See Jane Score

Chapter 13

Hat Trick: Player Scores Three Goals in One Night

“Are you going to sexually harass me?”

Luc folded his arms across his chest and stared down at Jane. “Do you have a problem with that?”

“Yes. I’m here to interview you for the Times.” Damn. Her shoulders straight, her gaze direct, she was all business. Too bad. He liked harassing her. “Have a seat.” It had been a long time since Luc had seen a woman other than Gloria Jackson in his home. Since before Marie had come to live with him.

Earlier, when he’d first looked up and Jane had been standing in the living room, it had been a shock to see her, surrounded by his things. Like it had been in the beginning when he’d looked around and had seen her sitting on the team jet or bus. An out-of-place female in an unexpected place. Now, as then, it didn’t take long before she seemed to fit. As if she’d always belonged.

He took a seat at one end of the couch and Jane sat in the middle. Several dark curls fell across her temple and cheek as she looked at the notepad and tape recorder in her lap. She wore her usual black pants and white blouse, and he knew her skin was as soft as it looked.

“How much of your past do you want to talk about?” she began, keeping her head bent over her notebook as she asked her first question.

“None.”

“There’s been a lot written about it. You could clear the air.”

“The less said about it, the better.”

“Which bothers you the most, the stuff written about you that is true?” She looked at him out of the corner of her eye. “Or the total fabrications?”

No one had ever asked him that question, and he thought about that for a moment. “Probably the stuff that isn’t true.”

“Even if it’s flattering?”

“Like what?”

“Oh, I don’t know.” She sucked in a breath and blew it out. “The women. The all-night sex stuff.”

He was a little disappointed that she would bring it up. Since she hadn’t turned on her tape recorder yet, he said, “There was never any all night sex. If I stayed up all night, it was because I was high.”

She looked down at her lap again and chewed on the inside of her lip. “Most men would probably be flattered if they were portrayed as some sort of sexual marathoner.”

He figured he must trust her or he wouldn’t have told her as much as he had. So much so that he added, “If I was high and up all night, I wasn’t up sexually, if you get my meaning.”

“So none of that stuff about you and the different women is flattering?”

He wondered if she asked because she was a bit of a prude and was intrigued by that sort of thing. “Not really. I’m trying to rebuild my career and that shit gets in the way of what’s important.”

“Oh.” She clicked her pen and flipped on her tape recorder. “In the Hockey News’s ranking of the top fifty players so far this season, you are number six, second among goaltenders,” she said, moving the interview away from his private life. “Last year you didn’t make the list at all. What do you think contributed to your startling improvement over last season?”

She had to be kidding. “I didn’t improve. I didn’t play much last season.”

“A lot has been made this year about your comeback from your injury.” She sounded stiff, as if she were nervous, which was a bit of a surprise. He didn’t think there was much on the planet that made her nervous. “What has been the single biggest obstacle for you?” she asked.

“Getting a chance to play again.”

She pushed her hair behind her ear and glanced up at him. “How are the knees?”

“One hundred percent,” he lied. His knees would never be what they had been before the injury. He’d have to live with the pain and worry as long as he played.

“I’ve read that when you started out in the junior league in Edmonton, you played center. What made you decide to become a goalie?”

Apparently she’d researched more than his sex life. For some reason, that didn’t irritate him like it used to. “I played center from about the age of five to twelve. Our team goalie quit midseason and the coach looked around and said, ‘Luc, get between the pipes. You’re goalie.’”

She laughed and seemed to relax a bit. “Really? You weren’t born with a burning desire to stop pucks with your head?”

He liked her laugh. It was sincere and shone from her green eyes. “No, but I got real good real fast so I wouldn’t get a concussion.”

She scribbled something on the notepad. “Did you ever think of going back to your former position?”

He shook his head. “Nah. Once I was in the net, I never wanted to leave. I never even thought about it.”

She looked back up at him. “Did you know that you say aboot instead of about?”

“Still? I’ve been working on that.”

“Don’t. I like it.”

And he liked her. A lot more than he knew was wise, but looking at her, with her shiny hair and pink lips, he suddenly didn’t care about being wise. “Then I guess I won’t work on it-eh?” he said like a true son of Edmonton.

A smile tugged at both corners of her mouth, and she turned her attention back to the notebook on her lap. “Some people have said that goalies are different from other players. That you are a whole different breed. Would you agree?”

“That’s probably true to a certain degree.” He leaned farther back into the sofa and rested his arm along the top. “We play a different game than the other players. Hockey is a team sport, except for the guy between the pipes. A goaltender plays much more one-on-one. And if we mess up, there’s no one to cover for us.”

“Lights don’t flash and the crowd doesn’t cheer when one gets by the wingers?” she asked.

“Exactly.”

“How long does it take you to shake off a loss?”

“That depends on the loss. I review the game tape, figure out how to do it better next time, and am usually over it the next day.”

“What are your pregame rituals?”

He remained silent until she finally turned her head toward him, then he asked, “Besides you calling me a dodo?”

“I’m not printing that.”

“Hypocrite.”

She shrugged. “Sue me.”

There were several things he could see himself doing to her, but suing her wasn’t one of them. “I eat a lot of protein and iron the night before and the day of the game.”

“Retired goalie Glenn Hall was quoted as saying he hated every minute that he played. How do you feel about the position?”

Interesting question, he thought as he tilted his head and studied Jane. How did he feel about it? Sometimes he hated it as much as Hall had. Sometimes it was better than sex. “On the ice I am very focused and competitive. There is no greater feeling than when I’m in my zone, blocking shots and snagging pucks from midair. Yeah, I love what I do.”

She wrote something in the notebook, then flipped the page. She raised the pen and pressed it to her bottom lip, drawing Luc’s attention to her mouth.

There was something about Jane that intrigued him more than any woman he’d ever known. Something more than the contradictions between Jane the prude, and the Jane who kissed like a porn queen. Something that made him want to run his fingers through her shiny curls and hold her face in his palms. Luc had been with many beautiful women in his life, physically perfect women, but he’d always been in control of his desire. Except with Jane. Skinny little Jane, with her small breasts and wild curls and deep green eyes that could look through him and see that he was up to absolutely no good. Ever since the night of the banquet when he’d kissed her, he’d envisioned taking off her clothes and exploring her body with his hands and mouth. He’d tried to avoid her, and instead he’d come close to having sex with her against a parking garage wall. And his desire for her had only gotten stronger over the past few days.

Watching her now, with her soft skin and shiny hair, he wondered why he should avoid her at all. She was in his life. She wasn’t going anywhere, and neither was he. They were both adults. If he ended up with his mouth on her breasts while buried deep in her warm wet body, well, there was absolutely nothing wrong with two adults giving each other pleasure. In fact, it was probably just what they both needed. He lowered his gaze to the front of her blouse and the thrust of her small breasts. He knew it was just what he needed.

The telephone next to Luc rang, interrupting his study of Jane’s breasts. He picked up the receiver, and it was Marie, telling him that she would be spending the night at Hanna’s. “Call me in the morning,” he said and hung up.

“Marie?”

“Yes. She’s staying at Hanna’s.”

Jane turned toward him, pulling one knee on the couch and leaning a shoulder into the cushion next to his hand. “Do you want to talk about Marie?”

“No. I wouldn’t want to say anything that would make her life any harder.”

“I think that’s wise.” She glanced at the notepad, then looked up at him again. “When you look into the future, where do you see yourself?”

Luc hated that question. He was just trying to survive the season without injury, and he didn’t like to think too far ahead. One play, one game, one season, that’s as far as he liked to look. “I figure I’ll have time to decide what to do with my life once I retire.”

“When do you think that will be?”

“I’m hoping I have at least five more years. Maybe more.”

“You are notorious for not giving interviews. Why are you so hesitant to talk with reporters?”

Luc brushed his fingers across her arm. “Because they usually ask the wrong questions.”

She watched his fingertips slide to her shoulder, and her lips parted on a soft breath. “What are the right questions?”

He placed his fingers beneath her chin and brought her gaze to his. “Ask me again why I don’t want you traveling with the team.”

“Why?”

He slid his thumb across her bottom lip. “Because you drive me insane.”

“Oh,” she whispered.

He reached for her tape recorder and shut it off. “I thought if I quit looking around for you, I would forget you. I thought if I avoided you, I could get you out of my head. But it didn’t work.” He took the pad of paper and pen from her hand and tossed them on the floor. Then he indulged himself and brushed his fingers through the soft curls at her temples. “I want you, Jane.” He leaned forward and held her face in his palms. He rested his forehead against hers, and to make sure she understood him completely, he added, “I want to strip you naked and kiss you all over.”

Her eyes widened. “Just last night you were really angry with me.”

“Mostly I was angry with myself because I’d made you feel like a groupie.” He brushed his mouth across hers. “I want you to know that I don’t think for one second that you’re a groupie. I know who you are, and despite my best attempts to ignore you, I can’t.”

He softly kissed her lips, then pulled back to look deep into her eyes. “I want to make love to you, and if you don’t stop me now, that’s exactly what’s going to happen.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” she said, but she didn’t pull away.

“Why?”

“Because I’m a reporter traveling with you. With the Chinooks.”

He kissed the corner of her mouth and felt her melt a little. “You better come up with a better reason than that within the next three seconds or you’re going to find yourself very naked very soon.”

“I’m not one of your Barbie Dolls. I don’t have long legs or big breasts. I can’t compete with that.”

Again he pulled back to look into her eyes, and he might have laughed if he hadn’t seen that she was serious. “It’s not a competition.” He pushed her hair behind one ear.

She grabbed his wrists. “I’m not the sort of woman who inspires lust in a man like you.”

This time he did laugh. He couldn’t help it. He had a hard-on that proved her wrong. “Ever since that first morning on the team jet when I looked back and saw you, I’ve been wondering what you look like naked.” He slid one hand down her throat to the buttons closing her blouse. “You’ve driven me crazy ever since.” The tips of his fingers brushed her bare skin and some sort of silky material as he popped the buttons. “Inspiring all sorts of things, but especially lust.” His head dipped and he kissed the shell of her ear. “A whole lot of lustful thoughts and dirty fantasies that would shock you.”

He tugged the ends of her blouse from her pants and he looked down at a silky camisole. “The other night when I walked by and saw you in the media lounge, I fantasized about throwing you up on the table and doing you right there on top of the dessert trays.”

“Sounds… messy.”

“And fun. I thought about all the interesting places I’d get to lick you clean.”

She sounded as if she were holding her breath when she said, “I thought you don’t eat sugar.”

He laughed. “I want to eat yours,” he said as he kissed the crook of her neck. “Does that shock you, little Jane?”

Jane held back a moan threatening deep within her chest. He was shocking her, but not like he thought. That he fantasized about her at all, let alone in the press room, was a huge shock. His warm breath on the side of her throat sent shivers up her spine and his hand slipping across her silk camisole spread heat across her flesh. Warmth pooled in and between her legs. Her nipples puckered painfully tight and she squeezed her thighs together. She wanted him. She wanted him so much, her vision was getting blurry and she could hardly breathe. Oh, yes, she wanted him as much as he wanted her, but she was afraid where all the wanting would lead. If it were just a matter of sex, she would have been naked by now. He’d be naked too, but it was more. At least for her it was. No matter how she wished it otherwise, her heart was involved.

She took a shallow breath and parted her lips to tell him that she couldn’t do this, that she had to go home now, but his big hand closed over her breast, heating her skin through the silk material, and he whispered in her ear, “Jane, I want you.”

Then his mouth sought hers and the warm male scent of him filled her nose and she breathed him deep into her lungs. He smelled like clean skin and he tasted like sex.

From nineteen floors below, a fire engine sped past and the real world slipped away, taking the last of her reserve with it. Her sanity gone, she grabbed his sweater in her fists and held tight. She wanted Luc as much as he wanted her. Maybe more, and she would worry about the repercussions later. Now all she cared about was his hand brushing her nipple through the silk of her camisole and his hot wet kisses that left her mind numb and her body aching. A defeated moan came from her own throat as she kissed him back, devouring him with a passion bigger than her ability to hold it back any longer. Her inhibitions and reason burned to ash within the hot overwhelming need to have wild and wicked sex with Luc Martineau.

Her mouth fed him kisses, and she pushed herself onto her knees and straddled his lap. She was lost, completely lost to sensations bigger than her. She pulled his sweater and T-shirt up his chest and their hungry mouths parted just long enough for her to pull it over his head. Then her hands were on him. Touching everywhere she could reach. His hard shoulders and chest. Her fingers brushed his skin and slid down his sternum. Then she sat, and the hard length of him pressed into her. Through the material of her pants and his, Luc warmed her flesh with his hot erection. Her heart pounded in her chest and ears and she pressed harder against him as he shoved his pelvis into her. She slipped her hands to his flat belly and he grasped her wrists.

“Damn,” he said, his voice strained, his breathing rapid. “Slow down or I’ll never make it until I’m inside of you. As it is, I’ll probably only last five seconds.”

She’d take it. Five seconds of Luc sounded better than anything else she’d had in a very long time. Better than anything she would ever have again.

Luc pushed her blouse from her shoulders and down her arms. He tossed it on the floor, then he stared at her thin silk camisole. His heavy-lidded eyes were slightly glazed. “Is this what you wear instead of a bra?”

She shook her head and ran her hands across his warm shoulders and chest. “Sometimes I don’t even wear this.” Through her lust haze, she thought back on which thong she’d pulled on earlier, and she thanked God she’d done laundry and had on something decent.

“I remember,” he groaned. “Knowing you walk around without half your underwear has been getting me in trouble.” His big hands circled her waist and he lifted her to her knees, then he leaned forward to bury his face in her stomach. He pushed up the silk material and his warm breath heated her flesh as he spoke. “Take this off,” he said, then placed wet kisses on her abdomen.

Jane pulled the camisole over her head and dropped it on the couch beside her. Luc spread his fingers wide along her ribs and leaned his head back to look at her. His hot gaze touched her breasts and he took in a heavy breath, but he didn’t say a word.

Jane sat in his lap once more and felt compelled to speak for him. “I’m not quite what you’re used to,” she said and covered herself with her palms.

“Big breasts can be a big disappointment. You’re beautiful, Jane. Better than my fantasies.” He grasped her wrists and shoved them behind her, arching her back and bringing her breasts close to his face. “I’ve waited a long time to see you like this. To do this,” he said as his breath whispered against her aching nipple. Then he softly sucked her inside his hot wet mouth. He let go of her wrists, and her hands found the sides of his head and she held him there.

His cheeks drew inward as the suction he created intensified. The backs of his knuckles brushed her belly, and he unbuttoned the waistband of her pants, then he pushed his hand inside. He cupped her crotch though her red lace thong and she moaned with pleasure.

“You’re wet, Jane,” he said low in his throat as he pushed aside her tiny panties and touched her hot slick flesh. It would have been so easy just to succumb right there. To let him stroke her to orgasm. It wouldn’t have taken much more and she would have been gone, but she didn’t want to orgasm by herself, she wanted him to come with her.

“No more,” she said and grabbed his wrist. He slid his hand up her stomach to her breast, and his fingers played with her, spreading moisture across her nipple. He followed with his mouth. A sound of intense male pleasure, primal and possessive, rumbled deep in his throat, pushing her so close to the edge she feared she would orgasm with nothing more than his mouth on her breast.

“Stop.”

He leaned his head back and looked at her, his gaze totally gone with passion. “Tell me what you want.”

There was a lot she wanted, but since she might never get this chance again, she said, “I want to lick your tattoo.”

He blinked several times as if hadn’t quite heard her, then he spread his arms.

Jane slid from his lap and pulled him to his feet. She kicked off her shoes and socks and her pants followed. Standing in just her thong, she kissed his shoulder and chest. She ran her hands over his hard muscles and kissed a trail downward. Then she knelt before him, hooked her hands in the waistband of his pants, and brought his flat belly to her face. She licked the heels of the tattoo and tasted his flesh on her tongue. “I’ve been wondering how big your horseshoe is,” she whispered as she kissed his navel. “I’ve wanted to do this for so long.”

“You should have asked before now. I would have let you.” He ran his fingers through her hair and pushed it from her face. “Next time, you don’t even have to ask.”

She smiled against his belly and she would have bitten him if his skin hadn’t been tight as a drum. She unbuttoned his pants and shoved them down his hips and thighs. He stood before her, his black horseshoe disappearing beneath his white briefs. An impressive erection filled out the clean white cotton, and she kissed him through his underwear. Then she pushed the underwear down his legs. Freed, he jutted toward her, and she noticed that the toe of the horseshoe disappeared beneath his pubic hair and went clear to the base of his penis. A ribbon was tattooed just above his dark blond pubic hair and was tied from one side of the horseshoe to the other, lucky was written across it in bold black ink.

She laughed and kissed the hot velvet tip. “You don’t want me to ask to do this?”

His response was a strangled, “No!”

For the first time since he’d kissed her, she felt the power shift to her, and she was in control. She took as much of him as she could into her mouth and tested the weight of his testicles in her palm. She’d never done this for a man during their first time together, fearing it would set a bad precedent, but with Luc, she didn’t care. She wanted to do it. Not for him but for her. And no matter how it hurt and would kill her later, she knew there was no future with Luc. No precedent to set. She would take all that she could of him. She was Honey Pie. She’d try her hardest to put him into a coma.

Luc grasped her shoulders and pulled her to her feet. He brought his face to hers and his tongue ravished her mouth. His hands slid to her behind and he lifted her and she wrapped her legs around his waist. His hard naked flesh pressed into her through her thong panties and he kicked free of his pants and briefs. He fed her hungry kisses as they moved from the living room down the hall to his dark bedroom. Light from the massive windows spilled across the big bed, and he gently laid her across the deep blue quilt. She raised herself on her elbows and watched him move through the shadows. A drawer to a night-stand slid open and then he was before her.

“I’m thinking I might have to apologize before we get busy,” he said as he rolled a latex condom over the plump head and down the thick shaft.

She pushed her panties from her legs and tossed them. Light from outside poured over one side of his face. “Why?”

He covered her with his warm body and rested his weight on his elbows. “Because I don’t think I can last very long.”

Then she felt the head of his penis, smooth and hard and hot, and she didn’t think he had to worry, because she wasn’t likely to last long herself. He slid partway into her, and her body resisted the intrusion. She placed her hands on his shoulders to stop him and he took her face in his hands and kissed her gently. Then he withdrew and pushed a little farther inside.

“You’re so tight around me,” he gasped. She sucked in a breath, his breath, as he pulled out almost completely, only to bury himself so deep she felt him against her cervix. A deep groan tore through his chest and echoed around her heart.

She wrapped one leg around his back. “Luc,” she whispered as he began to move, setting a perfect rhythm of pleasure. “Mmm, that feels good.”

With his face just above hers, he asked, “How do you want it?”

“Just like you’re giving it to me.” His athlete’s body-toned and trained to go the distance- strained, and his harsh breath brushed her face. Every cell in her body was focused on the shaft pounding into her body.

“More?”

“Yes. Give me more,” she gasped, and he gave it to her. Faster, harder, and more intense. Over and over, his harsh breath brushing her cheek as he drove her farther up the bed. And just when she didn’t think she could take any more, she cried out and her hands curled into fists. Her climax so exquisite she saw and heard nothing over the pounding of her heart and the rushing of sensation across her flesh. The fire he ignited deep inside flushed her body, and her inner muscles clenched and drew him deeper until he too climaxed. An explosion of curses were torn from his throat.

Neither of them said anything for a long time. Not until their breathing slowed and their heart rates returned to normal. Luc withdrew from her and moved from the bed to the bathroom. Cool air rushed over Jane’s heated skin as she watched him go, walking through the variegated shadows. Her mind was still too numb to think about what she’d just done, but her heart knew. She loved Luc Martineau with a frightening intensity.

When she heard the toilet flush, she looked toward the bathroom door. Luc walked toward her, naked and beautiful within the panels of light falling across the bedroom. Looking at him, her chest got tight as if she were having a heart attack.

“What time did you need to leave?” he asked as he joined her on the bed.

Reality intruded like a bucket of cold water. He hadn’t even waited for her afterglow to fade. She’d just had mind-blowing sex, and he was ready for her to go. She sat up and looked around for her underwear, hoping like hell she didn’t do something mortifying like burst into tears before she got out the door. “I don’t have a curfew.” As modestly as possible given that she was naked, she scooted on her stomach to the far edge of the bed and looked over the side. No panties. “If I can just find my underwear, I’ll get out of here. I’m sure you need your rest for tomorrow night’s game.”

He grabbed her ankle and pulled her across the bed toward him again. “Second string’s between the pipes tomorrow night, and I asked because I want you to stay.”

He turned her onto her back, and she looked up into his face. “You do?”

“Uh-huh. I figure I’m going to want to do that a couple more times before I let you out the front door.”

“A couple more?”

“Yeah.” He pulled her tight against his body, and she felt him rock-hard again. “Is that a problem?”

“No.”

“Good, because I’m planning on scoring a hat trick.”