You Had Me at Hockey (Bears Hockey)

by Kelly Jamieson

  I blink at him, my heart going all soft. “Oh. Wow.”

  He nods. “So the Bears arranged this and I went with three other guys today. Only…the first kid I visited I ended up staying with the whole time.”

  I tilt my head, my attention locked on him.

  He tells me about the boy he met—Carter—and how they bonded. My heart squeezes and aches at hearing about Carter’s cancer and the treatments he’s had, and he’s only nine years old. Hearing about the Bears ball cap to hide his hair loss nearly makes me lose it.

  Then he says, “I didn’t want to go to the hospital at all. After I spent months there, I never wanted to see a hospital again.”

  It takes a couple of beats for that to process, and then I close my eyes on a wave of guilt and sorrow. “Oh, Josh.” I pull in a long breath. “What about that night…when I had my reaction?”

  He doesn’t answer right away, rubbing his mouth. “I didn’t want to go that night either. But you were in trouble. I had to go.”

  I roll my lips inward because they’re trembling. “I’m so sorry.”

  He waves a hand. “Don’t apologize. It’s my issue. Anyway, I did it. I survived. And I did it again today. And…I feel like maybe I learned something from that little dude.”

  I press my fingertips to my mouth, my eyes stinging. “Like what?”

  “Like…he’s going through hell. Every day. And…nobody knows if he’s going to make it. But he just lives above all that.”

  I swallow and give a jerky nod.

  “And maybe I need to be like that. Not live in the past that makes me bitter. And pissed. And resentful. I’m so goddamn lucky.” He closes his eyes.

  I shift across the small couch and lean my head against his shoulder. “You went through a lot. And it sounds like Carter is too.”

  “I want to go see him again. Is that crazy?”

  My throat pinches. “No. Of course not. It sounds like you’d make his life a little brighter.”

  “Fuck. I hope so.”

  “Then do it.”

  He nods. “Okay. I will.” He draws back and meets my eyes. “Thank you. I knew you were the one I wanted to talk to about this.”

  My eyelashes flutter rapidly, my lips pouting, my heart hammering. “I’m here anytime you want to talk.”

  He leans his forehead against mine. “That is so fucking good to know.”

  We stay like that for a stretched-out moment…heat, desire, and understanding pulsing between us.

  Finally, I say, “Can we order food? I’m starving.”

  Josh chokes on a laugh. “Yeah. Let’s do that.”

  We order cheesesteak egg rolls to share, and we both get burgers, his with chipotle jam and guacamole, mine with bacon and swiss cheese. And a bottle of rosé.

  “I think I should make my own brand of rosé wine,” I say as we eat. “What do you think?”

  “I think that would be fantastic. How are you feeling after your meeting with Harper yesterday?”

  “Better.” I nod, picking up a French fry. “I need to be myself. You were right. We’re going to talk again next week.”

  “Good.”

  “So my friend Kaylee is coming this weekend.”

  “Right. You can pick up the tickets for the game at will call at the arena.”

  “Thank you for doing that.” I beam him a grateful smile. “We’re going to see a Broadway play Friday night. On Saturday, do you think we could go out somewhere after the game?”

  “Sure. I’ll see if any of the guys are going out and we can join them.”

  “That would be so cool!” Kaylee would go crazy to hang out with a bunch of hockey players. “But she has a boyfriend. Just so your teammates know.”

  His lips twitch. “Okay. I’ll make that clear.”

  I look around. “Do you need help packing?”

  “No. I’m pretty much done.”

  “Your room is so neat and tidy.”

  “It’s a hotel. Maids come every day.”

  “Yeah, but they don’t do everything. You’re a neat freak, aren’t you?”

  “Neat freak. Phhht. I just like things organized.”

  “Mmmhmm.” If I’d been living in this hotel room for nearly a month, it would be a disaster.

  “I have a key for the apartment for you. For tomorrow.”

  “Oh, perfect.”

  He takes a mouthful of his burger, chews, and swallows, then says, “I wrote a poem for you.”

  My eyes bulge. “What? What is it?”

  His lips twitch. “Roses are red, violets are blue—”

  I choke back a laugh.

  “All my dirty thoughts involve me and you.”

  I fall back in my chair giggling. “Oh my God! I love that!”

  He grins. “Thanks. I’m really getting into poetry.”

  Now I snort. “Uh-huh. You want to go to another reading?”

  “Fuck no.”

  I’m still laughing helplessly. This guy. I can’t believe I thought he had as much sense of humor as a turnip when I first met him.

  After we eat, we tidy up the dishes and Josh pushes the cart out into the hall. When he comes back in, I’m stretched out on the king-size bed.

  He smirks. “Tired?”

  “No.”

  “Ah.”

  “I have more to learn. You know…my sex education.” I pat the bed beside me

  “Jesus.” Then he shocks me by pulling off his sweater over his head as he walks toward me.

  I sigh happily. His chest is a work of art. And his abs. He’s big, but not heavily muscled—lean and ripped, no fat on him anywhere. My gaze tracks from the just-right hair on his chest down over his six-pack and his perfect navel, then follows the trail of hair lower…right down to his jeans sitting low on his hips. With a masculine flick of his fingers, he undoes the button and his fly, then climbs onto the bed, crawling up over me.

  He straddles my legs, his jeans hanging enticingly open, his obliques defined, veins faintly visible in the thin skin of his lower abdomen. I suck in air as I realize I’m not breathing. “God, you’re gorgeous,” I breathe.

  “So are you.” He plants his hands into the mattress and leans over me to kiss me.

  Our mouths cling together in a long, sweet kiss, and then he opens his mouth and licks inside mine. My tongue meets his and the kiss grows hotter. Deeper.

  I touch his torso, trailing my fingertips over hot, satiny skin, skimming my palms along his abs, then slipping my hands around to his back and dragging my nails over his flesh. He sucks in a sharp breath and lifts his head, staring into my eyes. His are dark and hot.

  I scratch him again, slowly, gently, sliding my hands inside his jeans and boxers to cup his ass. The back of him is as much a work of art as the front—his ass is firm and round.

  “Baby,” he groans. “You’re getting me so hot.”

  “Good. Because I’m hot too.”

  He kisses me again, then rolls to his back, easily bringing me with him so I’m on top. He rids me of my sweater, leaving me in my black triangle bra, and his hands on my bare skin are electrifying. They move all over me—up and down my back, over my shoulders and arms. I wriggle against his hard body as we make out.

  We roll again, kiss more, get rid of more clothes, and I’m hot and aching and panting when he dives between my legs to lick me. “Oh God…” I hold his head, parting my legs for him. His tongue is magic, sliding over my sensitive flesh. He nips at me with his lips, kisses my inner thighs and lower belly, then drags his tongue along my slit in slow, sensual torture.

  “Perfect,” he murmurs. “Fucking perfect.”

  Then he grabs me and flips me onto my belly in such an easy move I’m shocked. I’m even more shocked when he hoists my hips into the air and buries his face between
my legs again. My insides are fluttering and flipping, my blood fizzing, my skin tingling. His tongue laps at me, his hands squeeze my butt cheeks, and it’s the most erotic thing I’ve ever experienced. So far. Because every experience with Josh is deliciously erotic.

  He nips at the curve of my ass, and I shudder. I’m on my hands and knees, shaking, that gnawing emptiness yearning to be filled. Then he moves away for a moment. I sweep my hair aside and glance over my shoulder to see him rolling on a condom. Then he’s back, one hand on my hip, the other guiding the head of his cock up and down through my wet pussy.

  “Nice and wet.” He rubs the head over my clit, sending sparks flooding through my veins.

  “Inside,” I beg. “Please.”

  He slowly eases into me, and I’m reminded of the first time, how careful he was, how watchful he was that he wasn’t hurting me. “Okay?” he asks.

  “Yesss. Oh God yes.”

  I feel him invading me, and it feels so good—the pressure, the fullness. Like I’ve been missing this forever.

  Soon he’s fully inside me, his groin pressed against my ass. We pause. I’m throbbing, on edge, dying to come. He bends over me, his fists lodged on the bed on either side of me. He starts to move, sliding out and in, and the friction is exquisite. He’s so deep inside me, he’s hitting a spot I didn’t know was there, intense and tender and almost unbearably pleasurable. He kisses the back of my shoulder in a long, openmouthed kiss, then I turn my head to the side and he kisses my ear, my cheek, then my shoulder again. As he moves faster, the noises leaking from my mouth become louder, more desperate.

  He bands one arm under me, clutching a breast in his big palm as his thrusts become deeper. Harder. I cry out, overflowing with sensation. I feel his breath hot on the back of my neck. Then he straightens, gripping my waist. “Fuck,” he growls. “Watching my cock slide in and out of you…so wet and shiny…your pussy so tight and hot. Your ass…” And he gives one cheek a little slap.

  Heat floods through me.

  The little spank and his words inflame me even more. I’m beyond thought. I’m floating, rapturous, glowing.

  My arms collapse and I drop to the bed, my face buried in a pillow, panting. Josh slows his movements and bends over me again, wrapping his arms around me and tenderly kissing my upper back. “Okay?”

  “I’m okay. I’m so good.”

  This time when he straightens, he gathers my hair into a loose ponytail and tugs my head back. The pull on my scalp adds to the erotic overload. He thrusts into me again, using both hands to draw my hair back, tugging at the tangled strands. I push up again, my ass in the air as he fucks me, hard and dirty and so, so sweet.

  I’m tender inside, the pressure and glide in and out consuming me.

  “Wanna make you come,” he rasps.

  He slides a hand down and around, under my belly, and finds my clit. His touch jolts a live current through me. This, this, this…it’s what I want…what I need…“Yes,” I whimper. “Please, yes…” I reach down and guide his hand a bit lower…“There! Oh God!”

  My orgasm twists inside me, tighter and tighter, then it fractures into a million pieces of light dispersing through me, making me shudder and jerk and wail.

  Shaking, I fall to the bed. My hips ache and I slowly stretch my legs out straight on the bed. Josh is still inside me, not moving. Then he slowly slides his legs outside of mine, his hair-rough skin scuffing over mine. He holds himself above me on one arm, nuzzling my hair as I try to catch my breath and stop shaking.

  He rocks his pelvis against mine, his lower belly pressing on my ass. “Okay?”

  “Yes…”

  He shifts his knees higher, outside my hips, giving him better leverage, and his thrusts grow deeper. I think I’m still coming, quivering, my inner muscles clutching at him, and then he shouts and goes tense and still against my butt. I push my ass back at him as he pulses inside me, low groans sounding near my ear.

  Later, under the covers, I curl into him and sniff his neck, breathing in his scent, clean with a hint of musky sandalwood. I pull it into my lungs and hold it there, then I lick his collarbone and the hollow of his throat. I’m full of emotion, my heart swollen with it. I’m not sure if sex is always supposed to be like this. But maybe that’s why it’s so powerful and essential and transcendent.

  Or maybe it’s Josh. And that’s unnerving.

  Chapter 18

  Sara

  On Wednesday, I pack up my laptop and go over to Josh’s new apartment. It’s easy to get to, in a nice neighborhood near Lincoln Center. I enter the newish high-rise and stop to introduce myself to the doorman, whose name is Javier. I tell him we’re moving in today (saying “we” deliberately so he knows I belong there) then ride the elevator up to the fifteenth floor.

  I walk into the empty apartment and sweep my gaze around. It’s nice…shiny hardwood floors throughout, floor-to-ceiling windows with a fabulous view across the Hudson River (much nicer than my view), and a gorgeous kitchen. But it’s white. White, white, white. I guess with furniture and some décor, it won’t look so boring.

  I set up my field office in a corner of the living room where there’s an outlet for my computer and phone. Then I explore a bit more, checking out the two bedrooms and bathrooms. Also very nice.

  About half an hour later I get a text from the movers. Josh gave them my number. I go downstairs, where they’re waiting with Javier, who directs them to the loading area and freight elevator at the rear of the building.

  As I head back upstairs, a woman is waiting at the elevators, holding a cute black dog. I smile at them and she says, “So Josh Heller is moving in today?”

  Shit. She must have overheard us talking. What if she’s a creepy stalker? What am I supposed to say?

  “It’s okay!” she says. “My boyfriend plays with Josh for the Bears. Easton Millar.”

  “Oh!” Relief washes through me. “Yes, moving in today.”

  We step into the elevator and the doors glide closed.

  “I’m Lilly. And this is Otis.” She extends a hand to me and we manage to shake despite her holding Otis.

  “I’m Sara. Nice to meet you.”

  “Are you Josh’s girlfriend? I thought I heard that you two broke up when he left Dallas.”

  I blink. Girlfriend in Dallas? “Uh…no…”

  But what am I, exactly? His fuck buddy? His slam piece? That’s more accurate.

  “Oh my God.” Lilly’s eyes widen. “Shit. I’m sorry.”

  I shake my head, smiling. “No, no, it’s fine.”

  The doors slide open and Lilly jumps out. “This is me! I’m sure we’ll see you again!”

  I force a bright smile and hold my hand up in a wave goodbye.

  Then I slump against the wall. Josh had a girlfriend in Dallas? Huh.

  I don’t know why this news makes me suddenly feel tired. I drag my ass back into Josh’s apartment and wait for the movers to arrive. I supervise them and direct them where to take things. It’s easy because all the boxes are clearly labeled. As they put together his bed, I start unpacking some kitchen things, finding places for his toaster and blender, glasses, dishes, cutlery, and a modest assortment of cooking utensils.

  But I keep thinking about his girlfriend. Did they break up, like Lilly said? Josh doesn’t seem the type to screw around on someone, but I thought that about Kaylee’s last boyfriend too, and he was boning his admin assistant.

  In some ways I feel like I’ve known Josh a long time, but this just goes to show we really don’t know each other that well.

  The movers help me arrange the living room furniture. I have no idea how Josh will want it, but it makes sense to set up the big leather sectional to take advantage of the windows, and there’s also room on another wall for the TV stand and his big television.

  I unpack a few decorative items and
lamps. Anything I don’t know what to do with, we move into the second bedroom to leave for Josh.

  Then the movers are gone and I’m alone in the apartment again.

  I amble into his bedroom and sit on the king-size bed. My gaze falls onto a box labeled Bedding, so I open it and pull out sheets and a duvet. Another box holds pillows. I make up his bed, tossing a puffy black duvet over it. I put away towels in the master bathroom. Then I sigh.

  A heavy sadness is dragging me down. I know I shouldn’t feel this way. It’s not as if I just discovered he’s cheating on me or someone else. And yet…I guess I’m a little jealous.

  I need to talk to him, but I won’t see him again until Saturday night after the game and that’s probably not going to be a good time. Shit.

  I take the subway home and as I’m about to enter my building, I pause, regarding the flower shop across the street. I turn and jog over to the entrance and push inside.

  It smells amazing…it’s winter, but in here it smells green and fresh.

  “Hey, Sara!” The owner of the shop, Kesha, calls out to me.

  She’s about my age and since I come in here all the time, we’ve gotten to know each other and have gone out to movies and for lunch a few times.

  We greet each other with a hug. “Hi! How are you?”

  “Looking for flowers?” she asks with a smile.

  She knows me. I love fresh flowers. Especially pink flowers.

  “Actually, I want a couple of houseplants. Something hard to kill.”

  “Ah.” She leads me over to a table full of succulents. “How about these? They’re really popular.”

  I pick out two, then add a couple of modern concrete pots that I think will look nice with Josh’s furniture. And, because I can’t resist, a dozen pink tulips for me.

  Kesha wraps them up and we chat a bit, and I invite her to join Kaylee and me for lunch on Saturday. She’s working, but if we go somewhere close to here, she can join us, so that’ll be fun.

  * * *

  —

  The seats Josh got us are great, in the lower bowl of the arena in a corner. Kaylee and I went out for pizza before the game and now we’re in our seats, beers in hand, as the players skate onto the ice for the game to begin.