The Attack Zone (Slap Shot #2)

11. Stacey

CHAPTER 11

STACEY

THE NEXT WEEKEND

M itch is on top of me.

His arms are braced on either side of my head. He’s wearing nothing but his boxers as his hips rock into mine. I let out a soft moan and dig my nails into his back. His lips trail up the side of my neck until they reach the sensitive spot just below my ear. He nips my ear lightly with his teeth.

I let out another light moan just before a loud beep starts coming from my phone. My eyes flutter open to turn it off and I find myself alone in my apartment back in Denver.

Dammit.

This is the second Mitch-related dream I’ve had since I got back from Miami. Why does this keep happening to me?

I let out a groan as my backup alarm blares through the room. I hit it off and stumble to my feet.

We got back a few days ago and I’ve somehow managed to successfully avoid Mitch post-CuddleGate. I cannot believe I woke up in his arms. Initially I was super annoyed with him until I realized we were on his side of the bed. Which means that I’m the one who cuddled him .

And I liked it.

Fuck me, I liked it.

He was warm and cozy and sturdy and he didn’t make a comment when we both woke up and I retreated to my side of the bed. He didn’t even have a snarky smirk on his face. He just politely averted his eyes so I could get dressed and peace the fuck out without saying a word.

We were on the same flight back, but luckily, I was in coach, so I didn’t have to worry about being seated next to him. So, for the past three days, I’ve just been trying to focus on Caleb’s gala, which is tonight, while regularly zoning out thinking about these damn dreams I’m having about Mitch.

I make my way to my kitchen and turn on my far-too-expensive espresso machine. As the coffee drips into the little cup, I froth some milk to finish off my first flat white of the day. I have a job to do. I can’t let Mitch and whatever masochistic attraction I seem to have developed towards him get in the way of that.

I arrive at the ballroom where we’re holding Caleb’s gala several hours early. While I’m completely prepared for tonight, I like to be on-site just in case anything comes up. I’m sitting at the check-in table when I hear a familiar laugh bellow through the building. I look up from my laptop to see Mitch sauntering confidently towards me. Dammit, he looks good.

He looks really good.

He’s wearing a blue suit that probably cost as much as my rent and it’s working for him. His beard is perfectly trimmed, and his hair is somehow tousled effortlessly, yet perfectly at the same time. I’ve found myself wondering on more than one occasion over the past three days what his beard would feel like against my lips ... among other places.

On his right, Caleb looks as anxious as ever, and on his left, Thomas looks like the cocky himbo he is. The three of them are quite the sight. But if I’m being honest, Mitch is the main event.

“Hey, love,” he says as they approach the table. His slightly crooked grin would usually piss me off, but right now I’m surprised to discover that I find it mildly endearing. What is up with that?

“Hey, you guys are early,” I say.

He thumbs through the name tags and grabs his from the pile, as if all of the attendees won’t know who he is without it. “We figured we’d see if you needed any help. Not that you need our help ... You’re perfectly capable ... We just got out of practice early, and...”

“Thank you, Mitch,” I laugh. “Why don’t the two of you help Caleb go over his speech again?” Caleb and I have practiced a few times and he’s done great, but he’ll be more confident the more he’s gone over it. That, and usually if I’m in Mitch’s presence for more than a few minutes, I feel like I’m going to burst into flames. Even if we have this weird truce, better safe than sorry.

They scurry off into the ballroom and before I know it, the first attendees are arriving. A few minutes into checking people in, I look up to see Hazel, Ralph, and Cassie staring down at me.

“Hey, guys!” I say. “Let me find your name tags.”

“Hello, Ms. Anderson. Thank you for letting me come tonight,” says Ralph. He’s such a sweet boy, when Hazel told me he wanted to attend, I couldn’t say no, even if this isn’t really a thing for kids. He looks adorably uncomfortable in his suit, though, so I’m glad I did.

“Of course, Ralph,” I say. “I hope you have fun.”

I hand Hazel and Cassie their name tags and continue checking guests in. Once we have what I consider to be a critical mass of people, I’m able to leave the check-in table to another member of the event team and see how things are going inside. There’s no better sight for an event planner than a ballroom full of beautifully dressed people, so when I tug open the ballroom door to reveal a packed space stuffed with folks in gowns and suits, I’m thrilled.

I take a lot of pride in my work. Some people view fundraising as rubbing elbows with rich people. Really, it’s a little of that and a lot of spreadsheets and hard work. But when all the spreadsheets come to life in the form of an event like this, I sometimes find myself getting chills. This is only the second annual event for Caleb’s non-profit, and dang it, I did good.

I scan the room, giving Caleb a thumbs-up when we make eye contact. He’s doing such a good job at talking with people. I know it’s partly because he has Cassie at his side, holding his hand and guiding him from donor to donor. They really make a lovely team. A teeny tiny part of me wonders what that’s like. Having someone who knows you better than you know yourself; someone who will always have your back. It sounds sort of nice; that is, if I wasn’t such a lone wolf.

That same laugh from before bellows through the room, and immediately my eyes find Mitch. He’s standing with a young, recently divorced philanthropist. Her blonde hair is slicked back into a tight bun and her skinny little body fits perfectly into what I can only assume is a size two dress. She’s stunning. And Mitch is standing very close to her.

I’m usually confident in how I look, even if I do have more curves than some women. I know I look good tonight, too. I also hate when women compare themselves to each other in a negative way—it’s regressive and doesn’t help us as a gender at all. So why do I have this sick feeling all of a sudden when I see her throw her head back in laughter at something Mitch said?

Then, before I can look away, Mitch is looking over at me and waving. I look down at my watch, eager to be anywhere but where I am in this moment. Luckily, it’s almost time for Caleb’s speech and the announcement of the silent auction winners. I look back up at Mitch and motion to my watch, signaling that it’s time for him to help out. He reaches out to the woman next to him and squeezes her arm before walking towards the stage, and if I didn’t love my dear little clipboard, I would have thrown it. Why does this man get under my skin so much? If he wants to hook up with some rich lady, who am I to judge?

Caleb, Thomas, and Mitch gather at the side of the small stage that’s set up at the front of the room. I walk across the room, clipboard in hand, in to make sure they have what they need.

“Hey there, dream team,” I say. It’s bubbly and campy and something I’ve never said before.

“Dream team?” Mitch asks with a laugh.

Ugh. Why am I being so awkward tonight?

“Ignore me,” I say looking down at my notes so I have something to look at other than his gorgeous face. “I’m in a weird mood tonight.”

I look back up to see Caleb looking down at his notes, Thomas staring off at something in the distance (a woman, presumably), and Mitch giving me a look that’s somehow the combination of concern and a glare at the same time. I guess that about sums up our relationship lately, though, so I ignore it.

“Are you guys ready?” I ask.

“I think so,” says Caleb. “I’m only a little bit nervous, which is weird.”

I place my hand lightly on his shoulder. “You’re going to be great,” I say. “Just stick to the notes, and if all else fails, Mitch can take over. Right, Mitch?”

“Of course,” he says with a self-assured nod.

A small smile is on Caleb’s lips now, and I feel my heart swell. He’s grown so much over the past year, and I’m capable of admitting it’s partially because of Mitch. Their friendship is special. Having a guy like Mitch in your corner can’t totally suck in moments like this, even if he’s annoying as hell most of the time.

“Alright,” Caleb says. “Let’s do this.” He bounds on the stage with purpose as the crowd breaks out into applause. Thomas follows, but Mitch stays behind.

“See you in a bit, love,” Mitch whispers in my ear, resting his hand on my shoulder. I can’t find words because I’m so focused on his hands being on me again. We haven’t seen each other, let alone touched, since Miami. Now all I can think about is our hips moving together on the dance floor. Him staring at my lips as we moved closer together. Waking up in his arms ...

He gives my shoulder a playful squeeze and jumps up the stairs onto the stage. The crowd grows even louder when they see him, and my heart is beating a million miles a minute. It’s because I’m nervous about making my fundraising goal, I’m sure. But it’s unnerving regardless, so I make my way to the back of the room where no one can see me and I can gather my thoughts.

The silent auction announcements and Caleb’s speech go off without a hitch. Mitch and Thomas don’t even have to intervene, they just stand by Caleb with proud grins on their faces as he makes his way through the program.

When everything’s wrapped up and attendees are starting to leave, I scan the room to be sure everything is still going well. That’s when my eyes land on Mitch. He’s with that young philanthropist again, and her hand is on his chest. Suddenly I’m paralyzed. My brain is just fuzz, as if I’ve landed on the wrong channel on an old TV. Then, before I know it, my legs are carrying me across the ballroom, directly towards Mitch.

“Hey, love,” I say as I arrive.

“Hey, uh, Stacey,” he says, a confused look falling on his face.

I reach out and place my hand on his forearm. He’s looking at me like he wants to kill me, but I can’t help myself. “Could you come help me with something?” I ask, running my hand up his arm and giving his bicep a squeeze. It’s flirty and sexy and I have no idea what I’m doing.

“Um, sure.” He turns to the donor and says, “would you excuse me?”

She looks between the two of us before nodding and saying, “Of course. Have a good night.” She picks up her purse from the cocktail table and makes her way out of the ballroom doors.

I turn to Mitch to, well, I don’t even know. Explain, maybe? But then his hand is on my wrist and he’s dragging me out of the ballroom. We’re halfway down the hall when I come to and decide to remove my wrist from his grip.

“What are you doing?” I ask, pulling away from him.

“Not. Here,” he says sternly. He points towards an empty, smaller ballroom and I guess I’ve lost any and all free will because I walk through the door before he slams it closed behind us.

“What the hell was that?” he demands.

“What do you mean?” I ask, as if I don’t know exactly what he means.

“I mean , why did you just cockblock me, love ?” he says, taking a step towards me.

“I was doing you a favor,” I say, ignoring the slight ping in my chest at the realization that he did really want to hook up with her.

“Oh really? How so?” he asks. He’s breathing heavier now as he takes another step towards me. I take a step back, but it puts me against the wall.

“There’s no way you’re actually interested in fucking her,” I say, assuming it’s not actually true but trying to hold my own in yet another one of our arguments.

He lets out a grunt—no, a growl—and places a hand on the wall next to my head. I’m in some of my favorite stiletto heels, but he still towers over me as he leans in.

“Well, I’m not getting anywhere with the woman I do want to fuck, so ...” he says.

My breath hitches in my chest. He’s just inches away from me, and I think he might be staring at my lips again. “And who might that be?” I ask before inadvertently biting into the top of my bottom lip, maybe to keep myself from saying anything else stupid.

He places his other hand next to my head, bracing himself above me. He lets out a sigh and looks up at the ceiling as he says, “Oh, fuck it.”

I start to ask “‘Oh, fuck’ wh—” but then his lips are crashing down on mine.

He takes my mouth with his with ease, tongue playing with mine after only a few seconds. I’m fully pressed against the wall by his broad body, and my hands have somehow wound up tugging at his hair. His hand finds the base of my neck and pulls upward, bringing us even closer together. Every inch of my body feels like it’s on fire, or maybe it just feels alive? I can’t tell because I’m making out with Mitch fucking Greggs and it’s about a million times better than any dream I’ve ever had. I already have an ache low in my abdomen, and that’s before he hikes my leg up with his massive hand and wraps it around his waist. Then, my stomach is doing weird flippy things and his hips are grinding mine into the wall. I let out a soft moan as our lips part just a centimeter for just a moment.

His teeth slide down my neck and he takes a small nip at my collarbone, which happens to be one of the most sensitive spots on my entire body.

“I thought you said you don’t bite?” I say. It’s breathy and shaky and helpless.

He looks up at me with a devilish grin and says, “I lied.”

Fuck.

Me.

I reach for his hair and tug lightly, bringing his head back up to mine. He’s looking at me with heat in his eyes as his chest rises and falls heavily. And that’s when I realize it.

I want to fuck Mitch Greggs.