Jase

by MariaLisa deMora

  Laughing at himself, he rolled out of bed to pursue her into the bathroom and opened the shower door with a loud, “Here you are. For a moment there, I thought you escaped me, eh? No escape for you, my lovely.” Closing the door behind him, he pulled her into an embrace, tilting her head up with two fingertips underneath her chin. “No rest for the wicked, either,” he said as he kissed her, hands roaming her body. “Oh, would ya look at that. You are a dirty, dirty girl. I can fix that. Let me help you.”

  By the time he had to leave the next morning, they had used not only that second condom, but also an additional few that he left the suite to buy. She wouldn’t let him call room service for the purchase, and laughingly wrestled him for the phone before he acquiesced and pulled his jeans on commando in his haste to return quickly. She willingly used that same phone to order breakfast, however, getting a variety of pancakes, eggs, and meats they ate in bed. Some of which he might have eaten off her, the syrup providing too much of a lure to resist.

  Their breakfast in bed led to another shower, where he slowly ate his fill of her, too. His fingers explored every fold and crease, firm pressure of his tongue on her clit bringing her higher and higher. He drew out and extended her orgasm until her legs failed and she slid down the tile wall to join him on the floor. Draping her body across his, he held her close as she dozed. They relaxed, the hot water splashing on his chest, ricocheting up into her face, dampening her hair and causing lickable beads of water to form on her lips.

  Driving to Mica’s house, he mentally reviewed the vision of what he unwillingly left behind. Sleeping on her stomach, she was draped sideways across the bed, pillows underneath her hips from him taking her from behind the last time, his fingerprints still visible in dark, red marks on her skin. Thinking, My baby’s too thin; she needs someone to take care of her, he kissed the marks gently, hoping they wouldn’t bruise. Then, fully dressed, he slipped into bed beside her.

  Pushing her hair back so he could see her face, he traced a fingertip across the scattering of freckles on her nose and cheeks. Grinning as her eyes opened no more than halfway, he watched as a contented smile tipped up the corners of her oh-so kissable mouth. She said, “Hey,” in an adorably sleepy voice and he laughed. I could get used to that, he thought.

  “I gotta go, baby,” he whispered, pressing his cheek against hers. “I left my number next to your phone. Call me.” He waited for her response, drawing back when it wasn’t forthcoming. “I’m serious. Call me, okay? I want to hear your voice.”

  “Okay,” she whispered, and he was surprised to see what looked like sadness at him leaving, but there was no mistaking the emotion on her face.

  “I’ll be back in town tonight. You said you‘ll still be here. DeeDee, I want to see you. Tonight, okay?” He pushed her for a response, relieved when she nodded. “Okay. I’ll see you tonight. Right here, promise. We’ll have a chance to reenact some of our best stuff, eh? Good deal, baby. Wish me luck?”

  “Luck,” she said softly, responding sweetly to his kiss.

  He left without another word, surprised to find a biker standing outside the door. He remembered seeing one at the end of the hallway last night too, but hadn’t paid a lot of attention to it at the time. Nodding silently to the man, he moved past and to the elevator, his mind already speeding ahead to the game.

  ***

  Returning to the suite after an intensely awkward lunch with Road Runner, DeeDee quickly grabbed her things and threw them into her small bag. How had she allowed herself to be maneuvered into this…whatever it had been? Road immediately came to mind, because today at lunch, he poked gentle fun at her about her evening’s activities, more than once mentioning how good she looked leaning up against the ‘hockey guy’.

  She knew he didn’t mean to make her feel self-conscious, but the effect was the same, because if Road had noted their interactions, then probably every Rebel on the property had noticed too, and that left her with too many questions. Were the members going to be okay with her being with someone who wasn’t in the club? Or, would this circle back around to become a problem and bite her in the ass? Her worst fear was that the club would grow tired of her and Mel, leaving them to shift for themselves, and this might be all the reason they needed.

  She couldn’t stay in the hotel, wouldn’t let herself still be here when Jase got back from Fort Wayne. Looking around, she checked the room one final time to ensure nothing would be left behind and her gaze settled on the small piece of paper sitting accusingly on the dresser. Within a single breath, she went from panic mode to stillness and reached out a hand to pick it up as she settled onto the edge of the bed.

  Her stomach filled with butterflies as she thought about the time they spent together. Jase had been sweet and attentive, and today her body was aching in the most delicious way from the energetic antics they shared. She loved that from the moment he took possession of her at the party, allowing her to leave his side but never letting her out of his sight, right up through the morning, when he gently woke her to say goodbye before leaving for the game, he was entirely focused on her...her pleasure.

  She smiled softly, thinking she was glad he wouldn’t have to drive, because they certainly hadn’t gotten enough sleep to make it safely. He had dozed for a time lying next to her, his hair falling across his beautiful face, soft lips parted with slow, even breaths.

  It had been so long since she shared a bed with a man, and Jase was so solid and warm, so there, that when he fell asleep and the opportunity presented itself to touch him without boundaries, she hadn’t been able to keep her fingers from wandering.

  Trailing her fingertips up his arms, she traced the lines of his colorful tattoos, which matched the man’s character. She smiled at the whimsical alien in his spaceship, snorting a little at the brazenly naked woman on his forearm. His other shoulder held a winged skull with violets that trailed onto his chest, where a fierce lion’s head stared at her. To get as much well-done and detailed ink as he had, it must have taken a number of patient and painful sessions in the artist’s chair, and that kind of persistence exactly fit with his personality.

  Once they had reached the room and he kissed her, he had stolen her senses much as he had done at the party, insistently rousing her passions. He was patient with her, gently easing her into their encounter, even after she initially fled as soon as there was an opening. When he received the call from the team’s manager, she took the chance and escaped into the bathroom, nearly hyperventilating as she realized Jase was here…right here, standing only feet away.

  She had shamelessly listened in on his call and been by turns afraid he would have to leave immediately…but terrified he would be able to stay. When she heard him ending the call, she took a deep breath and stared at herself in the bathroom mirror.

  What she had seen there was surprising. Unlike the woman from earlier that morning, this reflection had high, riotous color in her cheeks, bright eyes, and kiss-swollen lips. This was a woman aroused, a woman who wouldn’t be afraid to seek her own satisfaction for a change. This woman had once been a constant companion, but she had been absent for a long time…too long, and DeeDee liked seeing her in the mirror again.

  Seeing her reflection like that had given her a boost of needed courage, so when he maneuvered her into the bedroom and undressed her, she stood before him without shame, ready to accept what he offered.

  Now, touching her lips with the tips of her fingers, she remembered how good they were together. Then she thought about the teasing comments from Road, meant to be harmless, but echoing and twisting through the thoughts in her head, uncovering the barely buried fears and uncertainty she had lived with since Winger died. Why would anyone want her? Now is not a good time to get involved, woman, she thought. Aloud, she said, “Like you told yourself before, he’s pretty to look at, but not for you, old woman.”

  Shaking her head, she stood from the side of the bed and looked at the scrap of paper again then carefully folded it, tucking it away
for safekeeping, wishing she could do the same thing with her heart.

  Off-season visit

  “Goddamn lucky charm!” Jase shouted, sitting on top of Daniel on their hometown locker room floor, pushing handfuls of cereal into his mouth. They had won the series, won the cup—the Mallets were champions, and he was celebrating the only way he knew how, over the top.

  After they won the game in Fort Wayne and returned to Chicago, his first stop had been the hotel suite. He found DeeDee had already checked out and the key he had kept no longer worked. He remained standing in the hotel hallway for a long time, trying to figure out what had gone wrong. When he left only twenty hours before, he would have put money down they had connected in a very real way, but then she disappeared. She was just gone.

  He made the rounds, looking everywhere for her, but the staff and regulars at Jackson’s claimed not to know if she was still in town or had left to go home. There hadn’t been much time to focus on how she bugged out; the team had been busy with promotional shit about the win that had brought the championship one game closer. With the series standing at three to two in their favor, all the local TV and radio stations wanted a chance to interview members of the team.

  Even with splitting up the obligations, each of the principal players had wound up doing three or four interviews a day in the short interval before game six, the one they had just won. There hadn’t been time to breathe, much less pursue a woman who had proven herself damn good at avoiding him.

  His view of the world tilted and shifted, and he realized Daniel had taken advantage of his moment of inattention and flipped him, and was now holding him down while Gary approached, cardboard box in hand. Jase happily opened his mouth, chowing down on the symbolic winnings with a broad grin. After a couple of minutes, they were all three out of breath and exhausted, slumping in laughter. It had been a hard-won game and series, and all the players showed it.

  Dragging himself off the floor, he sat on the bench in front of the lockers, phone in hand, thumbing through the well wishes of friends and family, some with attached pictures of his game-winning goal. Those made him smile, and he saved them to look through later. Flipping through the last few messages, he was about to put the phone down, when a new one came in from a number he didn’t recognize. Congratz on the win, Jase! So proud of you. ~DD

  He read the text and was about to delete it when he received a media file from the same number. It was a picture of him right after a goal tonight, his stick raised high over his head in celebration. However, what captured his attention wasn’t his own image; he focused on the reflection in the glass showing the photographer who had masses of dark red hair and a petite face, the figure wearing a jersey with his number on the sleeve. She was in the arena tonight.

  He fired off a response, Holy cow, woman. You’re here? At the game? Where are you?

  Nervously waiting for a reply, he stripped off his jersey and pants, tossing them into the locker behind him. Nothing yet from her, so he jumped in the shower and was finished in record time, picking up the phone and checking, but still nothing. He sent a second text, I’d like those gratz in person. Tell me where you are.

  Dressing in the suit he wore to the game, he sat again, waiting. Waving off invitations to after-parties, he was still sitting and holding his phone when Daniel walked into the locker room, followed by Mason. He jumped up, stepping in front of the biker. They were about the same height, but Mason always managed to make him feel as if he were looking up at the man. “Hey,” he said and then paused; he didn’t seem to know where to go from there.

  Mason looked at him and sighed. “Hey what?”

  “Do you know where DeeDee is staying?” He was crazy nervous asking this question. Mason doesn’t care who she sees, does he? Isn’t like he’s her big brother or anything, right? He waited for a response and got an eyebrow quirk. Reading that as needing clarification, he rephrased. “Do you know where DeeDee is staying? Is she staying overnight here in Chicago? Or is she going back to the Fort right away?”

  Mason dropped his chin. “Didn’t know she was in town. No idea where she’s staying, if she’s staying, or if she was even here.”

  “Oh, she was here, she was. She sent me a picture.” Mason’s eyebrow quirked again and Jase handed over his phone, pointing. “See? Not the picture, that’s me. Of course it is; you can see that. But lookie at the reflection in the glass. That’s DeeDee. Right there, see that?”

  Nodding, Mason pulled his phone out and compared the numbers. “It kinda looks like her in the picture, but wrong number. That’s not DeeDee’s phone, man. Sorry.”

  “But that’s her reflection.” He didn’t even know why he was arguing. The man had already stepped around him, slapping his back on the way and telling him it was a good game. He was disagreeing with the air now. His joy at their win tempered with disappointment, he slowly slipped on his shoes, tying the thin laces with fumbling fingers.

  Looking around the locker room, he realized he was the last team member to leave. Watching as the equipment managers slowly gathered up the worn and discarded jerseys, pads, and various pieces of equipment, he decided to get out of their way. Nothing to wait around for, she evidently wasn’t going to respond to his texts. “Need to just chuck it in the fuck it bucket and move on,” he said to one of the men, slapping him on the back and striding through the door.

  Most of the players were at Jackson’s, where they sat watching the highlights repeatedly play on the TV. He got some good ice time this year, averaging nearly thirty minutes per game, and skated more than fourteen hundred shifts in the forty-eight games played. Thirty-two goals, twenty-seven assists for a nice total of fifty-nine points. Regular season. He hadn’t tallied up the playoff information yet.

  Proudly, he thought to himself, Those are damn good stats, no matter at what professional level you play. He looked up, draining his beer as the screen filled with a video of him lifting his stick over his head, a broad smile on his face. Frustrated, he realized the angle was just wrong, he couldn’t see the section from where the photo had been taken, couldn’t see if she had actually been at the game.

  Looking around the bar, he saw Slate standing across the room, doing his usual vulture thing, just waiting around for trouble to start so he could break it up. He got another beer from Merry, the bartender, and walked over to lean against the wall next to Slate. Receiving a silent chin lift in greeting, they stood there quietly for several minutes until Slate moved, standing up to his full height to stare down a couple of fans who had been baiting a player.

  Drama over, settling back against the wall, Slate cut his eyes towards Jase. “I don’t know where she is, man. Mason already asked.”

  “Well hell,” he snarled, banging the back of his head against the wall, suddenly angry. “First, she wasn’t here when I got back from Fort Wayne, and now she’s in town, but just wants to tease me with a picture. Bet she’s having a hell of a laugh right about now.” He shut himself up by drinking deeply from the bottle, and then let his hand drop back next to his side.

  Slate moved slightly, the leather of his vest creaking and sliding against the wall. “She’s tender yet, man. I don’t think you ever had a chance to meet Winger, but he was a hell of a good person. Good brother, a good member, and he seemed to be a good husband. Losing her old man and her daughter all at once like that…it’s going to leave places that are hard to heal. The way she was at the party, she’s interested. A woman doesn’t act like that without being interested. You want my advice, I’m happy to give it, but a lot of things depend on what you’re looking for.”

  “What I’m looking for?” he scoffed. “Hell, I’m not looking for anything. But, I want to get to know her better. Every time I’ve seen her, she blows me away with her wit, her intelligence, her attitude—everything about her is amazing. She’s all that, man. I want to know her inside and out, figure out what makes her tick.” That should satisfy him without pulling a kiss-and-tell rendition of their night together. />
  “Didja fuck her?” Slate’s question caught him off guard and he laughed nervously. “Fuck me. Never mind, I can tell from your face. As I said, man, she’s tender. You try to push or pull her, she’s gonna spook and run. Did you say something to shut her down?”

  “No,” he said softly. “I left for Fort Wayne with full expectation that she’d be waiting for me that night.”

  “Then be patient. If she’s interested, she’ll reach out. Like she did tonight, letting you know she kept your number. She’s smart like you said. She’ll find you if she wants to.” Slate straightened, walking quickly across to a table and grabbing a man by the collar. He shook the man back and forth, speaking to him with a raised voice and roughly slinging him back down into the chair.

  From where he stood, Jase could see it was another biker, but wasn’t a Rebel. The other two men at the table wore similar patches, and he watched as they slipped their hands behind their backs, faces tense with potential violence. The man Slate had been manhandling had a pistol shoved into the back waistband of his pants, and Jase could only assume the other two men were likewise armed. He took a half step away from the wall and Slate immediately brought his eyes up, giving him a small head shake, effectively waving him off.

  Jase settled back against the wall, but intently watched the remaining interaction between the men. There was more talking, and then Slate reached out and slapped the back of the man’s head, making everyone around the table laugh. He made his way back over to where Jase stood and resumed his posture of attentive waiting.

  As if nothing had happened, he continued their conversation. “You’ll just have to be patient, man. She’s one of those women who would be worth it. She was a good old lady, respected her old man, respected the club, and she is respected by the club in her own right.”