Chapter 11 ~ It Came Upon A Midnight Clear

She cried out my name.

I sit bolt upright in bed, my heart hammering in my chest, wondering if it was real or a creation of my imagination. The house is quiet. Make that silent, the kind of silent you can only find in the middle of the night. The only sound I hear is the rustle of the sheets on Marc’s bed, her bed, across the hall.

Every muscle in my body is taught as I sit there, waiting, because I can’t go to her. If I go to her then Marc will have every right in the world to kill me, and I won’t have any right to raise a hand to stop him. If she comes to me, on the other hand, then at least I have some kind of deniability. Not that it will stop him or any of my brothers from tearing me apart. They always take his side, even Jared and it should, at the very least, be me and Jared against Marc and Eric. I mean, that would be fair but noooo, Jared always takes Marc’s side. It’s because they’re both carrot tops.

Besides I’m tired of hand me downs. If it didn’t mean getting my assed kicked, I think I might actually enjoy telling Marc I was there first. But for now, I just have to wait, and it’s agony to lie here, knowing she’s only across the hall.

I can still smell the sweet fruit scent in her hair, the expensive, heady perfume on her neck. I can still taste her skin on my tongue. I can still feel the rasp of the lace of her bra under my fingertips, the way her nipples hardened as I touched them, the way her body pressed back against mine, urging me on.

To make things worse, all I have to do is close my eyes to feel her moving under me, over me, against me, just like I’ve done a thousand times since that night in Vegas. I haven’t been able to get her out of my head, and it’s not like I haven’t fucked my fair share of chicks. I mean, there’s been puck fucks hanging around our place since Eric & Taylor Pyatt grew pubes not to mention all the pussy that’s just sort of been landing at my feet ever since I got to Pittsburgh. I mean, more than you can shake a stick at, seriously.

But her, there’s something about her that’s just…different. Like from the first moment I saw her at the club, the way she moved, the way she walked, the way she looked at me, like she was already seeing us together, naked. Not to mention the fact that she’s fucking amazing in the sack. The woman did things to me…I can’t even explain it. I haven’t been able to explain it to anyone.

All the guys on the team, they just laugh every time I bring her up. They keep telling me to get over it, fuck someone else and forget about her and it’s not like I haven’t tried but…they don’t compare. She just…won’t get out of my head.
And now she’s right across the hall and it’s all I can do not to walk across the hall, rip the door off its’ fucking hinges and grab her and….

And what? What if she blows me off like she did earlier? Then what, a cold shower before having to sit through Marc proposing to her?

That I can’t fucking watch. No fucking way.

Swinging my feet onto the cold floor, I grip the edge of the bed, wishing I had one of my loud techno cd’s to put on right now like I do on my way to a game, to pump myself up, to get ready, but I’ll just have to keep the picture of my brother holding out that ring to her in my mind to keep me focused, to motivate me, because that can’t fucking happen. If I can’t have her, than neither can Marc.

Despite the cool temperature in the room, I don’t even reach for my robe, remembering the hungry look in her eyes when she’d pushed up my shirt and got an eyeful of my abs that night, because right now, I’ll take any advantage I can get.

With a deep, steadying breath, I force myself to walk to the door of my room and open it, only to see her slipping out of the door of Marc’s room, wearing one of his rumbled old dress shirts, something cheap from Walmart, nothing like anything we’d wear now, but damn, it looks incredible on her.

She turns, her hand still on the door knob, standing on tip toe and then freezes when she sees me standing there behind her, watching her. I try to look like I’ve been standing there for a while, try to look unperturbed, cool, calm and most of all, unmoved by her beauty which at this moment, is the hardest challenge of all.

Her hair is tucked up at the nape of her neck, like she’s just curled it up there, like there’s nothing holding it there and the slightest touch of my fingers will send it spilling over her shoulders. Her long legs emerging, pale silver in the darkness of the hallway, from beneath the hem of the dress shirt, have me licking my lips. Worst is the peek-a-boo of lace and the swell of her pale white breasts that fit just right in my hands….

“I was just…the bathroom…,” she mumbles, looking up at me with wide eyes, but I notice she doesn’t make a move to continue down the hall. I open my mouth to lie to her, to say that I was heading in the same direction, but it’s like my mouth is too dry to form the words. It’s like I know that what will come out is something more along the lines of ‘I want you’ or something cruder. So I don’t say anything and she doesn’t move for the longest time, her eyes glued to the floor, like she doesn’t dare look at me.

I don’t know if I should take it as a compliment, but I do.

“The bathroom’s that way,” I point out when she turns to head towards the stairs, my heart constricting so hard in my chest that it’s suddenly almost impossible to breathe as I imagine her climbing the stairs and climbing into bed with Marc, shooing Jared out of the room and forcing me to lie in bed, beneath them, listening to the creak and groan of the floor as she rides him….

“Yeah…of course, right,” she mumbles again, turning back but only taking a step or two before stopping and turning back to me, her gaze searching mine.

It’s a risk, I know, but it looks like the best invitation I’m going to get. So with a deep breath and a silent ‘here goes nothing’, I step forward, hoping like hell I’m right.
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I watch as his hand comes closer and closer to my face and then he slips his hand around to the nape of my neck and the elastic band holding my hair in place. He looses it in one smooth motion, letting my hair drop around my shoulders, dragging his fingers through it before cupping my chin in his long fingers and drawing my lips up to his.

My lips part beneath his as I feel the solidity of the wall meet my shoulders at the same time as his other hand winds around my rib cage, pulling my body against his. I feel the scratch of beard stubble against my chin, my jaw and then my throat as I turn my head aside and let him kiss his way down to the thin skin where the shirt opens at my shoulder blades. My own lips brush the delicate rim of bone near his eye as my fingers tangle in that wheaten horsetail stiffness of his hair, holding him close as his teeth tug at my neck, making me cry out.

His lips are suddenly on mine, urgent and bruising as his body presses against mine, as my hands dig into the corded muscle of his shoulders.

God if it’s so wrong, why does it feel so damn right?

Reaching back to grab his hand, I pull him behind me towards the door to the room behind me and as I push it open I turn back to him and, seeing his lips open to give voice to the question in his eyes, I just smile and tug at his arm.

Kicking the door closed behind him, he turns to me and without a word, grabs me up in his arms and kisses me until neither of us can breathe and then he lowers me down onto the bed and crawls in after me, his body molding to mine as he kisses his way back down my neck while his fingers make short work of the few buttons I’d done up on the crisp cotton shirt. When his lips move away from my skin, I look up to find him looking down at me, an amused smile on his face.

“What?” I hiss, my gaze following his down to the black lace and fringe which he flips with his fingers, making it dance against my pale skin.

“You were sleeping…in this?” he chuckles, shaking his head and grinning like he’s heard a good joke. I open my mouth to argue the point, to tell him that I’d been wearing this for Marc, but then shut my mouth again and pull him down over me. After all, what would be the point to arguing about that now? At best it would only be semantics. At worst, it would just delay the inevitable, and at this very moment, I have no patience for delays of any kind. “I think you wore these for me,” he whispers, his lips brushing over the swell of my breast as his hand slips down over my stomach, his fingers slipping beneath the elastic. Arching my back to force his hand where I want it, I try to force back the groan that barely escapes between my clenched teeth.

“I think I remember saying this to you last time,” I hiss, biting down on my bottom lip when his fingers press on that button that makes me shudder and shake beneath him, “so can you just shut up and fuck me, please?”

He raises his eyebrows but doesn’t say another word, but instead, gets up on his knees, tugging my panties down and off, tossing them over his shoulder before pushing his pajama bottoms down; revealing his long, thick and very angry looking erection. Grabbing a pillow, I force the corner of it into my mouth and bite down as his fingers dig into the softer flesh of my hips as he pulls me onto him.

It isn’t enough though, to silence me as he pulls my hips off of the bed and screws himself into me, pushing himself deeper. I bite down on my hand and then the corner of the quilt and still I can barely muffle the long drawn out moans and whimpers as his cock finds the places inside of me that make me see stars and make it impossible not to cry out.

I’m almost grateful when he flips me over and pushes my head down into the pillow, even if I’m almost certain that I’m never going to be able to breathe again. At least then I can give voice to the screams when his thrusts come hard and fast.

But just like in Vegas, it doesn’t end there either, and when he pushes me up against the wall, his chest pressed to my back and my hands scrambling for purchase, for any hand hold, framed pictures begin to fall to the floor and I think I hear the sound of smashing glass but only faintly, because all I can hear is the roaring of blood in my veins and Jordan’s voice, husky in my ear, saying over and over again:

“Mine, you’re mine, you’re fucking mine.”

Chapter 10 ~ It Came Upon A Midnight Clear

Damn it all to hell.

My entire body is on fire and even as I look longingly out at the quietly falling snow, I know damn well that rolling naked in a snow drift isn’t going to put out the flames that are licking along my skin.

A cold shower would kill the heat, for a while, but I know the minute I see him…that he sees me…that it will all come back again. All the heat, the need, the passion and the sex. Because that is all it is, I tell myself as I pace the small bedroom with its boyish décor, dark colours and hockey memorabilia covering the walls and lining the bookshelves around me. It’s just sex. It isn’t anything else. It isn’t what Marc and I have.

I don’t feel anything for him, for Jordan. It’s just my body, just physical need, I insist as run my fingers along the lines of dress shirts and sweatshirts that hang like forgotten sentries in Marc’s closet. I bury my face in them, wanting to erase the feel of his brother on my skin, but there’s only the faintest trace of Marc on these clothes, there isn’t enough of his scent here to banish the musk that clings to my skin, the smell of arousal, of desire.

It’s just animal instinct, as if there’s some beast inside of me that recognizes the smell of a female in heat, except in this case, that female would be me and as much as I don’t want to admit it, I want to waggle my butt and do some kind of mating dance to make him come take me, right here, right now.

Squeezing my eyes shut against the imagined image of Jordan’s long lean body pressing down over mine, I take several deep breaths and wait for the feeling to pass. I’m not an animal and I’m not going to give in to these physical urges. I have more control than that, and besides, I wouldn’t do that to Marc. I…I care about him.
But I don’t love him, I sigh, sagging onto the edge of his double bed and staring down at my feet. I want to, I should, but I don’t.

He’s the sweetest, best man I’ve ever met and he loves me but as much as I like him, as much as I want to love him, I know that I don’t and if I actually needed proof of that, my hormonal, physical reaction to his brother is the kind of evidence I can’t ignore. Maybe it’s only lasted this long because he reminds me of that night, of Jordan.

Not that I’d ever realized it of course, but then again ever since I’d met Marc I’d been trying to shut out the memories that are now flooding my mind, making it hard to think clearly. Maybe their physical resemblance was the reason why I’d been attracted to Marc in the first place, subconsciously of course. It's also possible, I realize as I think about it, that it's why I’ve been feeling disappointed with our…physical connection, like my body is saying ‘close but no cigar’.

Now the question is what to do about it? It's Christmas fucking Eve. I can’t break up with him on Christmas Eve that would be, well, mean, not to mention suicidal. After all, it would be a long walk in the bitter sub zero weather back to the airport. Of course there is also the fact that if Marc asks for an explanation it might cause world war three in his house.

No, I can’t do that, so my only other choice is to play happy families until we got back to New York and then I can come up with some excuse, some kind of incurable but highly contagious disease that I’ve contracted to keep him away.

But that still leaves me with the question of Marc’s brother...of Jordan. Not that there is anything I can do, not now, and probably not in the future either. I mean, there has to be some kind of law against sleeping with two brothers. I was probably already going to burn in hell for what I’d unknowingly done, never mind if I actually continued to do it with full awareness of what I was doing.

Not that any of these thoughts are any help to me now.

My body is still tingling, still aching with unquenched desire. I can still feel his breath on the back of my neck, his hands on my breasts and I…oh god I hate to admit it, but I want him. It's like a drug. I know it's a bad idea, that it's going to cause me irreparable damage but I feel like I’d give just about anything for one more hit. Just one more and then I can give him up, for good, forever.

Except that I can’t and for that I feel glad. Frustrated but glad. Their entire family is in this house and Marc has promised that the house will be full to bursting with extended family, cousins, and friends in the morning. I just have to get through the night and then there will be too many people around for anything like happened tonight to repeat itself.

Even if I lie awake all night and stare up at the ceiling, I am not going to go back out there. I don’t trust him, Marc’s brother, Jordan.

Fuck that. I don’t trust myself I decide, lying down and gripping the edges of the bed, digging my fingers into the quilt while I listen to the sounds of the house settling down for a long winter’s nap around me. I listen to each creak of the floorboards as everyone heads to their rooms, knowing that I’m still going to have to face him, Marc, coming in to say goodnight.

Unless I pretend to be asleep I realize, shutting out the light and scrambling out of my clothes and curling up under the heavy down quilt, squeezing my eyes tight and willing my body to relax, taking long slow even breaths while I listen for the door to open, telling myself that Jordan wouldn’t dare come in.
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I must have fallen asleep, I realize as I wake in the pitch black of an unfamiliar room bathed in sweat, my back arched as I teeter on the edge of a phantom orgasm brought on by familiar dreams of athletic, passionate sex. Familiar and now this time a name is on my lips as I wake.

Jordan.

Stuffing the edge of the quilt in my mouth I muffle the cry of anguish that escapes my lips at having my dream lover taken from me before I’m satisfied. Closing my eyes, I try and grasp onto the tail end of the dream but as much as I want to go back to sleep I can’t.

I can’t because he’s in this house, he’s so close, and I want him so badly it hurts.

Tossing the quilt aside I sit up, bracing myself against the wall and hugging my knees up to my chest, or almost. Looking down, I find myself staring at the pretty…well not pretty exactly, but exquisitely sexy bra and panty set that Ryan gave me, the one that was supposed to bring Marc over to the dark side. I’d put it on in the bathroom at the airport, hoping we’d be able to sneak off for a quickie and that he’d go all Viking raider over it.

It seems a shame to let such expensive stuff as this go to waste.

Biting on the inside of my cheek I shake my head as I try to swallow the semi hysterical laughter that threatens to escape. The entire idea is ludicrous. I can’t just creep into Jordan’s room, assuming I can even tell which one is his and not mistakenly walk in on Eric and his wife. Not with Marc sleeping innocently just above me.

Or can I?

Shaking my head I’m forced to cover my mouth with both hands to stifle the laughter and when that doesn’t work, I reach for a pillow and pull it over my face as I lay back down.

What am I doing? Am I really willing to throw away everything I have with Marc for one more roll in the hay with his brother? I’ve hardly given Marc a chance. I’m the one that hasn’t told him that he’s a little too vanilla pudding in the bedroom for my taste. Who knows what he’d do if he saw me in this outfit? Maybe he’d drag me out to the barn by my hair and….

Now I can’t stop the laughter and I nearly suffocate myself trying to keep from waking the entire house. The idea of my sweet, good natured, gentlemanly Marc acting like a cave man is simply insane. I’ve waited this long, hoping every night when he comes to bed that he’ll take charge and throw off his Clark Kent exterior in favor of some kind of darker, more base alter ego and every night he’s the same sweet boy that any woman would be lucky to have.

Which leaves me thinking about his brother. His younger brother. As if things couldn’t get any worse.

Is it that he gets me or is it just some kind of fluke that when our bodies meet they go up in flames? If I gave him the chance could he be…it? If we could make something that is more than physical, if we had time, could he also be all the other things that make Marc the perfect boyfriend? Could Jordan be thoughtful and sweet and generous and charming?

Groaning I toss the pillow aside and shut my eyes tight.

He lives in Pittsburgh and he’s twenty-one for crying out loud. Of course he’s not relationship material. I can hear the comments already, from cougar to cradle robber. It was bad enough that Marc was a few months younger but Jordan….

Curling my hands into fists I drum them against the mattress in pure frustration, clenching my teeth to stop from screaming and squeezing my eyes tight against the visions that keep popping back into my head. I can’t stop feeling his hands on me, my body reacting to his, wanting him, coming alive for him.

No matter how unfair I think it is, no matter how much I don’t want to hurt Marc, no matter how wrong I tell myself it will be, I want him. I want him so much that I ache, that my nipples are sore for the lack of his lips, that my lips feel dry for the want of his kiss and I know that every time I think about him I can feel the wetness between my legs, warm and slick, waiting to welcome him.

I don’t think I’ll be able to go back to sleep unless I have him and he has me, I realize as I lay there, my knees pulled up and my hand slowly sliding down between my legs. I know that even if I do manage to get myself off now that it will only make things worse, not better. I’ll still want him in the morning, maybe more. Maybe so much that I’ll end up fucking him right under the Christmas tree in front of everyone.

Merry Christmas to me.

Maybe a cold shower will help.

Cursing quietly I reach for my bag and realize the only thing I brought for wandering down the hall to the bathroom is a fluffy old robe and the idea of wrapping myself in its’ warm fuzziness leaves me shaking my head. The idea isn’t to get any warmer, it’s to cool off.

Padding barefoot across the cold floor I reach for one of Marc’s old dress shirts. Tugging it off the hanger, I slip it over my shoulders and can’t help but smile at the way it falls nearly to my knees, the arms draping over my wrists. He likes when I put on his shirt instead of a pj’s or a robe, it always makes him smile.
With a sigh, I turn for the door, wincing already at the idea of cold water rushing over my skin on an already cold night.

Breathe Chapter 9

Chapter 9 ~ It’s Beginning to Look a Lot Like Christmas

So this is where I come in, and before you say it, my sainted brother Marc isn’t exactly that. In my family he’s the troubled child, he’s the pain in the ass, whether that’s what he’d like you to believe or not. Usually I’m the quiet brother. I’m not saying I don’t have my moments but if you were to stop everything right here, freeze frame it, and ask my parents or anyone else that knows us who should take the blame, I’m telling you they’d pick Marc.

That being said, he isn’t to blame, not for this, but then again neither am I. I’m the innocent party in all this and the woman that I blame is standing in the snow in my parent’s front yard, staring back at me, willing me to bite my tongue.

When she steps out of the car I just think, ‘Eric’s right, Marc’s got himself a real hottie’, but then she flips her long black hair over her shoulder and turns to look at me and I know. I know then and there, without a doubt in my mind, that the woman standing in front of me is her, the woman I’ve been dreaming about, day dreaming about, laying awake at night thinking of. It’s her. My dream woman and she’s holding my brother’s hand.

It’s the worst case scenario. It’s my worst nightmare come true. I’ve found her, finally found her, and she’s looking at my brother like he’s her island, her rock, her everything and she’s looking at me like I’m about to do something awful, as if I’m about to ruin her life.

Ruin her life? As if what’s she’s doing right now doesn’t piss all over my parade.

But still, he’s my brother and god help me if the rule does not apply here, bro’s before hoe’s, but damn it all, I’m going to get to the bottom of this as soon as I can get her alone.

“Throw that Jordan and I’ll break your arm,” Marc warns, getting between me and…and….

“My hero,” she grins at him but I’m almost sure that her gaze flicks towards me, just for a moment. “I think I’m safe,” she adds, wrapping her arm around his.

“Oh don’t be too sure about that,” Tanya laughs, emerging from the safety of the house only long enough to call us all inside where it’s warm and the food is waiting. “Get all of them together and no one is safe. It’s called collateral damage.”

“There better not be any inside the house,” my mom warns, pointing her finger at Marc and then at Jared before narrowing her eyes at me. “Not with all the decorations up or someone’s going to be sleeping in the barn again, Jordan.”

“That was once, and it was Jared’s fault,” I grumble, shuffling my feet, waiting for everyone else to go inside, hoping that Marc will take their bags in and I will be able to grab a moment alone with her. Except he doesn’t, or at least he forgets about them in his haste to give Jared a noogie, so I go back to get the bags, shooting her a look meant to have her follow, but she sticks to the safety of my mother’s side.

Smart and pretty. Damn.

“Oh good, Jordan, can you take her bag down to Marc’s room? I’m assuming you prefer to go in with Jared or do you want to go in with Jordan Marc?” my mom asks, guiding her towards the kitchen, women’s territory, but she stops, reaching for Marc’s hand, a look of confusion and terror filling her pretty face. Oh good. Marky forgot to tell her about the rule.

“I’m sorry Tip, I guess I was just so happy to get you here I forgot to tell you,” he smiles at her like it’s no big deal when the look on her face says that clearly it’s the end of the world as far as she’s concerned. Gee…she couldn’t possibly be afraid to be alone, away from my brother’s protection could she?

“I’m sorry dear, but we just have a few rules,” my mom explains in that smiling but don’t mess with me sort of tone that we all know means whatever she’s saying isn’t open to argument. “Unless you’re married,” she continues, shooting Tanya a big motherly smile, “there’s no co-habitation under our roof. I’m sure you won’t mind, for a couple days,” she adds, giving her and Marc’s conjoined hands a brief pat before heading back towards the kitchen, giving my brother some privacy to make up for his faux pas I guess.

“So, Jared’s room right bro?” I grin at Marc over her shoulder as I walk into the hallway, smiling to myself as I imagine her alone, in my brother’s room, right across the hall, with him tucked safely away, upstairs with Jared, conveniently out of the way.

I can still hear their hushed but argumentative tones when I come back down the stairs, but predictably the door to Marc’s room is open, Mom would flip out if it was closed, but they both fall silent when they see me standing in the doorway.
“Dinner’s been waiting on you guys,” I remind Marc, but I can’t help but turn my attention to her, to her dark eyes watching me warily from the middle of my brother’s room. I watch my brother’s hand gently brush her cheek and my jaw clenches. I’m almost relieved when she turns her face away, turning her back on both of us.

“We’ll be right there,” Marc shrugs, waving me away.

Oh I’ll go, for now, I think as I head towards the kitchen, but I’ll be back.

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I’ll give her this much. She plays the part of the dutiful girlfriend well. She helps with the food, cutting, plating and serving and she certainly smiles a lot, but if there’s one thing being a defensive forward has taught me, it’s to keep track of two things at once. I can watch everyone else and watch her, at the same time and it seems to me that while she looks the part of the attentive girlfriend, Marc’s girl is spending an awful lot of time at the table watching me but every time I try to hold her gaze, she looks away, as if she hasn’t seen the plea in my eyes.

I have all these questions swirling in my head that I’ve waited so long for answers for and I can barely stand to sit here and pretend, biting back all the things I want to say. Like how could she leave? How could she tell me that I was the best she’d ever had and then leave?

I know men lie, say just about anything to get and keep a woman in bed but I’m almost certain that is one habit women don’t share, except maybe when it comes to dick size, but that’s one issue that I can be pretty sure that neither me nor any of my brothers need to worry about.

Which leads me to the next question that’s been burning the tip of my tongue since they arrived, which is why him? Why of all of the god damn people in this world for her to hook up with, why did it have to be my brother? Everyone knows that I’d do anything for my brothers, we’re that close but what do I do now? He was there that night. Well no, he was there the next day, but he saw what a mess I was in. I haven’t been able to stop talking about her. Even now, watching her laugh at something Jared says has my dick aching for her.

“So who’s going to do the dishes?” my mom asks, looking across the table at Tanya who usually volunteers without having to be asked, but she, March calls her Tippi, stands instead, stacking Marc’s plate on top of her own.

“I’ll help.” I grab Jared’s plate and reach for Eric’s, ignoring his curious glance.

“I’ll do it Jordy,” Marc insists, holding his open hands towards me as if he expects me to put the plates in his hands and walk away, which is normally something I would do, but not tonight. There’s too many things I need to know, too many questions I need answers to. I open my mouth to tell him to fuck off but she beats me to it.

“That’s okay babe, I made you late, you visit, we’ll have this done in no time, I promise,” she adds with a pointed look towards me.

I feel the bite of the edge of a butter knife in my hand as she turns her lips up to his and lets him kiss her but I’m glad for the sweet edge of pain. It’s the only thing that stops me from tossing the plates down and throwing myself across the table at him. That wouldn’t be new in this house. God knows we fight over the smallest of shit anyway. But then I’d have to explain it to my mom, and the way she’s looking at us both right now, love and pride shining in her eyes, reminds me that it’s Christmas, and we’re all supposed to be on our best behavior.

So I follow her out the kitchen, listening for the receding sounds of my family heading for the living room, the tree and the stockings hung by the chimney with care before I put take my spot beside the sink with a tea towel, because after all, Gran’s china doesn’t go in the dishwasher, trying to decide what to say.

“What’s your deal?” she hisses, glancing furtively over her shoulder, breaking the ice. “It was one night? Stop looking at me like…like…,” she looks up at me and rolls her eyes, “like that.”

“Like what?” I snarl back, snatching a plate from her hands and taking my anger out on it, drying it hard and fast.

“I don’t know,” she snaps back, turning back to the sudsy water and dunking the next dish in as if she wishes it was my head she was holding under the water. “Like someone’s playing with your toy or something,” she adds more quietly. I can’t help but smile at the picture that paints in my imagination and that seems to make her even angrier. Well, maybe not angry I think as I watch her cheeks turn a bright crimson colour. “Stop it. Stop looking at me like you’re thinking of me naked.”

“Tell me you’re not thinking about it,” I whisper, leaning towards her as she thrusts another dish into my hands. Her eyes flutter closed as my lips almost brush the shell of her ear, and then she shakes her head and pushes me away.

“I’m not. I don’t. I don’t think about it, ever,” she adds but something in her tone tells me it’s a lie. Chuckling, I press the point by leaning over and inhaling the sweet smell of the shampoo in her hair before brushing her long dark locks aside and tasting the perfume from the back of her neck, pressing my lips to the spot where her neck meets her back, feeling her entire body shudder against me.

“You’re thinking about it right now,” I whisper, licking my way back up to her ear. “I think you were thinking about it all through dinner,” I add, tossing the tea towel aside and putting my hands on her hips, tugging her round little ass back against me. “I bet you’re so wet right now,” I add, thinking about how it was between us that night, how hot and wet and willing she was.

“Stop it,” she whispers, her soapy hands gripping the edge of the sink but, I notice, she makes no move to stop me.

“I don’t think you want me to stop,” I whisper, my hands rising slowly, guiding the soft, clinging fabric of her sweater upwards, over her ribcage and further, until I can feel lace beneath my fingertips. “I think about it,” I add as my thumbs find her nipples, growing hard under my hands, giving them each a little flick, making her sigh out loud. “I think about fucking you all the time,” I continue, pressing my aching dick against the small of her back and feeling her press against it.

“Don’t Jordan, please,” she begs, but doesn’t stop pressing herself against me, doesn’t pry my hands away from round, firm breasts.

“Don’t you mean Jordan please fuck me?” I moan, rubbing my erection against her, pressing her into the counter, wanting to push her jeans down and have her here, now.

“No!” she groans, finally pushing against me hard enough to push me away, making me stumble backward, so that she can tug her sweater down before she practically runs out of the kitchen.

I watch her go to him, watch her bend to whisper something to him, wondering if she’s going to tell, but it seems as though she’s only developed a sudden headache and is telling him she’s going to bed. My teeth grind together as he kisses her gently, cupping her cheek in his hand as he looks up at her with affection mingled with concern. It makes me want to punch him in the face, make him bleed, make him hurt like I’m doing right now.

I watch her make her apologies before she heads down the hall alone and I wonder if she wants me to follow her, but I don’t get time to decide if I’m going to do that. Marc is suddenly there beside me, rolling up his sleeves.

“Don’t worry bro,” he says, smiling good naturedly as he dips his hands into the still steaming water, “I’ll help you finish this up so you can get to your stocking. I know how much you look forward to your pack of hockey cards every year,” he adds with a grin, flinching as he waits for me to hit him but I don’t, I just shrug and take the plate I’d abandoned in favor of his girlfriend.

“Yeah, let’s get this done,” I mutter, turning to add the plate to the small pile. “I’m tired. I can’t wait to go to bed.”

Breathe Chapter 8

Chapter 8 ~ Twas the Night Before Christmas

“You do know you handed in the brief like an hour ago,” Miki reminds me from the doorway to my office, looking at me over the wire rims of her glasses. “You can’t avoid this forever Tip.”

“You sure about that?” I sigh, tapping my pen against the papers in front of me.

“Knowing you? Hell no,” she chuckles, dropping her bags and jacket and slipping into the chair across the desk from me, eyeing me with a certain amount of amusement. “I just don’t get why you’re hiding out here though? I mean, you’ve got this amazing boyfriend and it is Christmas so why are you still here?” I stare at the papers in front of me, knowing damn well that I haven’t actually seen the words on any of the pages. It’s all sort of blurred together with the visions of happy families that have been playing in my head, making me sick to my stomach.

“I don’t get happy families,” I mutter, capping my pen and putting it away before I start doodling on my notes again.

“You didn’t mind hanging out with my family,” she points out, to which I can only shrug.

“That’s different,” I sigh, giving her that look that I hope will make her stop asking questions, that look that says ‘just believe me’ but she only smiles at me and shakes her head.

“C’mon, that boy is in love with you big time. How can you possibly want to sit in our apartment all by yourself when you can be with him? Besides, I thought you liked his brothers?” she points out. It’s a valid point. I just wish that they whole parental approval thing didn’t go along with hanging out with his brothers.

“I’ve only met one of them and yeah, I’m sure they’re fine but it’s…the whole everyone meet the new girlfriend thing and the whole being happy all the time…especially with the way things have been going lately,” I explain, dropping my head into my hands.

“Oh…yeah, that,” Miki replies knowing full well, without my having to tell her, just what I’m talking about. We’ve had many a late night chat over a hot chocolate about the one problem, really the only problem, I have with Marc. “I thought you were going to talk to him about that,” she adds quietly.

“Talk to who about what?” Ryan asks, bursting into my office with an armful of presents, resulting in my groaning out loud and whacking my forehead against the edge of my desk. “What the hell is with her?”

“She’s supposed to be leaving for Thunder Bay with ginger boy but she’s having second thoughts,” Miki explains as she makes room for Ryan to perch on the edge of her chair.

“Well if she doesn’t want to spend Christmas with Mr. Hotness I am so in there,” Ryan grins as he pushes a La Perla bag towards across the desk towards me.

“I don’t think you’re quite his type,” I smile over the bag at him, “and why do I think this is more for him than it is for me?” I add, lifting out a handful of tissue and glancing into the bag. “Holy…Ryan…oh my god.” I feel my cheeks burn as I lift out a flimsy black thong with fringe all around it and a matching black bra that looks a whole lot more like a flimsy spider-web than something that will hold up the girls.

“Well, I figured if you didn’t have the guts to tell him you need to be spanked, if those don’t scream it then girlfriend, I don’t know what will.”

_________________________________________________________________________

“Wake up sleepy head.”

Blinking, I stare down the long, snow covered, drive way at the oversized farmhouse with all the rental cars and snowmobiles in the driveway and my heart begins to hammer against my ribs.

“I can’t believe I fell asleep over all those pot holes,” I mumble, pushing myself up and rubbing at my eyes. “Oh my god, this place is huuuge. You made it sound like some cramped little…,” Marc laughs as he reaches over to squeeze my hand.

“Well, can you imagine me and three others just like me fitting in anything else?” he teases, giving my hand a squeeze as he aims the SUV we’re travelling in towards the front door.

“Is it too late to turn around? We can always go to a Motel 6 and have a nice, romantic Christmas in front of a nice twenty one inch TV with four channels,” I offer, feeling slightly queasy at the thought of the curious and judgmental looks from his parents. Closing my eyes, I take a deep breath, reminding myself that parents always like me, that I know how to behave and that I already know that his brothers, well at least one of his brothers, likes me.

“C’mon sweetheart, you have nothing to worry about, I promise,” Marc says sweetly as he puts the car into park behind a raised up pick-up truck. “Just be yourself and everyone will love you, just like I do,” he promises quietly, his lips gently brushing my cheek. It’s hard not smile at him when he does such sweet things, and so I find myself grinning at him and feeling a lot more cheerful than I had a moment ago.

That is until a snowball thuds and spread across the windshield, nearly scaring the shit right out of me.

“Jared, you little fucker,” Marc laughs, letting go of my hand so he can slide out of the car. I watch him take a defensive stance behind the car door, dropping to the ground in a stealthy crouch and gathering snow into a solid ball between his big hands.

Thinking that they wouldn’t dare attack a guest, I open the door and step out, right into the line of fire.

Except the hand that’s raised and aimed at my head stops mid air and a pair of ice blue eyes stare back at mine, mirroring the same emotion I’m feeling – which is perfectly defined by one word which repeats itself in my head over and over again.
Shit!

The second thing that goes through my mind is ‘it’s him’, the mischief filled blue eyes, the cleft in the chin, the scruff around the strong jaw line, the broad shoulders, and…oh god, the big hands and long fingers. These shameless thoughts are quickly followed by ‘damn, I should have known’. Looking from one brother to the next, the resemblance is clear and obvious. Well, if not between Eric and the others, then at least between the other ginger, Jared and this…this blonde brother is scarily apparent. The brothers look so alike they could be triplets.

How the hell could I not have known? All of those nights in front of a computer screen and not one time did I take the time to look up his family tree. And now? Now it’s too late to do anything about it. It’s Christmas eve and I’m standing knee deep in a snow bank, facing the man that made me scream and destroyed a hotel room with me attached to his penis.

Oh god.

“Duck!” Marc swings into action, stepping in front of me like an action hero, shielding me with the width of his body, stepping between me and his brother but I don’t duck. In fact I can’t move, as if my feet have frozen to the ground and I’m held in some kind of tractor beam coming from his blue eyes.

No. God no. Please…oh god.

I stare at Marc’s back, mortified and terrified and sick to my stomach all at once.
I can’t hurt him. I would do anything, would give anything not to hurt him and I put that plea in my eyes, sending it his brother, knowing my eyes are round and that my face must be ashen with shock.

‘Please don’t say a word,’ I beg silently ‘please, for him.’

Chapter 7 ~ I Love You (Prelude to Tragedy)

“What are you doing about Christmas?” I ask, closing my eyes in bliss as she runs her fingers through my hair. Lying against her, between her legs, my shoulders pressed against the full, soft mounds of her breasts is my new favorite place to be. I’ve hardly been paying any attention to the movie, my brain is full of ideas, but all of them will be for nothing if she’s already made other plans.

“Are you trying to angle for a hint of what your present is again Marc?” she says, digging her long fingernails into my scalp in warning, which only makes me laugh. If only she knew, my mind is so far off thinking about what she’s gotten me.

“No, but I know with this case you’ve been working on lately you’ve been so busy so maybe you haven’t had a chance to make plans? Are you going home or…?” I turn so that I can see her face, and am rewarded with a frown of concentration that deepens the worry lines in her forehead. “I mean, I know you said you don’t really get along with your folks but uh I just thought, with it being Christmas and all…,” my voice trails off as she rolls her eyes and shifts her body weight, reaching for the half full glass of white wine on the bed side table. I wish I knew what that meant. Sometimes Tip can be such a mystery to me, but then, as my brothers are fond of telling me, all women are mysteries and they seem to like it that way.

“My parents are going to Hong Kong for the Holidays,” she replies at last, acidity dripping from her voice as she puts the glass back, her long slim fingers falling away from the glass as she reaches to lace them with mine. Her fingers are moist and cool as places them between mine.

“So does that mean you’re free?” I ask, watching her hopefully. Her dark eyes search mine for a moment and I wish I wasn’t quite so eager for her to say yes, but then, I guess it’s time for me to give up trying to be cool and in command when I’m around her. Like the guys have been saying in the room, I’m like a puppy dog when it comes to her. She only has to snap her fingers and I’ll come running.

“Well it’s not like you’ve got a ton of time off,” she replies carefully, her full lips pursing as she tries to read my mind. “You’re schedule is stupid,” she adds with a scornful look towards the calendar hanging on the back of the bathroom door with all my away days coming up. She might be right, but I’m getting used to this having to rush all the Holiday festivities into a few hours.

“But I do have a couple of days and we’re all going back to the farm and…I really want you to come,” I ask, grasping her hands in mine and knowing just how disappointed I’ll be if she says no and that the plea on my face must be all too clear, but I can’t help it. The more I think about it, about having her there, with everyone, the more excited I feel.

“Farm?” she replies quietly, making the cutest little face of disgust, visions of cow shit obviously filling her pretty little head.

“Turf farm,” I correct her, bouncing onto my knees and pulling her to me, knowing that at the very least it’s not an outright no. “You can’t get much cleaner than that,” I add, squeezing her to me until she starts to laugh.

“Thunder Bay, in December?” she moans, digging her fingers into the middle of my chest so that I have to give her room to breathe.

“Can’t be worse than this,” I grin at her, turning to look at the snow falling slowly and silently towards the city streets. “Maybe a little colder but we’ll be inside most of the time, wood fire, lots of food…,” I add, still watching her intently, hopefully.

“And all your brothers,” she mumbles, wrinkling her cute little nose at me.

“You liked Eric, you said so yourself,” I remind her, still holding onto her hand as she rolls her dark eyes at me, “and you’ve talked to Jared on the phone. You said you thought he was funny.”

“I did,” she smiles, reaching up with her free hand to touch my cheek. “Okay, but…I’m not playing hockey outside in the freezing cold with you guys.”

“That’s my girl!” I grin, wrapping her up in my arms and squeezing her tight. “It’s going to be great. So great. I can’t wait,” I admit, feeling my heart beating hard in my chest, thinking of my big plans, of the big day to come. “I can’t wait.”

________________________________________________________________________________

“So do I get to meet your wonderful Tipsi this time?” Jordan asks, as he tries to hip-check me into the plate glass window of the bar we’re heading to.

“No, you don’t get to meet Tippi this time either,” I reply, dodging yet another attempt to send me flying into a group of people lined up near the entrance, “and would you quit that? If you wanted to do that you should have done it out on the ice.”

“I’m just getting you back for tossing me into the boards head first,” he grumbles, shoving me ahead of him as we walk into the bar, past the line up, right behind Lundqvist and a few of the other, older, guys.

“Hey, I was doing my job,” I grin back at him, feeling pretty proud of the fact that I can still do that to him and get away with it. Staals don’t come up punching. A lot of guys would have come up, fists flying, from that hit, but not us. Don’t get me wrong, we weren’t laughing either, not at the time, but we respectfully skated away from one another. That’s how the Staal brothers roll.

“So why don’t I get to meet the little woman? Are you scared she’ll be overwhelmed by my obviously superior skills out on the ice and my superior good looks?” Jordy asks, settling up against the bar beside me, resting against his elbows while he scans the crowd for chicks to hit on.

“Ha ha,” I mumble, signaling the barkeep for a couple of tall cold ones. There was a time I would have joined him in his hunt, but I realize with a feeling of satisfaction that I don’t have to do that anymore. I have Tippi. “She’s working,” I explain as I hand over a folded bill to the bartender. The winner pays, that’s the rule.

“Working? At eleven at night? I think someone’s pulling your leg bro,” Jordy laughs as he leans towards me to knock his glass against mine, sending a shower of golden suds down onto the bar and the floor.

“She works late on the nights that I have games at home and when I’m away. It’s kind of like…an agreement we have,” I shrug, not expecting Jordy to understand. Kind of like Eric, I think he wants his woman to stay home and keep the bed warm, shoot out kids and generally wait on him hand and foot. For some reason I guess I turned out differently. “I like that she works hard. She’s her own person. It’s more…interesting that way.”

“You mean you just like the whole hot secretary look,” Jordan counters with a grin to which I can only shrug. I can’t deny it. It’s happens to be true and I haven’t met many women who look as absolutely sinful as Tippi can in one of my white dress shirts and a pair of her very high heels.

“She’s coming for Christmas though,” I grin back at him and he sort of stares back at me with disbelief clear on his face.

“How are you going to bring your imaginary girlfriend for Christmas?” he laughs, making me shake my head at him.

“My girlfriend isn’t imaginary,” I correct him as I lift my glass so the bartender can clean the mess we’ve left on the bar. He doesn’t say anything of course, doesn’t give us shit or even so much as shoot us an evil look. We’re the Rangers, we come here all the time and bring a hard drinking crowd with us. It’s probably worth a few spilled beers. As long as we don’t bring that retard Avery with us, and I’m glad the rule that Jagr and Shanny put in place has still stuck. Avery isn’t allowed here. He starts fights, and had he been here, I’m pretty sure that he and Jordy would already be at it. That’s the kind of guy my brother is. He won’t stand for a lot of bullshit, which is why he’s glaring at me over his beer. “What?”

“I’m telling you, I’m going to find her. Did I tell you I got copies of all the security films from the bar and hotel from that night? I’ve sent them to, like, every modeling agency in the States to see if anyone recognizes her. I’ve got a feeling in my bones, I’m sure that I’m going to find her.” I shake my head at my brother. His persistence doesn’t surprise me, that’s a trait we all share, but I can’t believe he’s still going on and on about this chick from Vegas. That was months ago.

“So anyways, back to reality,” I sigh, giving him a smile that tells him everything he needs to know about what I think about his search for his mystery woman.

“You’re just bringing her to rub it in my face,” Jordan mumbles, turning back to his beer and staring down into its’ amber depths. “Jared’s got a girlfriend, Eric’s married, now this,” he sighs again, shaking his head.

“No one made you break up with Heather,” I point out, thinking how much shit that poor girl had had to put up with just to be his girlfriend, only to be broken up with over some mysterious one night stand.

“Dude, you don’t understand. I couldn’t go back to like…beer after I’d had champagne you know?” Jordy shudders, like the thought of his ex has him coming out in a cold sweat or something. I stare at my brother and, for the first time since ‘the night’ wonder if he’s actually serious about this thing, about this mystery woman.

“So you’re like…ready to hire private investigators and the whole nine yards over a one night stand?” I ask, watching him intently for his answer, but in true Jordy style he only laughs and slugs me in the shoulder.

“Spend money on a chick? Fuck, I’m not a pussy like you!” he grins and then shakes his head and calls for another couple of tall cold ones.

“Uh, J, I think I might skip the second round,” I say, holding up my mostly untouched glass. “I’m tired and besides…I have someone to go home to,” I add with a smirk that I can’t quite seem to hide.

“Fuck, you’re not telling me you’re living with the bitch now?” he asks, shaking his head, but I notice, not calling off the order.

“Not yet, not…entirely but lately she has pretty much been staying at my place most nights,” I grin, thinking of her all tucked up in my sheets, sliding beneath the comforter to find the cool length of her to press myself against.

“Fuck me. You only just met the bitch. What is with you and ‘Ric? What is the deal about settling down anyway? The world is your fucking oyster, fuck it!” he cries, holding his beer aloft and starting something amongst the rest of the guys who all raise their glasses and cheer along with him. I watch them all and realize that I don’t feel the least bit like raising mine along side theirs. I don’t get the sentiment at all, and I did, once upon a time, but now….

“I’m going to ask her to marry me,” I shout over all the noise, leaning towards Jordy so that I’m nearly pressing my lips to his ear. He turns to me, his eyes wide and a look of utter horror on his face.

“What? What the fuck are you talking about man? You just met the bitch. She could be some fucking gold digging skanking whore for all you know man, what the fuck?” I find myself grinning back at his shock and disbelief. I hadn’t expected less from him or from Jared for that matter. Eric will understand, I’m sure of that. He’ll support my decision. The only reason I’m telling Jordan now is so that, by the time he does finally get to meet Tippi, he’ll have come to terms with it.

“I’ve already bought the ring and everything,” I add feeling around in my jacket pocket for it. I really shouldn’t be carrying it around with me on the streets of New York. That’s pretty much just asking to get mugged, but I couldn’t think of anywhere to hide it, and now that Tippi does keys to my place, I need to find a good hiding spot. Taking out the small square box, I open it carefully to reveal the two white gold bands, a simple, plain wedding ring and a bigger, very ornate, very, very expensive engagement ring.

“Fuuuuuuck me,” Jordy sighs, shaking his head and wiping his brow without ever taking his eyes off of the bling in the box. “You’re serious. You’re gonna fucking do it aren’t you?”

“At Christmas, on Christmas day,” I grin, snapping the lid shut and putting it back in my jacket and snapping the jacket shut, but patting the outside of it just for good measure.

“Holy shit Marc…well, fuck. She must be fucking good at something. Can she suck a tennis ball through a garden hose or something?” he asks, the mischievous glow in his eyes telling me he’s just yanking my chain.

“You’ll never know bro, that’s the best fucking part,” I grin back at him, accepting that second drink after all.

Breathe Chapter 6

Chapter 6 ~ Lost in My Denial

There are candles, rose petals and chilled champagne. There’s soft music playing from somewhere. There are even crisp new sheets with folds in them that haven’t even had time to relax out of them. And then there’s Marc, hovering nervously behind me as I walk through his darkened apartment.

He’s been nervous all night. Even after I tried to put him at ease when a couple of his teammates were hitting on me, after I kissed him in front of them, his hands were still cold and clammy and he would hardly say a word. No matter how many of the wives commented that we make a cute couple, nothing seemed to appease him.

I knew, or at least thought I knew, that this is where I would end up tonight. I was almost sure when he told me he was only going to play a couple of hands at the Black Jack table and even when he was winning, his eyes almost never left me.

I thought then that it was this or he was going to break up with me.

But I knew, without a shadow of a doubt, when that little troll Avery fancied his chances and tried to pull me onto his lap at his table and Marc was suddenly there, leaving his table with a double down showing. I’d never seen this protective, possessive side of Marc and I had to admit, even as he dragged me away from Sean and behind him, that I kind of liked it.

But now that we are entirely alone, that strong, masterful Marc has been replaced by the hesitant and shy Marc that I’ve grown accustomed to and I know that I’m going to have to be the one to make the first move. It’s not that I can’t, it’s just that I don’t want to, shouldn’t have to, but still….Turning to him I reach out and tug at his tie, smiling encouragingly up at him.

“This is nice, romantic,” I whisper, sliding my other hand up his chest as my gaze focuses in on his mouth, his lips, his white teeth, letting my imagination race ahead, wondering what it will be like to have them explore my body.

“I wanted everything to be perfect,” he replies, his hands suddenly cupping my face, his blue eyes gazing intensely down into mine, “because I want tonight to be…perfect.” My chest tightens, my heart races and suddenly I know what’s coming and I’m not sure if I’m ready.

“That’s a lot to live up to,” I reply, pressing my lips up to his as I feel his hands fall away and wrap around me, pulling my entire body against his, holding me close. The kiss is long and soft and as his lips draw back from mine, I can’t quite open my eyes because I don’t want the moment to end.

“I love you Tippi,” he whispers, his breath warm as he presses his lips to my forehead, my cheek, and then to my lips once more. With a hum of contentment I smile up at him, wrapping my arm around his neck and pulling his lips down over mine.

“Show me,” I whisper, tugging at his belt, “take me to bed.”
________________________________________________________________________

I trace the sharp line of his cheekbone down to his jaw, my gaze lingering on the slight upturn of his lips as he sleeps, on his stomach, with his cheek resting on the back of one hand while his other hand covers mine. He looks so sweet, so content and so happy and I wish with all my heart that I felt the same.

Turning to stare up at the ceiling I wonder if it would be considered rude to reach down and bring myself to the point he couldn’t reach, despite all of his best intentions, all the time he took, all of the effort he put in. In the end I let him believe he’d climbed that mountain. I gave my best performance, clawing at his back and screaming his name, and yet here I lie, empty, unsatisfied and most of all ashamed.

It isn’t that it was bad. In fact, it was good. While I can’t say he’s the most skilled lover I’ve ever had, he’s certainly eager to please and willing to put in the time and effort and yet…and yet the earth did not move, bells did not ring and for all I wished that it had, his came a distant second to that other night, that other man.

I wish I could erase that memory. I wish with all my heart that I could not compare him to that mystery man, to that one hot night in Vegas, but I can’t help it. Lying here, in his bed, surrounded by candles and soft music, I can’t help but bring that night to mind.

I shouldn’t. The two nights are as dissimilar as night and day.
Marc told me he loves me. He gave me candles and romance and soft, sweet kisses. I don’t even know my mystery man’s name. And yet, if he’d only been a little less sweet, a little less tender, a lot less gentle, maybe then together we could have erased that night altogether.

I don’t blame him. How could I? The fault lies with me and me alone. I need to forget that night, that man, those feelings. This man, this sweet and gentle man lying by my side loves me and if nothing more than he deserves better from me, I must forget, because if I don’t, I’ll end up hurting him and that…that is something I never want to do.

“You awake?” I hear the rustle of sheets as he turns, his arm sliding across the bed, reaching for me, pulling me to him. I feel the length of his body press against mine, warm and solid. Turning, I smile into his blue eyes, blue eyes that remind of that night, of that man. Closing my eyes against those memories I open them again and smile at him. It’s easy to do. He’s heartbreakingly handsome and the look in his eyes…the adoration and happiness in his eyes makes me smile. “I’m sorry, I guess I fell asleep,” he apologizes, yawning as his hand strokes gently along my hip.

“Well, you did work hard,” I whisper, turning into him, feeling his long legs tangle in mine, his broad flat chest pressing against the softness of my own, “and it is late.”

“You will stay, right?” he asks, his blue eyes innocently searching mine and I nod, reaching up to run my fingers along the ridge of his cheekbone and down, down until my fingertips touch his lips.

“I’m not going anywhere,” I promise, letting him see how much I adore him, how much he does mean to me as I reach for his lips with mine.

“Good, because I’m not that tired,” he laughs, pulling me beneath him, the length and breadth of him pressing me down into the mattress. “Unless…I mean if you’re too tired I….” I smile up at him, pressing my fingers against his mouth, silencing him as I arch my body up to meet his, wrapping my legs around his hips, urging him inside.

“No, I’m definitely not too tired,” I whisper, running my hands through his ginger hair while I gaze up into those sky blue eyes, banishing all thoughts, all memories of any other man to the very darkest recesses of my mind.

Breathe Chapter 5

Chapter 5 ~ F-F-F-Falling

“I bricked it,” I mutter as my brother hangs his arm around my shoulder, laughing. He says he’s laughing with me, but I know that’s not true. He’s laughing at me and not that I blame him. I have this amazing woman that I’m fall in love with and I had her, almost naked in my arms, and I bricked it. I one hundred percent laid a fucking egg.

“Little bro, what are we gonna do with you?” Eric squeezes my shoulder and then cackles again, shaking his head as we walk into the restaurant. Right now I’d rather be just about anywhere or at least having the knowledge that I didn’t have to face her right now. Not in front of my brother. I probably would have done myself a favor by not telling him, but that’s one thing about my brothers. We share everything. Besides, I need his advice because right now I’m in over my head.

“She’s not just some other girl. She’s not like Jordy’s mystery Vegas experience,” I explain as I scan the tables for her while we’re waiting to be seated. “I’m serious about her Ric. I don’t know…this could be it for me.”

“Which is probably why you’ve turned into such a big fucking pussy,” Eric laughs, giving me a shove towards the waitress who’s watching us expectantly. “You’re just sorry you and Jared weren’t allowed at my stag so you want one of your own.”

“Yeah, I want to get arrested like you two idiots,” I sigh, shaking my head at him but glad for the respite all the same. “Reservation for three under….”

“There you are. I thought I was going to be late.” I turn to see Tippi busting through the doors, looking amazing in this red satin number that hugs all her luscious curves, a black dragon climbing from the hem up over her hips to curl enticingly around her breast, making my mouth dry as I think of how soft and white the slope of her breast is… Her lips are soft under mine as she reaches for my hand, and as her red lips draw slowly away from mine, I find that I can barely breathe. “So this is your brother?” she asks, turning towards Eric who’s standing close by, watching us with amusement.

“Yeah, sorry, Eric, this is Tippi,” I smile down at her, feeling my chest swell as she turns to Eric with a big smile and I watch him give her that once over look before smiling back at me and I know that he approves, at least he agrees that she’s hot.

“I’ve heard a lot about you already,” Eric begins, offering his hand which she takes and I can tell just by his eyes that he’s amazed at how strong her handshake is.

“Well I’m here to put all that straight,” she laughs, giving my hand a squeeze as the waitress clears her throat to get our attention and lead us to our table. Tippi lets go of my hand to adjust her jacket as she drapes it over her arm and leaves me behind her, admiring the way the tail of the dragon curves invitingly around her ass.

“And you haven’t tapped that Marky boy?” Eric whispers in my ear, giving me a shove from behind. “What are we gonna do with you?”

With a sigh, I nod my head and follow her, thinking that I really have to do something about that and soon, but it has to be right. It has to be perfect. I want everything to go just right, to be the kind of night she’ll never forget. The kind of night that she’ll tell all her friends about, that we’ll both remember, forever.

_____________________________________________________________________________


“I have to say, you two…I don’t really see the family resemblance,” Tippi muses as we walk hand in hand along the busy sidewalk, window shopping. Or at least that’s what she’s doing. Mostly I find myself watching her, just as I did while I was sitting between her and Eric at lunch. She just has so much energy, like a little kid, it’s kind of fun to watch.

“Yeah, I’ve been told that,” I reply quietly as she looks up at me for comment. “Just wait until you meet my other brothers though, then you’ll see it,” I add as a promise, to which she raises her eyebrow and grins.

“I’m going to meet your other brothers?” she laughs, offering her lips up to mine. I’ve been wanting to kiss her properly, and quite badly ever since she arrived this afternoon, but even now, I know I can’t. At least not in the middle of a busy New York sidewalk, it would cause a traffic jam.

“I hope so. I mean, if you want to,” I add hopefully to which she laughs and presses her lips briefly to mine. Too briefly, more of a brush than what I’ve been wanting, but then I’ve already got a plan forming in my head. If only we didn’t have a three game road trip coming up. It seems like we’ve only just got back and that’s never really bothered me before. I’ve always liked going on the road, hanging with the guys. I guess now I know why some of the married guys find it harder to be away.

“No sisters for me to get information out of?” she asks, tugging me towards the window of Macy’s full of ghosts, goblins and candy corn.

“Well there’s always Tanya, that’s Eric’s wife, but I’m sure my brothers would just love to tell you anything you’d like to know,” I reply wistfully, thinking about all the shit we used to get up to with ladyfingers and Roman Candles this time of year. It’s a wonder that all of us have all our fingers and toes. “Then of course there’s my mom,” I add, almost as an afterthought, but more because I know Eric will already be reporting back to her. I can imagine all the questions she’ll have for him, considering I haven’t been exactly forthcoming as far as she’s concerned. “I think she’d like you.”

“Moms always like me,” Tippi grins, turning to put her arms around my neck, offering me her lips again. It’s almost painful now, to just touch my lips to hers’ when I want so much more, especially when she molds her body to mine. The press of her full soft breasts against my chest makes it impossible not to think about the smooth, white skin beneath her dress, or what it would feel like to run my hands over it.

“We’re having this uh…fund raiser,” I begin, putting some space between us and moving her back into the stream of humanity so I’m not quite so tempted to press her up against the nearest flat surface and ravage her. I’m not Jordy, I do have some self control, which reminds me that he still owes me for helping him pay his bill off for that room in Vegas….

“Fund raiser, when?” she asks, giving my hand a squeeze and bringing me back to the present.

“On Saturday. I thought we could make a night of it?” I ask, turning to her as we walk, my heart leaping in my chest as she raises an eyebrow at me and smiles.

“I guess we better see about getting me a pretty new dress then huh?”

___________________________________________________________________________


“So mom tells me you’re pretty serious about this chick. Do I get to meet her when I play you next week?” Jordy asks, and I can see the obnoxious smile on his face when he says it.

“Thankfully she has a court case next week and I’ll hardly get see her, so no, you won’t,” I chuckle as I walk down to the waiting town car on the street outside my apartment building. Normally I’d take a taxi, but not tonight. I want tonight to be special. No, not special, perfect.

“So have you hit that yet?” he asks, and I can hear the snickering in the background that tells me he’s told all of his teammates that I haven’t. For just a moment I want to tell him my plans for the evening, but on the other hand I know it’s not going to make it any better.

“So, I’ll see you next week,” I continue, ignoring the question altogether, knowing full well it won’t make it go away but at least it lets him know that I’m not going to answer him either.

“So you aren’t going to let me meet her and you’re not going to tell me if you’ve fucked her, when do the rest of us get to meet this chick?” he asks, the tone of his voice telling me that he knows he’s making me squirm. Fortunately for me, the car is already in sight and that gives me the excuse to let him go.

“I don’t know Jay, if you and Jared don’t learn how to behave around women, maybe never,” I chuckle as the driver opens the door for me and I duck in, sliding across the leather seat while the door closes behind me. “Maybe one day you’ll grow up and have an honest to god relationship and then maybe we can double date or something.”

“Ouch. Not fair. I told you, I met the woman of my dreams. She just took off before I woke up,” Jordan reminds me of the story he’s been telling since the NHL awards in Vegas of this mystery woman that he can’t stop talking about.

“In your dreams you mean,” I correct him, laughing when he lets out a dramatic sigh. “Seriously Jordan, take it from me, you might want to try a real woman for a change instead of these delusions of yours.” I add, laughing as he growls at me on the other end of the line. “Look man, I gotta go. I’ll talk to you next week.”

“I’ll get you for that Marky boy,” Jordan grumbles and I can picture him shaking his head as he hangs up the phone. Clicking my own phone shut, I drop it into the pocket of my tux jacket and sit back in the seat, grinning to myself. It’s good to win and we haven’t been doing as much of that out on the ice as I thought we would this season. Not so far anyway and the crowd has really been riding us. It feels good to be going out, knowing that people will have paid to hang out with us, so hopefully they’ll be in a better mood.

That and I’ve been looking forward to seeing Tip and I’m definitely looking forward to…well, to later.

Smiling to myself I glance down at my watch. I’m hoping we’ll only have to spend a couple of hours at the casino before we can escape back to my place and be alone, at last.

Picturing her, us, alone in my apartment has me breaking out in a sweat so I’m glad to step out onto the cool sidewalk when the car pulls up outside her apartment building. Ignoring the bitterly cold breeze, I buzz her apartment and smile to myself when the static filled voice says ‘coming down’ instead of asking who it is. Glancing up at the many lit windows of the brownstone, I wonder if she’d been watching for me, only to find Miki waving back.

Giving her a friendly wave, I turn my attention to the sound of the door opening to see Tippi emerging into the cold dark night in a low cut black number, her ample cleavage glowing white under the street light, her long legs pale and bare down to her diminutive ankles strapped into a pair of red patent leather Mary Jane’s with steel tipped stiletto heels. My mouth goes dry as I she offers her ruby red lips up to mine.

“You look…amazing,” I breathe as I gaze down at her, admiring the way her hair is pulled back into a tasteful pony tail, small diamonds perched on her ears, leaving her long, graceful neck bare and…very inviting.

“You look so handsome in that tux,” she smiles as I take her hand and lead her to the car. “Your shoulders look about a mile wide.”

“You have no idea how hard it is to get a tux that fits,” I sigh, thinking how much money I had to fork out to get one made because I couldn’t find out that actually fit without gaping in half the places and tugging in the other half.

“Well you look great,” she repeats as she slides into the back seat of the town car, leaving me standing on the sidewalk, watching those long legs disappear into the car, wondering just what it will be like to have those high heels in my bed, wrapped around my back…. “Coming?” she asks, peeking out at me while the driver glances at me, concerned.

“Uh…yeah, absolutely,” I mutter, sliding in beside her, wondering if we can get away with only spending an hour at the fund raiser.