Sin Shot: Vegas Crush #2

by Miller, Raine

  "Yep. It's a far cry better than what you had going before. I think you'll be happy, but take a look at it and let me know if you need to me to go to bat on anything. It's in your inbox."

  "Okay, I'm out of town right now but I'll get to it as soon as I'm back this afternoon. Call you then."

  "Great," Scott says. "Talk to you later. Great game last night, by the way. Fucking awesome to see you back in top form."

  He hangs up and I have a pang of sadness as Ned comes to mind. I feel more than a little badly, but Scott Rose is the agent I’ve needed for a long time. The agent I’ve deserv— No, I haven’t deserved Scott until now. It wasn’t long ago that my team taunted me with vodka breakfasts and hockey honeys. And as I look back at that man, he’s not the one who deserved an agent working hard for him. He wasn’t working hard for himself or his team. Not then. But I am now. And I’ve proven myself

  Sleepy Pam comes out wrapped in the bed sheet and plops onto my lap, her head on my shoulder.

  "I woke up and you were gone," she says in a pouty voice.

  "Sorry," I say quietly, stroking her hair. "I got a call from Scott, Evan's agent."

  "Your agent now, too."

  "Yes. My agent now, too. And really glad about that, because he said he got me a great deal."

  "Oh?" she asks, perking up a bit.

  "I haven't seen it but he thinks I'll be happy. It's in my inbox."

  "Well, we should get back so you can take a look at it, then."

  "It's okay, I told him I'd look this afternoon. Let's get some breakfast, take our time."

  I pull away the sheet as she stands up and smack her ass playfully. "You should walk around naked all the time."

  "So should you," she says from over her shoulder as she heads back into the bedroom.

  I follow right behind her thoroughly enjoying the view. She looks around like she's searching for something. "I think we left my shirt and bra downstairs in the kitchen."

  "Guess you'll have to go tits-out for breakfast then," I say with a shrug. "I don't mind."

  "Louisa might, though." She sounds worried.

  "Well, Louisa's husband owns a gentleman's club. I would guess she's seen a fair share of tits in her lifetime."

  "You don't think she goes to the clubs, though?" She wrinkles her nose at me and I want to kiss it.

  "I think they’ve been married a very long time and while he enjoys the sight of naked women, he has only ever made love to his wife."

  "No way."

  "True story. He is faithful and they are kinky. Don't let her trick you, because she is a minx."

  Pam grins and shakes her head. "Well, I still need a shirt."

  I manage to find mine and she throws it on. But the outline of her tits against the soft fabric of my shirt is so tantalizing, that I decide I can't let her leave the room just yet. I trace her nipples through the fabric and she arches into my touch. So responsive to every touch.

  Needing to be fucked…

  It's the truth. She needs it. I certainly need it.

  "I'm gonna fuck you now," I nearly growl. "You okay with that?"

  "Yes, please…" Her breathless whisper is the only answer I need to hear.

  In a second, I have her on the bed, legs spread wide so I can have a good long look before sinking my cock into her. Fuck hot. I hold her open with one hand and line my cock up with the other. I don't give it to her soft this time.

  The sounds she makes only spur me on. She wants more…

  So, I give it.

  It's at least an hour before we finally make it downstairs for breakfast, but I've already had my feast.

  Twenty-Four

  Pam

  DECISIONS, DECISIONS

  Two weeks later.

  Georg: How is my sexy woman doing?

  Pam: I'm good. I have a meeting in a few, but it's slow times around here when you guys are away scoring touchdowns and homeruns.

  Georg: lol. I wish you could travel with us.

  Pam: Because you miss me.

  Georg: Because I miss you.

  Pam: Ha ha! JINX

  Georg: jinx

  Georg: See? We think the same.

  Pam: Tonight I'll be watching you play while naked in bed touching myself…per my usual.

  Georg: Niiice. FaceTime after?

  Pam: Even nicer.

  Georg: Ha! I can't wait…ILY

  Pam: ILY2. Heading into my meeting so bye for now, hot stuff. xo

  Georg: Laters, baby.

  I'm grinning as I step into Bud's office, imagining what antics Georg will be up to when we FaceTime tonight. He never disappoints. I miss him more now when he's away than I did before. It's different when you've accepted that you’re really in love with another person. But it's my first time even remotely close to feeling this way, so I’m used to fighting the doubts that creep in. Georg is confident enough for the both of us he says. I can't wait until he's back from on the road. The Crush are away on the East Coast for a series of three. If they win all three games, they'll clinch a playoff spot. It's important that Georg keeps his head in the game and focuses on playing his best. For that reason, we decided to keep our relationship a secret until the season ends. It just makes the most sense to set healthy boundaries from the start. Plus, I work on his team members, touching their bodies, but he trusts in me to know there would never be anything other than professional behavior from my end. I keep him happy off the clock, and he can remain focused on his job on the ice. We'll have the summer to come out as a couple and can go from there letting management in on the news.

  "So, Pam," Bud says, visibly uncomfortable, his forehead sweaty and his leg shaking. Also, he won't make eye contact.

  "Yes, Bud?" I ask, looking around his office.

  All training and therapy staff members report to the GM, which is a little weird. It really means we don't get much supervision at all, because Bud is often in his own world most of the time. I guess there used to be a manager for our area, but he quit to go work for the team in Nashville. Bud decided they'd save money and he'd manage this team. Which is a joke.

  "We haven't touched base in a while," he begins.

  "Ever, actually. We haven't touched base since I started working here before the start of season."

  "Ah, yes." Bud pulls a handkerchief out of his pocket and rubs his forehead with it. "Well, I'm sorry about that. I hear good things about the team down here, so I leave you guys to it. For the most part."

  "Well, it's good to see you, I guess?" I answer, not sure why he called me in today.

  "Yes, yes," he says. "Of course, it's good to see you, too. And thank you for doing such a good job this year. It's just that…well, I've heard through the grapevine that you may be violating our fraternization policy. I have on good authority that you have engaged in a relationship of a sexual nature with Georg Kolochev."

  All breath leaves my lungs.

  "Excuse me?" I ask, barely audible.

  "I've been alerted that you and Georg have been seen several times in public together. I realize that many of our staff do join players for nightlife here and again. But there were other allegations, Pam, that are harder to ignore."

  "And those are?"

  Bud actually turns beet red before he speaks. A pit forms in my stomach.

  "One of the therapy room computers was left on. The camera was left on. There's only visual of one of the other therapy tables, but there is audio. It is, uh, quite graphic. And it follows your first therapy appointment with Georg upon his return after injury."

  I have no idea what to say. The words are twisted in the back of my throat. Throwing up in the trash can by Bud's desk might be the next thing I do.

  "Pam," he says, his tone ultra patronizing, "you won't have been the first to fall prey to the sexual desires of one of our players. They're alpha males. Virile. But you’re supposed to be a professional. And whatever happened between you two should never have happened, certainly not in the professional space."

  Mortif
ied to the depths of my soul, I will myself to keep my ass planted in the chair, because my very first instinct is to run out the door and keep on running until I get to my car. Somehow, I find a way to make words come out of my mouth. "I wish I had something profound to say, sir. I lost myself in a moment of weakness and I—I really love this job. I’m sorry I acted so very irresponsibly."

  "I am going to have to ask you to consider if your love for the job can outweigh your libido, Pam. The only way this can work is if you agree to stop seeing Georg Kolochev."

  "But we're in a—but I—but I care about him," I stutter pitifully, trying to plead my case. "We have grown to care about each other. I know we can keep our relationship away from the team. We can certainly be more private with it."

  "You do realize that Georg Kolochev is known for being quite sexually active. You're not even the first staff member he's fornicated with. I doubt you'll be the last. I suggest you make the right decision here. Just end things and date someone not associated with the team. Simple."

  "Evan had a reputation once, too. And now he and Holly are married with a baby," I argue. "People change, Bud."

  Bud shakes his head. "You have two choices, Pam. You can continue to work for the Crush and end your relationship with Georg, or you can continue to see him and lose your job."

  There doesn't seem to be anything else to say. At least, nothing that will help. I thank Bud for his time and let him know I'll get back to him later with my decision.

  * * *

  I don't know what to do with myself for the remainder of the day.

  My mind keeps spinning in an endless cycle of embarrassment, mortification, and pure panic. My first thought is to lay it all out to Georg and let him deal with it, but I know that's the absolute worst thing I could do.

  I can't upset him right now with the Crush on the cusp of going to the playoffs. He's just come off IR and is playing so well. I cannot let him jeopardize his focus because of me.

  Which is undoubtedly the reason for the Crush organization having their non-fraternization policy in the first place. Fuuuuck.

  What. The. Fuck. Have. I. Done.

  I've created a nightmare.

  I caused it.

  And now my heart feels like it's being ripped out of my chest.

  * * *

  I'm a complete wreck by the time I pull into Holly's driveway. After enduring a truly torturous day as the remainder of my work hours crawled by painfully slow, every shred of emotional control I'd managed to hold on to disappears the instant I ring her doorbell. She answers the door with the baby in her arms and a smile on her face as if all is right in the world. Because right now, everything is right in her world.

  Oh, dear friend, have I got a story for you.

  Annnnd that's my cue to bust into a seriously ugly cry right there on her doorstep.

  "Oh my gosh, Pam, what is going on? Get in here and talk to me."

  I follow my friend into the house and to the kitchen, where she gets to work setting a tea kettle to boil. She does all of this efficiently while swaying sweet baby Danya in her arms. I plop myself into a seat at the kitchen island, drop my head in my hands…and sob.

  "Bud says it's my job or my relationship with Georg," I tell her after I've had a good minute of pity-crying.

  "Wait, what happened? How did he find out?" She pushes a box of tissues toward me.

  "A coworker outed me…I think." I valiantly attempt to wipe away my tears before more of them spring from my eyes. I've never felt more like a ridiculous mess than I do right now. "There was audio of a, um, very graphic make-out session in the therapy room."

  Holly's eyes go wide and her mouth puckers into a O.

  "Yeah, not my smartest choice. But Bud made it sound like I was just one in a string of women who fall into bed with Georg. He treated it like I was a victim or something."

  "Well, Georg does have a reputation," Holly says. "But they all kind of do, honestly. And I'm proof that they can maintain real, healthy, long-term relationships."

  "Holly…"

  "What are you not telling me, Pamela?"

  "Georg and I spent the weekend together after his first game back. He told me he loves me. And I told him the same."

  Holly's eyes go even wider. They look like they might pop out of her head. I feel awful for not telling her before now, but there hasn’t been time to simply hang with her. I’ve missed that. "Whoa. I think I already knew that. You wouldn't be sitting here crying if you didn't feel the same."

  "I do," I say. "I don't know how or when it happened. It seemed casual, kind of. A date here and there. Some mix-ups. Some jealousy. A lot of making out. Normally, I'd be done with someone after this long."

  "But you don't want to be done with Georg," my friend says softly. "Because you love him."

  "Yes, I love him. But if I stay with him, I'll lose my job, not to mention cause a whole blow up between management and staff relations.

  "I think you can get around that though. I didn't lose my job. I was worried about it for sure, but once we had Max in our corner, everything was fine. So maybe you just need to go to Max?"

  "I don't have that relationship with Max Terry," I say. "I've only met the man in passing."

  "Well, maybe Evan and I could—"

  "No." I shake my head definitively. "Just—no. I can't ask that of the two of you."

  "Well, we’ll think of something," Holly says confidently.

  The tea kettle sounds and she pulls it off the burner. She preps two cups before taking the sleeping baby and wandering toward the living room. When she comes back empty-handed, she hands me a cup of tea and then brings her own so she can sit down.

  "Is she fussy?" My valiant attempt at changing the subject to anything that won't make me burst into tears again.

  "Dany? No. She's normal, I think. Overall good. I mean, I think so anyway. I don't have a lot of opportunity to compare."

  "You're calling her Dany now. Cute."

  "Yeah," she says with a smile. "Evan and I both really like it. Danya seems very formal. She'll need to grow into it, I think."

  "I like it too." Grasping at straws to find anything to talk about that's not about me, I ask, "How's Scarlett doing now that she's demoted back to press passes and releases? I haven't hung out with her in a few weeks."

  "She's fine," Holly says. "Well, at least from a work perspective. Did you know she grew up in Vegas?"

  "I think maybe she told me that. And that she moonlights in one of the casinos to make extra money."

  "Yes," Holly answers excitedly. "And her father disappeared under very suspicious circumstances. Gambling debts or some such thing. She knows a lot about the gambling underground. I guess her last boyfriend was a big name in competitive poker? Did you know that?"

  "Nope. She talked about owing money and knowing mobsters when she saw them, but nothing about a poker-playing boyfriend."

  "Well, he passed away, I guess," Holly says. "Apparently, he committed suicide. And Scarlett's barely like twenty-three. She's been through a lot already. It's a miracle she can function in life, I'd say."

  "Was this recent? I don't think she ever mentioned having a boyfriend. She's always been flirtatious and fun when we've gone out. Like nothing was wrong. But you're right. She's a young thing so it can't have been that long ago."

  "Not sure," Holly says with a shrug. "She didn't go into detail. I can't remember how it came up—we were talking about celebrity poker for the foundation with the players or something and she ended up telling us."

  "Wow, I had no idea about any of that. I'll have to check in with her."

  Holly sighs heavily. "So…what are you going to do about Georg?"

  "That I do not know."

  I can't talk about it anymore with her though. Because if I do, I'll start up with the ugly-crying again and that solves nothing.

  In my heart, I know exactly what I have to do. There is no other option for me.

  Tomorrow or the next day I'll go into work and
tell Bud I've made my decision.

  I'll text Georg and make some excuse why I can't FaceTime with him tonight. Because how can I talk to him? How can I look into his loving and insightful eyes knowing our lives are about to change and not lose it completely? He knows me too well. He’ll see it in my eyes. I’ll text him I love him, because he needs to know that. He needs to know how incredible my life has been since I met him. How incredible he is.

  And then my heart will officially be broken into a million tiny pieces.

  That can't be put back together.

  Twenty-Five

  Georg

  IT'S HARD BEING IN LOVE

  We won three in a row on the road and are now headed to the playoffs with home-ice advantage. There's a very real chance we might take home the cup a second year in a row—by the skin of our teeth, so to speak. This was a hard year.

  In spite of the excitement around another playoff berth and a multi-year, multi-million-dollar contract, courtesy of super-agent Scott, I can't enjoy it. Why? Because my girl has gone silent on me. Nearly the whole time I've been gone. She messaged that she couldn't make our FaceTime date but never explained why. I've called and left messages with no callbacks from her. I've texted and gotten emoji replies only. It's not like her at all, and my senses tell me something's not right.

  "Maybe she's sick?" Evan offers as we board the plane back to Vegas.

  "I doubt it. If she was sick, she’d tell me." Hell, she'd waste no time telling me if she didn't feel good. I know her.

  "Let me text Holly real quick. She'll know if Pam's okay." Evan sends Holly a text while we're boarding. A few minutes later he looks up from his phone and says, "She's dealing with some work stress per Holly."

  "Why wouldn't she respond to me, though? If it's just work stress?" I know I sound like a big baby, but I can't help it. My gut is telling me something is wrong. I have a very bad feeling about this.