“Yeah.” I sighed.
I trailed behind him down the hall to go to my room. I stripped off my pajamas and stepped into the glass-enclosed shower stall. Oh wow, that felt good. I tipped my head back and let the water stream through my hair.
Moments later, shampooed and washed up, I dressed again, changing out the T-shirt for the button-up shirt that matched the pajama pants. I found Cam back in the kitchen, shirtless.
Holy Mary, Queen of Hotness. I wanted to weep at the perfection of his body, all solid muscle and smooth skin. He wasn’t ripped like a body builder, but he definitely had abs and biceps and the perfect amount of chest hair.
He smirked at me. “I hope it’s okay, I helped myself to a glass of orange juice.”
My cheeks heated as I dragged my gaze up to his face. “Of course.”
His eyelids dropped with fatigue.
“Why don’t you go back to bed,” I suggested softly. “You look like you need more sleep.”
“Fuck. Got a game tonight.” He ran his hand through damp hair. “Good thing today’s skate is optional.”
“You can’t play tonight.” My eyes widened.
“I’ll be fine by then. But more sleep sounds good.” He drained the glass.
“You definitely need more sleep.”
“Come with me.”
I tilted my head.
“Just to sleep,” he said, without his usual cocky flirtiness. “We’re both clean, and I don’t think we’re going to blow chunks again.”
“Charming,” I murmured. For some reason, I trusted him, and I was still exhausted myself. “Fine.”
I led the way to my room. The dark shades on the windows kept it nice and dim. He went around to the other side of the bed, undid his jeans, and shoved them down.
Holy Jesus.
I thought the view of his chest was incredible, now…sweet baby Jesus. Snug black boxer briefs hugged every bulge lovingly, from his groin to his massive thighs. I may have made a slight choking noise in the back of my throat. Why? Why was this happening when we were both too ill to enjoy this? I could have wept with the unfairness of it.
He pulled the covers back and slid into the bed, and I swallowed and joined him. It should have felt weird being in bed with him, but it just felt…nice.
He immediately pulled me against him. “It’s okay,” he whispered in my ear. I could smell the scent of the body wash he’d used, one of several I kept in that bathroom. “Just gonna sleep.”
I relaxed against his big, warm body, his strong arm settling over me. I let out a soft sigh. This felt so incredibly good.
“Your bed is nice,” he murmured.
“Mmm.”
“So are you.” He nuzzled my hair. “You smell good. And you’re nice and soft. I want to cop a feel of your tits, but I won’t.” His voice sounded drowsy.
“Perv.”
“Yep. Too sick to act on it though.”
Yes, I was tingling. Yes, I was aware of his muscles and the bulge at my back. He wasn’t fully erect, but definitely solid. His chest rose and fell against my back in a slow rhythm that soon told me he was asleep. I closed my eyes and let myself revel in the feeling of a male body next to mine, holding me like I was precious.
* * *
—
We woke up a few hours later. I’m not sure why we seemed to wake up at the same time…I gradually surfaced from sleep and sensed that he was too. He squeezed me gently, our bodies curved together as if made for each other, then released me and rolled to his back. It was nearly noon.
He stretched, his arms going above his head, and I shifted away from him and rolled to my side to face him. The covers slid down to his stomach, the muscles of his chest rippling as he stretched. My belly swooped.
“Thank fuck, I feel better,” he pronounced. He turned his head. “How about you, beautiful?”
I took inventory. Stomach felt fine. In fact, it felt good to not feel bad. If that made sense. “I think I’m good too.”
“Awesome.” He rolled back toward me, gently cupped my cheek, and turned my face to his. Our eyes met. “I know this was the worst first date ever. I want to make it up to you.”
I wrestled internally. I’d never planned on a second date. I just wanted to sign him up for working with Move On Chicago. He hadn’t agreed to that, although it was possible it could still happen, if his agent agreed. But I’d wondered if the agent thing was just an excuse to not get involved, a way to put a barrier up.
On the other hand…if that was the case, he wouldn’t be asking me out again…would he?
Did he really want to see me again?
Most guys who wanted to see me again were interested in one thing. Okay, more than one thing. Money, yes. But also influence, power, ambition.
Well, if there was any hope of getting him to help us, I’d have to see him again.
“That’s taking you way too long to think about.”
He said it with cocky humor, but was there a hint of uncertainty lurking in his beautiful eyes?
“Sorry. Still out of it. Okay, yes, we can try again.”
He smiled, and it made my belly flutter down low. “Good. You’ve seen me at pretty much my worst. I wouldn’t blame you if you never wanted to see me again. Also, glad you don’t hate me for poisoning you.”
I laughed. “It wasn’t your fault.”
“Well, I feel responsible. I took you to those places.”
“You were just as sick as I was, so I don’t think it was planned.”
His smile reached inside me and squeezed my heart. “I have to get going. Gotta go home and put on a suit and get to the arena.”
“I hope you feel well enough to play.”
“I’ll see how the warm-up goes. If I’m in danger of puking over the boards, I’ll sit out.”
He threw back the covers and climbed out of bed, and I had to watch, because, wow. With his back to me, all the small muscles of his upper body were defined, and I could now see his tattoos…a black tiger curving over his left upper back and shoulder, some stylized hockey sticks in the middle, and the Aces logo on his right side, all blended together into gorgeous art. And his ass…Oh. My. God. I don’t think I’d ever seen such perfection on a man. I mean, he was still wearing boxer briefs, but, wow.
I watched him dress. He turned to face me after he’d zipped his fly and caught me ogling him. He bent to pick up his T-shirt with a smirk. “Go ahead, check me out,” he said. “I’m good with it.”
I grinned and sat up in bed. “Okay.”
“Trust me, I had no plans to be this sexy today, but hey, shit happens.”
I burst out laughing. “Your ego is huge.”
“That’s not all that’s huge. But we’ll save that for another time.” He pulled his sweater over his head. “What are your plans for today?”
“I think today will be a good day to stay in my pajamas. Maybe watch some Netflix.”
“Or a hockey game.”
“Maybe.”
“Do you like hockey? We never even talked about that.”
“I do like hockey.”
“Good.”
I slid out of bed too, glad I was modestly covered in pink and white PJs from shoulder to toes. Or maybe I wasn’t glad. Maybe I wanted to be wearing something sexy that would attract his attention and make him sorry he had to leave.
Turned out, I didn’t need sexy lingerie for that. He eyed me with heat and lust in his eyes, and moved around the bed purposefully toward me. He stopped inches from me and cupped my face. “I want to take you back to bed and strip you out of those pajamas and fuck you into next week.”
Liquid heat converged between my legs and my belly flip-flopped. I stared into his eyes.
His thumb brushed
over my lower lip. “Didn’t even kiss you after our date.”
My lips parted and my eyelids lowered as his mouth neared mine. He brushed a kiss over my lips…once, twice, then a third, longer but still soft kiss. My stomach fluttered again, that liquid heat creating an ache.
My eyes flickered open as he drew back.
“I’ll be in touch.”
“Okay.”
I padded behind him out of the bedroom. He grabbed his jacket from the spare bedroom, and I trailed him through my condo to the door. There he turned again. His smile crinkled up the corners of his eyes attractively, melting me even more inside. “See you soon. I’ll call you.”
We had each other’s numbers from the night we’d first met. “Okay. Good luck tonight.”
“Thanks.”
When I’d closed the door behind him, I leaned my forehead against it and breathed.
I’d never been on a first date where we spent the night together because we were both puking our guts out. Talk about unromantic. It should have been a complete turnoff.
It wasn’t.
I grabbed my phone and threw myself down onto my couch. I texted Paisley. Date just ended.
She didn’t even reply. My phone rang seconds later. “Holy crap!” she said, her voice high. “Where are you?”
“Home. He stayed over. But it’s not what you think.”
She made a questioning noise. “Is he gone?”
“Yeah, just left. He has a game tonight.”
“I’m coming over.”
“Okay.”
“I’ll bring food. What do you want?”
I winced at the thought of food. But then again…I was a little hungry.
“Tex-Mex?”
“No!” I paused. “I think maybe some crackers would be good.”
“Huh?”
“Long story. Can you pick up saltines?”
“Suuuuure.”
She arrived a while later with a bag of food, including a box of saltines but also some other crackers and a few interesting cheeses and some cut-up fruit. I settled on the couch with a sleeve of crackers and happily munched them, carbs be damned. “Oh, these are good. I was dying.”
“Didn’t he feed you? Or were you too busy banging to eat?”
I laughed. “Sadly, there was no banging.”
She paused and gave me big eyes. “What?”
“Long story. Sit and I’ll tell you all.”
She arranged a plate of cheese and crackers and fruit on the coffee table and sat next to me. I related the date pretty much from start to finish, the story punctuated with her comments and exclamations. When I got the point where he threw up in the bushes, she lowered her head into her hands.
“Isn’t it the worst?” I picked up another cracker.
“I’ve been on some bad dates, but never one where a guy threw up in front of me.”
“I know.” I elevated my eyebrows. “That should have been the end of anything between us.”
“I can’t believe you’re going to see him again.”
“Well, I kind of have to.” I sighed. “I asked him about being a spokesperson for us. He didn’t say no, but he didn’t say yes either. He has to run it by his agent.”
“Oh.”
“So I’m hoping he’ll still agree to do it.”
“And that’s the only reason you’re seeing him?” She hoisted an eyebrow. “Because other than calling Ralph on the big white telephone, it sounds like you had a lot of fun.”
“I actually did.” I paused. “A lot of fun.”
“Hmmm. Sounds like this might be more than business.”
“No.” I shook my head determinedly. “Not going there. Not after Jason. And Ash. And Robert. And—”
Paisley lifted a hand. “I get it. You’re not looking for love.”
“Definitely not.”
Chapter 7
Cam
It was tough to arrange another date with Olivia between my schedule and hers, but we managed to set something up for Friday night, in between a trip to Vegas and Phoenix for back-to-back games Wednesday and Thursday, and a home game Saturday.
It was also tough to figure out where to go. I went online and searched for the best restaurant in Chicago. I found one that was supposedly the best in the whole country. It was expensive as hell. That didn’t bother me, but you had to book and prepay for a twelve-course tasting menu without even knowing what you’d get. The chef was some hotshot award winner, and I liked good food, but that sounded weird to me.
Maybe we should just go to a movie and skip eating. That might be safer. Unless she wanted popcorn. Or I could do what my buddy Chaser did the first time he dated Jordyn—take her bowling. But they’d eaten burgers at the arcade. Seemed like whatever I did was going to involve food somehow. We could see a show at Second City, or a play or the opera…nah. No opera for me.
I knew she liked blues music…oh hey. I peered at an upcoming show at Thalia Hall by Leo Jaffey and Jimmy Zelmon. Even I recognized the names. This could be cool. There was a restaurant there where we could have dinner before the show. I clicked on the link for concert tickets. Sold out. Goddammit.
I tapped my fingers on my desk, then made a call. I wasn’t one to throw around fame and fortune, but sometimes you just had to do whatever it took.
Okay. Plans made. I was ready for date number two, and we were one week into the two-month deal.
Now I had another call to make.
“Hey, Ken, how’s it going?”
I chatted with my agent for a bit and then I brought up the idea of working with Move On Chicago. I’d already been to their website and checked it out. The website looked good—lots of pictures of happy, active kids. That would convince Ken that this was a worthy endeavor.
“Do you think you have time?” he asked. “It’s not that long until playoffs. Once playoffs start, you need to focus all your energy on that.”
“True.” I grimaced and rubbed the back of my neck. “But I have time until then.”
We went over all the stuff that was on my plate—we were filming some videos for the Aces for when playoffs start; they’d be played on the scoreboard and on the team website and social media. I also had one appearance scheduled at a local fundraiser for the Aces Foundation.
I gritted my teeth. Ken made it sound like I didn’t even have time to date Olivia, never mind help her with her charity. “How about I double-check with Olivia and get a better idea of exactly what’s coming up that I could help with,” I finally said.
“Olivia?”
“Uh, yeah. Olivia Lockwood. She’s the executive director.”
“Sounds like you know her.”
“Sure.”
“Mmm. Okay. Just trying to make sure you’re not over-committed. The next couple of months are important, and you need to be on top of your game.”
“I know that.”
I did know that. Lots of things may have come easily to me in life, but hockey was one thing I didn’t take for granted. I’d been given some talent, and while my parents (and sisters) pretty much bent over backward to give me everything I’d wanted as a kid, they’d made it clear that talent would only get me so far. They’d done everything in their power to make sure I was successful, but they’d also hammered it into me that I had to work for it, and if I didn’t, I’d be wasting the gift I was given, throwing away something a lot of guys dreamed about and never got the chance to do.
We ended the call. I’d see Olivia Friday, and I’d get more details from her. If she wanted me to come to a school or two between now and the playoffs, I could handle that. She’d mentioned some runs coming up, and if they worked into my schedule I could do those too.
It occurred to me that I was pretty invested i
n not having to wash a bag full of sweaty compression shorts.
Hell yeah. No way I was doing that.
Okay, I had to get ready for our road trip.
* * *
—
“And she got all pissed off because I asked her if she came.”
Chaser winced. “You asked her that after you had sex?”
We were on the plane flying home late Thursday after our game in Phoenix. Bomber, Hallsy, Chaser, and I were sitting facing each other playing cards. The rest of the plane was dark as some guys slept, a few lights on here and there for reading, team captain Duper on his laptop looking at game video.
“Yeah.” Bomber nodded.
Chaser shook his head. “Oh man. That’s bad.”
“Why? I was just trying to make sure she came.” Bomber’s forehead furrowed. “I was being considerate.”
“Asking her after you have sex is the problem,” Chaser said.
“Why?”
“Because it implies that her pleasure is an afterthought.”
Bomber grimaced.
“Yeah,” I agreed. “It’s basically saying, hope it was good for you, but I didn’t care enough to make sure.”
Bomber slumped in his seat. “Yeah. I get it.”
Hallsy leaned forward. “My fiancée designs sex toys. I know a thing or two. The problem is women have orgasms a lot less than men during sex. Unless you’re using one of Femme Products’ toys.” He grinned. “They really are amazing. I highly recommend them. But I digress. It means that we men have to go the extra mile to make sure she gets off.”
“Right,” I added. “And you want her to get off.”
“I do,” Bomber said.
“You gotta ask while you’re doing it,” Chase added. “I mean, don’t ask if she came, ask her what you can do for her.”
“I know what to do,” Bomber muttered.
“She didn’t dump you because of that, did she?” I asked.
“No. We’re going out again tomorrow night. But things were pretty cold.”
“You can make it up to her.” Chaser grinned. “Maybe get that vibrator that Kendra and Jodie make, like Hallsy said. Hey, Brick here has a date tomorrow night too. With Olivia.”
Game On Page 6