Broken (Breakers Hockey Book 1) Read online

“Yeah,” she said. “Always stuck at home while you have all the fun.”

  “I don’t always travel with the team,” he said.

  “Just most of the time,” she countered, relaxing into the conversation, that fear drifting away.

  This was just her and Luc.

  And she’d meant what she’d told him before.

  They would be perfect together.

  Not because they would be without arguments or pitfalls, but because despite those speed bumps, they would still be good to each other.

  Probably the romantic in her, to believe they would make their way to happiness, especially since they’d been together for . . . what was it? Five? Six days now? A week?

  But she believed that.

  Because they had two-and-a-half years of friendship under their belt.

  Because Luc had shown her the type of man he was over and over again.

  Because she liked the person she was with him.

  So, that was why she didn’t fear him, fear them together.

  And that was why she was done dwelling on all the way things went wrong or could go wrong or how she might fuck up. She wanted Luc in her life. She was happier when he was in it. So, that was that.

  His laughter trickled through the phone’s speaker, and she wrapped it around herself as he said, “Yes, usually I do go with them.”

  “Because you love sightseeing?” she quipped.

  “Something like that,” he said, “if sightseeing involves boring ass meetings and wrangling annoying players.”

  Laughter trickled through her. “You love it.”

  “I do.”

  A blip of silence, not uncomfortable in the least. Just the moment of quiet as Lexi settled back—into Luc’s bed. Because she hadn’t been able to resist the temptation of it when she’d taken up an ungodly amount of space in his huge closet. “You have too many clothes, baby.”

  “Then throw them out,” he said without hesitation. “We need to have room for your elf robes.”

  Laughter coiled inside her, exploded out through her mouth. “I knew you were into kink.”

  His voice went husky. “Oh, you have no idea.”

  “Hmm,” she murmured, tapping her chin. “I don’t know. I think I have a pretty good idea of the things you like. I did just spend the last couple of hours elbow deep in your closet.”

  He gulped. “What did you find?”

  “Oh so, so much, Mr. Clotheshorse.” God, the man had a wall of suits, more ties than she’d ever seen in her life.

  “What did you find?” he repeated, sounding a little tortured.

  “Regretting that key you gave me?” she teased.

  “Never,” he rasped, sending her pulse skittering. “I am regretting not being there right now because I’d be kissing you into telling me the truth.”

  “Kissing me where?”

  More rasping laughter, sliding down her spine to curl between her thighs. “I’ll show you when I get home.”

  Home.

  She liked the sound of that.

  Hadn’t realized how adrift she’d been, how much Luc had been her anchor.

  “Want to guess where I am?” she asked innocently, when that laughter faded and they’d spent a few minutes talking about his travel plans. He’d be home Saturday. Late.

  And she’d be here.

  Another wicked surprise.

  “Where are you?” he asked huskily.

  Figuring she’d show him, along with the “kink” she’d found in his closet, she hit the button to change the call to video.

  It only completed half a ring before he’d picked up, giving her a gorgeous view of his naked chest. He was sprawled out on a hotel bed, the blankets and sheets tucked around his hips, the etched squares on his abdomen calling to her tongue, even though there were several thousand miles between them.

  “Hi, baby,” she whispered, plunking the hat onto her head.

  He choked, then again when she deliberately angled the phone down, to show what she was wearing. “What are you—”

  “Want to tell me why you have costumes in your closet?” She ran a hand down her stomach, nails grazing the white and red lace, then up, across the red cross over her left breast. “I did like this one, though.” She met his eyes through the screen. “So, maybe you wanna play doctor, baby?”

  His curse arrowed straight between her thighs. His emerald eyes were blazing through the phone screen. “I am so fucking tempted to get on a plane right now.”

  She grinned, rolled to her back, positioning the phone above her as she flicked open the button on the cropped white jacket of the nurse’s costume she wore, exposing her breasts barely covered in sheer red lace. “And to think I was just going to send you a picture.”

  Another curse, and he sat up. “I’m getting on that fucking plane.”

  “Then you couldn’t tell me what you want me to do to myself.”

  “I could do it myself.”

  She shivered, drew a finger over one breast and then the other, feeling her nipples harden, pebble against the lace. “I want you to watch.”

  His inhale rattled through the speakers. Moisture flooded between her thighs, and then even more when his voice, velvet and rasp, ordered her to, “Slip your hand beneath your bra.”

  “Luc,” she murmured, her hand freezing on her chest, suddenly feeling a little shy.

  “Get your hands on your breasts, baby.”

  She sucked in a breath, slowly slipped her fingers under the scalloped lace, trembling, desire gathering within her like a storm.

  “Pretend it’s me touching you,” he murmured. “I’d drag my thumb over your breast, back and forth until I reached your nipple.” She moved her fingers like he described, light, slow circles that drifted closer and closer until she reached the furled bud. “I’d make you wait for it, watch it get harder and tighter, begging for my mouth. I’d wait until you were trembling, until that gorgeous pink flush you get on your cheeks flared bright, drifted down your chest.”

  She was already feeling the heat on her face, between her breasts. Her muscles trembled. Her thighs pressed together.

  And she hadn’t even touched any of the good parts yet.

  Her fingers inched closer.

  “Wait for it, baby,” he ordered.

  She swallowed hard.

  “Now,” he said, his words sounding like they were gravel, “brush just one finger across your nipple.”

  She slid her finger down. Across, and her breath shuddered out, her spine arching as pleasure sparked through her—

  The phone dropped onto her face.

  “Ow!” she muttered, groaning and pressing a hand over her aching eye and nose.

  Luc’s worried voice took a moment to process.

  Only her.

  Only Lexi could have fucked up FaceTime Fun Time by dropping her cell on her face. She felt like she should be tasting blood, wondered if she should have a shiner, but . . . the major feeling that had gripped her was—

  Laughter burst out of her.

  Amusement.

  Because, seriously, only her.

  “Lexi!”

  The panic in Luc’s voice had her picking up the phone from where it had dropped onto the mattress. “Luc,” she said. “I’m fine.”

  Piercing green eyes locked on hers through the screen, assessing. Then his expression softened. “Did you really just drop the phone on your face?”

  Heat on her cheeks, this time not interlaced with desire. “Maybe.”

  “Are you bleeding?”

  “Just in my soul.”

  He roared with laughter, not helping her alleviate her embarrassment in the least.

  “You’re an asshole.”

  “And you’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”

  Such intensity, blaring through the screen, filling her soul with fire, with . . . some deep feeling she didn’t want to look at too closely yet, because that would mean what she was feeling was—

  She dropped the pho
ne again.

  This time, thankfully, not on her face. It fell onto the mattress, the realization zipping through her, making her lungs tight, her heart pound until Luc asked, “Are you bleeding this time?”

  She inhaled, a giggle bubbling within her, unlocking her enough that she was able to pick it up the phone again.

  “Not bleeding,” she whispered.

  He smiled, and that slid her out of her brain, focus shifting back onto the gorgeous man, half-naked, all of his yumminess on display. “I have an idea,” he murmured.

  “What’s that?” she asked, suddenly a little breathless.

  “There’s a phone stand on my nightstand.” His lips quirked. “Use it.”

  Her mouth twitched. His mouth twitched. Laughter filled the air and speakers.

  And then she set her cell on the stand.

  “While you’re sitting up, lose the jacket and bra.”

  She shivered at the order in his tone, but shrugged out of the cropped uniform top, flicked open the lace clip on the front of her bra, peeled it free and tossed both to the side.

  His breath rattled through the speaker. “Fuck, you have nice tits.”

  Suddenly, her embarrassment was the last thing on her mind. The pain in her eye flitting away like a butterfly in the open air. “What next?” she breathed, hands drifting toward her panties. “These?”

  “No.”

  Another order.

  “Climb onto the bed.”

  She sprawled onto the mattress, angled the phone to make sure he could see everything.

  “Touch your lips.”

  She rolled to the side, facing the phone and feeling all too wicked. “Which ones?”

  A groan. “You have no idea how much I wish I was there right now.”

  “Will you touch yourself, too?”

  A flurry of movement, his covers being thrown back, his phone being positioned. He was gloriously naked beneath those blankets, his cock hard, his hand descending to wrap around the straining length as he stroked once, twice.

  Her lips parted on a shaky exhale.

  “Run your finger over your bottom lip, your top,” he said. “Pretend that my mouth is on yours.”

  She shuddered, almost able to feel the stubble on his jaw brushing against her skin, the weight of his body on top of hers, the warm press of his lips to hers.

  “Now down, baby,” he ordered. “Over your breasts again. Down,” he added when she trailed her fingers along her chest, circling closer to her nipples—only this time without a side of cell phone in her face. “Slower,” he murmured when she brushed one hard bud and moaned softly.

  “I like—”

  “When I run a finger over just the tip,” he said. “I know, Lex. Do it now.”

  So she did.

  And then when he told her to shift sides, to move to the other breast, she didn’t complain, just followed his orders, her thighs pressing together, damp heat turning into more, until her underwear was soaked through. Both of their breathing had accelerated, and she could see that Luc’s body was sheened in sweat, though his hand was no longer on his cock. Instead, it was braced next to him, the muscles of his forearm standing out in sharp relief.

  The sight of that sinew, of the gleaming skin, had her desperate to reach between her thighs and alleviate the ache there.

  But Luc hadn’t told her to touch herself there yet.

  Which was frustrating . . . and kind of sexy.

  She liked being bossed around by him, hearing his gruff, sexy voice shake with need as he directed her to touch her breasts, her nipples, her throat and stomach and hips. His scorching gaze held hers the whole time, tracing over her body, a nearly tangible weight that razed through her every nerve.

  And finally, when she felt as though she were ready to combust, he said, voice gruff, “Panties off.”

  She slid them down her legs, kicked them off somewhere.

  “Get your fingers down there. Slow and steady. Tease yourself—”

  “If I tease myself anymore,” she said, tracing her fingers along her labia, shivering and jumping when she hit a particularly sensitive spot. “I’m going to explode.”

  Need in those eyes, a fierce smile on his lips. “Good. Because I am, too.”

  “You’re not even touching yourself,” she said, slowly shifting in and up, until she reached the spot—the Spot—not her clit, but just below it and to the right, a sensitive bundle that never failed to send her plummeting.

  “I’m watching the most erotic show I’ve ever had the privilege to lay eyes on.”

  She stifled a moan as she pressed a little more firmly. “Put your hand on your cock.”

  “You giving the orders, now?”

  Her head fell back, just for a moment, before she forced it up again, locking her gaze on the screen in time to see Luc wrap his fingers around his cock and start stroking. God, that was definitely the most erotic thing she’d ever seen. “I figured I like them so much”—a small moan slipped from her lips—“I might as well give some.”

  “Hmm.” A beat. “Use a little more pressure.”

  She did, and oh, that was good “Can’t help yourself, can you?”

  A wolfish grin. “More, baby.”

  “Is that—”

  His hand pumped faster. “More.”

  She shut up, pressed harder, moved more quickly. Fuck, she was so wet and swollen, so sensitive, so . . . close. And based on the ragged breathing coming from Luc’s end of the line, his glazed-over eyes, the way every muscle in his body was strung tight, he was close, too.

  “Luc,” she moaned, her voice choked. Flames were licking out from her center, turning the rest of her into kindling and then into small conflagrations . . . then into an inferno.

  All the oxygen in her body consumed. Every cell and nerve wound tight.

  And then . . . the blaze exploded, encompassing her.

  She called his name again, heard his sharp shout of, “Lexi!” in return, barely managing to peel her lids back in time to see him come.

  God that was a pretty sight.

  His body, his face, his expression as he held her eyes.

  Then the only sound was their breathing, rapid then slowing.

  “You made a mess,” she whispered.

  He grinned, shook his head, used what looked to be a pair of boxer briefs to clean up. “You’re a fucking vixen, you know that?”

  “For the record, I wasn’t the one who was slinging around orders.”

  He grinned.

  She sighed, let her head fall back. “I like FaceTime Fun Time.”

  Luc was silent for a beat then busted up, still shaking his head, before he froze, stared into the camera, and said, “Now, you know what it’s like to be a hockey wife.”

  She started laughing, feeling too lazy to do anything but lie there and appreciate him. Eventually, however, she got up to tug on some pajamas when Luc carried the phone into the bathroom to wash his hands.

  Then they both crawled back into their beds and talked about everything and nothing . . . until at some point, she fell asleep.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Luc

  He’d come in his hand the night before, Lexi’s sexy, breathless moans in his ears.

  It had been sexy as hell, but it wasn’t nearly as good as coming in Lexi.

  Two more days.

  Three, technically, if he counted the fact that his flight wouldn’t be landing until nearly ten on Saturday night. Which he wasn’t counting, because if he considered that he still had seventy-two hours until he saw Lexi again, he might . . .

  Do something stupid.

  Like actually get on that plane.

  And that was something he couldn’t do, not when the team was finally getting their shit together. Not when he’d finally lined up the trade.

  Giving up a fucking first-round pick, Mark Shelby, and a young prospect on their minor league team would be fucking painful. But necessary. They needed to purge the rotting, to get back on track, and b
ased on the time he’d spent near the ice, in and outside the locker room, on the plane, adjusting the lines wouldn’t be enough, even despite the wins they’d managed.

  The guys needed to know they could trust Luc.

  He’d assumed that, assumed they would come to him or Tommy with any of these issues—or at least that Oliver would—but clearly, he’d assumed wrong. Luc knew he’d been busy, wrapped up in scouting reports and business meetings, especially since the team had just finished negotiating a new arena with the city. That had taken up far too much time, and Luc understood now that he had been too busy with the business side of the organization, and not focused enough on the playing side.

  The lack of presence meant that none of his team had felt comfortable coming to him.

  He’d been too distant. Too disengaged.

  Present in body, but perhaps in not in mind.

  And that meant he’d let his family down, had allowed a snake in their midst, unraveling everything he and the guys had worked toward building. He was the delusional parent, thinking that his teenager wasn’t having sex, even despite finding the used condoms in the trash.

  In a word, Luc hadn’t done his job.

  So, he wouldn’t be getting on a plane.

  He was going to reset, to put in that hard work, and he was going to bring his family back together.

  The first step would be being more engaged.

  The second would be more open communication.

  The third was . . . building those connections. Which was why he would be organizing some team-building activities when he got back to Baltimore. Trust falls or a room full of balloons with stuff written on them where they had to work together to find their match, or some other hippie shit . . . or maybe—he smiled now, his eyes taking in the text on his cell’s screen—Lexi could give them a gardening class, and the player who managed to keep the plant alive by the end of the season would win a prize.

  He tapped out the request.

  Smiled when she immediately agreed.

  Laughed out loud when he asked for her suggestion of a prize.

  Then immediately thanked the hockey gods for bringing her into his life. Fuck, he loved her so much.

  His phone buzzed.

  Too much?

  He typed out his reply.