Chapter 4

Erika rolled over and groaned,unable—or perhaps the better word was unwilling—to peel her eyes open. Her head hurt. Not that she was surprised.

That's what happens when you consume a bottle of wine.

Laying there, she let her thoughts play over everything that happened last night, her cheeks growing hot as she recalled not only showing Blake her sex toys but letting him use them on her.

Jesus. Christ.

She wanted to blame the wine, and in part, she did. It had certainly lowered her inhibitions because there was no way she would have engaged in a conversation about masturbation with Blake while sober. And there was no freaking way that discussion would have led them to her bedroom to do…what they did.

Holy. Shit.

She'd had what she considered decent orgasms in her life, but none of them held a candle to the two Blake had wrung out of her.

Two!

Erika was, and always had been, a one-and-done girl. Hell, most of the time, she was lucky if she got to one. She hadn't lied to her sexy neighbor when she'd told him that her orgasms took work, and some of her past lovers hadn't always expended that effort.

Of course, she shouldn't be surprised by Blake's mad skills. The guy liked sex, and he had enough of it that he should know what the hell he was doing in the bedroom.

Rubbing her brow wearily, she moaned, cursing herself.

What the fuck had she done?

They'd crossed one hell of a line last night, but even as she thought those words, she struggled to summon any actual regret.

Because…

Mother. Of. God.

It was the hottest sexual experience of her life. And Blake hadn't even removed a stitch of clothing. Hell, she hadn't even taken off her shirt and bra, she realized as she glanced down, now aware she was only naked from the waist down.

Erika forced herself to rise, throwing on the lounge pants she'd stripped off before crawling into bed. Tossing on some fuzzy socks, she made her way to the kitchen in search of water and aspirin.

Spotting the empty wine bottle on the counter, she blew out a long, slow breath.

It honestly felt like she'd had some sort of out-of-body experience last night because every single thing she'd done had been in direct opposition to how she usually handled things.

Usually, she was able to leave her work concerns at work.

Her wine consumption was limited to one or two glasses.

She didn't discuss her sex life.

Her willpower had never wavered when faced with Blake's undeniable sexiness.

She hadn't lost a lot of patients in her career, but she'd witnessed more than a few deaths. None of them had rattled her quite like Sara's. Not that she was surprised by that. Erika knew exactly why she'd let it get to her the way she had.

She'd seen herself in that young girl, recognized that fourteen years ago, it could have been her dying in that ER…all because of one very stupid, split-second decision.

Erika had looked at Sara's parents and seen her own. Imagined how they might have reacted if Erika's poor judgment had ended as tragically as Sara's.

She hadn't shared any of that with Blake because she wasn't that girl anymore. A single night had altered her trajectory, sent her down a much different path than the one she'd been traveling. And while she'd been young at the time, there was still a sense of shame—even after all these years—that kept her silent rather than confessing to Blake why Sara's death had shaken her so badly.

She'd appreciated his willingness to listen to her, and the compassion she'd seen in his eyes, the kindness, had comforted her. There was something about his presence that always steadied her and helped her find her footing. Perhaps it was because of his habit of taking care of her.

Erika considered herself an independent woman, one fully capable of handling her own shit…most of the time. She was assertive, confident, and comfortable in her own skin.

She didn't need anyone to look after her, but there was a difference between needing and wanting.

She made too many life and death decisions in her job, so many that she tended to shut down when she got home. She could diagnose and treat illnesses, rarely questioning what needed to be done to help her patients. But ask her what she wanted for dinner, and her brain went haywire.

When she moved in here, it hadn't taken Blake long to figure out she was a bit of a mess when it came to mealtimes, and the sweet man had taken it upon himself to help. As such, she received invitations to "friend" dinners two or three times a week, he helped her build her Instacart lists, and at least once a month, he dragged her kicking and screaming to the grocery store. And when she'd had to work overtime, more than once, he'd gone shopping for her, filling her fridge so she wouldn't have to worry about meals after her long shifts were over.

Erika knew she could do all of that herself—and if she had to, she would. After all, she'd made do prior to moving into this building.

But she liked how he took care of her, and she was touched by his concern.

So much so, it wasn't something she wanted to lose.

Which was why letting him use her sex toys on her was a stupid thing to do. How the hell was she supposed to face him now?

The dust hadn't even settled on that thought before Corky was racing to her front door, her tail wagging as she danced with glee. The puppy knew Blake's sounds, always warning Erika just before he arrived.

Sure enough, he pounded out one knock on the door before attempting to open it. She wasn't sure when they'd basically stopped knocking before entering. She wasn't even sure when they'd started unlocking their apartment doors first thing in the morning for each other.

All she knew was…she hadn't unlocked it this morning.

She couldn't.

Erika grimaced, flames licking her face. She wished she could act like the thirty-year-old woman she was and manage not to blush like a goddamn teenager in front of Blake.

Maybe it would be easier if he wasn't so ridiculously attractive. Erika wasn't going to deny that, upon first moving in, she'd thought long and hard about succumbing to Blake's overtures. He wore his jet-black hair slightly longer than most men she knew, though not long enough for a man bun or anything like that. Somehow, he managed to always have a five-o'clock shadow that showed off his chiseled jawline to perfection. And while he had a body that would make the archangels weep, the most stunning part of him was his piercing ice-blue eyes.

God, she could drown in those eyes.

Erika considered retreating to her bathroom and turning on the shower so Blake would think she'd hadn't heard his knock. It had taken her the first few months of living near him to stop drooling over his pretty face and lick-able muscles, but last night appeared to have undone all that hard work. Because now, as she stared at that closed door, all she could see was his heavy-lidded eyes watching as she came apart next to him…hear all those dirty, whispered words.

"Open the door, Erika," Blake demanded. "Or I'll use my key."

She groaned, perfectly aware he would follow through with the threat, especially considering he'd just used her full name.

Trudging to the door, she finger-combed her hair, attempting to tame it. She hated herself instantly for the effort because she'd stopped worrying about her appearance with Blake ages ago. They'd seen each other in all their facets—dressed up, dressed down, with bedhead, bedraggled by rain, and red-nosed due to allergies.

Erika unlocked the door, trying to hold Corky back with her foot so she could open the damn thing. Blake was prepared for the puppy when she finally managed, bending forward to scoop their beloved pet into one hand.

He grinned as Corky slathered him with a million licks.

Stepping in, he gave Erika a once-over that made her uncomfortable and horny all at the same time.

"None the worse for wear, I see," he joked, holding out his other hand.

"What's this?" she asked, accepting the smoothie, focusing her attention on the glass in order to avoid eye contact.

"My hangover cure. Drink it and I guarantee you'll feel better in half an hour."

She eyeballed the green smoothie. "What's in it?"

Blake chuckled. "Better that you don't know."

Erika stepped away from the door so he could walk in. She forced herself to turn back and head to the kitchen, planning to add a couple of ibuprofen to the smoothie cure. She also needed to stop looking at him, because while she probably resembled a scarecrow with her hair sticking out every which way, he'd taken the time to shower before coming over. He was wearing a basic button-down shirt and dark jeans. There shouldn't be a goddamn thing sexy about any of that, but for some reason, she found the entire ensemble ridiculously hot.

"How's your head?" he asked, following her.

"Crappy," she muttered, not looking him in the eye.

Blake stepped next to her, tapping under her chin twice. "Hey. Look at me."

She sighed, feigning annoyance. "I don't feel that great, Blake."

"I know that, but that's not why you won't look me in the eye, is it? Never known you to be a coward, Erik."

His words worked. She narrowed her eyes, glaring at him.

"There she is," he said with a grin that was too charming her for self-control.

"Blake—" she started, but he cut her off, shaking his head.

"You're not going to make what happened last night awkward between us."

She wanted to argue that fact because things were hella awkward at the moment.

"I mean it," he persisted. "We didn't do a damn thing wrong. Besides, it was a one-time deal. You had a bad night, and I tried to help."

There was no try about it. The man had succeeded…big-time. Not that she'd tell him that. One of her missions in life was to try to curb his cockiness.

"And I appreciate that," she forced herself to say when the silence drifted a bit too long. "It's just?—"

"It's just nothing. Nothing has changed between us. We're still neighbors and best friends, co-parenting the cutest, sweetest dog on the planet. If you want to forget all about last night, that's fine. Or I'd be perfectly okay with you using the memory as your future spank-bank material because I think we can both admit, I rocked your world."

She rolled her eyes so hard, it hurt.

Blake laughed, then wrapped his arms around her, giving her a big, friendly hug. "We're okay, Erik. Okay?"

Every ounce of tension evaporated, thanks to that hug.

"We're okay."

"Good." Blake pulled away, walking to the basket where she kept Corky's leash. "I'm going to take our girl for a walk while you drink your smoothie. I've got practice in an hour. Might hit the pub afterward with the gang, so I could get back late."

She knew Blake's "gang" consisted of teammates and puck bunnies. The team had won last night, but Blake hadn't had a chance to celebrate, opting instead to cheer her up. Which meant, he would probably bring home one of his usual hookups for the night.

"You want to join us?" he asked, aware tonight was her night off, since her work and his game schedules were now emblazoned on digital organizers hanging in each of their kitchens.

She shook her head, lifting his smoothie. "No. I think alcohol and I are taking a break."

Blake ruffled her hair playfully, prompting her to smack his hand away. "Cool. You good with keeping Corky tonight?"

Yep, she decided. He was definitely hoping to get lucky.

"Sure," she said affably, hating that the idea of Blake bringing home a woman bothered her. That was something new and something very, very unwanted. Maybe they weren't as okay as she claimed.

Blake hooked the leash to Corky's collar, leading the dog to the door. Turning just before he left, he pointed to the smoothie. "Drink," he said in that deep, demanding tone that had pushed every hot button in her last night. "It'll make you feel better, dirty girl," he added with a shameless wink.

She flipped him the bird before lifting the glass, taking a big sip and grimacing at the taste.

He laughed loudly as he left, closing the door behind him.

Erika leaned over the counter, forcing herself to drink more of his hangover cure. Opening her phone, she checked her email and messages, finding one from Doug.

She'd met the financial analyst on eHarmony, and so far, they'd met for coffee twice. He was a nice guy, and while he wasn't Blake-level hot, he was certainly attractive. He'd messaged to invite her to dinner over the weekend.

Looked like she had passed the coffee-date hurdle.

She tried to decide if he had as well.

Yeah. She guessed he had. There hadn't been any apparent red flags, though spotting those hadn't proven to be one of her strengths, considering her past boyfriends. She shoved that thought away and she focused on Doug instead.

He was friendly and intelligent and a good listener. She hadn't really felt any sort of sexual attraction to him, but they also hadn't really tested those waters, both coffee dates ending with a simple handshake.

Erika glanced at the door Blake had just closed. He was going to go to that pub tonight, flirt with a woman, and then bring her home with him.

The loneliness she'd admitted feeling was still there. Blake obviously wasn't suffering the same because he was living the life he wanted. He didn't want a relationship, was more than fine with casual hookups, so that was what he indulged in.

Unlike her, he didn't let the grass grow under his feet, didn't let life pass him by while standing on the sidelines. How the hell did she expect to stop feeling lonely if she didn't put herself out there, didn't try to find the relationship she longed for?

She'd never been big on dating or partying, simply because she was always studying. Medical school, the boards, residency. It felt as if she'd spent ninety percent of her life with her nose in a book, preparing for the next test.

While she'd had a couple long-term boyfriends, both relationships had ended badly. So now she was left to wonder if she'd been using her schooling and her work as excuses to avoid the dating scene.

Fuck it.

No more excuses.

The time was right.

She was going to take a page from Blake's book and stop denying herself things that might make her happy.

Before she could think of an excuse not to, she replied to Doug's message, accepting his offer. His response came just a few minutes later, as he named a time and restaurant. She gave him a thumbs-up, then closed her phone, slowly sipping the rest of the smoothie.

By the time Blake returned with Corky, she was pleasantly surprised to realize her headache was gone, as was the queasiness in her stomach.

Once again, Blake had known just how to take care of her.

Only, right now, that didn't feel like such a great thing.

* * *

Erika toed off her shoes by the door, then slipped off Corky's leash. Walking to the kitchen, she poured herself a glass of iced tea, then headed to the couch, sinking down and propping her feet on the coffee table. Corky hopped up next to her, quickly settling in her lap.

She absentmindedly patted the dog's head. "Daddy will be home tonight, Cork." The dog wagged her tail, and Erika grinned, pretending Corky could understand her. Blake had been out of town, hitting the road for three nights of away games.

Talking to a dog might sound silly to some people, but considering Erika lived alone, it felt good to be able to fill some of the silence in the place with conversations. Even if they were one-sided.

Resting her head on the back of the couch, she sighed, absently running her finger over her lower lip, recalling the good-night kisses she and Doug had just shared.

Two weeks had passed since his first invitation to dinner, and they'd gone out three times since, each time dragging out the goodbyes a little longer.

She knew Doug was waiting for the sleepover invitation, but so far, she hadn't issued it. She wasn't sure what was holding her back. Doug was great, and their dates had been fun. In addition to eating out, they texted occasionally, exchanging messages at least once every day or two. They didn't really talk about anything earth-shattering, just sharing little tidbits about their days, but it was still nice.

Tonight, they'd made out in his car outside her building like teenagers for a few minutes. Doug had rested his forehead against hers when they'd finally parted, clearly hoping she'd ask him in.

"I should have," she said aloud to Corky. "Why didn't I?"

Part of her knew. Actually, all of her knew. She just didn't want to admit it to herself.

While he was an attractive man and a decent kisser…she didn't feel any spark.

She'd had three lovers in the past. Just three. And while the sex had been okay, it sure as shit hadn't ruined her for other men. Now that she had Blake's masturbation lesson to use as a point of comparison, she didn't doubt for a second that sex with Doug wouldn't match up. It would probably be satisfying, and the ignorance-is-bliss Erika of old would have been perfectly happy with that.

This Erika?

She wanted her world rocked. Period.

Which was a problem she was going to have to overcome.

Because the more she got to know Doug, the more she suspected he was almost perfect for her in every other way. They shared the same interests, liked the same restaurants, laughed at each other's jokes, and had a good time together.

For someone who'd been bitching about being lonely, it felt as if Doug should be the answer to a prayer.

Personally, she blamed Blake for her current predicament. Because of the incredible orgasms and because she'd spent three years listening to the man talk about his sex life, drawing hot, kinky, horny pictures in her mind and building the act to a point that she couldn't make herself settle for less.

Dammit. The next time she and Doug went out, she was inviting him in, taking him to her bed and, if she had to, forcing a spark. For all she knew, he could be a sensational lover.

Corky, who'd been about to drift off, lifted her head from Erika's lap, looking toward the door. Erika didn't hear anything, but when Corky hopped off the couch and bounded over to the door, she knew Blake was home.

Erika rose as well, opening her door just in time to see Blake unlock his. Corky raced across the hall with a happy bark.

Blake turned around, bending down to pick up the dog. Erika couldn't help but notice the usual pep in his step seemed to be missing.

"Hey, Cork."

Yep, his tone was the definition of weary. When he looked at her, and she got her first good glimpse at his face, she understood why.

"Jesus, Blake!"

"Looks worse than it feels." He grabbed the duffel bag he'd dropped to grab Corky and walked into his apartment, leaving the door open for her.

She followed, closing the door then walking over to him.

Blake smirked, unsurprised when she crooked her finger, silently demanding that he bend down for her to check him out.

He had one hell of a shiner and a split lip that was red and puffy.

"Rough trip?"

He lifted one shoulder casually. "Won the first one, lost this afternoon's. Fucking Tampa had a hard-on for us, playing dirty as shit. Tank took a hard check into the boards, then three minutes later, the same fucking asshole high-sticked Victor, clipped him in the chin. I lost my shit."

Erika continued to examine him as he bitched, peering into his eyes to make sure they weren't dilated.

"You know the fight happened hours ago, and the team doc checked me out," he said, attempting to grin, then wincing when he pulled on the cut on his lip.

"Humor me."

"You didn't watch the game?"

She shook her head. "No, sorry. Missed it. I did catch the one a couple days ago."

Blake's eyes narrowed, and she wondered if he was pissed. She probably missed as many games as she saw, thanks to her work schedule, but it never seemed to bother him before.

"Are you wearing makeup?"

Erika frowned, confused by the question. "Yeah."

"Why?"

Now where the hell was that question coming from? It wasn't like she never wore makeup, though she usually didn't do more than swipe on some mascara and lip gloss. Tonight, she'd put in some effort prior to her date.

"I got back just a little while ago myself."

Blake crossed his arms. "From where?"

"A date."

She hadn't mentioned Doug to Blake. She wasn't sure why. That was yet another one of those annoying things that had been rolling around in the back of her head. Blake was her best friend in the world. And it wasn't like he tried to hide his hookups from her. They shared practically everything.

So, why had she hesitated telling him?

That same part that knew why she wasn't sleeping with Doug knew this answer too. But she refused to admit the reason, even if only inside her own brain.

"You had a date?" Blake's brows rose, like her going out on a date was the most preposterous thing he'd ever heard.

His reaction tweaked her temper because what was so unbelievable about her dating? She might not do it often, but it wasn't like she was undateable.

"Yes. I had a date."

Blake's surprise morphed to a scowl, and she decided she preferred his first response. "With who?"

"You don't know him."

"Is he another doctor at the hospital?"

She shook her head. "No. I met him on eHarmony."

"eHarmony?" Blake shouted. "What the hell are you doing on dating apps?"

"Oh, I don't know," she replied sarcastically. "Maybe looking for a date?"

Blake ran a hand through his hair, taking a step back.

Until he moved away, Erika didn't realize how closely they'd been standing to each other. He didn't reply immediately, and she got the sense he was taking a moment or two to calm down. Though she didn't understand his anger.

Or…maybe she did. Blake hadn't just assigned himself the caregiver role by reminding her to buy food and feeding her when she forgot to eat. He'd also assumed the job of her protector, always looking out for her whenever they were together. For instance, one night at the pub, a drunk guy had been hitting on her pretty hard. Blake had stepped in and sent the man packing. And that was just one example.

She hastened to reassure him that she wasn't doing anything stupid. "You don't have to worry. I met him at a busy coffee shop a couple of times, and the first time he invited me to dinner, I met him at the restaurant." Tonight was actually the first time she'd given Doug her address and allowed him to pick her up.

"What's his name?" he asked, still somewhat belligerently, if quieter.

"Doug." She withheld his last name on purpose.

He scoffed. "That's a pussy name."

She rolled her eyes. "No, it's not."

"What's he do for a living?"

Erika sighed heavily, letting him know she wasn't impressed by his fifth degree. "He's a financial analyst."

"Booooring," he singsonged.

She laughed. It was either that or slap her best friend. "He's very nice and interesting." Turning away from him in an attempt to stop the interrogation, she walked over to his freezer and pulled out an ice pack. Wrapping it in a towel, she returned, handing it to him. "You should put that on your lip. It's still swollen."

He started to do as she said, but froze, his gaze sliding to her lips. "Your lips are swollen too." Before she realized what he was doing, he reached out to caress the side of her mouth with his thumb. "Is that beard burn?"

She hated it, but she blushed, brushing his hand away. "Doug has a beard."

"So things are getting pretty hot and heavy between you two?"

She shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe."

"Hmph," he grumbled, grabbing his duffel and carrying it to his bedroom.

She followed. "You want Corky tonight?" She leaned on the doorframe as he upended the clothing in his duffel directly into the laundry hamper. "I took her out for her walk, so she's good for the night."

Blake didn't answer her question. Instead, he grabbed his toiletry bag and carried it to the bathroom.

She frowned. "You're being a grumpy ass."

"I'm sore and tired," he explained when he returned to the room.

"Okay. Then I guess I'll leave you alone." He hadn't answered her question about Corky, but she'd already decided to leave him the puppy. He'd been away three nights, and he missed their dog when he was away. Besides, maybe Corky could do a better job of cheering him up, since she was failing so spectacularly.

"You're going to leave? I'm hurt."

She crossed her arms. "I thought hockey players were supposed to be tough guys."

"I'm just saying, that's not much of a bedside manner, Doc. You'd leave a man to suffer?"

She wasn't sure how to respond because while his words felt like a joke, his tone was gruff and even a little bit hostile.

She raised one eyebrow. "Aren't you a ray of fucking sunshine tonight?"

For the first time, her words seemed to penetrate, cutting through his dark mood, provoking what she suspected would be a real smile if his lip wasn't hurt.

"I'm sorry. I'm a sore loser. You know that."

She did, and while she appreciated his apology, there was a tiny part inside of her that was disappointed to hear that was the reason for his grumpiness. She'd kind of hoped his moodiness had been driven by jealousy over Doug.

She needed to stop thinking that way.

He wasn't interested in her. He'd said so the morning after he'd blown her head off her shoulders with those two orgasms.

What had he called it?

A one-time deal.

Something he'd clearly meant because they'd gone back to the exact same friendship they'd enjoyed for three years. He hadn't flirted, hadn't touched her, hadn't given her any indication that he wanted anything more from her than they already shared.

She was the one who was letting her thoughts run rampant.

"Apology accepted," she said, walking over to him. "I'll leave you Corky. Cuddling her always makes you feel better."

He hmphed again, proving he still wasn't over his snit. Dropping down on the side of the bed, he glanced at her. "You're really going to leave me alone when I'm in pain?"

She laughed. "You have a cut lip and a black eye. I gave you ice. What else do you expect me to do?"

He pointed to his cheek, just below the ever-darkening bruise. "Kiss it and make it feel better."

Erika snorted. "I attended medical school for four years, and I'm in the fourth year of my residency. Trust me when I say nowhere in any of my medical books was a kiss the recommended treatment."

He didn't respond, just continued to point to his bruise.

"Fine. You big baby," she muttered, bending down to kiss his sore cheek.

Smirking, he tugged off his T-shirt, twisting so she could see the substantial bruise on his shoulder. He really had gone to war.

Rather than call him to task for fighting, she offered his shoulder the same "healing" kiss.

Blake, the shameless man, was now smiling, despite the pain it was probably causing him. She understood why when he pointed to his lip.

She tilted her head. "Seriously?"

"I seem to recall helping you out a few weeks ago when you were having a bad night."

It was the first time Blake had mentioned the masturbation lesson since the morning after.

"You did," she said quietly, the devil on her shoulder telling her to give him the kiss he was asking for, while the angel warned her she was flirting with disaster.

Her angel usually won the arguments, so she couldn't explain why she was bending forward once again.

She gave him a quick kiss, using all the willpower in her body to keep it as platonic and innocent as she could.

Unfortunately, she wasn't the problem. Blake was.

Because the second she started to pull away, he reached for her, gripping the nape of her neck, holding her in place while he stripped all the platonic out, replacing it with a kiss so passionate, Erika felt instantly light-headed.

She jerked when his tongue touched hers, but the shock didn't linger. How could it? Blake was kissing her senseless. Every reasonable thought fled as she slid her tongue out to meet his, her fingers gripping his thick hair, while Blake twisted her head so he could deepen the kiss.

Erika wasn't sure how long it lasted, but by the time she managed to regain her wits and pull away, she knew without a doubt they'd let it go on way too long.

She straightened, her gaze locked with Blake's. They were both breathing heavily after depriving themselves of air while they'd kissed like the plane was going down.

"We took that too far," she whispered, when the silence lingered.

She expected Blake to agree, but instead, he frowned.

"Blake," she said, desperate for him to say something. Anything.

"I'm a sore loser," he repeated.

She wasn't sure what to make of that…because it suddenly didn't feel like he was talking about the game anymore.

Especially when he added yet another apology—and a wicked grin that belied it. "Sorry, Erik."

His cocky smile and use of her nickname calmed her nerves about stepping over the line—again. Enough that she could walk away. "Good night, Balakay."

She locked his apartment door behind her, walking over to her own. Once she was inside, she leaned against her door, stroking her lips with the tips of her fingers, much like she had earlier on the couch.

She'd wished for a spark.

Well, she'd gotten one.

Unfortunately, it was with the wrong guy.