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joe9cool

Jun 22

tkwrites

Starving for You - Joel Farabee

Title: Starving for you

Author: Tory / @tkwrites

Relationship: Joel Farabee x Teammates sister!ofc: Ruthie Couturier

Summary: When Joel and his old teammates baby sister run into each other at a Calgary grocery store, sparks start flying. Pretty soon, Joel is convincing Ruthie, who is a chef, to come cook for him and his roommate Morgan Frost. Will they be able to keep their feelings to themselves even though her brother is standing in the way?

Warnings: lots of longing, some swearing, a very protective older brother. Smut (if you are under 18, please click away): body worship, protected p in v.

Word count: 9,000

Comments: Welcome to the finished product of week four of the 700 follower celly! You all chose Joel Farabee and the Forbidden Romance trope in last weeks polls. It’s been a lot of fun to explore this trope. I’ll be honest, I don’t feel like this is my best work, but it was the best I could do given the week time constraint. It’s long because apparently I can’t do a fic without backstory. After all, backstory is everything.

Also, aproximately one million thanks to Lex @joe9cool for being my Beezer Bible and for brainstorming so many ideas!

I hope you enjoy! If you did, please consider reblogging, commenting or sending in an ask. I love hearing what you have to say, and interaction with my work really does inspire me to keep writing! I’d love to know what you think!

Don’t forget to check back next week for week 5 of the celebration starring Mat Barzal!

Starving for You

“Ruthie?”

Thinking about it now, Ruthie Couturier probably should have expected this.

No matter where she went, she was always running into people she knew through her brother. She’d just forgotten Joel had been traded to Calgary.

Really, had she been thinking, she should have been prepared for this very thing to happen. Calgary wasn’t a huge city, and they would ultimately end up in some of the same places.

Of course she would be running into him in the upscale gourmet grocery store. Not because he insisted on having gourmet groceries, of course. He wasn’t that fussy, but likely, because this was where his teammates told him to shop.

“Oh, hey Beezer.”

“What are you doing here? Are you working a new gig? I thought you were in New York still.”

“Nah,” she said, shifting her basket to the other arm, “my family moved to Estonia for a year.”

Joel’s eyebrows shot up. “Estonia. And you didn’t want to go with them?”

She laughed, and it was just like Joel remembered — melodic and captivating, honeyed and sweet. Ruthie had the kind of laugh that made him wish he were funnier just so he could hear it more.

“So why are you in Calgary, then? I would have thought some other family in the Hampton’s would have snatched you up.”

“A few of them tried, but I was just ready for a change,” she said with a shrug. “I had a lead out here, and one of my friends from culinary school raves about how much she loves living here, so I thought I’d give it a try.”

“So you’re working for someone new?”

“No, that actually fell through. I have a few feelers out, but I’m still trying to find my feet. I told myself I needed to try for six months before moving back to New York.”

“I’d hire you.” The words, like so many others, were out of his mouth before he had a chance to totally think them through. Now that he’d said it, he realized it actually was a great idea. Congratulations to his brain on coming up with something so brilliant.

She laughed.

“I’m serious,” he said. “Frosty and I can’t cook for shit and you need a job.”

“You’re still rooming with Morgan?” she asked, the right side of her mouth tipping up in that half smile he’d forgotten he liked so much.

“Yeah. Nice to have someone familiar around, you know?”

“Yeah.” Finally, she gave up and set her basket at her feet. “How are you liking it here?”

He shrugged, “it’s…nice. The team is great — way more relaxed — and I don’t really miss Torts, but I miss the city, you know.”

She nodded sympathetically. “I know you really loved it there.”

“So, do I just give you our address?” he asked, wanting to make sure they didn’t lose track of what was happening here.

“For what?”

“For you to come cook for us,” he said.

“Joel, I don’t know if that’s —”

“No, listen,” he cut in. “you need a job. We need to eat, and you already know all the dietary shit the league makes us follow. I’ve had your food before.”

Her lips pressed into a thin line. Really, this was a perfect gig. It would pay well enough for her to stay comfortably in the city, but she wouldn’t actually be working every day. There were long stretches when they’d be on the road. But working for Joel would mean she’d be working for Joel. She hadn’t seen him in a long time, but he still had that attractive, goofy smile and those kind, interested eyes. She worried that if they spent a lot of time together, she might fall for him, and she wasn’t sure she could keep herself away from him without her big brother always stepping in the way.

Then again, she wasn’t really in a position to be turning down paying work. Her rent was coming due. And yes, she could always call Sean, and he wouldn’t bat an eyelash at paying for her rent like he had for her culinary schooling, but she was an adult. She could take care of herself.

“Just until you find something else,” Joel said, bringing her back to the present. “Then you can leave us high and dry, wishing we could keep you.”

A laugh snorted from her mouth. “Okay.”

Leaving the grocery store, Ruthie’s number saved in his phone and his address and info saved in her Notes app, Joel felt like Calgary was about to get a whole lot better.

“I thought you were getting groceries,” Morgan said with a frown.

Looking down, Joel realized he’d only bought the things he had in his basket when he ran into Ruthie: a jar of pasta sauce, a package of cookies, and dish washing soap.

“I did.”

His roommate raised an eyebrow. “Marinara sauce and cookies? What are you planning to make with that? Or are you planning to put dish washing liquid in there, too?”

Joel snorted a laugh. “I got distracted.”

Rolling his eyes, Morgan asked, “what was her name this time?”

“Ruthie.”

“Dude, you’ve already been hung up on a Ruthie. You’re just going to confuse yourself.”

While that was a low blow, Joel had to agree that it was deserved. His track record wasn’t exactly on his side.

“No, it’s the same Ruthie.”

“You mean to tell me you ran into Ruthie Couturier in Calgary?”

“Yeah. She just moved here.”

“No. No way. That’s insane.”

“I know! She’s gonna come cook for us.”

“What?”

“She needs a job. She said her lead fell through. I told her we’d pay her to cook for us until she finds something more permanent.”

Morgan raised an eyebrow. “Are you serious, Beezer? The last thing I need is to get caught in the middle of you pining for another girl you can’t have.”

Before he could school the expression off his face, Joel felt himself pout.

“Come on, man. I know you liked Ruthie when she was around in Philly, but you know she’s off limits.”

“We don’t play with Coots anymore,” Joel almost whined. Leave it up to Morgan to go poking holes in his fantasies.

“No, but you’d still have to have to deal with him. You remember the talk he gave the guys when she moved in with them.”

Joel did remember. After Ruthie had moved in, to cook for their family and help with the kids, Sean had everyone over for dinner, and before they went in, he stopped all the guys, warning them that the woman in the kitchen was his sister, and that if they did anything inappropriate, he’d castrate them. Joel had choked it up to typical protective older brother stuff until he’d seen her.

Ruthie Couturier was stunning in a way he’d never expected, especially after spending time with her brother. Just shy of plump, she was smiley and curvy, with big brown eyes, Sean’s same shade of auburn hair (though hers was curly), and a dimple that winked into her left cheek every time she smiled or laughed.

Joel walked into that kitchen and was gone. It was embarrassing, really, how quickly he’d fallen for her. He walked away from that party totally down bad for a woman he could never have.

When he’d seen her at Bridgeland, his scrambled, ever-hopeful mind had taken it as a sign. When she’d agreed to cook for them, it felt like Fate was finally giving them a chance. Maybe, just maybe, he didn’t have to pine after someone he couldn’t have.

“Yeah,” Joel agreed now, “but —”

“Look,” Frost said, cutting him off, “pine after whoever you want, but don’t complain to me when you can’t have her.”

“At least you’ll get good food out of it,” Joel said, trying his best to sound chipper instead of deflated.

“That is true. I wonder if she’ll make that Argentinean steak thing again.”

“She said she’d send me some surveys or something for us to fill out, so I bet you can request it.”

Three days later, Ruthie put the address Joel had given her into her phone, which led her into a neighborhood full of brand new houses. Something more than nerves fluttered in her stomach. She’d always liked Joel. He was loud and tried a little too hard to be funny, but he was earnest and unflappably kind in a way most men weren’t. She knew he was someone she could rely on.

Also, a new build meant a new kitchen, and judging by the contents of Joel’s shopping basket, she assumed no one had yet to break it in.

The house looked like most of the others on the street — each painted a slightly different shade of gray, they stood close together and close to the street. Joel’s was gray-green with white shutters and a sweet little stone portico. It was bigger than she’d expected for two bachelors.

She’d just set a Rubbermaid bin of pantry staples next to her car and was leaning in for her knife kit when someone asked, “can I help you bring anything in?”

Yelping in surprise, Ruthie stood so quickly, she whacked her head on the roof of the car.

“Fuck,” she swore, covering the bump with a hand as she backed out of the doorway. “Warn a girl, Joel!”

“Oh my god! I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you. I just saw you had a lot of stuff and thought I could help.”

Smiling at the absolute horror on his face and the fact that he was running his mouth not even a minute in, she found herself charmed once again. He’d been paying enough attention to see she had a lot of things to bring in and came out to help without being asked.

“If you could take that in, that'd be really nice,” she said, nodding to the bin.

“You got it.”

By the time she was done unloading the totes of groceries, Joel was back, bouncing on the balls of his feet on the sidewalk in front of the house, eager to help.

The first time cooking in a new place always took a lot of prep. She was so used to load in taking at least thirty minutes. Her other clients were generally happy to pay her to do the work and not be involved other than in making sure the menu was something they wanted. It was a nice change of pace to have Joel so willing and eager to make her load lighter.

She'd forgotten how much she liked that about him — how he was always looking to help everyone around him.

“I'll take these?” he asked, reaching for the other bags.

“Don't take the case!” she practically yelled.

“Okay,” he acquiesced, gingerly setting the black case back on the crate he picked it up from.

“Sorry,” she said with a wince. “Those are my knives. I’m a little bit protective of them.”

He gave her his big, friendly smile, shrugged and led her into the house.

Morgan was in the living room, playing some video game she didn’t recognize. “Hey Ruthie,” he called out, glancing away from the screen for the barest of moments.

“Hey Morgan,” she said.

It took some time for her to get oriented in the kitchen, but once she did, she got to work, putting everything where it should go and starting to whip up the dinner she’d planned.

The steak with chimichurri sauce was one of her best dishes. It’d been the first thing she’d made for the Flyers when they came for dinner, and she wasn’t really surprised when Morgan requested it. Most hockey players she knew loved steak like it was a full time job, and eating it with a delicious, spicy sauce couldn’t get any better.

“You're not going to eat with us?” Joel asked. He'd been telling himself not to hover around the kitchen all afternoon, not wanting to make her uncomfortable. He'd reasoned that he would see her at dinner. And now, she was packing up like she was getting ready to leave.

“I don't usually…” she trailed off.

She was so used to her old family in the Hampton’s, who she cooked for, but was never made to feel like part of the family. She was a member of staff, and they took that boundary very seriously.

She hadn't been invited to eat with a client since she'd lived with Sean.

“That's really sweet.”

“Isn't that…normal?”

“No. Most people who hire me expect me to clean the kitchen and leave when everything’s done.”

Morgan rolled his eyes. “People are so weird, man. Come eat.”

And thus began the tradition. Nearly every night they were in town, she would make dinner, prep lunch for the next day if they were off, and sit down to eat with them.

Two weeks into their arrangement, Morgan texted, asking Ruthie if she could make a dinner for a date. They sat down and planned a menu, and on the day of, she set a romantic tablescape in the dining room.

She’d made brick oven chicken with asparagus and roasted cauliflower (potatoes were reserved for special occasions only) and a layered triple chocolate mousse for dessert. She even picked out a white wine to pair with the meal.

In some circles, a dinner like this was a surefire way to get an engagement ring. Where she was concerned, it was usually a surefire way for her client to get his date into his bed.

“Oh my god, it smells so good in here,” the girl gushed when Morgan brought her inside.

Ruthie, who had been talking with Joel, felt her eyes go wide and her face flush hot. In their conversation, she'd completely lost track of time. She’d planned to be gone by the time their dates showed up.

Spending so much time with him had reawakened the crush she had on him when she first moved in with Sean. Back then, she liked him because he was cute and always made a point to talk with her, even if she was working. Most of the other guys seemed to think they’d be interrupting or that they didn't need to since she was there to do a job.

These days, those feelings had only intensified. Joel was still cute, still sweet, and still making her feel seen. The last thing she needed was to see what kind of girl he was bringing home.

“Is your date meeting you here?” she asked. She’d been expecting him to leave to go get ready or to go pick this woman up, which was why she hadn’t been worried about keeping track of the time. Joel was quite punctual, so she didn’t have to worry about running late.

“What date?”

“Don't you have a date tonight?”

“No?”

Joel was incredibly confused. He would have told Ruthie if he had a date. Mostly so she'd be out of the house, and he wouldn't have to compare her and this fictional woman, who would inevitably end up lacking.

After breathing a sigh of relief, realization struck. “Oh, fuck.”

“What?” he asked, laughing.

“I set the table for 4. I thought you guys were doubling.”

“Is someone else eating with us?” Morgan's date asked before Ruthie could nip into the dining room to take the two extra place settings down.

“I didn’t think so,” Morgan said hesitantly.

Rushing into the dining room, still in her apron, Ruthie started to apologize. “I am so sorry, Morgan. I thought Joel was bringing a date for some reason.” Now that she thought about it, she wasn’t sure where she got the idea from. Joel had never been involved in their menu planning. Which, if he was bringing a date, he surely would have been. “I'll just take these plates, and he and I’ll eat in the kitchen,” she said with an uncomfortable smile.

“You should join us,” the woman said with a kind smile.

“Oh, no. I couldn't.”

“No,” she said, her voice a little harder. “I insist.”

Ruthie glanced at Morgan, who was looking at his date, his brow furrowed, and lips turned down before he quickly recovered. “Yeah, you and Joel should join,” he said, shooting a big smile at Ruthie. It didn't quite reach his eyes.

“Okay. Just let me change.” she turned back to the kitchen. Passing Joel, she whispered, “They want us to come in.”

Joel's eyes went wide. “What? Morg told me he really liked this girl. Why does he want us there?”

“I don’t know,” Ruthie hissed. “He didn’t seem very pleased about it, but she insisted, and he didn’t fight.” As she walked into the pantry, she tore her apron, then her t-shirt over her head.

Joel blinked, mind momentarily wiped blank by the sudden revelation of so much of her skin. Her back was smooth and pale, other than the smattering of freckles that dotted her shoulders. Her bra was dark blue with light purple stars, tiny lines connecting them into constellations.

She turned around holding a different shirt, and he felt his mouth hollow out with longing. God. Why did she have to do this right before he was getting sucked into a double date? When he had to sit across from her for an entire awkward dinner, now knowing how luscious and round her breasts looked, cradled in the cups of her bra?

Slamming his eyes closed, he mentally recited every horrible thing Torts had ever said to him. That was always a sure-fire way to kill a boner, and it didn't disappoint this time.

By the time he opened his eyes, she’d pulled on a blousey black top with flowing sleeves. The neckline was low enough that he could see her cleavage, instantly bringing back to mind the sight of her in her bra. Fuck. How was he supposed to survive this?

“Right?” she asked.

He’d been so busy mentally talking his dick down, he hadn’t heard anything she’d been saying.

“Hu?”

“I said maybe we can talk Morgan up? You know, remind her what a great guy he is?” she said, pulling the claw clip from her hair and fluffing her curls into something she hoped looked natural.

“Yeah. We should,” he said, unable to repress the goofy grin taking over his face. Of course Ruthie would want to help. Joel had even overheard her talking with Frosty about how the chicken she was cooking hadn’t yet failed to get a client laid. She said she took her job as wing woman, even if only from behind the scenes, very seriously.

When they walked into the dining room, they found Morgan and his date sitting across from each other, silently gazing around the room.

Internally, Joel winced. He’d been on dates like this before, when after a few meetings, it became obvious they had absolutely nothing in common.

Walking over, Ruthie extended her hand to the woman and introduced herself. “Hi I’m Ruthie. And this is Joel.”

“Oh, yeah, Morgan’s talked about you before. You’re a chef, right?”

“Yeah. I made this meal,” she said, taking her seat. “And Jojo here plays for the flames, too.”

Joel shot her an extremely unamused look.

“This is Rebecca,” Morgan said. His voice sounded oddly hollow.

At first taste of the chicken Ruthie had made, Joel understood why she’d called it fuck me chicken. He was probably a bad judge since he already wanted to fuck her, but had he not, he would have wanted to worship her for it. It was quite possibly the best thing he’d ever eaten.

The dinner was incredibly awkward. Every time Ruthie or Joel tried to talk about Morgan, Rebecca turned the conversation to something different, culminating in the most awkward interaction of the night when she asked how long Ruthie and Joel had been dating.

“Oh we’re not —” Ruthie stammered at the same time Joel said, “we’re just friends.”

It was like getting stabbed with a hot poker.

Rebecca had looked almost disappointed.

When she asked Morgan to take her home before Ruthie could even get the dessert from the fridge, a palpable relief swept through everyone in the room.

“Well that was a fucking disaster,” Morgan said when he got home twenty minutes later.

“I’m sorry, Morg. I meant to be gone. I don’t know why I thought you and Joel were doubling, but then he didn’t leave. I didn’t mean to cock block.”

A loud, hollow laugh barked from Morgan’s mouth. “Oh you didn’t. I really thought we were going somewhere, and then today, it was like she’d shut down before I even picked her up.”

“I’m sorry,” Ruthie said, sliding a cup of mousse to him. It was layered, dark milk and white chocolates with a fresh raspberry gelee on top. It looked incredibly fancy, especially in the long stemmed coupe glasses.

“I shouldn’t eat this.”

She shoved a spoon at him, “You get to drown your sorrows in chocolate tonight. You can do some extra crunches tomorrow to make up for it.”

It was a true testament to how awful he was feeling that Morgan took the spoon without further protest and shoved a huge bite into his mouth. “God, that’s delicious.”

“Her loss,” Joel said, licking his own spoon.

After she left the night, and Morgan had sulked down the hall, Joel had lay in his bed, unable to stop his mind from recalling the image of her standing in the kitchen, sans shirt. He’d never known a cotton bra could be so sexy.

The next day at practice, neither of them could shut up about the amazing dinner Ruthie had prepared.

“Where did you find this girl?” Lomberg asked.

“She’s Coots’s little sister,” Morgan explained. “Beezer ran into her at the grocery store. He's been in love with her since our rookie year.”

Joel rolled his eyes but still felt his cheeks get hot. Curse this pale skin. Not only did it constantly bicker with the sun, it never managed to hide his embarrassment.

“You guys should have us over for dinner,” Matt suggested. “Share the wealth, man. Plus, you owe me for all those rides from last year.”

The thing was that having Ruthie around did make Joel feel wealthy. He had money, but it felt extravagant to have home cooked meals as good as hers at their fingertips. Plus, having Ruthie in the house always made him feel a little like he’d won the lottery.

“We should,” Joel said. He’d been a social director of sorts in Philly, and he missed being in the middle of all the action. Even though there weren’t as many young guys on the flames, now that he knew everyone a little better, he thought he could probably step into it again.

That evening, they talked over dinner (pork tenderloin with Brussels sprouts).

“Hey, how would you feel about cooking a dinner for the guys?” Joel asked.

“How many people are we talking?”

“The team,” he said, “and probably their wives.” It seemed rude to have the guys over for dinner but not invite their partners to join them. Especially when the meal was bound to be delicious. “Frosty and I have been bragging about your cooking, and the guys keep talking about wanting to try food from the famous Ruthie Coots.”

She snorted, more at the famous part than anything. “that’s really sweet, Joel.”

“It’s true,” he defended. “I don’t think I’ve ever eaten so well in my life.”

Looking into his face, she smiled.

His stomach did a funny little flip flop.

Morgan cleared his throat, and Ruthie felt her cheeks flush as she forced her eyes back down to her plate.

“Sure,” she found herself saying, even though cooking for a crowd that size would mean two or three full days in the kitchen. “When are you thinking?”

Looking at their game schedule, they decided on a night two weeks later.

When the day of the party rolled around, Joel came home from their matinee game to a house that smelled incredible.

Watching Ruthie work always took his breath away, but this was something else. She was juggling so many things at once. There were five chocolate cakes cooling on the counter and steaks marinating in the fridge and two giant pots of potatoes boiling on the stove.

He had no idea how she kept track of it all.

“Do you need any help?”

“I’m okay for right now,” she said, not looking up from chopping an onion with the kind of efficiency that made him nervous. “but I’ll need some extra hands in like thirty minutes.”

Half an hour went by, and like clockwork, he was back in the kitchen, stepping up to the sink and washing his hands. “Okay, put me to work, chef.”

She giggled and set him to work, setting the table. they wouldn’t all fit in the dining room, so they’d removed the chairs and decided to use the large table as their serving space.

Once he’d finished with that and went back to her, he found her on her tip toes, forcing a potato masher into one of the giant pots.

“Here, let me do that,” he said, taking it from her, “I’m taller.”

She shot him a playful glare but gave up the mashing tool easily.

As he mashed the potatoes, she poured things in the pot, stopping every few ingredients to use one of the small spoons she kept in a mug on the counter to taste.

“Just keep going for a while,” she told him once she was satisfied.

Eventually, Morgan came down to help, too, and by the time the doorbell rang, the dining table was set, and Joel’s arms were aching from mashing and plating all those potatoes.

The steady stream of people made Joel incredibly happy. It always felt like a fulfillment of a calling to have everyone in his house. He liked being the gathering point for people.

Ruthie, who was still working in the kitchen, now focused on the dessert — making chocolate ganache for the cakes and a quick raspberry sauce — made small talk with everyone who walked through and thanked all of them for their compliments on her food.

“That looks almost as delicious as you,” a man said as she ladled ganache over the bundt cakes.

Glancing up she locked eyes with a young man with an impressively square jaw. He had dark eyes and dark curly hair.

In an effort to not roll her eyes at the line, she said, “thanks, I guess.”

“It was a compliment.”

“I gathered that.”

“Are you joining the party?”

“I’m a little busy at the moment,” she said.

“Can I at least bring you a drink?”

Throughout the whole night, no one had so much as offered her a glass of water. Not even Joel, who was hamming it up with his teammates, repeating everything she’d told them about the food to anyone who would listen.

“That’s really sweet,” she said. Had she known who this man was, she likely would have accepted, “but I’ll grab something once I’m done.”

“So you’re Couturier’s little sister, right? He creamed me the last time we were in Philly. I felt like I couldn’t see straight for weeks. I can’t imagine how growing up with him as your brother went.”

Walking into the kitchen with a drink in hand, Joel stopped short. Matt Coranado was sitting at the kitchen island, chatting with Ruthie like she was the most interesting woman in the world. She laughed at something he said, her dimple on full display, and Joel felt jealousy rage in his chest.

“Here,” he said, slamming the glass on the counter with enough force that some of the liquid sloshed over the rim. “It’s a bourbon cherry coke.”

Ruthie met his eyes, her lips parted slightly. How had he remembered? It wasn’t a common drink, and most people had never heard of it when she requested one.

Before she could fully wrap her mind around what had just happened and try to remember when she’d told him her drink of choice, Joel took the man by the upper arm and practically dragged him away. “I need to talk to you,” he growled.

“What is with you, man?” Matt wrenched his arm from Joel’s grip and stopped in the hallway around the corner from the kitchen.

“What the fuck, Matt?” Joel demanded, “you know I like her.”

“I do?”

“Yes! You just happened to miss Frosty telling the entire locker room I’ve been in love with her since our rookie year?”

Ruthie felt her eyes go wide, and her heart skipped a beat. Had she heard that right? She must have. They were too close and talking too loud for her to have misheard.

“I didn’t mean anything by it, man! She was by herself in there! I thought maybe she needed some company.”

“You didn’t have to flirt with her!” Joel blustered even as Matt’s words socked him in the stomach.

“Whatever man,” Matt said. “The next time you say you love someone, maybe don’t leave her alone all night.”

Joel rounded the corner, raking his hands into his hair, and Ruthie darted her eyes back down to the cake she was cutting.

“I’m sorry,” he said, sinking into one of the island bar stools.

“For what? Leaving me along all night?”

Joel’s eyes shot to hers. “Did you…” Of course she’d overheard. They weren’t that far away.

“Hear that you’ve been in love with me since your rookie year?” she repeated, one eyebrow cocked. “Yes, I did.”

“Fuck,” he groaned, leaning his elbows on the counter and running his hands back into his hair.

“Why didn’t you tell me, Joel?”

His head snapped up. “Because…because…because your brother,” he stammered.

Ruthie pursed her lips. Of course, that was the biggest obstacle.

“Just don’t date a hockey player,” Sean had always said. “And you absolutely cannot date one of my teammates. That’s just too fucking weird.”

“And I didn’t think you liked me,” he said, bringing her back to the present.

“We should talk about this later, Joel,” she said.

“Fuck,” he groaned, pushing himself to his feet.

By the time everyone left, he was seething.

“Let’s get one thing straight,” he said, walking into the kitchen where she was still cleaning up. She’d never come out to join the party. He felt he was probably to blame for that. Guilt wormed into his skin.

She set down the knife she’d been drying and looked at him calmly.

“Yes, I like you.” Something sparked in her eyes, and he continued, “and I think you might like me, too.”

“I do like you, Joel,” Ruthie said, her voice a hard contrast to the sweet words in her mouth. “I’ve liked you for a long time, but my brother…”

“Your brother isn’t here,” he said, crossing his arms over his chest.

He was worried about Sean, too. But certainly Sean knew Ruthie was cooking for him and Frosty, and he hadn’t called either of them to lecture about not putting the moves on his little sister. That had to count for something.

“And last time I checked, he doesn’t own you.”

She bit her bottom lip, “I know. He just used to lecture me about not dating hockey guys.”

Joel knew that lecture. If he had a little sister, he would have given it to her, too. But he wasn’t a bad dude. Sure, he wasn’t perfect, but he’d never forced a woman like some of his teammates. He participated in the locker room banter like everyone else but always cut himself off when it got too intense. He respected women. It wasn’t like he wanted to leave Ruthie high and dry. He liked her. Really liked her. He didn’t want to do anything to hurt her.

“Look, I get it. Some of us are pretty disgusting. I’ve had some really gross teammates who have done terrible stuff, but some of us are good guys who just happen to play hockey.”

“I know,” she sighed.

“I know I probably shouldn’t do this,” he said, taking a step toward her. Ruthie backed against the stove, wondering what he was about to do.

“But my mom drilled consent into me and my brothers like she was building a house, so… Can I kiss you?”

She was so taken aback by the sweet gesture, the first thing that flew out of her mouth was, “what shouldn’t you do?”

Joel’s shoulders fell. He knew he should’ve just gone for it, no matter how much it went against what he was taught. “I shouldn’t ask,” he said, scuffing his foot over the floor as he shoved his hands in his pockets.

“No, you should ask,” Ruthie said, reaching up to slip her hand around the back of his neck. “Consent is sexy.”

His eyes snapped to hers.

In all of her twenty-three years of life, Ruthie had never had a man ask if he could kiss her. Sometimes, when they were both reading the signs, asking wasn’t really necessary, but often, it was an unexpected, or sometimes even unwelcome, advance. The fact that Joel asked soothed some surety into her anxiety. Sean was always telling her he wanted her to find someone who treated her well. Someone who respected her. Was there anything more respectful than consent?

“I’d like you to kiss me, Joel.”

Heart suddenly pounding so hard, it felt like it was attempting to break out of his chest, Joel leaned down until his lips brushed over hers.

It wasn’t nearly enough. Running her hands into his hair, she palmed the back of his skull and pulled him closer.

He gasped into her open mouth and moaned when her tongue dove into his, coaxing his into dancing with her.

Desire swooped into his stomach and his hands grasped her waist for grounding.

When she pulled away a few minutes later, his mind felt fuzzy. He was dizzy with want, and his pants felt considerably tighter than they had before. “Holy fuck,” he whispered.

She giggled.

“What are you giggling for?” he asked, affronted and afraid to hear the answer. Whatever she was about to say might just break him.

“I just…” she managed to swallow her giggles, “I’ve thought about kissing you so often and ‘holy fuck’ just about sums it up.”

“You…” his knees dissolved beneath him, and he had to lean on the counter for support. “What?”

“Yeah,” she said, smiling. Sure, Sean told her to stay away from hockey players, which she always thought was stupid. If he was so concerned about how his teammates acted, wouldn’t it be better for him to try to change the culture rather than tell her she should stay away from them all?

Looking at it now, Joel's words ringing in her mind, last time I checked, he doesn’t own you and Can I kiss you? She wasn’t sure even Sean was this respectful.

“I really like you Joel,” she said, voice dim between them. “I’ve liked you since we met. I just… it was so weird with Sean there, and then we were here, and you never made a move.”

“Because your brother told me he’d castrate me if I did.”

“He didn’t!” she said, eyes going wide.

“He did.”

“What the fuck? Talk about cockblocking.”

Joel laughed.

“Well, whatever,” she said, flipping her hands. “We made it here.”

Taking her by the hips, Joel pulled her into him until her soft stomach pressed against his hard length. She gasped. “We did. Do you wanna do something about it?”

“Hell yeah, I do,” she said, leaning up to kiss him again.

This kiss was slower but far more passionate. Tongues tangling, teeth nipping and suction that immediately had his imagination running wild with images of her mouth wrapped around his cock.

“Can we go to the couch?” she asked against his lips.

He didn’t stop to think. He just obeyed. Grabbing her hand, he pulled her into the living room, flopped onto the soft blue sofa, and pulled her into his lap.

Her dimple flashed at him as she straddled him, one knee on either side of his hips.

Looking up at her, his head tipped back, he was mesmerized. Her dark eyes had flecks of gold in them up close.

“Can I kiss you, Joel?” she asked, her hand coming up to his neck, a few of her fingers hooking behind his jaw.

Head jerking in a nod, Joel thought this might just be the best day of his entire life. Maybe just behind getting drafted. If this was the start of something like he hoped it was, it might edge into the front.

Instead of leaning in to kiss him, she leaned back, sitting on his knees.

Confusion and worry took over his features. It was so sweet, Ruthie had to bite her lip to keep from smiling. “I want this off,” she said, tugging at his shirt.

He tore it from his body, throwing it across the living room in his haste to get it away from himself.

Since she met him, she knew Joel had liked her boobs. He tried to be respectful, which she appreciated, but his gaze almost always drifted down, his eyes going a little hazy when they did. The night of Morgan’s failed date, he’d been stunned to silence at the sight of her in her bra. A rumbling need within her growled to see that look on his face again. Surprised. enraptured. Desirous. She’d never felt so wanted in all her life.

So, while he looked on, she peeled her shirt over her head, arching her back to add to the show.

An indistinct, longing noise fell from his lips, like he was trying to say something, but couldn’t quite force the words out.

Joel watched, his hungry eyes eating up every bit of exposed flesh. God, she was even more than he had ever dreamed.

The shirt fell to the floor with a gentle whoosh, and he finally managed to make a coherent sound. “God, you’re so fucking pretty, Ruthie.”

Smiling a vixen’s smile, she reached back for the clasps of her bra, eating up the way his eyes widened, and his fingers, currently gripping her hips, tightened.

Just then, right as her fingers brushed the thicker part of the band where the hooks were sewn, they heard footsteps. She froze, listening hard, praying Morgan was just walking to the bathroom.

Luck, it seemed, was not on their side, and Morgan strode straight into the living room, an empty glass in his hands.

Quick as a flash, Joel wrapped his arms around her and pulled her into him, covering as much of her as he could.

“Dude,” he said, his voice gravely and commanding.

Morgan whipped around, and his eyes went wide. “Oh my god. I didn’t —”

“You need to leave.”

Morgan hesitated for a bare second, glancing between Ruthie, who now had her face tucked against Joel’s neck, and Joel, apparently trying to reconcile what he was seeing.

“I’m not fucking kidding, Morg.” His voice got darker, more sure of itself. “You need to leave. I’ll pay for your hotel.”

“S-sure,” Morgan stammered, meeting Joel’s eyes. He set the glass on the coffee table and raced from the room.

Only when they heard him walk into the garage and heard the mechanical door open did Joel feel Ruthie relax against him.

“I’m sorry, Ru, I didn’t even think —” his words cut off as her mouth connected with his neck, caressing with slow, open mouthed kisses, her tongue languidly brushing against his skin. Electricity shot down his spine and made his dick twitch. “Oh,” he moaned, head tipping to give her more access.

She stayed there, pulling more pathetically desperate noises from him until the garage door shut again.

Once she was sure they were alone, she sat back up on his knees. Joel’s face was flushed, and she could see where he’d been biting his bottom lip.

“Now where were we?” she asked, her tone incredibly pleasant, as if she were about to pick up a conversation from where it’d left off. “Oh, right.” She winked as her hands reached back to find the clasp of her bra again.

Joel’s breath stuttered in his lungs.

The band went slack and the straps loosened and he watched with bated breath. This was actually happening right now. In his real, actual life. Ruthie Couturier was in his lap, practically stripping, and he was awake.

Taking the black cotton at the center gore, Ruthie pulled it from her body and dropped it on top of her shirt. She relished his eyes blowing wide, his pupils somehow dilating even more than they already were, and his lips falling open.

The only coherent thing he could think was holy fuck. Holy Fuck. HOLY FUCK! She was so perfect. Free from her bra, her breasts were full and luscious, with tight pink nipples. Saliva pooled beneath his tongue. “Ruthie,” he managed to croak.

Feeling smug and too anxious to wait for him to make up his mind, she grabbed either side of his head and pulled him forward until his face was buried between her breasts.

He clung to her as a muffled, “oh my god,” fell from his mouth.

For her part, since that day in the kitchen, the open mouthed way he’d stared at her body, Ruthie hadn’t been able to get the image of him touching and fondling her breasts from his mind. She couldn’t stop imagining his long fingers pinching her nipples or the way his plush lower lip would roll as he mouthed at her skin. She knew he might just be the man to worship her breasts the way she’d always dreamed.

No longer wondering if she wanted this, Joel slid his hands up her body until they cradled her breasts. Then he went about nuzzling into her.

Her back arched and the way she breathed his name had another surge of heat racing to his cock, which was already straining painfully against the zipper of his jeans.

When his mouth finally started worshiping — licking and kissing and even nipping — her sensitive flesh, her hips rolled, anxious for more fiction.

“Oh my fucking god,” he moaned. Where had this woman been his whole life?

God, the feel of him was even better than her imagination. He was real, and his hot mouth was moving toward her nipple at a torturously slow pace. She felt like he might just drive her out of her mind with want. “Joel,” she whined.

“What do you need, baby?” he asked before sucking a mouthful of supple flesh between his lips, letting his teeth scrape lightly over her skin as he pulled back.

Her hips pressed tighter against his. Instead of answering, she twisted her body as her hand guided his chin until his mouth was over her left nipple.

Letting out a, “hmm,” of agreement, he laved his tongue over the pebbled nub.

“Oh my god,” she moaned, her hand fisting in the hair at the back of his skull.

Working her hips over his with more intent, her patience evaporated with each rock and every roll. “Do you…” her voice broke into a moan again as he drew the tender peak into his mouth, sucking as his tongue fondled. “Fuck. Do you have anything?”

It took his lust crazed mind way too long to figure out what she was talking about. “You mean a condom?” he asked, pulling back. His lips were red and slightly swollen and covered with spit. She could feel the liquid cooling rapidly against her skin without his hot mouth to cover it.

“Yes. I need you inside me.”

He was momentarily struck speechless.

“Do you?” she asked, not bothering to hide the whine in her voice. If they had to stop so he could go buy condoms, she was sure she would explode.

“In my room, yeah.”

“Let’s go, then,” she said, already sliding off his lap.

He immediately missed the heat of her against him, and when he stood, he pulled her close again, his mouth finding hers.

She kissed back desperately, her hands roaming over his chest and shoulders.

His went to her ass, hauling her against him.

She moaned. “Upstairs, right?”

Feeling almost dizzy with want, he nodded and finally convinced himself to pull away so he could guide her up to his room. The reality of it struck him with every step. Ruthie’s hand was in his, and her excited footsteps matched his own.

“Sorry,” he said, feeling incredibly sheepish at the clothes he’d left on the floor. At least he’d managed to make his bed that morning.

“For what?” she asked, her hands already dropping to the button of her jeans.

“Fuck, you don’t like to waste time, do you?”

Her simple, “I want you,” had him jumping to shed the remainder of his own clothing.

When he stood up straight, her eyes blew wide, and she couldn’t stop herself from reaching out to touch him. “Good Lord, Joel. Where the hell have you been hiding this?”

A smug smile tilted his lips.

“My god,” she breathed, encircling the girth with her fingers. “It’s a good thing you’ve already got me so turned on.”

He wanted to laugh, but moaned instead when her fingers slid down the length of his cock. “Ruthie, fuck.”

“Hmm?” she asked, teasingly, slowly pulling her fingers back to the tip.

His knees wobbled, and he groped for something to hold himself up. When he didn’t find it, he sat heavily on the bed, effectively breaking her grip.

Now that her hands were off of him, he could think a little more clearly. “ground rules?”

“No butt stuff,” she said.

“That’s it?”

“Don’t you dare finish before me.”

“I’ll try my best, but I can’t really promise that. I’ve been dreaming about this for so long, I don’t know what he’s going to do when he gets inside,” Joel confessed, gesturing to his dick, which thanks to her ministrations, was already dripping precome. “He might lose his head the second he feels you.”

She laughed, that goddamn dimple winking at him again.

“If I do, I promise to eat you out like a starved man after.”

The grin fell from her face. “Why can’t you do that anyway?”

“I thought you needed me inside.”

Crossing her arms over her chest, she gave him a disappointed look.

“How about I promise to eat you like a starved man no matter what, and we get to fucking?”

It was like he’d flipped a switch in her. Licking her lips, she agreed, “yeah, okay.”

His heartbeat started racing again as she stalked closer, but stuttered a few beats when, instead of crawling into his lap, or leaning down for a kiss, like he expected, she crawled onto the bed next to him.

Staying on all fours and arching her back prettily, she asked, “you coming?”

He scrambled onto his stomach and up the bed until he could reach into the bedside table for a condom.

Tearing it open and rolling it on felt like it took years.

“Fuck, you’re incredible,” he said, moving behind her.

There was hardly any lead up. He slicked himself through her wet folds only once before pressing the head of his thick cock to her entrance.

“This is okay?” he asked. When she said yes, he continued, “you’ll tell me if you don’t like something?”

“Uh hu,” she moaned, dropping to her elbows and arching a little more for him. “Fuck me, Joel.”

A groan crawled up his throat, and he pressed forward.

“You don’t have to be so gentle,” she admonished, pressing back to meet one of his thrusts. “I like it a little rough.”

“Fuck, Ruthie,” he groaned. Gripping her sides, he snapped his hips to hers, “who knew you were so dirty?”

Grunting as she slid forward with the force of his thrust, she panted, “I did.”

He pulled her hips back to meet his next thrust, and both of their laughter broke into moans of pleasure.

“Wait.”

His dick was still half buried in her sweet, tight embrace, but he stopped moving immediately. “did I hurt you?”

Ruthie bit her lip, feeling a little bit silly. She liked doggy. Usually, it was a surefire position to get her to orgasm. But with Joel, she found it less fulfilling than usual. She wanted to see his face, she realized. She’d liked him for so long, and it seemed a shame to be in this position where he could see her, but she couldn’t see him. It felt good, but there were other positions that felt good, too.

“Ruthie, did I hurt you?”

“No, you didn’t hurt me.”

“What is it?” One of his hands traveled soothingly from her hip up to her rib cage.

“Can I ride you?”

Joel, who had been bracing himself for her pain, or for her to tell him she wanted to stop, nearly collapsed.

“Shiiit,” he groaned, pulling out of her.

Ruthie yelped as Joel lifted her, somehow managing to turn her over as he flopped onto his back.

As soon as she’d found her knees, she sunk onto him.

“You feel so good, Joel,” she moaned, working her clit on his pelvis.

Bracing herself up with one arm, she reached for one of his hands, bringing it to her breast. The other followed suit without her prompting.

Watching her arch her back, pushing her breasts into his hands while her hips ground against him was heavenly. He toyed with her nipples, watching in awe as her mouth dropped open, and she panted. Her walls were already fluttering around him, and he bit his lip, trying to make it good for her.

His hands lifted from her, and she whined until she realized he was pushing himself up. His face burrowed between her breasts again before he mouthed to one taught nipple, pulling it between his lips.

She arched, grinding into his stomach and chanting his name.

She was fluttering around him and he was clinging to every last shred of control in his body.

“Fuck, Ruthie, you feel so amazing,” he groaned.

It was this image: Joel clinging to her, his head lolling back as he panted, that was etched into her mind as she fell apart around him.

His own orgasm rushed to him like a hurricane. As her fluttering walls milked him for all he was worth, it pulled him under.

“Oh my god,” she said a few minutes later, catching her breath as she lay atop him.

“Yeah,” he panted, bringing his arms around her waist.

“We’re gonna have to tell Sean.”

He tensed beneath her. “We are?”

Pushing herself up onto one elbow, she nodded. “I don’t want this to be a one-time thing.”

A riot of butterflies exploded in Joel’s stomach.

“So we’re gonna have to tell him. I don’t want to be sneaking around. It can all be out in the open.”

“Okay,” he agreed, reaching up to brush her sweaty hair from her face. “We’ll tell him tomorrow?”

“Mhm,” she nodded, laying over him again and resting her head on his shoulder.

“Don’t get too comfy,” he said, patting her bum. “I’m pretty sure I promised to eat you out like a starved man.”

Letting out a surprised laugh, Ruthie pushed herself up to look into his face again. “Certainly don’t want you breaking promises on our first date.”

His smile was wicked as he rolled them over.

Bonus scene:

“Hey Beezer,” Sean answered, surprise evident in his voice, “what’s up?”

“I…uh…” Now that he was on the phone, Joel wondered why the hell he’d done this. It’s not like Sean telling him to back off was actually going to work. There was no way he was leaving this now. Ruthie. He reminded himself. He was doing this for Ruthie. “I wanted to tell you that…uh…”

In typical Sean fashion, he didn’t jump in or try to save Joel in his fumbling. He just let him drop the ball.

“I wanted to talk to you about Ruthie.”

“Okay,” Sean said, obviously confused. “What about her?”

“I mean, you know she’s been cooking for me and Frosty.”

“Yeah, she mentioned that. Until she gets a better offer, right?”

Well, that was a slap to nuts. “Right. Well, she…I mean we had the team over last night, and she cooked dinner.”

“Okay.”

“And…um…she and I sort of slept together.”

The other end of the line went deadly quiet.

“I just —” Joel heard his voice go high and cleared his throat to try to stop it. “I wanted to let you know.”

“Why? Of all the mental images I need, you fucking my sister isn’t one of them. I don’t want to think about my sister fucking anyone.”

“I just…” God, he was such an idiot. “Please don’t kill me.”

“The only reason I’d kill you is if you hurt her. I told you that.”

“I’m pretty sure you threatened to castrate any of us who looked at her.”

“No, I said I’d castrate you if you disrespected her.”

“Oh.”

“Which still stands, by the way. Hurt her, and I’ll hunt you down.”

“I won’t hurt her,” he blurted. “I'm pretty sure I’m in love with her.”

Sean gave a long suffering sigh. “Look, I don’t want to know about anything you two do together, okay? I like you, Joel. Don’t give me a reason to change my mind.”

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