After that, I’ll have to come clean, and I dread it. But I can’t seem to keep that part of my life buried, and I can’t risk her finding out about it some other way. She needs to hear it from me.
I dreamed about her again last night. There was nothing tame about this one. She was straddled on my lap, my hands wrapped around her ass cheeks as I rocked her up and down on my cock. Her sweet mouth parted as she moaned and gasped her way through our hard, sweaty fuck. Just as we were both coming, my shaft buried completely inside her, I woke up.
I don’t think I’ve ever come so quickly from jerking off. And within an hour, I was feeling the urge again.
All this pent-up sexual energy has actually been good for my game though. I pretty much fly over the wall onto the ice, and I give everything I’ve got every second I play. When I get hit, I hardly even feel it. All I’m thinking about is getting my legs moving as fast as they’ll go so I can work out this frustration.
It pays off. I score the first goal, and Anton follows it quickly with another. Our second line pulls down another goal, and we take the game 3-2. Knox doesn’t get into a single scrape with Nero.
I’m dead tired after the game, so I go back to my room and order room service. While I’m waiting for my food to arrive, I text Lindy.
Me: Hey, you still up?
Lindy: Yes, I’m reading in bed. Great game tonight! That was such a long, hard shot. My dad said your brass balls paid off. LOL
Me: Tell your dad thanks for me. I felt so good playing tonight. I liked knowing you were watching me.
Lindy: Well you just made that sound dirty…
Me: Is that a problem?
Lindy: Not at all. I like dirty stuff.
I smile at my phone screen. God, is she cute.
Me: Well, I’d love to watch you sometime, too.
Lindy: Oh. That sounds fun.
Me: Yeah?
Lindy: Yeah, if you’re willing to teach me what you like…
Oh fuck. I almost come in my pants when I read that. I exhale hard and text her back.
Me: I want us to get to a place where we have phone sex. Badly. But not before our first date. And I can hardly control myself right now, so I need to let you go. I’m gonna eat some room service and go to bed.
Lindy: Okay. I’m gonna read like I don’t have to get up early in the morning, but I do. Safe travels back home.
Me: I can’t wait for our date.
Lindy: I’m excited too.
Me: Goodnight, gorgeous girl.
Lindy: Goodnight.
Chapter Twenty-One
Lindy
Ari steps back and admires her work on my hair and makeup.
“I feel like a proud mom,” she says, running a hand over my smooth, perfectly straight hair. “My baby’s first date with a hot hockey player.”
I get a good look at myself in her bathroom mirror, turning from side to side to take everything in. She gave me a full makeover, and I can’t believe the final result.
“I don’t even look like me.”
“You do so,” she says crossly. “This is just a sleeker version of you, mama. Blown out hair and smoky eyes suit you.”
“I feel like a clown.”
“Well, put on some big floppy shoes and go with it, because you look hot and I’m not changing it. This was our compromise—no hoochie top, but I get to do your makeup.”
I roll my eyes. “Why can’t I live in a world where subtle clothes and makeup exist?”
Ari groans loudly. “This is subtle, Lindy. I didn’t use any glitter.”
My eyes widen and my feet start moving of their own volition. I have to get out of here before she gets any ideas about adding anything else.
“I still say you should wear this,” she says, holding up a scrap of black fabric she’s been trying to loan me for my date with Victor. “It’ll knock him off his feet.”
“I appreciate it, but I’m going with my trusty jeans and hoodie.”
“It’s a date. At least wear heels and a v-neck top.”
“We’re going out for burgers and ice skating. And this is me. I don’t want him to think I’m trying to be someone I’m not.”
Ari begrudgingly agrees. “You look gorgeous no matter what you’re wearing.”
I glance at the time on my phone, feeling a flutter in my belly. “I have to get going.”
Squealing, Ari grabs me in a hug. “Text me at least ten times during the date. I want to know everything. I’d prefer photos.”
I laugh as I squeeze her back. “I’ll do my best. Thanks for today. You’re the best best friend ever.”
“Don’t make me cry.” She pulls back and waves a hand, dabbing at the corners of her eyes. “This guy I’m going out with tonight could be the one, and I want to look my best.”
“He’s not the one, Ari,” I assure her.
“You don’t know that.”
“Any guy who asks if you swallow before you’ve even met him is not the one.”
She frowns. “We can’t all get with Victor Lane, you know.”
“There are plenty of other nice men out there. You don’t even give the nice ones a chance.”
Her hands on my shoulders as she stands behind me, Ari rushes me to the front door of her apartment. “Thanks, Mom. Have a good time tonight. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!”
Once she closes the door behind me, I take a deep breath, a wave of nervousness rising over me. The whole walk to the El Train, I think about what could go wrong tonight.
I could trip and fall, scratching up my face as I hit the ground and then bleeding all over Victor in a most unsexy fashion.
A fart could sneak up on me out of nowhere just as he’s about to kiss me, ruining the moment.
I could blurt out the news that I had a poster of him in my room for years, and that I kissed it goodnight so many times you could see the wet lip prints if you looked at it from the right angle.
Being me, I’m prepared for my goofy, awkward moments. But I’ve never had to worry about a man I’m crazy about witnessing them until Victor. I’m not sure this dating thing is my jam.
An older guy on the El Train moves from his seat to sit across from me, and then starts rubbing his crotch as he looks at me. I mouth “pervert” at him until he at least looks in another direction. Just another ride on the El Train, it’s nothing unusual.
It’s almost November, and the walk home is cold. I wrap my old black coat around me tightly, reminding myself again that I need to take it down to my neighbor Beth and have her sew on a new zipper. I never remember until it’s so cold that I don’t want to leave my coat with her, even for a few days.
When I get home, I notice the unfamiliar scent of lemon as I walk through the front door.
“Dad?” I call out as I slide off my coat.
“Hey, in here.” He sticks his head in the doorway between our kitchen and living room.
I walk to the kitchen and see that he’s…mopping the floor. My dad has never once mopped. I’ve been the only one to do anything beyond washing the dishes in this kitchen for the last twenty years.
He grins at me, wiping a washcloth across his forehead to catch the sweat. “Figured I should spruce the place up a bit. It’s not every day an NHL player picks my daughter up for a date.”
“That’s great, Dad. Thanks.” I get a bottle of water from the fridge. “Anything I can do to help?”
“Nope, I got it. You look nice, by the way.”
“Thank you.”
“The guys are coming by later; hope that’s okay.”
Oh crap. I didn’t even think about that. I manage to smile and tell my dad it’s fine, but inside I’m just praying Don doesn’t lay into Victor about a mistake he made in a game once. When it comes to his sports teams, Don neither forgives nor forgets.
I don’t have long to worry about it. When there’s a knock on the door at 6:00 p.m. sharp, I grab my handbag and hurry into the living room. There’s no hope of scooting out of here quickly, thou
gh.
“Nice to meet you, sir,” Victor is saying as he shakes my dad’s hand.
“You too. Come on in.”
Don’s the first one off of the couch, and his eyes are shining with excitement. “Victor, it’s a real pleasure. I’m a lifelong Blaze fan.”
Victor smiles as he shakes hands with the guys. “Fantastic, thanks for your support.”
“Hey,” I say, my coat and bag in hand.
Victor turns away from the guys to face me. “Hi.” He grins, but makes no move to touch me. “You look beautiful.”
“Thanks.”
“You kids have time for a beer before you go?” Dad asks.
It’s the last thing I really want, but I know it would mean a lot to my dad, so I appreciate it when Victor readily agrees and accepts the cold can of Old Style my dad passes him.
“You guys are having a great season,” Dad says, gesturing for Victor to sit on the couch.
“Hey, thanks. You must be the one who taught Lindy about hockey.”
“Oh, yeah.” Dad gives me a warm look. “She was always my little game-watching buddy. Brought a note home from her teacher in third grade ‘cause she got in trouble for saying the Bears got fucked in the ass in the playoffs. No idea where she picked that up.”
Everyone laughs, although mine is a half-hearted please don’t let this get any more humiliating kind of chuckle.
“Hey, you guys got that new goalie watchin’ film?” Chuck asks Victor. “He doesn’t seem to know his forwards like West does.”
Victor shakes his head. “Jonah’s one of the best. We really miss him.”
“When’s he coming back, anyway?” Don asks. “We need him.”
“Hopefully soon.”
Victor handles more questions and advice with ease, and as soon as he finishes his beer, Dad stands up and says, “We’ll let you kids get out of here. You got better things to do than hang out with a bunch of old-timers.”
“Bye, Dad.” I give him a quick hug. “Bye guys.”
Everyone shakes Victor’s hand again, and we’re almost out the door when Don says, “Victor, be good to our girl or we’ll beat the shit out of you with a lead pipe.”
There’s a moment of awkward silence before Dad laughs and says, “I’m sure that won’t be necessary.”
“I hope not,” Don concedes. “But I do have a lead pipe in my garage. Just sayin’ is all.”
He sips his beer, as casual as if he was discussing the weather. I grab Victor’s arm and hustle him out to the front porch.
“I’m sorry,” I say, cringing.
“What for? That was great.”
I scoff. “Have you ever picked a woman up and been threatened before?”
He waves a hand dismissively. “They’re just looking out for you. They seem like a good bunch.”
He takes my hand as we walk down the stairs and escorts me around to the passenger side of his black SUV. After situating himself in the driver’s side seat, he looks at me with a smile and reaches into the back seat.
“Before we go, I have something for you.”
He grabs a big, rectangular box wrapped in shiny silver paper and a big red bow. I flush with surprise as he passes me the gift.
“Oh wow. Thank you.”
It’s the most beautifully packaged present I’ve ever seen. I run my hand over the smooth wrapping, admiring it.
“Open it,” he says, giving me an impatient look.
I tear into the paper, revealing a plain white box. When I pull the top off, I find a charcoal-colored wool coat with black buttons and a silvery-white faux-fur-trimmed hood.
“Oh my gosh.” I take it from the box, shocked by his generosity. “This is for me?”
“It is; do you like it?”
“I love it. It’s…it’s absolutely gorgeous and I love it. Thank you so much.”
“I’m glad you like it.” He starts the car and looks over at me, winking. “But you’re still welcome to borrow mine anytime.”
I put the coat on as soon as we get to the downtown pub we’re eating at. It fits perfectly, and is hands down the most beautiful thing I’ve ever owned.
As soon as we walk into the pub, people turn to look at Victor. A couple guys recognize him and congratulate him on his recent stats as we walk towards an open table. Women eye him like a tall, cold drink on a hot day. Instead of feeling like I don’t belong with him, I enjoy it. With my hair and makeup done, I’m a more confident version of myself. I let the excited sensation tingle down my spine, not giving the voice of doubt a chance to ruin it.
Victor helps me remove my coat and puts his palm on the small of my back, looking down at me.
“This place good with you?”
My lips part and I exhale soft and slow, his touch sending a warm sensation throughout my entire body. I nod, still holding his gaze, and he seems to read my mind, pressing his palm a little harder against my back before releasing me and pulling my chair out.
I never knew tension could feel so amazing. There’s something unspoken happening between us right now that’s making me squeeze my legs together beneath the table. How can I get this turned on from just a look?
“Hey guys, what can I get you?” our busty server asks us.
“Alcohol,” I blurt.
She laughs and asks, “Anything specific?”
“A Miller Lite would be great.”
“I’ll have the same,” Victor says.
As she walks away, he says, “I love that you like beer.”
“It’s a rite of passage in my neighborhood. We pretty much have it in our sippy cups.”
“Your dad and his friends are great. I’m glad I got to meet them.”
“Really, though?” I arch my brows in surprise.
“Really. I’m just a down-home boy myself. I grew up in a neighborhood a lot like yours.”
“Did you ever get into any trouble?”
He grins mischievously. “I might’ve.”
The waitress sets down our bottles and I take a drink from mine. “That’s all I get? No details?”
“Ah…” Victor runs a hand through his hair, smiling. “I don’t want you to think less of me.”
“Oh, come on. You’ve got to give me something.”
He takes a long pull on his bottle and says, “Okay. I was a bit of a hustler. Some buddies and I ran a kissing school when we were, I don’t know, twelve maybe? It was out of my friend’s basement while his parents were at work during the summer. We’d charge guys to kiss girls and give the girls a cut of what we made.”
I laugh at the mental image. “What a little entrepreneur you were.”
Victor shakes his head. “We told the girls they had to audition by kissing us for free. That was way better than the money.”
“I bet you never had trouble finding girls to kiss. You had to be cute back then, with those blue eyes and that blond hair.”
He shrugs. “I did okay. What about you? You’re cute as hell. You had to have guys interested in you.”
“You’re giving me too much credit.” I think back on my adolescence. “My dad was pretty protective, especially since he was working and I was home by myself for summers and always after school. He kinda had me convinced boys were only out for one thing and I should punch anyone who tried to get frisky.”
He gives me an amused grin. “I can see that. Did you ever do it?”
“Oh, sure.”
“Your dad was right, by the way. Pubescent boys have a one-track mind.”
We order burgers and fries and talk more about our childhoods. I notice that Victor says nothing about his mom. It’s almost like he doesn’t even want to acknowledge her existence, and given what he’s told me about her, I understand why.
I tell him about losing my mom, and he tells me about growing up without a father. Over dinner, we get back to our usual easy banter, the tension defused. After that, he drives us about half an hour to an ice skating rink on the outskirts of the city.
“I haven’t
ice-skated since I was a kid.” I tell him.
“I’ve got you.” He winks and we get out of the car.
He leads me around to a side door, where he uses a key to get inside. The rink is small and a little rundown, but we have it all to ourselves.
The scents of leather and popcorn fill the air. I can feel the laughter here, even though it’s dark and abandoned.
Victor finds the lights and we walk behind the counter to get skates.
“The guy who owns this place is a big Blaze fan,” he explains. “I come here for open skate on Sundays to skate with the kids when I can.”
I roll my eyes. “Stop trying to impress me, I’m not falling for it.”
His laugh is hearty, his eyes sparkling with amusement. “I’m not bullshitting.”
“So on Saturdays, do you rescue puppies from burning buildings?”
“Every other Saturday; how’d you know?”
I’m the worst ice skater ever. As I try to propel myself forward, I have to clutch Victor’s arms while he skates backwards just to remain upright. But once we get into a rhythm, it’s nice. Fun, even.
Our blades cut smooth paths over the ice, our breath making clouds in the frosty air. We’re on the edge of a city where millions of people are laughing, working and sleeping, but I feel like we’re the only two people in the world.
“Your cheeks are rosy,” Victor says as he leads me into a turn on the ice. “You know what that does to me.”
I smile, every butterfly in my stomach taking flight at once. Victor slows to a stop, pulling me into his arms. My feet slide as I let go of him, and a little cry of worry breaks free as I yelp.
“I won’t let you fall,” he says lightly.
I want to tell him it’s too late for that. I fell a long time ago, first for the man I dreamed he was, and later for the man he is. And just like standing so precariously on a sheet of ice while balanced on twin blades, it’s scary as hell. I could wipe out at any second, and it would hurt.
All those fears disappear when he kisses me, though. He holds me close, the air cold and my body warm as our mouths meet again and again. He kisses my lips, my throat, my cheeks and my earlobes.
Victor: A Chicago Blaze Hockey Romance Page 12