks all at once and every inch of me is on fire. My skin crawls in the most thrilling way. My knees no longer tremble, they shake. My whole body quivers, even down to the deepest part of my core. His other hand brushes my other hip when he notices me trembling, easing me down onto a seat behind me. It's only when my body again gets another flash of heat from his touch that I realize just what it is that's consuming me, making the backs of my eyelids glow crimson red. My eyes drift down his face, locking on the curve of his lower lip that surely tastes deliciously of beer and salt. It's lust that ripples in my veins, that pulses in my heart. Raw, carnal, desperate lust, unlike anything I've ever let myself feel.
Chapter 4

Luke

The wide-eyed way this girl stares up at me makes me feel like she's a helpless doe and I'm a wolf about to scarf her down. It's impossible to place the thoughts whipping around in her pretty head, but I'm worried that I may have startled her. I sit down beside her, retracting my hands from her body so she doesn't think I'm trying to make a move - even though I'd be lying if I said I didn't want to. But I can't tell just how much she's had to drink, and I'm not about to act inappropriately towards her. She's either intoxicated or just plain bizarre, I guess only time will tell. Either way, she's gorgeous. She looks a little familiar though I can't place where I've seen her face before. I figure maybe she's one of our fans and I've seen her at the games in passing. Maybe that's why she's looking at me in the peculiar way she is. She's just star struck. Can't blame her there. It happens with a few of our fans when they wait after the games to meet us sometimes. I'd like to imagine their meeting me is a highlight in their life. After all, I have carried the Pumas to at least one victory with my superior goalie skill. Or at least that's what I'd like to believe. I wave over the waitress, intent on asking again for some more water. "I swear if you ask me for ten giant plates of nachos like your friend did earlier..." she trails off warningly, a stern look on her face. I knew her good mood wasn't going to last. Good to know that Ben was eating at least, he'd need it to soak up some of that alcohol he was chugging down. Hopefully, people have laid off the shots now. I hadn't seen him since he wandered off for a snack, but he's probably laying low somewhere in the crowd. Knowing him, he's falling asleep. One drink too many and that guy passes right out. "Just water, please, for the lady" I laugh, mentally reminding myself to leave the waitress a nice big tip that will take the edge off her evening. I'll have to make sure both Ben and the mystery girl's tabs are settled before I leave as well. For Ben, because he's so drunk, he might forget, and for the girl so that maybe she won't forget about me. She suddenly sucks in a breath as though she's been underwater for some time, only just popping up above the whitecapped surface. "You okay?" I repeat quietly, ready to leave if she asked me to. I wouldn't go far though. I wasn't going to leave a potentially drunk girl stumbling around and confused. "I'm fine, really. Just overwhelmed, I guess," she murmurs shyly, her voice soft and delicate and very sweet. In fact, everything about her is soft and delicate and very sweet. Maybe that's part of what makes her so irresistible. There's an innocence in her expression that makes my molars grind together. At least she doesn't sound as wasted as I thought. "Not much of a partier, are you?" She shakes her head, fiddling again with the frayed edge of her skirt. She stands out amongst the other women in their uncomfortable stilettos and chunky necklaces and overdone hair and bright lipsticks. There's something naturally gorgeous about her, from her tantalizing Cupid's bow to her cinnamon freckled nose. I don't think she's even wearing any makeup. Unlike the gold diggers who follow the rest of the team and me around all the time, she doesn't have that look in her eye like she wants something from me. It's refreshing and borderline irresistible. "Actually, I don't ever do anything like this." It's her turn to laugh this time, gaze skimming the faces of the other partiers before returning swiftly to me. Having her look right at me like this makes my whole body go warm, like I'm standing on a beach with a hot tide slowly washing higher and higher over me. It's then that I finally see it, that familiar gleam of an expression which indicates, in most women, that she wants something. I brace myself, waiting for her to ask me to buy her a lobster dinner or a new dress. "Want to dance?" she whispers breathlessly. For a moment I go entirely silent, staring at her in surprise. That's what she wants from me? "I don't dance," I finally smirk. She reaches over, fingers curling around mine. Her hand is as soft as I expected, her fingers smooth as the finest silk. My whole hand feels hot under hers, like the skin is sizzling where our fingers collide. The girl leans in close so that I can hear her more clearly, "Me neither." If I'd been questioning whether she was truly irresistible before, she definitely proved her power over me now. With ease, she drags me to my feet, and I willingly turn to face her. Though I genuinely don't enjoy dancing, the thought of our bodies being flush together makes this all sound a lot more pleasant. Her arms hook around my neck as the trill of the music behind us beats on. Though the tempo of the song is quick and harsh, we slowly rock together like we're dancing to an old-fashioned love song. Her chest is pressed to mine, and I can feel her heart beat like a little hummingbird's, faster and faster against my own ribs. My hands find their home on her hips, pulling her closer against me. She doesn't resist, her body perfectly melting against my own. Her fingers weave up the back of my head into my hair, lightly plucking at the short, dark strands in a way that makes my eyes almost roll back into my head. My heart picks up the pace, veins swollen and heavy with the heat of growing desire. Being so close to her, inhaling the scent of vanilla shampoo from her hair and liquor from her lips, the urge to kiss her is becoming more and more overwhelming. I resist it, but her eyes stay locked on mine, her mouth just slightly open. Every now and then, I see a hint of her pink tongue behind white teeth. The song changes again, but I no longer hear the music. All I hear is my own heart's rhythm and the soft hitch of her breath. I struggle to find the words to say but find none that would do this moment any bit of justice. Everything about it is just so perfect. For a man who hated dancing before, I find myself never wanting this dance to end. Our bodies are mostly hidden from the prying eyes of the crowd, and though we're surrounded by people, I feel alone with her, like we're the only ones in this entire club. We could be on an entirely different planet right now, and I would never notice. It's a feeling I want to cling to and run from all at once. Just who is this woman, and what sort of spell is she putting me under? My face drifts down towards hers as though it's pulled by a magnetic force beyond my control, the tips of our noses brushing and then our foreheads pressing together. She leans up onto her tiptoes just slightly, only a hair between our mouths though neither of us moves to claim the kiss of the other. Not yet. My eyes drift open only to find her already gazing up at me. I consider the flecks of her beautiful eyes for a long moment, connecting the shards of gold within them like the stars of a glorious constellation. The air crackles between us, the tip of her pink tongue tracing her upper lip. I can't just stand here anymore; if I do, I'm going to kiss her. I'm going to claim her. I'm going to want her. But I don't know this woman, and she needs to make her own choice on what she wants as well. There's only one thing to do. "Listen," I murmur, my hands gliding ever so slowly down her sides. She shivers under my touch, her head tilting back and exposing the long, pale flesh of her neck to me. I want to press my mouth against her collarbone, tasting the salt of her skin. I want to taste all of her. "I live across town, but I got a hotel room right next door so I could crash after the party." She doesn't speak, but her fingers trace down my spine, the wake of her fingernails making goosebumps blister in a field over my skin. I reach into my pocket and dug out one of my room keys. When the concierge had handed me two earlier, I'd almost told them I didn't need the extra. Now I'm glad to have gotten it. I dip it into her back pocket, taking a moment to worship the curve of her ass, then lean in closer to her ear. "Room 823, if you want to join me." Reluctantly, though I go through great pains to make it look easy, I pull back with a wink. She's gazing at me again in that same way that she was earlier, her eyes locked on my face as if I'm all that she can see. Except I can recognize the expression now. She's not looking at me as though I'm a predator stalking her as my prey, she's looking at me with that strained expression because she's fighting her own inner urges. "823," I repeat one more time before melting backwards through the mass of people until she's gone from my sight. It's only then that I finally suck in a breath, my heart beating like a jackhammer in my chest. I have to press one hand to it in an attempt to calm it down. No woman has ever made me feel this way. Hell, nothing at all has ever made me feel this way, not even any hockey award or commemoration that I've won. In those moments, standing on the stage and feeling the weight of a trophy in my hand or a medal around my neck, I'd thought I'd had it all. Now I realize how wrong I was. Why can't I get enough of this strange woman? Even if she doesn't show up at my hotel room and even if I never see her again, I'm exhilarated just to have met her because she showed me a side of myself that I never knew existed. It's like I've been going through life without seeing a vibrant shade of the rainbow that was suddenly everywhere, like I'd been blind to it until she showed me it was out there. Everything now seems brighter and warmer. "Luke!" calls Ben's voice as I walk dazedly by. He was doing better now, slightly more sobered up but still smiling. That's probably thanks to the heaping plate of nachos he made the waitress track down for him. "Hey, did I miss your speech?" I ask with sudden remembrance. I'd gotten so caught up in the girl that it had totally slipped my mind why I was even here. Ben shakes his head and shrugs, "I don't want to go up there slurring like an idiot. Max is taking me home once he finishes hitting on some girl." "I'll see you at practice tomorrow," I say with a laugh, marching determinedly out of the club. If I got to the hotel quick enough, I could get some champagne delivered to the room. It's not like I'm looking to marry the girl, hell, I don't even know her name, but there's something about her that makes me want to make this night as special as I can. But all I can think about is taking her in my arms, laying her on my bed, tearing off her clothing piece by piece while she cries out my name in that sweet voice of hers. Strangely enough, however, I don't care if that's not how we spend the night. She could merely show up, and we could just sit on opposite sides of the room staring at each other, and I'd still be content. No matter where the night leads, I know I'm going to love every second.
Chapter 5

Josie

The hotel keycard is small and flimsy but oddly heavy in my pocket. I can feel it shifting around every time I move towards the water that the waitress had brought at some point while the unknown man and I were wrapped up in one another. I can still feel his hands on my body, pulling me gently up against him as we rocked together... A shiver rolls slowly up my spine, making my throat tight. Was I going to go to his room? Would I be that brave? On any other night, I would never have even considered such a thought. "There you are, sis!" Ben calls in shock, pushing through the people to approach me as I whip around in surprise to face him. He extends his arms towards me and I leap into his embrace, squeezing him tight. After spinning me in a circle, he set me down against the floor and then stumbled slightly to the side. With a laugh, I reached out and helped steady him. Somebody's had a few drinks tonight, that much is clear. Then again, so have I. "I didn't expect you to actually come!" he continues with delight and booze bright in his eyes. His face is flushed red from the alcohol, and I can smell it on him like it's seeping from every single pore on his body. I'm almost positive that he has hockey practice the next morning and I'm going to have to guess it won't be his best one of the season. "I promised you I would," I grin back. "I can't believe how long it's been since we hung out last! You look great, by the way. Let me introduce you to some of the guys." He takes my hand, pulling me after him through the crowd until we reach a group of men clustered together. I can tell they're hockey players by their muscled build, but their expressions are all very kind. "This is Max, James, and Paul. There's some more guys, and I really wanted you to meet Luke too, but I think they've all already left, I think. Probably headed to somewhere cooler than this," Ben laughs and nudges his closest teammate, who playfully rolls his eyes. I'd heard the name Luke thrown around a bit in our chats. As far as I know, this Luke guy is my brother's best friend and closest confidante on the team. If you ask me, Luke sounds a little arrogant. I've never met him, but I assume he's the type of man who makes every situation about himself. "Nice to meet you," I murmur shyly to the surrounding men, my buzz and my nerve slowly dwindling. Again I find myself uncomfortable, like I'm adrift in this sea of people. There's just so much noise and chaos... the only place I'd really felt secure tonight was in that man's arms. Why hadn't I even asked his name? If I don't work up the courage to go to his room, then I'll never know just who he is. Then again, if I don't go to his room, won't that be saying I'm not interested in the first place? A lazy vein pulses on my temple in confusion. "Guys, this is my little sister, Josie," Ben continues, the mention of my name tugging me out of my deep thoughts. "Now I expect all of you to be perfect gentlemen. Hands to yourselves." He smirks faintly at me, wrapping an arm around my shoulder as his teammates take turns shaking my hand. I find myself at a loss for words, now grateful for the loud music that helped to fill in some of the deafening silence now growing between us. Ben was too drunk to help me out here, staring idly up at one of the flashing dancefloor lights like he'd only just noticed it. "So does this mean we'll be seeing more of you, Josie?" Max asks curiously. "You know your brother saves you a seat at every game. Front row, one of the best in the house." Ben grins back at me now, strong shoulders shrugging. He sags against me wearily, and I get the feeling that I'm the only thing holding him up. That probably won't turn out well, as I'm half his size. This guy was going to need to go home and go to bed sooner rather than later. "I hope so," I say to Max, grunting under Ben's weight, "it's just that I work so much. It's hard to make time for other things." Max nods, noticing Ben's eyes starting to drift shut. He moves over and hefts Ben slightly up then plops him in a nearby chair like a kid being put down for a nap. "Don't you worry about this guy," he grins, "we'll take care of him tonight." "Thanks so much. You'll have him call me when he's conscious?" Max laughs, his head tilting back. "I can do that if you'll promise to try and find more time in your hectic schedule for the important things." The promise catches me off-guard, though I suddenly feel like I'm a troublesome student who's accidentally just wandered into the principal's office for a lecture. "...What do you mean?" I ask slowly. "A job is necessary. Money is important. Believe me, we get that, all of us. Hockey is more than just a gig, it's life. I'm sure you feel that same way about your architecture. But there's more to living than working. There's family, for one." I glance at Ben as his shoulder lolls to the side, a snore rippling through my brother's throat. "I know that my job isn't everything but-" Max holds up a hand to stop me, smiling softly. "I wasn't looking to chide you. I just know that it's important to remember that there are more things in life than just a paycheck and a deadline." "Don't listen to this guy," another one of the hockey players says, playfully clocking Max on the back of the head. "He took one philosophy class in college and now he's an expert." When the guys all laugh, I laugh along with them, but something in my gut feels all twisted up. For the first time, I start to wonder if I'm making the right choice here by committing myself so fully to Peter Tullamore and his architecture firm. Sure, working for him is a great way to kickstart my career... but is that all that I want? In a daze, I say goodbye and remind Max to have my brother text me, then head to the bar to close out my tab. "Another?" the waitress asks curiously, eyeing me skeptically, "are you sure, girl? Those Long Islands pack a wallop." "God no," I laugh, "can I go ahead and pay?" "Oh, honey. Your tab is already taken care of. That nice gentleman friend of yours paid for your drinks." She moves further down the bar towards someone calling for her, leaving me staring blankly at where she'd stood only a moment before. "His name," I suddenly ask, leaning against the bar and pressing my hand against it firmly. "Do you know his name?" The woman thinks for a moment, tapping her chin, then gives a sigh and shakes her head in defeat. "I'm sorry, he paid cash, and I've served so many people tonight I can't keep any of the names straight." My lips pucker together as I chew at the corner of my mouth in thought. Then, with a shrug and I sigh, I head outside. The sweltering summer wind hits me like a wave as I step outside, but I'm just so grateful for the fresh air that I couldn't care less what temperature it might be. I inhale once then twice, relishing a smell that isn't bursting with damp feet and cheap cologne. Rising above me, the hotel where my mystery man is staying soars into the air. It's got a neon sign on the front that glitters. I tilt my head back to gaze at it the same way I'd had to tip my chin up to gaze into his eyes, counting the illuminated windows. A few flicker, the inhabitants watching their televisions. I'd never been in that hotel, it's way too fancy for me to ever consider staying in. They probably sewed their sheets with gold. I count up to the eighth floor, where nearly all the windows glow yellow. Which one was him? Was he waiting for me? Was he standing at the glass pane right now gazing down at me? I squint, trying to tell if any shadowy figures are moving about, but I don't see anything at all. If he's there, he's hidden. There's no way that I could go up to see him. There's no way that I could be that girl. I'd never had a one-night stand in my life, but I'd also never had a handsome, sexy stranger so taken with me before. Was it just the alcohol that drew us together or was it something more? Would I be okay if it was just a short fling with a handsome, mysterious stranger and nothing more? Deliberately, I take a few steps down the sidewalk, trying to convince myself to walk towards the bus station so I could get home. I do have to be up early, after all... I'd only taken two steps when I whirled around and rushed back towards the hotel like my life depended on it, my shoes clacking loudly against the pavement. The doors glided effortlessly open as I approached and stepped inside, relieved to be in the air conditioning. The hotel lobby is ornate to the point of being almost garish with crimson carpet running along the floor and golden paneling. I feel suddenly out of place, like I'm a very clumsy ox in a very beautiful china shop. The concierge, however, doesn't even give me a second look. I'm certainly not the first girl who's wandered in here for a clandestine affair and a gifted hotel key in her pocket. My fingers dig backwards over the stitched pocket. The edge of the key greets my hand. I withdraw it and stare down at the white plastic, pressing my thumb against one corner. Down the hall, one of the elevators dings loudly. Breath catching in my throat, my eyes shoot towards it as though I expect him to walk right out and greet me in that smooth, deep voice of his that's like dark chocolate and red wine to my soul. The man who exits, however, is over seventy and dressed only in an extremely snug bathing suit. "Going up?" he asks, holding the door open for me. Swallowing hard, I take a deep breath and nod before lurching inside. The old man's gap-toothed smile vanishes as the doors slide shut. I thrust a finger hard against the eight-floor button, and my stomach drops down to my feet as the elevator soars upwards into the air. In seconds, I've rambled out of the elevator and down the hall and come face to face with the door of the room. I can't hear a peep from inside, not the rustle of a sheet or the sound of a foot padding over the carpet. For a second I start to wonder if he was just taunting me and if he told me the wrong room number. It wouldn't be a surprise, with how handsome he is. My whole body shakes as I slowly lift my hand, my knuckles hovering an inch off the wood. Try as I might, I couldn't seem to convince myself to knock. Again and again, I tried to get myself to do anything at all, but I just stood there frozen like a statue. My feet might as well have grown roots. A few units down, the door abruptly flies open as someone steps into the hall. I whirl around, my shocked eyes meeting the gaze of the man from the club. He blinks, that dimple appearing in his cheek as he sets the ice bucket against one of his hips and smiles. "What are you doing?" he asks, arching an eyebrow. "What does it look like?" I answer with a determined lift of my chin. He chuckles, "Like you're trying to get into the janitor's closet." With a little yelp of embarrassment, I drop my hand from where it was still suspended a few inches from the door and shuffle backwards. My cheeks burn in humiliation, even more red than when I was drunk. "Come on in," the man says quietly, gesturing towards his open door. "At least there's no mops in here." I can't help but laugh, shaking my head and letting him guide me in. Abandoning his hunt for ice, he sets the bucket down as the door closes behind him. The room is smaller than I expected, little more than a TV and a bed. The sheets, while not stitched with gold, do look soft and inviting. I ease down onto the corner of the bed without thinking, smoothing my palm across the comforter. The man stands across the room, still by the door, his arms folding over his chest. He watches me silently, but his eyes are churning. When I timidly gaze back up at him, I feel suddenly hypnotized by his expression. It's as though he's fighting movement with every inch of his body, as though he wants to spring at me. His eyes occasionally shift towards my mouth, and I can't help but run my tongue along my upper lip. He stiffens, inhaling sharply. That's the first time I've ever seen raw lust on a man's face when looking at me. With trembling fingers, I hook my thumbs under the hem of my blouse and slowly start to pull it upwards, but he rushes forward. "Stop," he whispers, voice thick. I bite my lip, suddenly ashamed. I drop the shirt, and my arms move to cover my body, but he shakes his head. "No, it's not you... it's that I want to do it. Let me take your clothes off for you." He swallows, hot gaze traveling over me. My chin stiffly jerks up and down in a nod. I'd do anything to have his hands again on my body, anything at all. Slowly, he takes hold of my shirt with gentle fingers and pulls it up and over my head. Laying my body down against the bed, he unbuttons my skirt and removes it. I'm left in my underwear, my hands moving again to cover me, but he gently takes hold of my arms and moves them. His gaze washes over me, his breathing going shallow. "God, you're gorgeous," he whispers huskily, his voice little more than a growl. "So damn gorgeous..." he repeats, collapsing down against me. Our noses brush, and this time I can't resist. I need to taste him like a man in the desert needs water, like a man drowning in the ocean needs air. I need him, completely. My hands move on their own in a way they never have before, ripping his own clothes from his body. In seconds we're naked and rolling across the luxurious sheets, our legs tangling. His fingers knot in my hair, my fingernails drag down his spine. He groans with pleasure, his breath hot on my ear as he presses kisses against my throat, his teeth grazing the flesh. He suckles at the curve of my neck, leaving a trail of bruises that I will worship later. "Please," I beg, not even able to recognize my own voice; it's so full of carnal yearning, "take me!" His arm hooks under my leg, dragging my body against his. I feel him struggling to move slower than he truly wants. Every one of his strong muscles is strained and tense. "Please!" I scream again, and he can no longer hold back. He thrusts inside of me, my back arching, my fingers curling into the sheets as though my body may just take flight from pleasure and float away. I writhe under him, bucking my hips towards his. The pleasure is intense, almost painful in its ecstasy. I want more, more, more. I can't get enough of his body. He's everywhere at once, his kisses sweet one second then rough the next. We roll together, limbs intertwined and desperate. The sounds leaving my throat are like that of an animal's. I'm no longer myself but an extension of him, and he is the same. I can barely see, barely breathe, barely feel anything that isn't his muscled body capturing my own. Our high-pitched cries of pleasure blend into one beautiful song, just as the hours of the night bleed away into the morning. The lone night was both sublimely endless and torturously short.
Chapter 6

Luke

When I hear the distant rumble, at first my sleepy brain assumes it's thunder. Swathed in cloudlike blankets, I give a tired groan and roll over to turn my face away from the morning sunlight glowing against the backs of my eyelids. I'm not ready to wake up yet from the most amazing dream I've ever had. I want to escape back there to where full lips eagerly await my kiss, a body perfectly melted against my own, and soft eyes staring back at me... When I yawn and inhale the familiar scent of sweet and mussed hair, my eyes instantly pop open in shock. It wasn't a dream at all. I'd half woken in the middle of the night in a start, trying to recall if last night had actually taken place. I'd patted the side of the bed, but I hadn't felt a thing. Now, in the light of morning, I can tell that she most definitely does exist and she's still as glorious as I thought I'd imagined - and I still don't know her name. We'd been so caught up in each other's bodies that it hadn't occurred to either of us to exchange pleasantries. She sleeps so peacefully that I'm even afraid to move because it might I wake her, though my fingers can't help but brush over her cheek, pushing back the long hair that hangs into her closed eyes. My fingers follow the curve of her jaw, the tip of my thumb just barely brushing over her lower lip. She shifts only slightly, her mouth pressing against my finger in a way that makes my body flood with warmth once more. The rumbling starts again, and I realize it's the hotel room cleaners going from unit to unit. That's odd, though, for them to be cleaning so early. Curious, I carefully shift across the bed away from the sleeping figure to shoot a glance at the clock. I'd thought it'd be much earlier than it is, it's already almost nine. Dammit! I hiss to myself, wishing that it was earlier so that I could lounge in bed with the beautiful woman beside me for as long as I wanted, but I have practice at ten, and I need to get showered and get ready. Gazing at her, however, made me wonder if perhaps it'd be worth it to miss just one practice... Before I could mull the thought for longer than a second or two, my hungry eyes roaming over the curves of her body just barely concealed under the gossamer white sheet draped over her, there's a sudden ringing of a cell phone across the room. I fumble out of bed, half army crawling towards where our clothes are in a crumpled heap strewn about on the floor. Unsure whether it's her phone or mine, I dig through both of our clothes before discovering her phone under my boxers. I toss aside the cotton underwear, glancing down at the glowing screen. To my shock, it's a picture of Ben's face that stares back at me. He grins joyfully from the screen, two big thumbs up pointed back towards me like he was congratulating me for a successful romp. Holy hell. Did this girl know Ben? Is that why she came over last night? My mind races. Has Ben ever mentioned a girlfriend before? Swallowing hard, I leap up and away from the phone and Ben's prying eyes. In my haste to escape the picture, I slip over the girl's skirt and belly flop down onto the bed. My fall sends sheets and pillows flying up into the air. The woman gives a startled yelp and shoots upwards, so she's sitting, the blanket coiling around her stomach. For a second, entranced by the beauty of her naked body, I completely forget about Ben's photo on her phone and the question of why he was calling her. "Are you okay?" she asks, voice slurred with sleep, "What in the world just happened?" She rubs at her eyes, blinking hard and trying to see straight. She looks around, taking in the bright sunlight. When she looks back at me, her face is pale. "What time is it?" she asks hurriedly, probably late for a rendezvous with her next hockey boy toy. "Why is Ben calling your phone?" I shoot back. I'm still rocking my morning wood, and I can't get that stupid picture of his face out of my head. She rubs at her ears this time like she wasn't sure she was hearing me right, climbing out of bed and starting to collect her clothing. "What?" "Ben! Benjamin Miller! Why is he calling you?" "Who? My brother?" "Brother?" I echo, suddenly numb. The girl stares blankly at me, her head tilting to the side. The realization of where I've seen her face before hits me harder than a hundred-pound sack of bricks. That nose, those freckles, the shape of her eyes. She's all but the spitting image of my best friend, her older brother - and I am the one who defiled her. Oh god. Ben is never going to forgive me for this. "What is going on?" the girl asks, slinking closer. She loops her arms around my neck, pressing a light kiss against my cheek. Her lips linger against my jaw, traveling towards my earlobe. I strain to focus on my thoughts, though her breath on my ear makes my skin tingle. "You're the little sister he's always talking about," I mumble weakly, staring down at my raging boner, a raging boner for my best friend's little sister. This could not get more messed up. "...You know Ben?" she asks uncertainly, pulling slowly back from me. My eyes wander up her body as though I'm memorizing it for the last time. "I'm Luke. Ben's best friend. We're on the hockey team together." She looks away distractedly, her gaze finding the clock as her face drains entirely of color. "Wait, you're Luke?" she cries out, simultaneously starting to drag on her clothes, "You're the obnoxious goalie?" "Listen," I start, but she holds up her hands and backs away from me, "I'm not obnoxious-" "I've got to go," she says urgently, entire face contorted in panic, "I just... I just have to get out of here."

Chapter 7

Josie

Somehow, I'd managed to sneak into my office without Peter noticing that I was unforgivably late, even though I was wearing the same clothes as I had to the party last night and they were hardly work appropriate. It isn't like I had much of a choice, though. On our second day of working here, one of our coworkers had stopped to tie his shoe just outside the building and walked through the doors only two minutes past seven. Peter had been waiting with a box of things of the guy's stuff from his office and a red slip. I comb my fingers through my hair, trying to get it to lay flat against my neck to cover up the love bites peppered there by Luke. Luke, ugh, even just his name makes me shiver. Of all the people in that nightclub, I'd chosen the one to sleep with that meant the most to my brother. I hadn't worked up the courage to call Ben back though I'd sent him a text with the excuse that I was working and couldn't talk. He'd sent back a picture of him in bed eating a cheeseburger and fighting the hangover from hell. Typically, the picture would've made me laugh. Today, it made me want to cry. On my brother's big night, I'd slept with his best friend. Ben is the type of man where loyalty means everything. He'd never forgive Luke for taking me home. He's way too protective. If he were to find out, then it would possibly damage not only the friendship between Luke and Ben but the core of the relationship between Ben and myself. I'd be the one who couldn't keep it in my pants and destroyed his friendship. He'd say it was all Luke's fault, but he'd secretly blame me too. Nothing would ever be the same. I can't let that happen. Ben's practically the only family I have to count on. I'd have to track Luke down later and tell him never to speak of what happened between us to Ben, but for now, I would just have to keep my fingers crossed and hope that he had the sense enough to do just that until I could be sure. Luke and I could never, ever spend the night together again. As far as he and I are concerned, we are merely strangers. How much easier this all would've been if we just never discovered one another's identities... we could've gone months without this stress. A year from now, when I finally had time to attend one of Ben's games, Luke and I barely would've recognized each other. It would've faded to the back of my mind, nothing but a hazy memory of really, really fantastic sex. Cool chills prickle up and down my arms, memories of the long night we spent together simmering in my veins. His kiss, his touch, his body against mine... it'd been amazing, and amazing was putting it extremely lightly. It'd been mind-blowing. He was mind-blowing. And now I could never see him again. I give a faint grunt and bury my face in my hands. It's just my luck that the most amazing man I've ever met would be completely off-limits. Not that he was probably interested in pursuing things with me. I'm sure I'm the farthest thing from his type that ever was, but even just the option would've been nice. When I close my eyes, senses dulled, I can still taste him. Or maybe that's just because I didn't have time to brush my teeth before rushing here as fast as I could. "Well, well, well," says a sharp voice from the door of my office. My eyes spring back open, my face arranging into what I hope looks like a perfectly innocent expression. There wasn't anything innocent about me today, though. Peter Tullamore stands there, his other eyebrow lifted this time. Just how in the world did he manage to do that? I couldn't even wink properly, but his eyebrows were like living caterpillars on his face, always crawling around and changing positions. "How was your evening, Josie?" he asks, blinking slowly. I clear my throat and give a tepid shrug. "It was... uh... not too interesting," I finally answer, grateful that my voice is hoarse from shouting at the club. At least that will make my feigned sickness a little more realistic now. "You don't say? Hm. Well, that's funny because someone in the office seems to have seen you at a... what was it?" Peter glances over at where the redheaded staff woman is meekly wringing her hands. "The club downtown," she sputters, shooting me an apologetic glance. "Go Portland Pumas..." She gives a weak thrust of her fist in the air. Traitor! "Want to explain yourself?" Peter asks, shooing away the girl and then stepping towards me. He closes the office door after him, making me swallow hard. Every inch he took closer to me made me sink farther and farther into my chair. "While you're at it," he adds, before I can manage to collect myself, "you might as well explain why you came into work late today as well." Now it's me who's anxiously wringing my hands, my fingernails digging into the sides of my palm with worry. I'd worked so hard to get this job, and now I could stand to lose it. Everything I'd worked so hard for and I could have just thrown it all away for a single night out on the town. Just how stupid could I be? "My brother plays for the Pumas. He won an award and asked me to come. I haven't seen him in forever and so I just... I just wanted to go." My head hangs in defeat, but my shoulders feel slightly heavier for coming clean with the truth, "I understand if you have to let me go." "Let you go?" Peter echoes, giving a dry chuckle that makes me even more worried than I was a few minutes ago. "Oh, Josie, I won't fire you for that. I can tell you feel awful about the terrible choice you've made." "I do!" I gasp, leaping to my feet in surprise. "I really, honestly do." "And you realize you risked everything for a single night of merriment?" Again I nod eagerly. "Good. Because if you want to keep working here, I own you now. You might as well sell your apartment, you're going to be spending so much time in this office. Every task I need to be done, you do. Every coffee I crave, you get. Do you hear me?" Stunned, my once eager nod turns into a hesitant one. "Good. You can start by getting my dry cleaning, and when you get back, you can clean out this office. It's no longer yours." "But you aren't firing me-" "No, but I'm demoting you. You're no longer a real part of the staff here. You're a gofer, an errand girl, and you're lucky to even be that. If you prove your worth, then maybe we can consider you joining as an architecture intern later. Now get going." Peter turns on his heel in disgust, leaving me staring after him with tears welling in my eyes. In one night, I potentially ruined my career and my relationship with my brother. What am I going to do now?
Chapter 8

Luke

Even though we're in an ice rink, after Ben throws off his helmet he lifts his water bottle over his face and dumps the cold liquid all down his face. When he drops it, his body drops with it, collapsing in a dramatic heap on the ground in front of the players' bench. "That's what you get for drinking too much last night, Benji!" the coach laughs, smirking as he steps over the limp man. This practice had been the most brutal one of the season, both because of the team's collective hangover and because I'd been doing everything I could to avoid Ben like the plague. Every time he skated over to chat, or every time we were supposed to skirmish together, I'd found ways to escape him. Unfortunately for me, the hockey center appears to have taken notice. He pushes himself up onto his palms, gesturing me back over with his chin. I glance around, trying to find any reason to not hang out with him, and when I find none, I begrudgingly plop down at his side to sip from my own water jug. "I don't remember much from last night," Ben remarks with a laugh, "but I woke up with salsa stains all down my shirt. Since when does that club even have food?" "They don't," Max shouts from farther down the ice with a laugh. Ben shakes his head, then sidles a little closer to me. "You alright, Luke? You've been all up in your head the whole practice. I don't think you blocked one shot. You almost took a puck right to the face. I thought I was going to be the weak link today, but you were totally worthless out there." He grins, hoping to playfully rib me into a reaction, but I can hardly look at the guy. Every time I do, I just feel more and more guilt-ridden. Regardless of their close age, Ben looks at Josie more like a daughter than a sister, and I was the one who'd done naughty, naughty things to her all night long... naughty and delicious and spinetingling. Lustful hairs lift off the back of my neck. I'd never had to keep a secret from Ben before. Just how long could I keep something as massive as this hidden from him? At least Josie is so busy with work that I won't have to worry about running into her. If I did, I don't know that I could just turn and walk the other way. I don't know what it is about her, but she draws me in like a moth to a flame. I suppose it's best that Ben's memories of last night are fleeting at best. That means there'll be fewer questions about where I was the entire party. "Hey," he says, tossing aside his empty water bottle. His hair is flat against his head, and he tugs off his gloves to run his fingers through it, "is the reason you're all weird today because of the girl?" "Girl?" I yelp, instantly grimacing at the distinct lack of manliness to the tone. Great, that wasn't suspicious at all. Ben laughs heartily, stealing my water bottle to drink from now. "I heard from some people at the club that you left with a girl." "Who told you?" I ask instantly, glancing towards some of our other teammates, but Ben shakes his head. "None of these guys, but you know how people talk. How was she? Was she any good?" he wiggles his eyebrows, and I feel suddenly sick to my stomach. "I, uh, I don't remember," I mumbled weakly. Ben rolls his eyes, "I guess that means it wasn't just me who had a little too much juice last night, if you know what I mean." "Juice?" I echo, arching an eyebrow. "Isn't that what the cool kids are calling alcohol these days?" he murmurs distractedly before shaking his head. "I am not letting you change the subject here, Luke. You never take girls back to your room. What happened? She must've been something. Was she smoking hot or what?" "She was," I answer honestly, eyes going glassy before I can help it. This morning, before the metaphorical shit had hit the symbolic fan, Josie had looked so beautiful sleeping in my bed. I could've sat there forever just watching her chest slowly rise and fall, listening to the faint noises she made. I'd always thought that was so weird, how people would talk about watching someone else sleep, but with her... I totally get it. It was like looking at a masterpiece of a painting, an art piece that could captivate me for hours. Ben abruptly snaps his fingers in front of my eyes, jerking me roughly from my reverie. "That answers my question," Ben smirks, "I've got to meet this girl. You look like you're on cloud nine." He looks away, and I'm grateful that he won't notice how pale my face is getting the longer this conversation continues. "Ah, too bad. It was a one-time thing." "What? Why?" Ben starts to ask, but the coach has headed back out onto the ice and everyone glances over. "Who wants to take the jerseys to the dry cleaner before the big game this weekend?" he asks, not exactly expecting a mass of volunteers. Fortunately for him, I'm desperate to avoid a conversation with my best friend about my night spent with his little sister. "I will, coach!" I shouted, springing to my feet and rushing over to him to take the box. "Well, I mean, it doesn't have to be right now," he says uncertainly, but I'm already well on my way out the door. The entire way over to the dry cleaner, all I can think about is Josie. But I have to clear my head. I have to forget her. I will never again feel her fingers run down my back or hear her passionate sigh, or see a faint smile meant just for me... Something abruptly collides with me as I turn a sharp corner in front of the dry cleaner, sending both of us flying backwards. "Damn!" I wince, tossing aside the box to lean down and help the person I'd collided with, "I am so... Josie..." Ben's little sister stares up at me from where she's splayed out on the sidewalk and covered with the grimy hockey jerseys that have spilled from the box. Dammit... so much for forgetting her.
Chapter 9

Josie

"Luke!" I gasp, the name escapes my lips before I even realize what I'm saying. I close my eyes then open them, willing him to disappear. My heart thuds against my ribs, picking up steady rhythm until I can barely hear my own thoughts between the loud beating. He stares down at me, his lips screwed to the side. He hesitates for just a second before bending down and starting to throw the Puma jerseys back into the box. "Are you alright?" he asks, "I wasn't paying attention, I'm sorry." I grab at his hand, my fingers tingling where I'm touching him. He goes instantly still, sucking in a sharp breath and staring down at the jerseys. "No, Luke, it's me who should apologize. I'm really, really sorry." "Are we still talking about who bumped into who?" he murmurs, half a playful smile tugging on his lips, though his eyes are downturned with unhappiness. "Um...Not exactly." He sighs, settling down next to me on the sidewalk outside the dry cleaners where I'd just dropped off Peter's underwear. Never once did I think I'd be in charge of my employer's undergarments. Oh, how far I'd fallen. A few people step around us, shooting critical glances, but I ignore them. It's worth it just to be next to Luke for a minute longer, knowing this minute could be our last one together. Then again, I'd thought that I'd never see him again as I was rushing from his hotel room this morning. Had my life really changed so much in a single day? This time yesterday, I was sitting in my office, planning just how much work I'd be able to cram into my weekend. Now my head was full of thoughts of Luke's naked body and remorse for my brother. "Don't apologize for that," he says firmly. Luke pushes aside the box, glancing at me from the corner of his eye as though he's afraid to look me full in the face. "Last night was... it was the best night I've had in a long time, and I'm not just saying that to make either of us feel less guilty." His words settle in my core, warming my entire body like I was standing in front of a fireplace in the midst of a chilly winter. "Me too," I hesitantly agree, twirling a lock of tangled hair around my finger before releasing it. "Ugh, and it's going to be my only night of fun for a very long time." "What do you mean?" "I was late to work today," I shrug, glossing over the entire story. No need to dig myself a deeper hole. "Now I'm basically the office's slave." He gazed up at the clouds, watching one float by before turning back towards me. "You know, Ben's always talking about how you're making it big in the architecture world, and I know this firm you're working for is supposed to be amazing, but it doesn't sound to me like you're all that happy about it. " "I knew it would be tough. I was expecting that. Peter Tullamore is known to be ruthless. But this... sometimes it feels like I don't exist outside of the office, like I'm just a shell of myself. Last night was just a reminder that I'm a human, that I'm a woman, that I can enjoy life." It was so bizarre to be saying this aloud, things that I had barely ever let myself even think, much less speak about. I'd never even told my brother about this. There's something about Luke that just makes me want to bare my heart and soul to him. Luke gazes at me quietly, his face grave. A woman tries to push a cart around us, and we scoot back to let her by, our shoulders brushing. His face is so close to mine that I can all but smell the intoxicating scent of his skin again. It makes my head dizzy. "You should always enjoy life, Josie," he whispers, eyes laser-focused on mine. I exhale slowly, glad that I'd chewed a whole pack of gum while I was waiting in line at the dry cleaner. His eyes are so deep and so gorgeous, they're like black holes that suck me farther and farther in. I can't say for sure who moved first, but both Ben and I slowly lean in towards one another, our mouths desperately seeking another taste. His fingers twine in my hair, his other arm wrapping around my waist and pulling me against him. We collide roughly together, lips crashing, teeth knocking, but neither of us cares. All we want is more. His fingers slip under the hem of my shirt, grasping at my flesh to drag me closer against him. "Get a room!" someone shouts in disgust, making us break apart into a laugh, though we remain close beside each other. "Was that the last time?" he asks distractedly, eyes glassy. I swallow hard, knowing I should agree with him, knowing that I should get up and walk away... but completely unable. "No," I murmur, "come over. Tonight."
Chapter 10

Luke

Twenty-seven minutes have passed since I promised Josie I would meet her at her apartment. I've been standing just down the road from it, close enough to see the peeling pink paint on the outside but far enough that she wouldn't spot me if she glanced out a window. My hands dig further into my pockets, watching the sun go slowly down behind the building as evening approaches. All day long I've been thinking about this, about whether I would actually come to her home. I wonder if that's how she felt last night when I gave her my hotel room key. If she's acting in any way similar to how I had last night, she's pacing around, making sure everything is perfect, and stealing sips of alcohol to ease her nerves. Every sound from outside will make her stop and wonder if it's me approaching. I know I should make up my mind, will I walk to the door or will I walk away? There are just so many thoughts going through my head, like a whirlwind is spinning out of control between my ears. What in the world am I really doing here? Am I truly willing to risk my friendship with Ben over a girl that I only just met? There's no way that we'll be able to keep this secret forever. At some point, it's going to come out just what's going on between Josie and myself, and Ben is not going to be cool with it. So what is it about Josie that makes me want to take that gamble? Is it like Ben said, that she's special in some way? I've never felt as magnetically attracted to anyone as I am to her, but is it just her outward beauty that's drawn me in? Am I that shallow? No... there's something else to her. There's something in the way she laughs, the way her smile crinkles her eyes, the way she says my name. It just makes me feel alive, like a fire has been lit inside me after being extinguished all my life, a fire I'm not ready to let be blown out just yet. Walking away would be easy. Or should I say, the motion of moving would be easy, because it would be the hardest thing I've ever done to actually convince myself to take that first step. I could turn around and forget Josie's address and delete her number from my phone and try and clear her face from my memory, but I know that would never be truly possible. It's like I'm addicted to her now, like I'm dying to get my next fix. So, instead of doing what is probably the smart and right thing to do, I hesitantly approach her apartment and ring the doorbell. The sound echoes inside, cheery and light. A bird stops its own song to listen. There's a flurry of movement inside as the bolt is drawn and the door swings open. Josie stands there, dressed in a simple tee and a pair of pajama shorts. Her outfit is adorably mismatched, but her shy smile seems to tie it all together. "I didn't think you were coming," she says shyly. She gazes up at me through her long lashes, my heart swelling at just the sight. How is it possible that this woman has such an effect on me? Why does she have to be my best friend's little sister? Why can't this be easy? All my life I waited for the one woman who would make me feel a sense of wholeness like this, and when I didn't find her, I gave up. I didn't think she was out there. But with Josie, all I want is to spend every second at her side, talking and kissing and laughing. But, as long as I value my friendship with Ben, that can never be. "I'm sorry I'm late." She just shrugs, her smile twitching slightly larger as she steps back and welcomes me into her modest apartment. It's decorated simply, with an assortment of floral paintings on the wall and freshly cleaned hardwood floors. She lingers to the side, watching me take it in. "It's very you," I have to chuckle, arms folding over my chest. She scoffs, locking the door behind me, "What's that supposed to mean?" I glance around, taking in the white leather couch and the lilies in a vase on a small round table. "Delicate, sweet, lovely..." I take a step towards her with every word, until I stand only inches away. She trembles just slightly, her chin tipped up towards me, her eyes half closed as though she's basking in the warmth of my body. "What happened to having to work late?" I ask, the air crackling between us as though a field of electricity has formed inside her living room. "I told him no," she says simply, "I said I wasn't going to let him boss me around, that I wouldn't be demoted to an errand girl. I'm an architect, and I'm good." "And your boss accepted that?" She laughs, taking her own step forward and closing the distance between us. "No. He told me if I didn't stay tonight that I'd get in trouble. But the trouble just seems worth it, I guess." Her arms slowly loop around my neck, drawing me down towards her. Before my lips can drink in one of her delicious kisses, however, the doorbell rings. "Ignore it," she breathes, leaning up on her tiptoes to capture my mouth. We slide backwards, hitting the wall behind her. My hands cup around her thighs, dragging her up against my body so that I can press my hips to hers. She gives a quiet moan, nibbling lower lip as the doorbell rings again. Her fingers tangle in my hair as my mouth suckles at her collarbone. "Josie!" Ben's muffled voice calls from beyond the door, trying the locked knob, "Open up. I know you're in there!"
Chapter 11

Josie

Luke's mouth freezes against mine as my brother again bangs on the door with impatience, our bodies stiff as garden statues. "Josie!" Ben calls, "Hurry up! What's going on in there?" "He's not going to go away," I groan, hating my brother for the first time in my life. What great timing he has. "Dammit..." Luke finally whispers, just as reluctant as I am to let go of him. Very carefully, he sets me back down against the carpet as my legs unwind from his hips. We linger in each other's arms, embracing like if we hugged tight enough, we might both just disappear and not have to worry about this anymore. Unfortunately, that doesn't happen, and Ben continues wiggling the doorknob and knocking. He's getting more and more insistent, like he knows that I'm up to something. "What should we do?" Luke asks with a frantic glance around, probably trying to pick a window to fling himself out of. I squeeze him a little tighter just to make sure that doesn't happen. I may only be on the first floor, but thorny rose bushes are waiting under every sill. I'd found that out firsthand when I'd accidentally locked myself out one night after work and had to climb in through a window I'd left cracked. I still had the scars to prove it. With a deep breath, I take a moment to clear my thoughts, make a plan, and memorize the way Luke's muscular body envelopes my own. "You go to my bedroom and close the door," I say as quietly as possible, "I'll get rid of Ben, he won't even know that you're here." He nods, frowning when I slowly pull my arms free of his body, though my palms ache to once again press against him. His fingers glide along my face as he pulls me in for one more kiss then escapes across the wooden floor into my bedroom. I stare after him, a strange sense of dread blooming in my heart with every step that he takes. When Ben knocks again, Luke shuts the door, and the dread in my heart seems to solidify, weighing it down like cement. Is this how it would be with us if we tried to make this relationship into something more real? Would we constantly be running and evading my older brother? Just what kind of relationship could that even be? "Josie!" Ben calls again through the door, "I've got food!" I whirl back around, inhaling deeply, then crack open the door. "Hey, sis! I knew mentioning some grub would get you to open up," Ben says cheerfully, holding up a greasy to go bag of French fries and a burger, "I figured you were still so busy working that you didn't have time for dinner..." he blinks once, his eyes suddenly narrowing on me. My entire face starts to get hot, and I clutch the door a little tighter, hoping that nothing of Ben's was sitting right in sight. "Why are you looking at me like that? I ask demandingly. "Is that a hickey?" he asks, pointing at my neck with the bag of food in his hand. My hand flies up, cheeks burning even brighter. "Oh my god," Ben mutters, almost dropping the bag as he thrusts it through the door into my hand, "do you have a guy over right now? Are you serious?" He peers around me, trying to see any hint of my male guest, "Do I have to beat somebody up?" he asks, only half joking. "If I did have someone over, it wouldn't be your business. Why do you care anyway, Ben? I'm an adult now, I can make my own choices." Seeming a little taken aback by my words, his only partially teasing smile fades into a stern frown. "I just don't want to see you caught up in some guy that won't treat you right, Josie. Men are dogs, and you're so naive sometimes. It'd be too easy for someone to take advantage of you. Somebody's got to look out for you, and that somebody is me." "Ben, you're a good brother and a great guy, but I can make my own choices." My brother lifts his hands towards me in surrender, shrugging his muscular shoulders. "I get what you're saying sis, but I'm your big brother. It's literally in the job description for me to hate anyone you're dating." I roll my eyes, choosing instead to drop the argument. Right now isn't the time or place, and Ben is way too stubborn to see reason, especially about a topic like this. "Thank you for dinner," I say instead, knowing that I have to get rid of him before Luke starts feeling antsy. "I do really appreciate it." "I guess I should've gotten you the large fry," Ben adds bitterly, sending a pointed look at my closed bedroom door before shaking his head. He starts to take a step away, then stops and looks back. "Josie?" he says quietly. When I nod, he continues speaking, "No guy is ever going to be good enough for you, at least as far as I'm concerned. Just know that." Again I don't answer, instead choosing to quietly say goodbye and then push the door closed. I lock it once more, just in case a very nosy Ben decides to try again to open it. A few moments later, the sound of his car leaving the front of the apartment reverberates through the walls. I peek through the window to be sure, making sure that Bens actually leaves. When I turn around, the bag of takeout in my hand, Luke has emerged from the bedroom. "I should go," he says quietly, running a hand through his hair and averting guilt-ridden eyes. I want to argue with him, I want to beg him to stay, but the mood between us has been soured, and the reality of our situation is unavoidable. No matter what, Ben is going to be hurt, and it's going to be our fault. The weight of that is just too much, smothering out any chance of something growing between Luke and myself no matter how badly we want it. Luke walks towards me, his arms slowly lifting. I sink into his embrace, his arms tight and comforting around my body as his lips press against the top of my head. I cling to him, eyes squeezing shut to staunch the tears I know are about to start falling. The last thing I want to say is goodbye, but I know it's our only choice.
Chapter 12

Luke

"Luke, are you alright?" Ben asks lightly, leaning over my shoulder as I slouch on the bench and wait for the game to start. The rest of the team is restless, eager to get the game underway, but I'm struggling to find any interest in it at all. Crowds of our fans are filling the stands, waving their banners and chanting for the Pumas to win. A few weeks ago, it would've filled me with joy. It would've reminded me just why I'd chosen to play hockey, but now... it feels so empty. Nothing matters, not if Josie isn't someone I can share it with. An entire week has passed since we said goodbye after Ben's unexpected arrival at her home. I'd kept waiting for the gloom to lift and for my eyes to see a little clearer, but so far, it's only gotten worse and worse. I haven't been able to focus at practice, I haven't been sleeping because I constantly dream of her face. I haven't been able to eat because everything is tasteless. I've never once gone through a breakup like this before. Though I haven't had a ton of relationships, when I parted ways with any other woman, my bounce back was almost instantaneous. I always had hockey to fall back on and save me. This time, it just isn't making my heart feel any better. "I'm fine," I mumble to Ben, mustering up a very halfhearted smile that he sees right through. "Man," he sighs, "there must be something in the water. Every time I talk to my sister, she's all down in the dumps too." "She is?" I ask, hating myself for being so interested. Ben nods, clapping my shoulder, "Come on, we've got to line up for the anthem." Our coach directs us out onto the ice as the song begins to play through the speakers. The other team glares over, their hands over their hearts, their eyes focused on us. They're trying to intimidate us before the game even starts. Usually, I'd love trying to do the same, but this time my eyes sweep towards the empty seat that Ben always saves for Josie. I know she won't come, but just the thought of seeing her for a split second makes me feel so much better than I can't help the glance. I'll probably find myself looking over there a thousand times during the game, letting pucks right by me into the goal. I'd be lucky if my team wants anything to do with me by the time the game is done. "Luke!" Ben hisses, shoving my shoulder to get my attention, "Why are you just standing there?" Blinking, I glance around, noting that the other players have already skated to their starting positions. Swallowing hard and holding up a hand in apology, I glide expertly over the ice towards the waiting goal. I settle in front of it, struggling to focus on the game. In seconds, the players in front of me are darting back and forth, their jerseys clashing together as bodies roughly hit and the puck flies back and forth. Any other day, I would be absorbed in the madness on the ice that I wouldn't notice the door up at the top of the arena slowly open. This time, however, it's all I see. I look up, catching the top of a woman's head slide inside, but I can't see her clearly enough to make sure that it's not Josie. My feet move on their own, skating slowly forward, desperate to try and get a look at the woman who'd just walked in. I follow her, not even hearing the sounds of Ben and the coach and the rest of my team shouting at me to go back to the goal and do my job, I am utterly consumed by this woman. She turns suddenly, sinking into a seat beside another man, and I realize it isn't her. My heart sinks down to my feet like a concrete weight. Ben skates in front of me, waving his stick to try and get me to focus. I shake my head, remembering where I am, but when I turn to go back to the goal, someone is standing behind the glass. My heart pounds against my ribs, the stick dropping from my hands in shock. Josie stares at me, her palms pressed to the glass, her nose fogging it. Forgetting Ben, forgetting everyone, I start to skate towards her just as one of the players on the opposite team shoots the puck into our unprotected goal. The player makes a sharp turn, spraying ice towards his fans as he rejoices the point. He's so focused on his celebration, and I'm so focused on Josie that neither one of us seems to see each other. We collide head-on, both of our bodies flying back against the ice. The last thing I hear is both Ben and Josie screaming my name before I smack hard into the side of the rink and everything goes black.
Chapter 13

Josie

Luke's body ragdolls as he skids backwards limply across the ice, the rest of the players going instantly still. The other man who Luke ran into slowly sits up, taking off his helmet and shaking his head. Luke doesn't move. A team of medics rushes over to him, carefully rolling Luke onto a stretcher and getting him off the ice. I frantically follow them, barely feeling the ground under my feet in my hurry to reach him. When I dart around the corner, I come face to face with my brother. Ben's face is white as a sheet, his mouth drawn into a hard line. His eyes churn with such a wide array of emotion that I can hardly pick a single one out. The secret was out, Ben had seen the way Luke and I looked at one another. "You two. You were what, together? Is that why the both of you have been so down this week?" he goes abruptly stiff, his pale face turning slightly green, "Was it him who was over last week when I came by?" "Ben... this doesn't matter now. Luke is hurt, we have to figure out how bad it is." I can tell he wants to argue more, to lecture me and scold me about how dumb and traitorous the short-lived affair with his best friend was, but right now we have Luke to focus on. He begrudgingly nods, leading me past the players' bench to a small medical bay on the side of the hockey arena. When we walk inside, a doctor is stripping off Luke's padding and jerseys. His eyes are closed, his body so still that for a second I can't even tell if he's breathing. One of the medical technicians carefully eases off his helmet, revealing a bruised face. "Concussion is likely," the doctor murmurs to one of his assistants, "we've got to check for broken bones and stretched ligaments now." "A concussion?" I echo weakly, suddenly feeling faint on my feet. I wobble to the side, reaching out for something to steady me. The only thing I find is Ben's arm. He stiffens under my touch, jaw clenching, but allows me to cling to him. "Is it bad?" Ben asks gravely, watching the doctor inspect Luke. "If he doesn't come too soon, I'm going to have to send him to the ER... but if he fell on his back right, it could be a game ender," the doctor responds, just as seriously. "Only time will tell." "No!" I cry out, "His career can't be over. He loves hockey!" Ben and the doctor exchange a look and Ben pulls me away. "The doctor knows that Luke loves hockey. I know that Luke loves hockey. Unfortunately, that doesn't make a difference if he's badly injured, Josie." "Luke is stronger than that," I whisper back, fingers curling hard into fists. "I don't care what the doctor says or what anyone says. Luke is going to be fine." Ben stares at me, his own helmet resting tucked under his arm. He's still wearing his skates. His face is as hard as a stone mask. I can tell he's still angry at me, but right now all I care about is the limp man on the examination table. I push past my brother, leaning over Luke and taking his hand tight in mine. I squeeze it, pressing the back of his strong palm to my lips. "I'm here, Luke, I'm right here. You're going to be fine..." He looks so lifeless and stiff there, like he's never going to open his eyes. I feel tears slowly welling up, streaking down my cheeks. I squeeze his hand tighter, willing him to respond. A long minute passes, and then another. The doctor gestures at his technician to call for an ambulance. Then, suddenly Luke squeezes my hand back. "Luke!" I cry out excitedly, drawing both Ben and the doctor closer. My lover's eyes slowly crack open, gazing up at me quietly. "Am I dead?" he asks, mouth cracking into a lopsided smile. Tears, now of joy, surge down my cheeks and I bury my face into his chest. He winces, his hands running through my hair. "How are you feeling?" Ben asks quietly, "What hurts?" I feel Luke turn towards my brother, and his fingers freeze in my hair. "Uh, besides my dignity? Not too much," he says uncertainly, like he's waiting for Ben to lose his temper. "Thank god," Ben sighs, shaking his head. Slowly, I straighten up and step back so that the doctor can carefully examine Luke. Ben gazes at us, then slowly reaches out and wraps an arm around my shoulder. He pulls me against him, giving me a comforting squeeze. Even though he's furious at me, he can't help but console me. I really do have the best brother in the world. It occurs to me that I haven't told him that. "This could've ended your hockey days," Ben says sternly at Luke. "You could've lost everything if you'd injured yourself badly enough." Luke gazes back at Ben levelly, allowing the doctor to help him sit up. He bends slowly one way, then the other, giving a faint wince when the doctor finds a bruised rib. "Not everything," Luke says quietly, his eyes now meeting mine. My cheeks go warm, and I bite my lip to keep quiet. I have no idea what I'm supposed to say right now, what I can say to make this better. Now that Ben knows, will he reject us both? "She really means that much to you?" Ben asks quietly. Luke doesn't even hesitate before nodding, still staring right at me. "This last week has been hell without you, Josie. I don't care about anything, even hockey, as much as I care about you. All I want is to have you in my life. I want you both in my life," he adds, nodding at Ben. "I feel the same," I whisper, squeezing Ben back. Ben stares at us, chewing his lower lip. He heaves a sigh and squeezes his eyes shut, his head shaking. "It's going to be hard for me... really hard. But if you two make one another happy, I don't want to stand in the way of that. Luke, you're my best friend, and Josie, you're always going to be my little sister. You two are the people that matter most to me on this planet. You both deserve nothing but the best." "I know it'll be difficult for you to accept, but I'll do anything I can to make it easier for you... especially now that I'll have more time on my hands," I say with a faint laugh. "What do you mean?" Ben releases me, arms folding over his chest. "Peter fired me. I saw it coming from a million miles away after I told him I wasn't going to let him treat me the way he has been. Maybe I wanted to get fired. I enjoy architecture so much and I'm not about to give it up, but I want to be able to have a life outside of the office too." Ben finally offers the hint of a smile, "I'm glad, Josie. Every time I saw you, you looked miserable. Now I'm going to go tell Coach what's going on." He reaches over, giving Luke a hug before pressing a kiss against my forehead and leaving. The doctor, who'd been watching with the same interest that one might view a morning soap opera, suddenly pretends to busy himself with some paperwork as Luke reaches out to take my hand and pull me closer. "I never want to spend a day away from you again," he says quietly, sincerity gleaming in his eyes. "I've had things in my life I thought I loved, but not until I met you and then lost you did I realize what love really is." My breath catches in my tight throat, "...Are you saying...?" "I love you, Josie Mills," he whispers simply, eyes shining. I hadn't even realized how badly I've wanted to hear him say that until he'd actually spoken it aloud. I give a startled cry of delight, my whole body trembling with raw joy. "I love you!" I gasped back, throwing my arms around him and embracing him tightly. My heart is suddenly so full, both with optimism for the future and gratitude for the present. I don't know where my dreams will take me, but I do know that as long as I have him at my side, I'm going to enjoy the journey.
Epilogue

Josie

Ben lifts his champagne flute towards the people scattered around the tables before turning slightly to smile at Luke and me. "A year and a half ago," he begins slowly, mulling his words, "I found out about my little sister and my best friend dating. It destroyed me, to be honest. I was torn between being worried that they would both forget about me and being worried that I would have to mediate their troubles. Fortunately, neither one of those issues arose." Luke squeezes me tighter, his fingers lacing with mine while brushing over the ring on my finger. I rest my head against his shoulder, unable to stop smiling. This has truly been the best day of my life. "All that I really want to say on this gorgeous afternoon is that I am so happy to have walked Josie down the aisle towards the man of her dreams and I am so happy to be Luke's best man. To me, Josie will always be a Mills, but today she became a Porter. Congratulations, you two!" He lifts his glass again as our wedding guests cheer and we all take a long sip together. "Kiss, kiss, kiss!" chants the crowd, turning towards where Luke and I are seated at the sweetheart table. Luke laughs and takes my face in his hands, pulling me against him as my elegant white dress spills over his legs. His lips meet mine with the same passion and tenderness of our first desperate kiss, and every kiss after that – of which there had been many. Over the past year and a half, we've had many reasons to celebrate. When Luke was cleared to return to the rink and every game he won after to when I finally opened my own architecture firm, every day had been sweeter than the last. "You make me happier than I could ever dream," he whispers against my lips, pulling back just enough to press his forehead to mine. "Meeting you was fate. There was a reason we saw each other from across the room, we were meant to be." "I couldn't agree more," I giggle, fingers coiling around his tie to drag him back in for one more sweet, endless kiss. Even though today was luxurious and beautiful and full of celebration and joy, I was looking forward to tomorrow. The morning would be quiet, a bird singing outside our window as Luke and I slowly woke, alone together. Every morning after that would be even better, forever. THE END

**Sample Chapter From** _My Tennis Romance_

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Chapter Four

The club garden is strewn with a hundred tiny sparkling lantern lights. Sara is tired. She is glad the tournament and its sponsors scheduled the after-party the day after the tournament. Sara needed the time for rest and recovery. Now, at the party, she is able to put her best foot forward. Sara had always insisted that working out is the best beauty secret any woman could have. She is now ready to put this theory into practice by wearing a pale pink cocktail dress that ably shows off her smoking toned thighs. She half wants to run into Jack Daily to see how he would react. Ten to one he'd have to stop himself from drooling, Sara thinks to herself. What's more, her dress was a gift from one of her sponsors. The mini tank dress that drapes loosely over her flawless body looks fantastic. She knows that not only will Jack notice, whom she doesn't care about (except to see him to eat shit), but also Rory will too. Let the games begin!

Sara politely accepts the praise of well-wishers who offer their congratulations for her win. She knows that at this phase of her tennis career, the business development aspect of the sport is as critical as training. After the initial gaggle of tennis admirers disburses, Sara takes a moment to herself.

"Congratulations," comes a warm, delicious voice from behind her.

Sara's can feel her body rev up as she recognizes it. It feels like a rush of warm liquid which originates in her core and then unfurls within her. Oh, Rory, you might just be perfect in every way, she thinks to herself. He is so handsome and so gracious, and he has probably the sexiest voice that she has ever heard. She does not kid herself that he is the reason she is there.

Since he was thoughtful with the flower in her locker, she has brought a gift for him. She just happened to find a little keychain made from tiger stone. Rory drives around in the sexiest little British sports car, and she thought the keychain would suit it. Of course, the fact that he called her a tiger the first time they played together also made the gift perfect, she thinks. She can't wait to give it to him.

Sara developed a pre-conceived notion of the wealthy-born as soon as she started rubbing elbows with them at various tennis tournaments. Most of them are like Jack Daily. Talented, but often spoiled and entitled as well. This is why Rory fascinates her so. How did he avoid winding up like Jack? Where does his confident, yet humble, nature originate? The fact that people fall all over him just about wherever he goes is not lost on her. She sees in the corner of her eye the clutch of women, beautiful all of them, waiting to come on to him. She wonders if the raging crush she has on him is just what everyone else feels – if she isn't just another face in the crowd.

She turns to him and feels her heart flutter at the sight of his smile. She is beaming.

"Congratulations yourself," she says.

He is stunning. His dark chocolate colored hair is damp, as though he had stepped out of the shower not too long ago. His brilliant blue-green eyes are lined in lashes of the same color. They stand gushing over each other.

"So, I have something for you," she says in a whisper.

"I do too," he says. "Can we go someplace private?"

"I would love to," she admits. "Let's see how well we do getting through that little cluster there without getting bombarded with questions."

"They mean well," he replies sympathetically.

"They do," says Sara graciously. "I am a lucky woman."

"And a beautiful one," he says earnestly.

He takes her hand and leads her out to a quiet terrace.

"You know this place well," she remarks.

"Kind of," he says. "I practically grew up here."

He takes a box out of his pocket.

"Give me your wrist," he says.

Suddenly, Sara sees a delicate chain with a gold pendant on it appear around his fingers. It is a tennis bracelet, and he proceeds to slip it over her hands and fastens the clasp.

"It's a tiger," he says, showing her the pendant.

"It is really sweet," she says, choking up a little. "I really like it. I have something for you."

She turns away from him, trying to hide the fact that since she has no pockets, she has carried his present in the cup of her bra. It is a habit she has picked up through the years playing tennis in outfits that didn't have pockets.

She simply learned to tuck things in her sports bra.

"Oh," he gasps. "How cool. Oh, hey, it's a tiger's eye or something, right?"

"Yeah," she says. "It's a tiger stone. I thought it went with your car."

He beams at it, and then he turns his gaze to her. The moment is perfect. They are standing in the moonlight. Rory touches her chin so delicately as they ease into a kiss. His lips are so soft and warm. His breath is sweet. He dips his tongue past her parted lips and sweeps her mouth.

Sara's spine softens; her knees buckle as Rory bends over her like they are doing a slow, soft dance. They sway slowly together in the summer air as the moon bathes them in a warm glow. Sara loves being held by him. His arms are so strong, so solid. He is like leaning over a railing that will not let her fall.

Their bodies melt together as they each grab hold of the other. Sara's soft breasts press against the massive, solid wall that is his chest. Despite his strength in supporting her, she feels if she bends any further, she will break. She presses up against his chest to signal him to stand up.

"Goodness," she says.

"Hey you wanna get out of here," he asks. "Take a spin around in my car. I have the top down. Test drive this?"

He dangles her keychain up in front of her.

"Do you like it?" she asks hopefully.

"I love it," he replies, closing in on her for another kiss.

"We are kind of the guests of honor," she reminds him. "I am not saying no, but I am throwing that out there."

"We will come back," he promises.

"Okay," she replies exuberantly.

Hand in hand, they take the ancient brick stairs of the country club down to the parking lot. In fact, the stairs are so old that they are a little uneven. To her horror, Sara finds herself having difficulty walking down them in her heels. It's just that she rarely wears them, what if she falls? Talk about embarrassing! Thankfully, her knight comes to save her once again as Rory literally sweeps Sara off her feet. He is so strong he is able to carry her down towards his car with ease.

"Thank-you," smiles a thankful and enchanted Sara. "I'm so used to tennis shoes, and those stairs are old."

"Anytime, my lady," replies Rory gallantly. It's so cheesy, yet Sara can't help but swoon a little. This night has been perfect so far. How can it get any better?

Rory dances them to his car parked in the lot with the top down. He has been allowed to park in front so that he doesn't need the valet to wait on him. Rory then opens the passenger door and waits for her to sit down. Sara can't remember the last time a man held a door open for her. In fact, has it ever happened? Rory jumps into the driver side and gives her a little wink.

"Buckle up, princess, we're going for a ride," he says mischievously. And with that, he coolly backs up, and they're off.

The night is magical. The summer air is sweet and light. The metropolitan area can be unbearably humid, even when there is no rain. It did unfortunate things to Sara's hair. Of course, having the top down in his little MGB musses both their hair. Her blonde strands whip wildly around like party streamers. As the car winds through the street scenes and through the rolling country hills on the outer limits of the nation's capital – all cast in black and white by the falling night – Rory and Sara exchange warm, longing smiles to each other. The moment could not be more perfect. It is branded into her memory. She knows that no matter what happens next that she is going to forever remember the sensual experience of joyriding with this handsome man after her championship win.

The road winds through equestrian fence lined estates. There are no cars or people as far as the eye can see. There are just lone, large country houses every so often upon hills off in the distance. Rory pulls over on the shoulder of the road, which is broad enough to be another lane. The car is bathed in silver from a full moon. He looks at Sara with such yearning. The magnetism that flows between them is so powerful that all she can think of is her crush is transforming into love.

She questions it like crazy because she has never allowed herself the time or space to have feelings for another. She has seen lots of attractive people in passing throughout her tennis career. She has had the occasional dalliance, and this could be that for Rory, but it didn't feel like that to her. Rory regards her with the same lovesickness that she feels.

They lean together, their heads crane so that their mouths can meet. It's a combustible meeting, almost as if they've lit a fuse of some kind that bursts into burning desire. Their kissing quickly turns into a passionate mauling that is fueled by an urgent hunger. As much as Rory's powerful large hands roam her, Sara's are just as eager to explore. His chest is impressive to touch; so hard and broad, like a muscled mountainside. Many tennis players shaved their chests. His is mostly smooth, except for a small, wiry triangle straight down from his neck.

Sara's fingers take liberty, gliding over the power of his arms. To her, they seem to emanate strength like a magic forcefield. Their energy seems to go right to her heart, which is racing like it does when she chases a ball down a tennis court. The noise of her own breath rising and falling like the waves of a stormy beach, fill her ear.

She wonders what is happening, if it's happening too fast. Even in this intense moment, doubts start to make themselves heard in her head. Does Rory want her, or just her body? Sara knows she has to be careful, she has no room for error. She suddenly finds herself pulling back.

"What's happening here?" she asks.

Rory hesitates like he is about to make a confession.

"You know that first practice – how we ended up training together, that wasn't just an accident. We were paired by skill sure, but there are a lot of other players you could have been working with that day. I asked to be put with you."

Sara didn't know quite what to say. He continues.

"You hear about people along the way of working up through the ranks. Every time I had success, it seems I would hear you did too. I kept hearing Sara Blake, Sara Blake. Who was this Sara Blake? I just had to know. And then I saw you. You were breathtaking. My heart stopped, and then I heard that you are where you are because of hard work and pure talent."

"You mean I am not rich," she corrects.

It's a little bit of a sore spot for her because she feels like the sport should be about the game and not what money could buy.

"Yeah," he says. "You and I both know that there are players who get better ratings because their parents greased palms or bullied their way. I mean that doesn't work at our level, so eventually, those things sort themselves out. I think Jack Daily and Belinda whatshername are finding that out. They aren't bad, but maybe they don't belong in our league."

Sara nods.

"I didn't come here to talk about them," he says with a hungry look. "I hope it doesn't sound too intense to tell you that I think I am love with you."

Sara's eyes open wide. Did he really just say that? Life is too perfect.

"Are you kidding me?" she asks with a hint of glee in her voice.

"It's not a joke," he says.

Sara can't wipe the smile from her face. She loves the way he said that 'It's not a joke.' He said it with such sincerity and vulnerability that Sara believes him. Rory is a tennis player, not an actor.

"Rory," she says. "I think I love you too. I mean, if that is what this major crush is that I have on you is called."

He leans in to kiss her again. It is a long kiss that neither of them wants to end.

"I want to be with you," says Sara impulsively. "I want to feel you inside me."

The words do just slip out of her mouth, but she means them. This is something she wants just for her. It is what she wants as a woman and not as a superstar athlete.

"This will change everything," he whispers. "You know that?"

"I hope so," Sara whispers back.

He kisses her tenderly, taking her hand and places it on him. The space in the small car is so limited. There are only so many ways they could approach their desires. With his hand over hers, he guides her exploration of him. Sara's passion for him surges, and she becomes that tiger that Rory recognized on the court that day.

Her blood pumps wild in her veins. She crawls towards him, meaning to straddle him in the driver's seat. He releases the seat lever. They have no choice but to open the driver's door. They are out in the wide open, but there is no one else around to see. Sara is comfortable, and Rory is crazed with desire.

They pause and take a moment to smile at each other. She rakes her fingers through his luscious hair, something she has been dying to do. The moonlight silvers their moment. His face is so handsome in the shadows and the light. She rises up so that he can access his pants, and together they lever his length into the readied entrance of her body. She sinks down on him with her full weight so easily.

She arches with such total wickedness, rushed with the erotic sensuality of being so filled. She plants her foot on the gravel shoulder of the road and pushes up and down. Rory's powerful hands grip her firm hips and forces them to and fro. He draws her down so that her hair cascades, veiling both their faces. He puts his lips to her ears to deliver a message.

"You feel so good," he says.

She is not a person with a great deal of experience, but she knows what she likes, and she definitely loves the conversation. Rory is so incredibly virile, and his whispers send wires of pleasure throughout her.

She gasps because her ears are erogenous. The whispers, the kisses just below them are electric for her. She gasps to release the sweetness building within her.

"Okay?" he asks as he dots her face with light kisses.

"More than okay," she says, rocking on him.

"You know," he says in slow, deliberate syllables. "It only gets better."

She lifts up and regards him with wonder. He is smiling, flashing those perfect white teeth.

"I know, right?" he says as if he could read her mind.

How could it get better than this?

He takes her mouth passionately, sweeping it with his tongue with such dominance. He is gentle but firm. The gentleman has taken a backseat to the commanding player that dominates the tennis court. He is in control, and Sara likes it that way.

And just like magic, he trails his hot lips to her ear where he works it. Between his breath and teasing with the tip of his tongue, Sara is flooded with raw arousal. It surges through her, gathering at her core. His fingers gently ease a strap of her dress down off her tanned shoulders to reveal a cup of her lace-covered push-up bra. He lifts her heavy breast from its place and rims her tender pink nipple until it is erect in his lips.

Sara grapples against his broad shoulders, grinding hungrily on his lap. She needs the release, and he is helping her get there. Her body is so much more responsive to him than Sara knew it could be. She knows that the ultimate is about to happen, and then it does. Little tremors from deep within begin to roll and build until her belly is clenching with sugared spasms.

Rory presses his lips against her breast, murmurs to the gods. He is seized with a climax too that she knows, by the intense way that he holds her, is as powerful as hers. They mute their cries as best as they can, for even though it seems like they are alone, their screams would roll over the country hills and attract attention.

Their moment peaks and then begins to ebb. They are still in the front seat of the tiny car in a space where one might imagine making love could not work. For Sara and Rory, it does. He speaks finally.

"This is not the way I would have ever imagined myself, I mean, that is -" he says.

"You don't regret this, do you?" she asks, stroking his hair.

"Not at all," he says without hesitation.

Rory and Sara straighten themselves. She has no regret at all. All the years of not going to birthday parties because Sara had to train, all the years of not doing extra-curricular activities in school because she had to save her focus and energy for tennis, Sara savors the moment greedily. She turns to Rory, who responds with a burst of amusement. He tenderly smooths her hair.

"Do I look that silly?" she asks.

He replies with an intensity that she does not doubt.

"You look ravishing," he says.

Rory pulls the sports car out onto the country road. Sara notes that he seems so masterful as he drives. She literally likes it when he takes the wheel. She is panged with a moment of compassion for him though because she realizes at that moment that he's likely led the same kind of Spartan life that she has. The scant social life, the regimented practices, a life entirely devoted to tennis mostly at the beck and call of their parents. Who took the wheel for Rory?

The time they spent together, the moment they shared, seems like it lasted a lifetime. However, that's an illusion, and in reality, they have only been away from the party for a few hours. They may have missed most of the dinner, but they make it back to join the celebration thrown in their honor.

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One Final Thing...

Just a final reminder that if you did like my story, I'd really appreciate it if you left a review. Thank-you for now and I wish you all the best in the future!

