Chapter 11

Blake laywith his eyes closed, though he wasn't asleep. Erika was resting quietly in his arms, using his chest as a pillow. After round two of the greatest sex of his life, they'd curled up together, and while neither of them was sleeping, it felt as if they were both taking some time to just wallow in this…bliss.

"Mmm." Erika lifted her head. "What time is it?"

Blake picked up her phone from the nightstand. "Midnight."

"Can't believe I'm not sound asleep," she murmured.

"Someone wear you out?"

She laughed softly. "And then some."

He chuckled. "I swear to God I'm less worn out after three periods on the ice. That was quite a workout, Dr. Nelson."

"No one's ever…" she started, her words fading away.

"No one's ever," he prompted.

She flushed slightly, grinning. "No one's ever managed to give me more than one orgasm in a night. No one's ever found my G-spot, and none of my past boyfriends managed to use my clit to its full potential."

Blake cupped her cheek, giving her a quick kiss. "Not gonna complain about coming out on top in any competition, even though the thought of you with those other guys makes me see red."

"Never pegged you for the jealous type," she teased.

Because he wasn't. Or he hadn't been. Before her. Now he was feeling uncharacteristically caveman-like.

He drew his fingers over her bare shoulder, then tugged her closer. "What do you say we get a shower, then call it a night?"

Erika pushed to a sitting position. "A shower together?"

Blake grinned at her obvious excitement. "I dare you to try to take one without me."

She gave him a quick kiss on the lips, then climbed out of bed, padding to the bathroom. She stopped at the doorway. "Dare you."

Blake leapt from the bed, much to Erika's delight, chasing her into the bathroom. Within sixty seconds, they were standing together underneath the steaming jets.

Erika threw her head back to wet her long dark hair. She started to reach for the shampoo, but Blake beat her to it. Squeezing some onto the palm of his hand, he gestured for her to turn around.

"You're going to wash my hair?" she asked, clearly pleased by the prospect.

"I'm going to wash every inch of you." He placed a kiss on the top of her head. "And then you're going to repay the favor."

Erika glanced over her shoulder, her eyes heavy with need. He'd never really understood the term bedroom eyes until that moment, when she flashed him a seductive look that woke his dick up fast. A fact that didn't go unnoticed as her eyes drifted down his body, a smile crossing her lips.

"Keep looking at me like that and this shower is going to be less about getting clean and more about getting very, very dirty," he murmured.

"Cleanliness is overrated."

This woman was made for him. Blake ran his fingers through her hair, working up a lather before turning her to face him so he could tip her head back to rinse the suds out. Her breasts were pressed against his chest, his cock bumping against her stomach. Once the shampoo was out, he repeated the process with her conditioner.

Erika's hands gripped his waist, and she kept leaning forward to lick stray drops of water that slid down his chest. It was one of the most erotically charged moments he'd ever experienced. Once her hair was washed, he grabbed her loofah, squirting a generous amount of body wash on the surface.

He was familiar with her sweet scent, something he often caught whiffs of whenever she stopped by his place after showering. He'd never really considered a smell a turn-on, but there was no denying—he glanced at the bottle—white peach and rice milk was going to give him hard-ons from this point on.

Blake ran the loofah over her shoulders, neck, and back.

"Oh my God, that feels so good," Erika said.

"It really does," he agreed, enjoying her slight intake of breath when he drew the loofah down her spine and over her ass. "Turn around so I can rinse off the soap."

She twisted to face him again, the hot water sluicing down her back. Now he could focus his attention on the front. He dropped the loofah, opting for a more hands-on cleaning approach, running his fingers through her slit.

"So wet for me," he said, bending forward to kiss the side of her neck.

Erika didn't reply with words but with whimpers when he found and circled her clit, applying enough pressure to fire her engines without blasting off. Their first two times together had been explosive, but Blake hadn't taken nearly enough time to savor the experience.

Now that they'd sated their immediate hunger, he was ready for a leisurely dessert.

He shifted lower, bending at the waist. The new position meant he could suck her nipple into his mouth as he stroked along her slit and toyed with her clit.

Erika's hands rested on his shoulders, her fingers digging into the muscles there as she pushed her body forward, seeking more.

"Please, Blake," she whispered.

He knew what she wanted, knew she was asking him to fill her with his fingers or his dick.

"You're going to have to beg a lot more than that before you get what you want, dirty girl," he taunted.

Her eyes had been closed, but now they flew open, piercing him with a demanding look that made him laugh. His little kitten thought she had claws.

Blake placed a kiss on the tip of her nose. "You're so adorable when you think you can make me do something."

"You realize I had an excellent tutor in the ways of masturbation." She lowered her hands from his shoulders, sliding her fingers over her breasts and stomach seductively. "I don't need you to?—"

That was all she managed to say before he grasped her wrists, shoving her back against the shower wall, cutting off her words with a hard, claiming kiss. He surprised her with his rough touch, her moans music to his ears. Erika liked her pleasure with a bite of pain, and he suddenly imagined her draped over his lap while he spanked her ass. Or tied to the bed as he tormented her with her toys for hours on end. Or maybe he'd buy her a butt plug, introduce her to anal.

While they hadn't discussed it outright, he gathered her past lovers hadn't branched out in terms of testing Erika's sexual limits. Blake wouldn't make the same mistake.

Now that he had her, a whole world of sexual adventures was open to them.

Breaking off the kiss, he nipped at her lower lip, her arms still lifted and pressed against the tiles over her head.

"My pussy," he growled. "You don't touch it without my permission."

Erika's eyes narrowed. She was feminist enough to want to protest that statement, but her flushed cheeks and labored breathing gave her away.

"Tell me," Blake insisted. "Tell me whose pussy this is."

She bit her lip, but he knew the act had nothing to do with nervousness. His headstrong woman was trying to stop herself from giving in too quick.

"Say it, Erik, and I'll give you your first orgasm now."

"First?" she whispered.

"There's lots of hot water left."

"Yours." It was one word, spoken more with air than tone, but Blake heard it, and it sent him to his knees instantly, ready to prove to her just how true that was.

Erika's hands gripped his hair as he used his thumbs to part her folds. He sucked her clit into his mouth hard, then gave it a nip, and she cried out.

He repeated the same thing several times, driving her higher and higher, yet she begged for more.

"Blake! God. I need… I need…"

He knew exactly what she needed. He shoved two fingers deep inside her, not bothering to with light or easy. When he curved his fingers, finding that spot that Erika hadn't even discovered herself, the bomb detonated and her orgasm had her bending forward, beautifully broken by pleasure.

"Jesus." Her climax struck hard, but he wasn't content to let it flash out too quickly, so he kept fucking her, drawing it out, wanting it to linger as long as possible.

Once it waned, Blake stood, his hands gripping her upper arms to hold her upright. She was also using the wall at her back for support.

"That was…"

He didn't have a clue what she was going to say. Maybe she didn't either. Or maybe she realized words weren't going to cut it because one second, she was standing there, looking at him like he was the most special person in her life, and the next, she was on her knees.

Blake jerked in surprise when she grasped his cock, her lips wrapping around the head at the same time.

"Fuck!" His hands flew to her head. He thought his intention was to slow her down, but somewhere between lifting his hands and fisting her hair, she'd wiped that decision away.

Erika drew him in until the head of his cock brushed the back of her throat, then she pulled away, only for a second, before sucking him down again. She ran her tongue along the underside of his dick on each withdrawal, adding a sensation that was going to make him come way too fucking fast.

When her hand found its way between his legs, cupping his balls, he had to lock his knees and grit his teeth, fighting for control.

Her whimper reverberated around his cock, drawing his attention to her, and that was when he realized he was pulling her hair, using it to guide her depth, to set the pace. He'd inadvertently taken this from blowjob to mouth fucking.

Blake loosened his grip, and Erika's eyes rose, meeting his as she shook her head as much as possible with her mouth full of him.

"I was hurting you," he murmured.

She rolled her eyes, the expression on her face one he'd seen countless times in the past. It was her "get a grip, Blake" expression, and it took everything he had not to laugh.

He probably would have if she hadn't chosen that exact moment to toss gasoline onto the fire—the tip of her finger circling his anus.

Game. Fucking. On.

Blake closed his fists in her hair, resuming his earlier pace, then bumping it up a notch when Erika tried to wrestle back control.

"Your mouth is mine too," he said through gritted teeth.

Erika hummed her assent, wiggled her finger against his ass, then tightened her grip on the base of his cock.

It was too much and not enough all at the same time because he didn't want to come alone. He wanted her with him. Every damn time.

"Stroke your clit," he demanded, partly for her pleasure, but also as a distraction because he was in serious danger of blowing right now.

Her finger disappeared from where it had been toying with his anus, and he missed it immediately. Then her breathing grew heavier, and he could tell she was doing what he'd asked, even though he couldn't see.

"You're going to come with me."

Erika looked up again, uncertain.

"I'm not giving you an option. Stroke your clit, get yourself close."

Her eyes drifted closed, though he wasn't sure if it was her fingers or the way he was using her mouth or maybe both, working against her.

Though he'd only seen her come undone a handful of times, he was starting to recognize her tells…the harsh breaths, the flushed cheeks, the breathy groans when she was close.

"Three fingers," he said, his voice husky with need. "Fuck yourself with three, dirty girl."

Erika moaned and trembled.

"Fuck yourself the way I would. Hard and fast and rough. Get that pussy nice and wet and messy." He prayed to God she got there quick because he was on the cusp and there wasn't enough control in the world to stop him from?—

Erika's cries were muffled by his cock, her body shaking as her orgasm struck. He was only two thrusts behind her, then he came. She didn't release him, didn't shy away. Instead, she held him in her mouth until every drop was spent, and only then did she pull away and—fuck him—swallow.

He reached down, helping her to her feet, wrapping her in his arms. She sank into his embrace, and it was then that Blake realized their hot shower was no more than lukewarm, the water quickly turning cold.

He switched the faucet off, leaning her against the wall as he stepped out and grabbed a towel. Blake dried her off, the moment reminding him of the night she'd lost Corky in the storm. She'd looked so defeated, so broken that night.

None of that was present now.

Right now, she looked well fucked, happy, and sleepy.

She didn't move until he'd dried every part of her and himself. When he held out his hand, she took it, a soft smile on her lips.

"That was…"

He chuckled. "Yeah. It was."

They walked back into her bedroom, crawling into bed together, both grinning when Corky hopped up, claiming her own spot at the bottom.

Erika started to nestle into his arms, but he turned her away from him instead so he could wrap his arm around her waist, spooning her. He had a feeling this was going to be their favorite sleeping position.

He lifted his hand, cupping her breast, provoking a breathy laugh from her, but she didn't seek to lower it or push it away. Quite the opposite as his shameless, sexy minx wiggled her ass, pressing it more firmly against him.

Blake was amused when he realized she'd fallen asleep within seconds, but it didn't last long. He only had time to think about how perfectly they fit together before he joined her in dreamland.

* * *

Buzz. Buzz. Buzz.

Blake waved his hand toward the nightstand, trying to stop the buzzing. It was too fucking early for phone calls, especially considering the late night he and Erika had.

"Make it stop," she muttered from beside him, her face buried in a pillow.

On the third wild swing, Blake's hand connected with the nightstand. He dragged his fingers across the surface until he found the vibrating phone. Lifting it, he took one glance at the screen, then nudged Erika on the shoulder.

"It's the hospital calling your cell," he said.

She groaned, then took it from him just as the buzzing stopped.

"It's five in the fucking morning," he pointed out.

"I know. If they call back—" she started, just as the phone began to vibrate again, and this time she answered.

The hospital didn't call her on her off-hours often, but when they were short-staffed and desperate, they had a tendency to ring her phone off the hook until she answered.

"Okay," he heard her say to whoever had called. "I'll be there as soon as I can."

She disconnected the call, slowly sitting up and rubbing her face with her hands.

"You gotta go?" He blamed his stupid question on the fact it was too freaking early. Obviously, she was leaving.

Erika rose, walking to the bathroom to turn on the light. "Apparently it's foggy out there. Big accident on 695, ten-car pileup. Lots of injuries. They're transporting them now."

"You only got four hours' sleep," he grumbled.

Blake covered his eyes for a moment, blinking a few times to adjust to the light shining in his face before forcing himself to move. Corky was still asleep at their feet, and even she seemed to understand it was basically still night because aside from opening her eyes, she didn't stir or even bother to lift her head.

Erika peered through the door, looking surprisingly alert. "I'll take a nap when I get home."

Blake scrubbed his face, trying to wake himself. Then he threw his legs over the side of the mattress. Erika had grabbed some clothes from her dresser before heading to the bathroom, leaving the door open.

"You don't have to get up," she said. "Sleep a little longer."

He shook his head. "No. I'll make you some coffee in a travel mug. Then I need to get back to my place to pack anyway. Got a ten a.m. flight to Vegas."

"Oh," she said. "That's right. You're on the road for a few days."

Blake had hoped they'd have time for a quickie, breakfast, and then a talk before he had to head out.

He really should have initiated the conversation last night. The one they still hadn't had yet.

Not that he thought it was necessary. Erika had been all-in for their sexcapades, and there'd been no question after their shower that he was spending the night. They hadn't needed to discuss anything because the last piece of the puzzle had finally snapped into place.

He'd been secretly pleased and relieved that Erika hadn't needed to spell everything out between them. Perhaps she—like him—had finally realized they were perfect for each other.

If she hadn't, there was no way she would have let things between them advance to the next level without a lot—and he meant A LOT—of talking.

Everything they'd done since dinner had held way more weight than a bunch of words. Why say the words when they could simply show each other how they felt?

Padding to the kitchen barefoot, Blake grabbed a travel mug from her cabinet and pressed the button on the Nespresso to brew the coffee, adding creamer and sugar the way she liked. He'd just popped the top on when she came out of the bedroom, fully dressed and ready to go. He could see from the pensive look on her face she was already thinking about what she would be facing at the hospital. He'd become a bit of an expert over the years in reading Erika's expressions, so he knew her worried doctor face.

"Here," he said, holding the coffee cup out to her once she'd thrown on her coat and grabbed her purse and car keys.

"I'm sorry I have to run like this."

Blake leaned forward and gave her a kiss on the cheek. "It's okay. I would have had to leave in a couple hours anyway. I'll see you when I get back."

It looked as if Erika wanted to say something more, but in the end, she just nodded. "Safe flight," she said, just as she had a million times before.

Unfortunately, this time…something felt slightly off.

Before Blake could reach for her, intent on giving her a proper kiss goodbye, Erika turned toward the door. "See you in a few days."

He frowned, annoyed. What the hell kind of goodbye was that?

He shook it off, chalking it up to her rush to get to the hospital. Obviously, there were a lot of people who needed her help. When he considered that, he felt selfish for trying to steal a few more minutes.

Sighing, he returned to her bedroom, pulling his phone from the jeans he'd shed last night. He fired off a quick text. Given Erika's lacking relationship history, it appeared it was up to him to show her how a decent boyfriend treated his girlfriend.

The irony of that wasn't lost on him because God knew he had less experience than she did with committed relationships.

Regardless…he was willing to give it the old college try.

Miss you already. Hope everything is okay at the hospital. I'll text when I land. Dream of me tonight, because I'm sure as hell going to be dreaming of you.

Blake hit send, grinning. Not too bad if he said so himself. He waited for the three dots to appear, just in case Erika hadn't gotten to her car yet.

When they didn't, he figured she was already driving. She'd dealt with too many injuries thanks to distracted driving, so she never looked at her phone when she was behind the wheel.

* * *

"Who pissed in your Cheerios this morning?" Tank stowed his bag in the overhead compartment of the plane before plopping down next to Blake. They were heading back to Baltimore after three days bouncing around the West Coast, starting in Vegas before moving on to San Jose. Finally, they were on their way home.

All Blake had to do was get this six-and-a-half-hour flight over with, then he could get back home to his girls.

Or at least, he hoped they were his girls. He didn't question Corky's devotion to him, but it felt like he might be on shaky ground with Erika.

No. Not shaky.

Just the same fucking ground he'd been on for the past three years. When he left her place after what he was now calling the greatest night of his life, his feet didn't touch the ground for hours. In his mind, he and Erika had turned a corner, had embarked on what he hoped was going to be his first—and, God willing, last—serious committed relationship.

"I'm fine," he lied to Tank, though his crossed arms and scowl were probably belying that fact.

"Dude," Tank said with an arched brow. "You just played two of the best fucking games of your career, and you've set yourself up to break your own personal scoring record. Not to mention if you score forty goals, it'll be your third consecutive year doing so, which means you'll be tied with Alex Stone, who currently holds the record for the Rays. You're on fire this season."

Blake tried not to think about stuff like that too hard because fixating on records could fuck with a guy's head. "I don't look at the numbers, you know that."

"I get it," Tank hastened to add. Probably because his best friend was also in line to tie Stone's record, and like Blake, he knew it was best to take it one game at a time rather than start obsessing about the bigger picture. "Just trying to figure out why you're doing a damn good impersonation of Victor this morning. Because you've got his scowl down, man."

"I fucking heard that," Victor grumbled from across the aisle.

Coulton, who had the window seat, peered around Victor and chuckled. "Tank's right. Blake looks just like you right now. Grumpy as fuck."

"I'm not grumpy," Victor grumbled. "I just don't like people."

"You're surrounded by your team," Tank pointed out. "It's not like you're flying coach alone."

Victor rolled his eyes. "You're still fucking people."

They'd all been friends for way too long to take offense to anything Victor said.

Tank turned back to Blake. "I can only assume you've stalled out with Erika. So I guess it's my job as best friend to offer you your choices. Do something about it, or you'll be back to taking victory laps with Mindy."

"Mindy." Blake shook his head in disgust. "No fucking way."

Tank crossed his arms. "It's not like you've made any progress on the Erika front, and Mindy's been complaining about you not calling her anymore."

"You know I'm not sleeping with Mindy. Ever again," Blake insisted, feeling slightly guilty for not clueing his best friend into the fact he had taken a step forward with Erika. Of course, it had been followed by two steps back, but Tank didn't know that either.

"Damn," Tank muttered, his tone catching Blake off guard.

"Damn?"

He sighed. "I made the mistake of taking her home one night, and she's been fucking clingy ever since. Did you know she can tie herself up in bed?"

Blake was all too aware of that party trick.

Coulton's eyes widened. "Seriously?"

Tank and Blake both nodded.

"That's fucking weird," Victor said, his words matching Blake's opinion. "If I want a woman tied to my bed, you can be damn sure I'm going to be the one tightening the fucking knots."

Tank laughed loudly, reaching across the aisle to punch Victor on the arm. "I knew you were a kinky bastard."

Victor growled but didn't deny the accusation.

"Seriously, Blake. What's going on?" Coulton asked. "You're the one who's usually in a big-ass hurry to get home to that damn dog."

Blake hadn't told any of his friends about his night with Erika. He wasn't sure why, but now…when he considered it…he thought maybe it was because he didn't want to jinx it until it was all sorted out and official. He'd had a niggling feeling that wasn't the case when she'd left to go the hospital, so he'd kept his mouth shut.

Now that niggling feeling had taken over, growing to a 9.0 earthquake on the Richter scale.

"Is it that guy Erika's seeing?" Tank asked. "Is it more serious?"

Blake also hadn't told them about Doug attacking Erika because he hadn't known how to share that story without sliding into the aftermath. Now, though, he was ready to come clean about everything…because he needed his friends' advice.

"It's a long story." He started by telling them about losing Corky, leaving out the part about Erika's intense fear of storms because that was too personal. Instead, he said they'd both been freaked out over losing the puppy and had fallen asleep at his place.

"You two and that fucking dog," Victor muttered.

Then he told them about the next morning, about Doug hitting Erika, shaking her. Blake had never questioned how solid his friendship with his teammates was, but if he had any doubts, they were erased by the sheer murder in their eyes when they learned Erika had been hurt.

"What's Doug's fucking last name?" Victor asked through gritted teeth.

"Where does he live?" Coulton looked equally deadly.

Blake wished he knew the answers to those questions. "I punched him, probably broke his nose."

Tank scowled. "That's not enough."

"Fucking tell me about it," Blake agreed. "Anyway, I comforted her, but then I had to leave for practice, so we made plans for dinner later."

"You two eat dinner together most nights. So what?" Tank asked.

"We had sex."

His words evoked three very different responses from his buddies. Coulton looked shocked, Victor scowled, and Tank—true to character—slapped him on the arm, grinning from ear to ear.

"Hot fucking damn! Hell yeah!" Tank shouted, drawing the attention of two flight attendants, both shooting him a warning look to hold it down. It didn't help that he'd expressed his glee during the safety demonstration.

"Why are we just hearing about all of this?" Coulton asked. "We've been together for days."

Blake lifted one shoulder. "I don't know."

"Fuck." Victor leaned across the aisle to ask quietly, "Was the sex bad?"

Blake quickly shook his head, putting that thought to rest immediately. "Hell no. It was…" Even though he was worried about the current situation between him and his gorgeous neighbor, he couldn't hold back the smile that emerged every single time he recalled being with her.

Tank laughed. "Clearly, the sex was shit-hot."

"That's a fucking relief," Victor said.

"It's just…I don't know. I thought things had changed between us, but the last few days, the texts?—"

"Sexts?" Tank interjected, wiggling his brows.

Blake shook his head. "Texts. Just matter-of-fact, run-of-the-mill texts. The same kind of texts we've been exchanging for years. And there haven't been very many. Shit, she even ghosted me one whole day. It's starting to feel like Erika has shoved me back into the friend box."

"What did she say when you told her you wanted to date her exclusively, wanted her to be your girlfriend?" Coulton asked.

Blake grimaced.

"Fucking hell," Victor muttered. "You did fucking tell her?"

"I was going to." Blake tried to defend himself, even though he knew he didn't have a leg to stand on. "I planned on sitting down with her at breakfast the morning after and laying it all out. My feelings, my hopes for our future, but…"

"But?" Coulton prodded.

"She got called into the hospital for an emergency at five in the morning. One minute, she was asleep in my arms. Five minutes later, she was in her car, driving to work."

"But you've been texting her the past three days," Tank pointed out.

Blake glanced down at his phone. "Yeah. The first day I sent her a bunch of texts, talking about how much I missed her and couldn't wait to see her again."

"Sounds nice," Coulton observed.

"She didn't text me back until the middle of the night, which was weird. I was sacked out in the hotel and didn't see it until the next morning. And then that day, she ghosted me."

"What did her text say?" Tank asked.

"She just asked if we won against Vegas, then said she and Corky missed me too."

"She didn't watch the game?" Tank asked.

The same time Victor asked, "Corky? Who gives a fuck about the dog's feelings?"

"I do," Blake retorted. "But it was just such a generic text. And the fact that she didn't watch the game…I don't know. It got in my head, you know? So I texted back, but…well…I was reluctant to…"

"You fell back on the old Blake material instead of putting yourself out there." Coulton looked like he understood, even though there was the slightest bit of disappointment in his gaze.

"She didn't start texting me back until yesterday morning, but it was the standard stuff, couple of pics of Corky, she wished me luck in the game, shit like that. She's always said since day one she just wanted us to be friends, and I got that. Or…" Blake hastened to add, when all three of his friends shot him a "seriously?" look. "I thought I was getting it. I haven't exactly helped my case with her, bringing home puck bunnies for victory dances, swearing off marriage, strutting around like an arrogant playboy."

"Yeah, but you had sex. I mean…she slept with you. What the hell does she think that means?" Coulton asked.

Blake left Baltimore feeling good about where he and Erika were, but each day since, he'd been looking at things from her perspective…and not liking what he was coming up with. "Well, worst-case scenario—she thinks it was a one-night stand. Although, maybe that's not the worst case because what I'm really afraid of is she views what we did as me trying to console and comfort her."

"With sex?" Tank chuckled. "Nice."

"No, you fucking idiot." Victor reached over and cuffed Tank on the back of the head. "Because that's what Blake always does. He takes care of Erika. Making sure she eats dinner, fixing shit in her apartment, fucking adopting a dog with her because she always wanted a dog."

Blake was shocked that Victor had noticed all that, even though his words were all true. He had placed himself in the role of caregiver, which was strange because he'd sure as shit never wanted to take care of anyone else in his life. With Erika, that desire came naturally because he only ever wanted her to be happy, well-fed, safe, and loved.

Victor shook his head at Tank, but it was Blake he was looking at when he said, "Actually, you're the fucking idiot. Spent a whole night with that woman and couldn't find ten seconds to tell her you loved her."

Blake didn't respond—because there was nothing he could say in defense to that.

He was a fucking idiot.