"And you wanted to dance so I asked you to dance
But fear is in your soul
Some people call it a one night stand
But we can call it paradise" Duran Duran

I notice Clay give his sister a weird look as we step off the elevators and head down the hall toward the lobby of the hotel.

Bella notices it too and she glances down at herself self-consciously and then back up at him. "What?"

"You look good," he replies. "Like' all pretty and crap."

"Thanks asshole," she snaps half jokingly – but only half.

"It's just dinner with the GM. Why you trying so hard?"

Bella gives him one of her trademark glares. Bella is great at glaring. I try to channel her every time I'm pissed off.

"Well after that stupid fight with Kesler someone has to make a good impression," Bella snarks back and he rolls his eyes.

"Someone needed to let him know what he did to you was not okay," Clay lectures.

"Dean made that clear," Bella argues back and I suddenly feel very bad for Mr. Lemieux if he has to spend the night with these two. "I also made that clear. You did not need to add your two cents."

Clay opens his mouth to speak but I push my way in between the two of them and cup them both on their shoulders.

"Okay Morgans, relax," I coo as calmly as possible. "The Kesler thing is over with. Let's move on."

They both fall silent. Bella stops to check herself out in the mirror by the concierge's desk. I smile.

"You look amazing," I tell her. "The superstar will be impressed."

She catches my eye and tries to look innocent as she adjusts her dark green off the shoulder top and smoothes her black fitted pants.

"I just want to look respectable for the GM," she argues but I'm not buying it. "You're the one who thinks Crosby will be there. He never said he would be there."

"He'll be there," I assure her and she tries not to smile.

Just as we hit the middle of the lobby Jordan wanders through the front doors. He's impossible to miss. His 6'4 frame consists of the longest legs and arms I have ever seen. And he's so perfectly blonde, with such an intense, heavy brow and corn flower blue bedroom eyes. And when he walks…. It's slow and graceful. It's hard to take your eyes off him. So I don't.

"Stare much?" Bella gives me a shove but smiles.

Jordan walks over and he and Clay do one of those half-hug, half-chest bump things that boys do.

"Hey Bella," he says and smiles at her as she gives him a small wave.

"Ready?" he asks me and I nod.

"Don't forget your room key this time," Bella warns.

"Oh and Jordan…?" Clay calls out and Jordan turns back to face him.

"Like a sister buddy. Like a sister," Clay says sternly and Jordan grins but nods his understanding.

We head back out the way he entered and he puts his massive hand on the small of my back and leads me towards his Mercedes GL SUV. It's nice to be around someone so tall. Tall guys don't live in LA, I swear. I think it's because actors are most successful when they're in that 5'8 to 5'11 range not too short not too tall, just blandly average. So being 5'9 without heels it's really hard to find a guy that towers over me at home. Jordan is a treat.

He helps me into the SUV and shuts my door for me.

As we start to pull away he smiles at me. "I was thinking we could go back to my place and order in. Do you like sushi?"

"Love it," I confirm and smile.

"Thought so. All you La La Land types love that stuff." He's being a smart ass. And it's ridiculously attractive.

"We can eat steak instead, but I know being a farm boy and everything you'd probably want to kill it yourself and I don't know if Pittsburgh law allows that," I snark back with a grin and he laughs.

"You've got a mouth on you, Vanessa Canning," he says in mock sterness and it makes me giddy he remembers my last name. He was so drunk last night I'm surprised he remembers my first one.

"You haven't even begun to see what this mouth can do," I reply in a voice just above a whisper.

His smile grows from ear to adorable ear but he says nothing.

"You must have known the Morgans a long time for Clay to threaten me with the whole sister thing" he says after a minute.

"Since I was 12," I tell him. "Their dad and my dad worked at the same college."

"Boston College," Jordan says it, doesn't ask it. So I know he knows the story. "Brooksy – a team mate – he says their parents were killed in a car accident when Clay was young."

"Clay was like 16. Dean was 19 and Bella was 14," I say softly. I try not to feel guilty about talking about it. Bella would hate the look of sympathy on Jordan's face right now if he saw it. "They were hit by a drunk driver. They both died instantly. Bella was in the hospital for a two months."

"She was?"

"Yeah she was in the car," I admit but decide better of getting into the gory details of her injuries. "It was horrible."

"Man if that had happened in my family…" Jordan pauses. "My brothers and I would have probably ended up in jail not the NHL. Not without our parents to keep us in line… and keep us on track."

"Wait a minute, you have brothers? And they play hockey?"

He nods casually. "Yeah. Eric is on the Hurricanes. Marc is on the Rangers. Jared was drafted this past spring by Phoenix."

"Four?" I know my voice is this high-pitched squeak right now but I'm in disbelief. "Your parents had four boys and all of you are professional hockey players?"

He laughs. "Why is that such a big deal for everyone?"

"Umm because it's absurd. It's like genetically impossible."

"Clearly it's not impossible," he corrects me as we pull into the driveway of a very large, Tudor style two-storey that I vaguely remember from my drunken stupor last night.

"Well it's improbable," I reply and he just shrugs.

We get out of the car and he gently takes my hand as we walk up the driveway. The feel of his warm, massive hand around mine makes my heart flutter.

"What about you? Siblings?" he wants to know.

"A twin," I admit.

His blue eyes stare down at me with a mischevious twinkle. "Twin. That's hot."

I smirk back up at him. "I'll tell my brother you think so."

"Oh. Oh wait! I mean…" he starts to laugh and pale cheeks turn pink and he's so ridiculously beautiful right now.

Despite being in heels I still have to rock up on my tiptoes to catch his lips with mine. But it's worth it. He stops laughing and cradles the back of my head in his hand, tangling his fingers in my hair and parts my lips with his tongue.

We make-out like teenagers again – right there on his front porch – until I'm dizzy and breathless. Finally I pull back and shiver.

"Let's get inside and warm you up," he says and unlocks his front door.

There's a small tiffany lamp on the antique desk by the staircase. Down the hall at the back of the house I can see the flames from the gas fireplace in the family room glowing.

He takes my hand and leads me back there and I remember him doing the same last night. Only we weaved a hell of a lot more. I drop down on the same leather couch I plopped down on last night.

"Don't pass out on me again," he jokes and drops down beside me.

"Don't give me 7 shots of tequila then," I snark back with a sheepish grin.

His long, lean arm reaches across me for the phone.

"Hi there I'd like to place an order for delivery," he says after dialing a number, still leaning across me. "3 tuna makki rolls. Some salmon sashimi. 4 dynamite rolls…"

As he keeps rattling off sushi I can't help but lightly kiss his neck which is inches away from me. I feel him shiver under my lips and he stutters part of his order. I pull back the collar of his shirt and nip his collarbone.

"I'll… I'll call you back," he mumbles into the phone and drops it back onto the cradle.

He grabs my face in his hands and kisses me deeply, pushing me back onto the couch and lying over me. As his lips move to my neck I push my hips up against his and he grinds back and I can feel his rock hard dick against my abdomen.

I slip my hands under the bottom of his baby blue T shirt and make contact with his warm, soft skin. He kisses me again, his tongue tangling with mine and he moans softly into my mouth as I rake my fingernails down his back.

"What about the food?" he whispers.

"Let's work up an appetite," I reply and kiss him, tugging lightly on his bottom lip with my teeth.

He seems to have no problem with that suggestion as he slips his hands up under my shirt and in one fluid motion pulls it up over my head. His eyes land on my lacey red push up bra that has my C cups looking more like D cups.

"My favorite color," he smiles and dips his head down and starts kissing a trail from my neck to my cleavage. His long fingers graze the cup of my bra and start to tug on it, but before my breast pops out I shove him away and sit up.

He looks confused until I grab the hem of his T shirt and start lifting it over his head.

"And eye for an eye," I say with a grin. "Or in this case, a shirt for a shirt."

He laughs and helps me pull it off. Before he can push me back down I start undoing his belt and I lick at the sensitive skin just below his belly button as I push his jeans down his hips. My hands slide over his ass, now covered in only black, clingy Lululemon boxer briefs and I can't believe how hard it is. A solid mound of nothing but muscle.

I wish I hit the gym more. I'm not fat my any means. I'm 5'9 and 130 pounds. I wear a size 2. But still, I mean I'm not all tight and solid like he is.

"Your ass is probably hard than your cock," I blurt out.

He looks down at, all young and angelic. And perfect. He raises an eyebrow. "Oh I doubt that."

And then he's on top of me again and we're making out like crazy and I can feel his dick pushing into my thigh and I know I was completely wrong in that statement. His cock is equally as hard as his ass.

I'm almost panting as our hands roam over each other's body and somehow in all the kissing and groping he's managed to get my bra off and my perfectly fitted Rock N Republic skinny jeans are at my ankles and his fingers are inside my red lace panties and my hands are under his boxer briefs cupping that rock hard ass.

I moan and arch my back as two of his long fingers enter me and my whole body tingles. I shove his underwear back. And feel his dick spring free and hit my inner thigh.

He pulls his hand away from my center and pulls my jeans and underwear all the way off before positioning himself on top of me.

"Protection," I remind him softly and kiss his lips.

"Yeah," He grunts and opens up a draw in the coffee table and pulls out a Trojan. I try not to think about why he keeps condoms in his family room or how many other girls he's had on this couch.

He's a pro athelete. I get it. I just don't care.

He sits back on his knees and slides the condom on as sit up, lean forward and kiss that sensitive spot just below his earlobe. He grabs my waist and pulls me up and lowers me down on his dick.

I stretch around him and my body tingles and I shiver.

"You okay?" he whispers in my ear smoothing my hair and cupping the back of my neck gently.

"Mmm," is all I can manage to say and then I raise myself slightly and lower myself back onto him and it's his turn to lose his words.

With his arms wrap tenderly around my torso, and my arms around his neck, fingers lost in his hair I move up and down, riding him slowly.

Somewhere in the back of my mind I realize that this isn't your typical hockey sex. Not that I have had sex with a hockey player before but I never thought it would be like this – slow, sensual, sexy, sweet. I thought it would be rough and wild and I think maybe later I should worry that it isn't cheap and dirty. But right now all I can think about is the feel of his skin and the taste of his lips and the feel of his dick inside me and the way it's hitting that spot that makes me see stars.

He bites down on my shoulder softly and he whispers something I can't understand and his arms tighten around me and I push down harder and rise up higher and push down harder and then I feel that warm, blinding quiver erupt and he lets out one loud, deep grunt. And holy hell I think I just had my first simultaneous orgasm with someone.

His body slumps and we fall backward onto the couch cushions. We both say nothing as the euphoria settles in and our breathing starts to return to normal.

I close my eyes and run my hand softly through his hair and he turns his head and buries it in the crook of my neck and something in me warns me again that this isn't how it should have gone down.

But it did.