The looks she got as she strolled down the side street towards the bar were beginning to make Adri think she might just have gone a little overboard. Maybe the co-eds in this town didn't dress up to go to a bar. She was beginning to think she should have asked one of the waitresses in the restaurant or at the hotel for fashion advice. The problem was it was a little late now to change her mind. As it was, it was almost eleven and the boys were likely well into their cups by now, or, with her luck, moved on to some other pub or club or someone's home....
She ignored another wolf whistle from a leather clad biker and shook off the heebie jeebies the look the bouncer gave her as she turned to go into the bar. It didn't look like much from the street, hell the street didn't look like much but this definitely had to be the place. The cobblestoned street was lined with Hummers, Mercs and Beamers. The place was jumping, she could hear the music out on the street and people were even hanging around outside the bar. They looked like the young hip crowd that hung out with the Nucks in Vancouver. Smart, educated and well dressed but somehow this Boston crowd seemed a little less swank, a little less well to do which helped Adri to relax as she squeezed through the group at the door.
She didn't want to look around as if she were desperate to see a familiar face, but the crowd was thick and there wasn't an empty table or spot at the bar that she could see. She was hoping to at least find one or two of the trainers to sit with but realized as she scanned the denim and leather clad crowd that she was hadn't really taken a good enough look at any of them to find to be able to pick them out of a line up out of their sweats.
Admittedly she did want to see Milan's reaction. She did want to hear him admit that she looked better than most of the girls at the bar, but the longer she scanned the crowd, the more she was beginning to give up on that idea.
She would have fit in better in her jeans. That seemed to be the uniform regardless of sex; jeans and a sweater or a t-shirt and leather jacket. There was the occasional more preppy guy with a sports coat, but those seemed few and far between. At least she had the leather jacket she mused as she tugged it closer around her, wishing she hadn't been quiet so ambitious with her cleavage tonight.
"Adrijana right?" She looked up into the cocky smile of what she was sure was one of the players though his name wouldn't come to her. She searched her internal database but all she could come up with was that he was Czech and that as a professional athlete, in her professional opinion, he should put on some muscle mass. "David," he smiled at her, offering her one of the overflowing beer steins in his hand which she shook her head at. "Come, we're mostly at the back. Do you play pool?"
"A little," she lied, grinning to herself as he turned his back and dove into the crowd which seemed to part like hot butter for him. Must be nice, she thought as she followed close behind in his slipstream.
He'd given up watching the door. He had to admit to himself that she wasn't coming. He'd given up a good hour of chasing tail, not that he couldn't make up that time in a hurry if he wanted to, he'd just have to work at it was all. Maybe he could stroll in late for work out tomorrow. Blame her, tell her if she hadn't made him go chasing all those co-eds and find his way to the rink from some sorority house.... He was laughing to himself as he chalked his cue, thinking that it was time to flex his guns for the girls when the chalk dropped right out of his hand and rolled across the green felt.
At first he was just going to congratulate Krejci on his nice catch. Then, as he focussed in, he realized that the pig tails, leather jacket, school girl kilt and fishnet stockings were on the little physio girl that had been occupying his every waking moment since he'd seen her this afternoon. His mouth went dry as she bounced on her toes at the end of the table, watching him expectantly.
"It is your break," Wheels leaned in and whispered; his gaze following Milan's down the table to the tat peeking above the waistband of the little skirt.
"Shit," he grunted, leaning into the table and sending balls spinning in every direction. He stared at the resulting anarchy and chalked his cue like his life depended on it; anything not to turn and look at her.
So much for her being just like any of the other girls in the bar; had he really said that out loud?
Usually he could see all the angles on the table, just as he was learning to see the plays on the ice before they happened in his head, but not tonight. Tonight the balls all looked the same, the colours bleeding together behind visions of bending her over the table and doing things to her….
Biting back another curse word, Milan bent over the table and aimed the cue ball, sending one of the balls spinning into the corner pocket. He used the game to resist the temptation to watch her, though he could hear her chatting animatedly with his teammates, and that made him grip the cue just a little too hard and that made no sense at all. He didn't know her. She'd barely spoken to him let alone flirted with him. So why did he feel so protective? No, no protective wasn't the word. Possessive was the word.
He wanted her, wanted to grab her and do things to her and he didn't care who was watching and that shook him. He didn't think that way, not about girls anyways. Sure he'd thought about grabbing a guy and pounding his head into the ice until he bled, when he was mad, but this was different.
He was usually the laid back good Canadian boy. He even had a sweetheart although he'd been very clear with her that he wasn't ready to get serious about anything. Looking down the table at her, he felt his blood pressure begin to spike as she dragged her fingers across Wheeler's chest. He made a mental note to do more than just run the table on him. Tomorrow, during practice, he was going to pay.
As one ball after another fell to his aggressive play Milan kept hoping that the tension he was feeling would ease, but if anything it grew, until even grabbing the twenty that Wheels had put up didn't give him nearly the satisfaction it would have before she showed up.
"Do you play?" he heard himself grumble as Wheels handed him the folded bill with a laugh.
"A little," she giggled, reaching for the cue in Wheel's hand, which was just too long for her, but Milan didn't trust himself enough to say anything else. He was too afraid the next thing out of his mouth would show all of his cards and give the game away.
It wasn't quite the reaction she'd been after, to be studiously ignored until he finished wiping the table clean and taking his teammate's money, but Adri couldn't help but admire the focussed no nonsense way he did it or the way his tight black t-shirt revealed every flexed muscle in his chest. She found herself surreptitiously reading the map of his body as he circled the table like a boxer.
She'd been trying so hard to keep up with the flirtatious banter from his teammates that she was almost taken entirely off guard when he appeared at her side.
"Do you play?" he asked, his head down, his attention focussed on the blue chalk on the end of his cue.
"A little," she lied, chuckling to herself as she pulled the cue from his handsome teammate's hand and reached for the chalk with the other. She wasn't certain, but she thought she could see beads of sweat break out on his forehead when her fingers ran over his. "Set 'em up?" she smiled brightly at him as his teammates began to make bets on whether the diminutive trainer could take the big Canadian kid.
On skill, she could probably beat him, but with sheer brute force he was likely to distract her, just like she found herself preoccupied now as he leaned across the table to rack up the balls, his biceps straining. Licking her lips Adri dropped her gaze to the green felt.
Why was this so much harder than dealing with the university football team? She'd always managed to be one of the boys just enough to get away with sexual innuendos and harmless flirtation but as Adri levelled her eyes on the cue ball sending it with a satisfying crack into the others spinning across the table, she found herself looking up at him with what she knew was a smile that said 'catch me if you can' She told herself it was her ego talking. That he'd hurt her pride talking about her and his mother in the same sentence and even though she had confirmed via the trusty old internet that his mother was indeed a milf, it still stung that he'd immediately guessed her age.
She heard the audible oohs and aahs but didn't look up to see if they were commenting on her break or her cleavage, just moved around to stand right in front of him, feigning concentration on the table while she breathed in his aftershave and felt his breath hot on the back of her neck.
Oh girl, what are you doing to yourself she thought as she chalked the cue slowly, deliberate taking her time before pursing her lips over it and blowing.
"So you've played before," he coughed behind her, managing to sound irritated while he stood within a hare's breath of her back.
"Once or twice," she smiled, intentionally bending over and pressing her ass against his monster thighs as she steadied her hand for the next shot. She thought she could hear him curse and had to bite her lip so stop from laughing as he moved to stand away from her. She turned to look right up at him as she made the shot blind and couldn't help but notice, even in the dim light beyond the lamp over the table that he was blushing.
"Once or twice," he shook his head as the ball fell into the pocket and the cue ball rolled slowly to snug up to the next ball.
"Wellll, I haven't played for a while, I could be a little rusty," she batted her eyelashes at him as he grimaced. She knew she shouldn't, that she wasn't here to play games with the men she would be working with in the morning, but she couldn't resist the flame in his cheeks. "Like this next shot, I mean...look how close those balls are," she purred as she straightened and reached for the chalk again, rotating it slowly and deliberately. "Now your arms are so much longer than mine," she allowed herself one long look at his meaty biceps and sighed dramatically, "not to mention your legs."
Now she'd made the mistake of letting her eyes travel south and they were stuck on his noteworthy package. Licking her lips she forced her gaze northwards again just in time to see him run his finger under the collar of shirt. Well, it was hot in here.
"You could use the bridge," he offered, reaching back for it but she only shook her head and slid forward until she was almost prone on the table, careful not to touch anything and to leave just the tip of her pointed boots on the floor.
She's fucking toying with me he thought to himself as he watched her make the shot that didn't really require the theatrics that she was giving it. It was a show, for him he hoped, but couldn't be sure. Still, when she'd backed that shapely little caboose of hers' into him he'd begun to hope she was thinking the same x-rated thoughts that were filling his head as she walked around to the other side of the table and drained another two balls, back to back.
"Rusty my ass," Wheels laughed as she perched on the edge of the table and made yet another circus shot behind her back. Milan could only shrug in response, his mouth too dry to comment as she turned those dark eyes up at him, a sexy grin slowly spreading across her face as she pointed the cue directly at him...or rather at the little him that had begun to twitch in his pants. Swallowing with some difficulty, Milan reached for his beer and drained it in one long gulp.
The ball zigged and zagged but missed the side pocket, back spin sending it just shy of its' goal. The crowd, his teammates mostly, groaned like they'd been cheering for her. Milan shot the few nearest him a dirty look. You don't cheer for the new guy. It's just not done.
But of course the new guy never looked like that before, he thought as she shrugged and batted her eyelashes at him like she hadn't meant to do exactly that. It left an almost impossible shot for him, and he was sure she knew it too.
"Need help with that?" her voice sounded like thick syrup in his ear as he bent to look down the cue at the angle of the ball to the cup. He intended to say no, but as she slid her hand along his arm and her breast brushed against his rib cage, he changed his mind. "If you top it and give it some back spin, it should come back to the cup," she purred in his ear, sending a shudder down his spine and making his dick strain against his jeans.
He was grateful when he felt her pull back, but then he could feel her fingers working the big muscle between his shoulder blades and he had to close his eyes and bite his bottom lip, hard, to stop from moaning out loud.
"You're trying to distract me," he complained quietly.
"Am I?" she giggled, a sound that reminded him of the bells on a horse's harness at Christmas. "Maybe I am...is it working?" she added in a teasing tone as she walked her fingers down to the small of his back, until he had to give up on the shot and grip the edge of the table instead.
"Be fair," he groaned looking at her over his shoulder, feeling entirely undone by this pint sized woman with the big dark eyes.
"Oh c'mon, like I don't have distractions," she chirped back at him, turning her dark eyes on his teammates and giving a little twirl which resulted in any number of cat calls and wolf whistles. Distractions, right; like she wasn't the ultimate in distractions. Even now as she casually lounged against the side of the pool table and seemed to ignore him, the way she casually stroked that damn pool cue was enough to make him break out in a full sweat.
She watched him out of the corner of her eye as he focussed on the remaining balls on the table. The determination on his face was adorable. Too adorable to stop toying with him even though she told herself he'd had enough, especially considering she was never going to go through with it. It. Bad cougar that she was, she could picture him lifting her off of her feet and pinning her against a wall. She would be completely at the mercy of his size and strength and that thought alone sent a shiver right down her spine and made her stomach clench.
She needed to stop. She wasn't here to toy with him, she was here to help him with his kyphosis and learn something that would help her in her thesis.
Not that anyone would need to know, she smiled to herself as she heard him curse as the cue ball went wide and rolled down to the end of the table. She looked over to see him glaring at her, his eyes dark but not with anger. Biting down on her bottom lip she bent over the cue and sent the last two balls spinning into corner pockets, clearing the table.
It really wasn't fair. He might have been a professional hockey player, but he was still only twenty years old. She had years of experience flirting with men under her belt. What did he have? Four years of dealing with puck bunnies? And what had that got him?
She handed the cue off to one of his teammates and turned to disappear into the crowd. She was going to have to apologize to him in the morning, or whenever he crawled out of whatever bed he crawled into tonight. After what she'd just put him through, Adri was fairly sure that he would probably take one of these well dressed co-eds back to their dorm room and give them the time of their life. Unfortunately, just thinking of that made Adri clench her teeth.
What she needed was a drink and then to go back to her hotel room alone. In fact, she thought as she squeezed between two of those cute gangly co-eds, she could probably just raid the mini bar at the hotel. Surely they'd have Jose Cuervo in there?
Turning, she headed for the door. A blast of the cold night air would do her good, clear her head. She didn't even turn as she heard the bell over the bar clanging for attention, she just glanced down at her watch and smiled. At least it wouldn't be hard to get a cab for the next few minutes.
There was a word for women like that, Milan thought as she squeezed between his teammates and left him standing there practically panting in her wake.
That's what the guys would call a girl like her in the locker room. Not that they encountered girls like that often. Most puck bunnies were puck fucks. They'd spread their legs for anyone that put on a jersey, even a call up. There were the odd few that would hold out to try and become a WAG, but most would spread the pink without too much effort on his part.
Not that that was necessarily a good thing. Those weren't the kind of girls you took home to mom. Those were the kind of girls that got passed around the locker room like a roll of hockey tape.
Adrijana looked like the kind of woman he could take home to his mother. His mother would like her too. Not least because she came from the same background but also because she was going somewhere, had an education behind her and wasn't trying to suck her son dry like most of the gold digging puck bunnies he ended up with.
He'd never dreamed it would be so hard to find a woman that would want him for himself. He'd never dreamed it would be so hard to know who his friends were. Not that he could be sure that just because she was educated that she wasn't just one more in a long line of gold digging whores that was out for all she could get. Maybe he was just blinded by that shapely little ass of hers'.
He knew somehow this was going to bite him in the ass, but as the crowd started the count down to midnight, he wasn't going to be just kissing some stranger, not this New Years.
Pushing his way through the crowd he spotted her squeezing past the bouncer. Even with the guys calling his name and one or two of the usual cute co-eds that hung out at the bar grabbing at him, he managed to hit the cobblestone street in time to see her turn the corner onto the next street.
Despite the misty rain that coated the cobbles, making them slippery enough that a professional hockey player who should be worried about getting injured should have slowed down to at least a walk, Milan ran her down, grabbing her by the shoulder as she raised her arm to hail a cab, spinning her to face him.
Her big brown eyes looked up into his, fear and alarm filling them and he had a moment to wonder if he was about to get a face full of mace. Then he was kissing her, lifting her by her shoulders and pressing his lips over hers' in a way that was not at all gentlemanly, his hunger for her and the humiliation she'd caused him back in the bar fuelling the fire burning within him.
She opened her lips under his, acquiescing to his hungry growl as he dragged her up off of her feet until her toes were barely scraping the ground. His tongue explored her mouth, demanding and forceful. She wanted to reach up and hold on but her arms were pinned to her sides. His hands were huge and she felt her bones crunching together as he gathered her against him. He was like a huge bear, and she was exactly as helpless as she'd anticipated.
She knew she could deepen the kiss, encourage him with her tongue and her lips, wrap her legs around his waist and let him take her home. Her body began to simmer and come alive as he put her down on her feet and his hands slipped lower, cupping her backside as he continued to crush her against his thickly muscled body. She could have given in to the fire that licked in her veins and sang at his touch. She could have thrown caution to the wind and forgot herself for a night and given into the primal urges that begged to take over.
Instead, she reached back and peeled his hands off of her ass and pushed them back towards the width of his chest. Looking up into his confused but still eager eyes, she grinned.
"Goodnight, I'll see you in the morning."
She didn't wait for his reply. She didn't dare. If he so much as asked her to come back she knew she'd give in. Instead she hailed down a cab and slid into the backseat and ordered the driver to take her back to her lonely hotel room. She didn't even dare to turn around to see if he was still standing on the street corner, stunned and silent or enraged.
It didn't matter. She had a job to do and it didn't matter that her body was humming and that she would need to take matters into her own hands once back at the hotel. This was no way to prove that a woman could train male athletes without sex becoming involved. This was exactly what she would be up against when it came to looking for an actual job with another NHL team. What chance did she have if in her first attempt she gave in to the first good looking player that made a play for her? Or worse, that she made a play for?
Bad cougar, she sighed to herself, dropping her head into her hands. Bad, bad cougar.