by Tharp, Emma
"Shots?" Neil looks at me as if this is even a question.
"Did you see the game tonight?"
"Four shots of vodka and two beers," Neil tells the bartender.
We clink the glasses together and down the first and then the second shots. The burn feels good, but it isn't enough.
"So, what was up tonight? Were you feeling off?" Neil asks, his dark brows pinching together.
"No, I really wasn't. I went in there ready to play. I'm sure I'll be fine for the next game." I tip back my beer and drink half the pint in a few long swallows. The last thing I want to talk about is how shitty I played.
"You're ready to party tonight. Woo hoo." Neil slaps me on the back a few times.
"Where are the women?" I scan the vicinity close to us and there’s not one person who looks interesting to me.
"No Chloe tonight?" Neil dances around to the beat of the music playing. It's some R&B song I've never heard of.
"Nope. That's over." I do my best to act like I don't give a shit. I really don't. But man, I'd love to taste her tonight—to feel her round hips in my hands. If I don’t stop thinking about her, I’m going to have a hard-on in the middle of the bar.
I finish the rest of my beer and order another.
"All right. Let's find some ladies," Neil announces, his eyes taking in the surroundings.
I grab my beer from the bartender and pay.
We saunter to the other end of the bar. I study faces, bodies, and body language, but there's no one who stirs anything in me. All I can see is Chloe's beautiful blonde hair and cute button nose. I’ve got to get her out of my head.
"What about these two?" Neil points to the corner of the dance floor. There are two women in barely any clothes, both with long legs and dark hair. I wonder if they’re sisters.
"Lead the way," I tell him.
Upon closer inspection, the girls’ faces are too tan, like anyone could be this tan in November in Toronto. And they're wearing so much makeup it’s like everything on their faces is fake from their cheekbones to their eyebrows. Why are they trying so hard?
I drink most of my beer as Neil introduces us to the women. Their names are Cat and Bunny.
I let out a loud laugh and quickly cover my face. They've got to be kidding me. Like we’re going to believe that their names are kitty cat and bunny rabbit. Shit, the alcohol is going to my head. I should've eaten before we got here.
"Excuse me, I need to take this." I point to my phone as if it's just rung.
I mouth “sorry” to Neil and go outside into the cold November air. It’s like a slap across the face. Yes, I know what that feels like and it isn’t pleasant.
Looking at my phone, I go to my contacts and almost click Chloe's number. Fuck, she told me not to. I'm not going to be that guy. Instead, I tap on the Uber app and order a car to go home. I’d rather jerk off than stay here another minute with these women. I’ll find someone new next time I’m out.
Four
Chloe
I nearly burn my bottom lip with a chicken wing and drop it back in the basket, sauce dripping down my fingers.
"Why do you always order the hot? You never can handle them," Hudson, my older brother says, laughing at me.
I glare at him and take a sip of my beer, hoping it'll cool my mouth off. "I know. They hurt me, but I love them anyway." Sounds like my history with men.
Hudson and I like to come to Jake’s Sports Bar to watch games. Doesn’t matter if it’s football, hockey, or baseball. We both love sports and it gives us a reason to get together.
"Maybe you should order the mild next time,” he says, wiping his saucy fingers on a napkin.
I nod, but we both know I’ll never do that. I’ve been this way my entire life. A little stubborn, set in my ways, and I like what I like. If I make my mind up about something, chances are I’m not likely to change it. I’ll make my way through the wings, slowly. "I'll take that into consideration."
“Any guy prospects?” he probes. We can’t ever hang out and watch a hockey game without him asking about my personal life. He’s got a wife and two kids, a boy and a girl. And he, like my parents, can’t wait to see me married.
“Nope. Nada. I’m only twenty-six. I’ve got time,” I say calmly, even though it irks me that they always ask. My family thought I was going to marry my high school sweetheart until we went away to college and he couldn’t keep it in his pants. Sure, my heart was broken, but I’ve moved on, and I don’t plan on settling down until I find the right man. I refuse to settle.
"Dammit!"
I look up from my food toward Hudson, who’s frowning at the TV above the bar. The Cyclones just got scored on. Again. Now they’re losing by two goals.
"That sucks." I cautiously nibble at one of my chicken wings and focus on the game. Marcus and Derek Parker, another one of his teammates, skate down toward their zone. Derek sends the puck toward Marcus with a perfect pass. There's no way he should miss this shot. But I know as soon as he winds up that it's not going to connect with the net.
"Holy hell. Marcus Reid has been sucking ass lately. The Cyclones never should have picked him up." My brother shakes his finger at the screen with disgust.
My heart sinks in my chest. My brother has no idea that I was sleeping with Marcus. It's been three weeks since I broke things off with him. And he has been playing terribly ever since. My ego is not big enough to believe that it's my fault that he’s playing this poorly, but it hurts to see him playing this way. "He did pretty well at the beginning of the season."
"Yeah, but he isn’t now. They should trade him before the deadline. I think it’s in February, but why wait? The dude has been dead weight for a while now,” he says, lips curling.
My brother is a diehard Toronto Cyclones fan. He seemed happy about the news that Marcus got traded here at the beginning of the season, but now he’s singing a different tune. "I'm sure it's a fluke."
"Fluke or not, if I were Coach Ryan and the owners, I would strongly consider getting rid of his sorry ass." The harshness in his tone isn't a surprise to me. He speaks passionately about his team regularly, but when it's directed at Marcus, it stings.
There are times when I miss Marcus, especially at night when my bed is cold, but I know I made the right decision for me, my heart, and my career. Yet hearing Hudson slamming Marcus creates a pang of sympathy for the man who shared my bed for several months.
“Oh,” I murmur and pick the meat off a wing with my fingers.
"How has work been?" Hudson asks. A welcome change of subject.
"Great. Finishing up a story now about the Toronto Stars’ new starting center." My mood brightens talking about work. I love my job, and this interview was a big one for me with Toronto’s NBA team. It means that my boss trusts me. He’s been giving me bigger pieces lately and I’ve been working hard to impress him.
"Congrats. That's a big story to cover." Hudson pats me on the back. Hopefully there's no wing sauce on my new light blue sweater now.
"Thanks. It feels great. A big honor for me.” All the more reason for me to stay away from Marcus.
Although, the way he's playing he may not have a career in the NHL much longer.
Five
Marcus
If there was a picture of a desperate man in the dictionary, it’d be me.
My career feels like it’s hanging in the balance. Everything I’ve worked my whole life for. It’s as if it’s all slipping away from me, and nothing makes me feel more helpless. For the last month, I’ve played the worst hockey of my life and only one variable has changed in that time frame.
My heart beats hard in my chest. I've got to do something to turn my game around and I've got to do it soon. That's why I’m here knocking on Chloe's apartment door.
When it swings open, Chloe is standing there with a small crease in her forehead. Her hair is wet and wrapped in a bun on top of her head. She's wearing a tank top with pajama shorts. Adorable, and oh so fuckable.
"Can I co
me in? I need to talk." My tone is pleading.
For a moment, it looks as though she's going to open the door wider and let me pass by, but she hesitates. "I'm not sure if this is a good idea."
Putting my hands in the air in mock surrender, I say, "I promise I will keep my hands to myself. I really need to talk to you though."
She must see the desperation on my face, because she moves out of the way and lets me come in.
We stand just inside the door, in her kitchen. She leans her back against the counter and folds her arms in front of her. "What brings you by?"
Breathing in deeply, I go to the kitchen table, pull a chair out, and have a seat. “It’s good to see you.”
She doesn’t respond so I go on. "As I’m sure you’ve seen, I've been playing like shit. I’m pretty sure I know what’s off."
There's something in her eyes that looks an awful lot like sympathy. "What is it?"
"I think it's you. I was playing the best hockey of my life before you cut me off." I run my hands through my hair. "Sleep with me again." I’m blunt because there’s no way to sugar coat this.
"No."
"Come on. The sex was amazing. And no one is going to find out." I’ve thought long and hard about this. I can't go back to Sara, the first woman I slept with here in Toronto. She was hot, but way too clingy. It has to be Chloe. She’s easy to be around and has a good head on her shoulders—not to mention, how incredibly sexy she is. We had a good thing going, too; she has to see that.
She looks away from me and in toward her living room. "You don't understand, Marcus. My career is my priority. I need to stay focused and maintain the respect I've earned. I'm sorry. And besides, I'm sure you can find another woman to sleep with. See if that does the trick."
Nope. It’s unbelievable. I’ve been looking for a possible replacement, but nobody is fitting the bill. I don’t know what the fuck is wrong with me.
This isn't going how I thought it was going to go. No, she has never caved easy on anything, but I thought that maybe she’d take pity on me. I don’t want it to be any random woman. I want Chloe. Standing, I clear my throat and move closer to her, but still leave some distance. "What if I help you? I'll give you exclusive interviews."
She looks at me now, those dark sapphire eyes examining my face. "So, this arrangement of yours, what does it entail?"
I smirk. Now we're getting somewhere. "It will be the perfect business arrangement. We have mind-blowing sex, and you get interviews from me, insider stuff that I won't give to anyone else." I dare to take a step closer to her. Her lilac perfume hits my nose causing my dick to twitch. "What do you say?"
"Unlimited interviews?"
I can almost see her naked body sprawled out in front of me, can almost taste her sweet skin. "As many as you want."
“Information you won’t give to anyone else?” she asks, a hint of a smirk playing at the corners of her mouth.
“I’ll only talk to you. Nobody else,” I say, easing myself in so close to her, I can feel her chest heaving.
"Okay, but we keep this quiet."
Six
Chloe
If Marcus is going to use me for sex, I'm going to use him right back to further my career. It’s a major coup for me to have these exclusive interviews. There’s no doubt in my mind that the publicity could earn me recognition from bigger publications.
And the sex is amazing. It’s a win-win. I can’t let myself think otherwise. In fact, I barely think at all before I agree to his terms. This isn’t like me, acting before I think it through, but something in my gut tells me to go for it, so that’s what I do.
Marcus moves in on me like a predator moving toward its prey the second I say yes.
I've missed his mouth on me. When he kisses that sweet spot on my neck, I know that we can make this work. My knees weaken as he continues licking and teasing the spot under my ear. A pulse starts to throb between my thighs.
He slams his lips against mine, kissing me with a ferocity that I’ve only ever felt with this man. He doesn't waste any time; his fingers tug aside the thin material of my shorts and he presses his finger inside me.
I moan into his mouth when he curls his finger forward and hits my G-spot. He adds another finger and quickens his pace. I didn't realize how bad I needed release, but it's coming fast and hard. A few more sweeps of his tongue in my mouth and thrusts of his fingers, and I tilt my head back and cry out as I come apart.
Before my next breath, he grips my ass and hoists me onto the counter.
I rip his shirt up and off and run my hands along the smooth ridges of his chest and abs. Damn, he’s sexy.
He pulls a condom out of his pocket, rips it down, and puts it on. Then he yanks his pants and boxer briefs off.
With my shorts still shoved to the side, he slams into me in one quick thrust. My eyes fly open, only to find his burning with desire staring back at me. The feel of him inside me, the fullness, I didn't realize how much I missed it. He lets out a deep growl that seems to rumble from his chest.
His hand pulls the top of my tank top down, freeing my breasts. He leans in and tugs one of my nipples into his mouth. He bites down, creating a slight sting of pain before he sucks it into his mouth, creating intense pleasure. I fist the back of his hair and let out a long moan.
Marcus moves his hands to clutch the edge of the counter, his arms shaking. He drags his tongue up my neck, kissing my jaw and stopping to claim my mouth once more. Sucking my bottom lip between his teeth, he teases me and then runs his velvety soft tongue against mine.
Shifting, I put one foot on the counter and Marcus deepens the thrusts, flexing his hips and bottoming out. I whimper into his mouth.
"Fuck, Chloe," Marcus hisses and lays his forehead against mine.
We stare at each other, both panting.
"I'm close.” I wrap my arms around his neck and my legs around his hips.
His muscles continue to flex as he pounds into me, faster now.
I lose myself in the moment and come apart around Marcus.
"Yes, baby," he pants into my neck seconds before he orgasms.
He pulls me in and holds me close as our breathing slows and comes back to normal.
It was good. Better than good.
When my chest stops heaving, I send up a silent prayer that I'm not getting myself in too deep. I hope I made the right decision.
Seven
Marcus
Waking up after last night’s game, I feel refreshed and rejuvenated. The sun seems to be shining brighter today. I had the best game that I've had in weeks. With two goals and an assist, my coach and I couldn't be more pleased.
It’s hard to explain how it felt to play last night, but my stick felt lighter in my hand, as if it was an extension of my own body. Everything connected between me and the ice. It’s like it used to be weeks ago. I’m not sure why it stopped feeling that way for a while, but I’m thrilled that it’s not like that anymore.
I've got my mojo back, and I owe it all to Chloe.
Our interviews start today. I'm unreasonably excited to see her again. And I look forward to reading what she writes about me. I’ve read some of her work and she is a talented writer with a knack for telling a story. I’m honored that she’s going to write about me. We really do have the perfect arrangement.
Drinking a protein shake and scrolling through the scores from last night’s games on my phone, there's a knock at my door. Checking the time, I’m confused as to who could be here. I'm not expecting anyone and I’m supposed to be leaving for Chloe's house for my interview soon. Maybe I got it wrong and she's coming here. My body heats up.
Checking through the peephole, my stomach sinks. It's Sara. Shit! I haven't seen her in months. What could she want?
Reluctantly, I open the door and let her in. Hopefully, I can get this conversation over with quickly so I’m not late getting to Chloe's. I like our arrangement too much to mess it up and be late.
"Sara, I wasn't expecting to se
e you at my door today," I say, my tone defensive already.
She moves in close and puts her hands on my chest and goes up on her toes to kiss my cheek.
I pull away.
"It's good to see you. It's been a long time. I was hoping we could talk," Sara says in her sing-song cheery voice, as if I didn't just back away from her advances.
"I thought we cleared everything up months ago.” As I recall, I was quite clear that day. We were lying in her bed, in post-coital bliss when she sprang on me that she was tired of being casual and wanted us to be an official couple. I told her that I don’t do couples. She cried and carried on about biological clocks and her dream wedding. Even as I reminded her of the nature of our relationship, she continued to cry and freak me the fuck out. I dressed, then told her that we were done and to never contact me again. We’d only been screwing around for two months but she was bawling like I just ended a two-year engagement. I saw the light that day—it was her true nature—and I wanted nothing more to do with her.
"Well, I was thinking. I've missed you." She slinks back toward me and I've got nowhere to go. I'm backed up against the kitchen counter. Her fingertip is shaking as she guides it up along my arm and to my shoulder. "I'm available this afternoon, if you'd like to spend some time together." She bats her eyelashes. A sad attempt at seduction.
It's uncanny how much she looks like Alex, my ex-fiancée, and how that used to affect me. Today, there’s no attraction at all. Just a deep desire to get her the hell out of here. "I told you, I'm not looking for a relationship. And I know that's what you want from me."
She slips her hands around my waist and I smell her jasmine perfume. My stomach rolls. "Don't you think you've reached the point in your life when it's time to settle down? You’re a thirty-year-old man."
It's a jab. It should sting, but it doesn't. I remove her hands from my body and scoot to the side giving myself some much-needed space. "And that is why I ended things. This is going nowhere. I'm done," I say, my voice is stone cold.