SWNOVELS The Penalty Box: Chapter 12
“YOU DON’T WANT HER,” Sabrina pleaded. “Don’t you remember how it was with me?”
I looked down at the redhead whom I had hooked up with once six months ago. When I woke up in her bed, I found her going through my phone and wallet, and that was the last time I spoke to her.
“There wasn’t much worth remembering.” I worked to untangle her tentacle arms that continuously tried wrapping around me.
I lifted my eyes up and took in Charlie’s shocked face. Shit. This looked bad. It didn’t surprise me when she spun around and headed towards the front door.
I stepped out of Sabrina’s reach and made fast work to catch up to Charlie. The alcohol in my veins slowed me down, and she was faster than she looked. It wasn’t until we were both outside that I managed to reach and grab her arm, spinning her around.
“Where are you going?”
She looked defiantly at me. “What do you care?”
That was a loaded question. “You can’t leave.”
She was spitting mad. She stepped up to me and leveled me with one look. “Why don’t you let that redhead take my place? She seemed pretty convinced it was just a matter of time before you were back in her bed.”
God, she was adorable when she was worked up. “There’s nothing there with Sabrina.”
“I’m not blind, Mica. I saw how you two were talking in the lobby, like secret lovers stealing a moment. I told you I wouldn’t let you humiliate me.”
“I was telling her to take a hike.”
“She was all over you.”
Emotional women turned me off, but an emotional Charlie seemed to only make me hotter. I grabbed her hard around the waist, yanking her against me before planting my mouth where her angry words had been. She struggled against my kiss, which only made me want her more.
What is wrong with me?
It took only a moment, and then I felt her entire body submit to my kiss. I groaned and deepened it. Fuck, she tasted good. I had been stealing kisses all night, but nothing had come close to how I really wanted to kiss her. Now I had her in my arms, and I was destroying her mouth. I was like a starved man, ravenous and out of control.
To my surprise, she met my passion with her own. She moaned and wrapped her slender arms around my neck, lifting her body against mine, rubbing up against me. She took everything I gave and then some. This kiss felt like hardcore foreplay that needed to explode into fast, hot sex.
My hands were all over her body, yanking her ass up so her body rubbed against the cock that strained through my pants. I pulled her blouse out of the back of her pants, so my fingers could touch the soft skin of her back. I was drunk on desire and I couldn’t seem to get enough. It would never be enough until I buried my cock deep inside her. While my body continued to maul her, my mind was already planning how I could make that happen.
Go home? Too far away.
Get a room? Takes too long.
Drag her around the corner and take her up against the wall? That would work.
“Get a room, Petrov.” I heard drunk laughter. I lifted my head to see three of my teammates, staggering out towards a cab.
I turned back to Charlie and pressed my forehead against hers, my breath uneven. “I want you.”
She stared back up at me in a daze. “We need to stop.”
I pulled her against me so I could grind my hard, straining cock against her stomach. “Wrong. We need to keep on going.”
She lifted her mouth back to mine, and I groaned as I kissed her like a savage. My mouth followed hers as she pulled back from me.
Her face was flushed, and she was panting slightly. “Roommates, remember?”
My brain went to war with my body. Every cell of my body wanted to pin her up against a wall, any wall, and bury my cock so deep inside of her she would never think of anyone but me again. My mind barely overruled that with a muted protest. Charlie had signed up for a platonic relationship. At the end of this, I had nothing to promise her other than a lot of hot sex and divorce papers.
Reluctantly, I stepped back from her, fighting to overcome my desire to close the gap again.
“I’m sorry,” I breathed. I wasn’t sorry, but it sounded better than I need to fuck you senseless.
I stared down at her, trying to understand why, after two years of knowing her, I suddenly lusted for her more than I could remember wanting anyone. Was it because she was forbidden fruit? The lines I wanted to cross were always the ones I knew I shouldn’t cross. Maybe it was because I knew sex was off the table for me for a year, while she was there, within reach? Or perhaps it was because I was used to women throwing themselves at me, while Charlie seemed to work to keep me at arm’s length. Maybe her resistance made her that much hotter. Regardless of the real reason, all I knew is that she unexpectedly tasted like hot sex, and I wanted more. A lot more.
She pushed shaking hands into her hair. “I don’t want to fall for you.”
It felt like she’d doused me in ice water.
“Charlie.” I didn’t even know how to respond to that.
She bit her lip and looked mortified. “I’m believing the hype.”
“What does that mean?”
She waved her hand around dramatically. “This, all of this. It feels too real.”
I put my hands on my hips, so I didn’t reach out and touch her again. “Our physical connection is more than real.”
“But this relationship isn’t.”
I couldn’t believe I was pulling out the marriage card. “You’re my wife.”
She flinched at that word. “This marriage has an expiration date.”
I couldn’t argue that logic. It pained me, but she spoke the truth, and I needed to respect that. “What do you want to do?”
She swallowed. “I want to go home.”
That was something I could do for her. “Come on, let’s grab a cab.”
“What about the party?”
“Everyone is so drunk, they won’t even notice.”
“What about your car?”
“I’ll pick it up tomorrow.”
We didn’t speak on our ride home. She sat glued to her side of the seat, staring out the window. The gap between us was back, and it felt like an uncrossable chasm. I respected her restraint and understood her need for self-preservation, but this distance wasn’t what I wanted. Hell, I didn’t know what I wanted.
At home, she disappeared into her bedroom and shut the door. The only thing I knew was I didn’t want that.
I WOKE up in the morning, hungover and with a dry mouth. I walked through the house, but Charlie was gone. She left a note in loopy handwriting on the island. Went to work.
I groaned at the fact that she had gotten up early and found her own way to work while I had slept.
I picked up my phone.
Me: Did you get to work okay?
Charlie: Yes.
Me: Why didn’t you wake me so I could drive you?
Charlie: Your car is at the hotel.
Fuck me. I needed to be at practice in an hour, and I completely forgot I didn’t have my car.
Me: Let me pick you up tonight. What time do you get off work?
She didn’t respond. I texted Ryan.
Me: Ryan, you have wheels?
Ryan: You need a ride?
Me: If you’re sober.
Ryan: Ha, ha. Barely. Yeah, will be there in 15 minutes.
I CLIMBED into Ryan’s SUV and he handed me a smoothie.
“Are you serious?” I gratefully took it from him.
He looked behind him as he reversed. “Why is it, when you have a party, I leave completely shit-faced and feel hungover for two days minimum?”
“I hold no responsibility for that party.”
He grinned at me. “I saw Mark Ashford puking outside the hotel.”
I laughed so hard it made my skull hurt. “Shut up.”
“We had fifty-one people on the guest list because Mark wanted to keep it an intimate Wolves party. But word got out, and they stopped letting people in when they hit a capacity of two twenty-five. That’s all you.”
“I didn’t tell a soul.”
“Nope, people just like to be around you. Get this. We asked for donations to cover the costs. After the fact, we ended up with an extra twenty-six thousand dollars.”
“That’s crazy.”
“Now people want to get you two a wedding gift with that money. Any ideas?”
I winced and rubbed my eye. “Can you donate it to Charlie’s favorite charity?”
He nodded. “Yeah, that’s nice. Which one?”
“She loves dogs.”
“On it. I’ll let you know.”
“Thanks.”
I checked my phone. No answer from Charlie. Yet.
Ryan interrupted my thoughts. “Zoey sure likes Charlie.”
“Oh yeah?”
“She invited Charlie to come to the next game with her.”
I mentally made a note to put Zoey in my will. “Thank her for me.”
“So how is this whole marriage thing working out?”
“I don’t know.”
“You two sure seemed to have fun last night.”
I didn’t want to talk about what I didn’t understand. “It’s complicated.”
He laughed. “Is that your Facebook relationship status?”
“Nope. My status is that I’m married.”
He swung another look at me. “Is it complicated because the marriage isn’t real?”
I felt my expression harden. “My marriage is real.”
I could tell he was working to keep his expression neutral. “I can see why it’s complicated.”
“Shut up.”
He laughed. “It’s okay, buddy. It happens to the best of us.”
I knew what he was implying. “That’s not what’s happening here.”
He didn’t answer, but the smile he was fighting told me he thought otherwise.
PRACTICE WITH A HANGOVER wasn’t pretty, but three of the rookies puked, so I figured I got off easy. Ryan dropped me off at the hotel, so I could pick up my vehicle.
Still no answer from Charlie. I decided I would pick her up whether or not I heard from her. Krista’s words about how the transition would be tougher for Charlie came back to me. This might not be a marriage that involved a marriage bed, but I needed to step it up in the husband department. Where I came from, men took care of their women, no questions asked. I dropped by the bank and then drove home.
I pulled into my driveway and noticed a car parked across the street. When I got out, Detective Wallace got out of the car and started walking towards me. I had no intention of letting him back on my property without a search warrant, so I walked down the driveway, meeting him on the sidewalk.
“You lost?” My tone was flinty hard.
He pulled his cheap sunglasses off his face. “Heard you got married.”
I narrowed my eyes on his face. This clown had no business talking about Charlie. “Last I checked, marriage was legal in Canada.”
“Heard you served in the military in Russia.”
“Is there a point to this conversation?”
“I want to know what you’re hiding.”
“I want to know why you think harassing an innocent citizen is acceptable.”
He puffed up his chest. “I’m doing my job.”
“Not very well.”
“Your wife’s brother is serving a lengthy sentence. It’d be a shame if things didn’t go well for him in prison.”
I threw him a dirty look. “The only way to fight corrupt assholes like you is never to give in to your threats, bribes, and harassment. Next time you talk to me, I want my lawyer present.”
His face flushed puce. “You’re a dick.”
“And you’re a fat fuck with your head up your ass.”
That killed the conversation. He sloped back to his car, and I headed inside.
I WAS JUST GETTING off the phone, ordering replacement furniture for the living room, when Charlie walked in the door.
I had planned to pick her up. “How did you get home?”
“The bus. Krista sent me home early. She said she was too hungover to work.” Charlie avoided my gaze. So, we were back to that again. Frustration rolled through me.
“I could have come and got you.”
“I’m good.”
I worked not to escalate this. Things felt fragile between us. I needed to bring us back from last night and move us towards becoming compatible roommates.
“Thanks for helping me out last night.”
Her gaze met mine and then she blushed. Hard. “You’re welcome.”
I stood up and started to pull out ingredients for dinner. “I’m just about to cook dinner.”
“I can help,” she offered. “Just let me change.”
A few moments later, she appeared beside me. “What can I do to help?”
My eyes roamed over her skintight leggings and baggy T-shirt. Last night I had grabbed handfuls of that ass. My fingers itched to do it again. “You want to chop that onion?”
“What are we cooking?”
“Beef Stroganoff.” I watched as she deftly picked up a knife and started to chop.
Her tone teased. “Really? That sounds kind of fancy.”
“I like to cook.”
We worked in silence for a bit longer, then she asked, “So, where did you learn to cook?”
I debated how much I wanted to share with her. “My nanny loved to cook. She would often kick out the cooks, bring me into the kitchen and we’d cook together.”
Charlie stopped chopping to glance up at me. “You had a nanny growing up?”
Damn. I hadn’t wanted to tell her that much. “I had a nanny.”
To my relief, she didn’t press that issue. “So what kinds of stuff did you cook with her?”
“Borscht. Solyanka, which is a thick meat soup, but my favorite was pirozhki, which are these little pastries stuffed with potatoes, meat, cabbage or cheese.”
I fell silent as memories washed over me. Memories I had spent a lifetime trying to forget.
Charlie slowly chopped. “My mom taught me how to cook. We lived in this shitty little trailer with a stove that only had one working burner, but she told me I needed to know the basics. She worked all the time and she must have been exhausted, but those cooking lessons were some of our best times together.”
Our eyes met.
I wanted to know more. “Tell me about your family.”
Her shoulders went up and then down. “Dad was a deadbeat. Left before I was born. My older brother was angry at the world. He didn’t listen to my mom, and he was always getting into trouble. He got caught shoplifting when he was five. My mom said that was the day she knew he would have a tough life. No matter what my mom did, it seemed like he didn’t care what anyone thought or felt.”
So, every guy in her life had let her down. “What about your mom?”
She pressed her lips together. “One night after work, she was walking home from the bus stop in the dark and someone hit her. They didn’t even stop.”
I stopped what I was doing, so I could give her my complete attention.
Her voice faltered. “I called the police when she didn’t come home, but when they found out she was from the trailer park, they told me she was probably out drinking. My mom didn’t drink. So I walked the length of her route with a flashlight.” She swallowed hard. “I was the one who found her.”
I imagined Charlie, walking the length of some deserted road with a flashlight and coming across her mom’s broken body. It was a heartbreaking vision. “I’m so sorry. Did they ever find who hit her?”
She shook her head. “Nope.”
I was shit at dealing with this stuff, but that didn’t mean I didn’t care. “How old were you?”
“I was eighteen. I had just started grade twelve.”
I couldn’t imagine what that had been like for her. “That must have been hard.” My words sounded lame considering what she was telling me.
She nodded. “She was my world, my anchor. I didn’t know how to function without her. I had a lot of growing up to do when she left.”
“What about your brother?”
She rolled her eyes. “He’s reckless. Was always getting into trouble. He thought he could never get caught, but he always did. He didn’t care if he hurt other people. He did what he wanted.”
I put down my knife and studied her. “How did you survive?”
“I had a teacher who believed in me. I wanted to fall apart, but she wouldn’t let me. She made me apply for dozens of scholarships. I ended up getting a full scholarship to attend college for marketing.”
Pride swelled in my chest. “You’re a lot tougher than you look.”
She looked up at me. “Do you still talk to your nanny?”
I felt myself shut down. “She died.”
I wanted to tell her about Nadia, but I couldn’t even bring myself to speak her name. I turned my back to Charlie, feeling like a dick after she had just opened herself up to me. As much as I wanted to tell her, it was impossible to speak about that part of my life.
“It’s okay.” Her voice was soft. “If you don’t want to talk about it, you don’t have to.”
I cleared my throat, but no words came out. That part of my past was encased in ice in my chest, like some sort of wound my body had never coped with. It made other parts of me cold, like my heart.
She came around the island with the cutting board of chopped onions. “So, are you going to show me how to make real beef Stroganoff?”
I worked to rein in everything I didn’t want her to see about me. “The two most important parts about making Stroganoff are the beef broth and the cut of meat.”
To my relief, she stepped closer. “Show me.”
DURING DINNER, we kept the conversation light. Together we cleaned up, and I decided things were going about as well as they could go. I needed to broach a sensitive topic.
I wiped my hands on the dishtowel. “Could we talk?”
She froze, her eyes wide, before she nodded. She climbed on one of the barstools and the look on her face told me she was dreading whatever I had to say.
I opened a drawer and placed an envelope on the island in front of her. “I opened a bank account for you. Money for you to use for anything you need. Clothes, groceries, going out. I’ve also added you as a user on one of my credit cards. The cards are in there.”
Her gaze clashed with mine. Bewilderment clouded her expression. “You don’t need to give me money. I have a job.”
I was blunt. “You’re my wife.”
“In name only.”
“We’re married. And while you are my wife, I’ll take care of you.”
She lifted her hand up to her forehead. Her wedding ring glittered on her finger. “You’re making this complicated.”
“I told you I’d take care of you.”
“You have,” she rushed. “But this is way too much. This marriage isn’t even real.”
Why did everyone keep telling me this marriage wasn’t real? It was starting to piss me off. “Just because we’re not sleeping together doesn’t make this marriage any less real.”
She thought about her response. “You’re doing all the giving in this relationship. You pay the bills, let me live here. You bought me a new wardrobe. It feels uneven.”
I shook my head in disagreement. “You gave up your home. You quit your bar job. Every day that you are here for me, you’re giving up your freedom to give me hockey back. Let me do something for you.”
“You’ve done enough.”
“I want to buy you a new car.”
She threw her hands up in frustration. “That’s not even close to being a measured response.”
God, she was cute when she got riled up. I pulled the NHL card. “All the hockey wives are driving luxury cars. You need a better car.”
She crossed her arms. “I really don’t.”
“Let’s go car shopping this weekend.”
She slid off the barstool. “Let’s not.”
“You going to fight me on this?”
“If I have to.”
I couldn’t keep the smile off my face. “Game on.”
She shook her head. “You’re crazy.”
Her open defiance turned me on. “Good chat.”
“You’re impossible.”
“Don’t forget your bank cards.”
She huffed with frustration before she disappeared into her bedroom, but she didn’t shut her door. And for some fucked up reason, that felt like progress. Towards what, I didn’t know.