by S. R. Grey
Stepping over to me, she smacks my arm. “Stop stalling and make that wish.”
“Okay, okay.” I ponder and ponder, and finally come up with something. “I wish for the Wolves to win another Stanley Cup.”
“You guys will,” she murmurs softly.
“From your lips to all the hockey gods’ ears,” I say.
And then I blow out all the candles, which makes Cara jump up and down.
That, of course, makes her perky breasts bounce.
Fuck, I can never get enough of her.
I have to look away, or she’s going to be lying flat on the floor in a hot minute with me buried deep inside her.
I lock my eyes on her hands—that’s safe—as she cuts us each a piece of cake. But it’s not safe for long when she announces that I have to be naked too.
“It’s only fair, Jaxon,” she coos.
“Hell, I’m in.” I start disrobing immediately. “I’m liking this naked birthday theme.”
“Ha, you’re going to like naked birthdays even more in about a minute. I’m not done yet.”
I have no idea what that means, but I find out soon enough when I take my first delectable bite of cake.
That’s when Cara drops to her knees in front of me.
“Fuck, babe, whatcha doing?” I ask.
“Oh, just this…” She dips her finger into the icing from her slice of cake and deposits a fat glob on the tip of my now fully erect cock.
“Shit.” My dick twitches in anticipation as she starts licking off the icing. “Fuuuck.”
Naked birthdays, like naked truces, are awesome.
Love is in the Air
Jaxon loves his birthday. He tells me so again and again. The cake, the sexing in the sun, staying naked for the rest of the day, and of course me licking icing off his dick, not just once but again and again, all made his day.
“So when is your birthday, Cara?” he asks as we’re lounging around in bed.
“September 16th,” I murmur, my cheek resting against his smooth, firm chest. “I turn twenty-three this year.”
“Hmm, so you’re a year younger than me.”
“Yes, I am, you cradle robber,” I tease.
“What ever you say, old man chaser,” he lobs back.
“Oh, stop. My birthday is only a year and two months after yours. And hey”—I lift up my head and peer up at him—“I just thought of something interesting.”
“What’s that?” he asks.
“Our birthdays are exactly two months apart. Yours is July 16th and mine is September 16th.”
He wistfully twirls a lock of my hair around his finger. “Huh, that is pretty cool. But another cool thing is that your birthday will fall on the day after the Wolves’ first preseason game this year.”
“No way,” I say. “That’s wild.”
“Not wild, babe, more like perfect. It means I’ll only have a light practice the morning of your birthday.”
As I lazily trace imaginary hearts on his chest, I murmur, “So that means we’ll have the whole day to celebrate?”
“It does indeed.” He smiles down at me wickedly. “And the whole night.”
“Hmm…” I trace a little lower. “I like the sound of that even more.”
Brows suddenly furrowing, he says, “I gotta tell you, though, the pressure is on.”
I still my hand, flattening my palm against his hard abs. His skin is so deliciously warm.
“How do you mean?” I ask.
“Well, it’ll be my turn to make your birthday as special as you’ve made mine.”
I’m happy that’s he’s happy, and I tell him so. It warms my heart that his birthday was a success. Plus, I love how good it feels to discuss how things will be once we’re back home. It makes our summer romance on this island feel so much more real.
I sigh, content that Jaxon and I are truly together. We’re doing this, by God!
We’re a couple and we’re in love.
That’s the moment I realize I have to tell him. Not about the blog. There’ll be time for that later. This is far more pressing. We’ve told each other that we’re falling, but we’ve never said the actual words “I love you.”
It’s time to change that.
Peering up at Jaxon, I lay my heart on the line.
“Jaxon Holland, I have to tell you something important.”
“What’s that, babe?”
“I love you. I love you very much, in fact.”
His brows shoot up, but he appears really pleased to hear this.
And then he says, “I love you too, Cara,” and I’m more than happy. I’m ecstatic.
This is real, and we’re going to make it work. Here on the island and in Nevada, our love will transcend any place, any time, and any problem.
Yep, it’ll all work out just fine.
Time flies by swiftly, and soon there’s only a week left until we’re to leave the island and return to the desert.
August is nearly upon us, and Jaxon wants to return soon in order to start a more regimented preseason workout.
Running, doing sit-ups, and rocking out a couple hundred push-ups every morning is great and all, but he needs to hit the ice.
“I’m starting to really miss it,” he shares with me one evening when we’re chilling out on the patio.
“What do you mean?” I ask, glancing over at him. “Are you saying you miss the actual ice?”
“Yes, and don’t you dare laugh.”
“Um, I’m not.”
But I so am.
I try to compose myself when he adds in an über serious voice, “Hockey is in my heart and soul, Cara. And the ice is a big part of that.”
“Well, I think that’s sweet,” I say. I get it, but I feel compelled to add, “So long as there’s room in there somewhere for me, I’m cool with that.”
I reach for his hand, but he leans over instead and plants a kiss on my cheek.
“Always, my love,” he whispers. “There will always be a huge part of my heart and my soul reserved strictly for you.”
“Aw, you’re such a sweetheart, Jaxon.”
He glances around, pretending to be worried. “Shh, don’t let that get out.”
“Don’t worry,” I whisper, playing along. “It’ll stay between us.”
We grow quiet then, and for this really long while we just hold hands and watch the sun as it melts into the ocean.
As the waves and sand are painted in shades of red, orange, and pink, I remark, “God, it’s so beautiful here. I’m going to miss this place so much.”
Jaxon squeezes my hand. “I know what you mean. I’ll miss it too. But we’ll make new, great memories in Vegas, sweetheart. And we’ll always have this summer to look back on.”
“True,” I agree. “But I love how it’s just you and me here.”
“I do too. But you know what? Maybe Noel will play in another world championship next year and we can come back.”
“That’d be nice,” I say. And then, out of curiosity, I ask, “Speaking of the world championships, those ended over a month ago, right?”
“Yes,” he confirms.
“Then why is Noel still in Europe? His sister mentioned in an email that he’s still in Sweden. I forgot to ask why when I wrote her back, though.”
Jaxon shrugs. “I’m not sure, either. I haven’t talked to Noel in a while. Who knows? Maybe he met someone and fell in love.”
That makes me smile. “Like we did?”
“Yes, babe, like us.” Our eyes meet and I sigh contentedly.
We spend more time outside, just laughing and talking the evening away. Eventually, though, I can’t stop yawning.
“Oh my goodness, I am so sorry, Jaxon. Guess I’m sleepier than I realized.”
Gesturing to the house, he says, “If you want to head in to bed, I’m cool with that. I’ll be up soon myself. I just want to spend a few more minutes out here.”
“Okay.” I nod. “I’ll see you inside.”
I am rea
lly tired and practically have to drag myself upstairs. But then I get a second wind.
Weird how those happen, huh?
Shaking my head and wondering why the brain turns on when you want it to turn off, I detour to my old bedroom so I can check email. I left my tablet in there earlier when I was changing into a pair of shorts.
Maybe if I do a few mundane things I’ll feel sleepy again.
Crawling onto my old bed, I sit cross-legged as I power on my tablet. To my chagrin, I only have one email. It’s from Noelle, filling me in on the latest and greatest with her internship—she still loves it like crazy but is annoyed that it’s cutting into her social life. She also writes how she better hear from me soon or she’s sending in a rescue team.
That makes me laugh, and I grab my phone so I can shoot her a quick text.
Hey, no rescue teams, I type. I’m alive and well.
I hit Send and she replies immediately. We then send texts back and forth rapid-fire for about five minutes. It’s all fun, light topics until she mentions that she’s feeling blue.
Aw, don’t be sad, I text. You know I love you.
I know. And I’m trying not to, but between you being gone and these long hours, I feel like an old cat lady.
But you don’t even have a cat, I text, laughing.
True.
I promise her then that we can hit the town like old times once I’m back in Vegas.
But I won’t be looking for love, I add.
She knows all about my new relationship with Jaxon. Not that she’s surprised. She called it from the start, remember?
Once we finally wrap up, I slide my phone onto the nightstand. But I’m still feeling pretty awake, so I pick up the tablet and start visiting a bunch of hockey sites.
That’s when I learn I missed a few key off-season trades today. One in particular was a big trade the Wolves made.
Hmmm…
I look over at the closed door and bite my lip. I really should log on and compose a post about this. I probably have time to do it too. This is big, and the fans will be looking for a Mr. Hockeypants reaction. I mean, hell, the Wolves have traded right winger Drew Chidders! That’s a really big deal.
I’ve always heard, though, that he’s a real asshole. Not to mention that he did nothing in the playoffs.
In my opinion, it’s no real loss. And that means that’s what Mr. Hockeypants thinks too.
I glance again at the door.
Man, I’d love to get these thoughts down in a post.
But do I have time before Jaxon comes upstairs?
I don’t know.
I think about it some more…
Can I write a short blog post, addressing the Wolves trade, in, like, under ten minutes?
I nod. Yeah, I think so. Though that doesn’t mean my heart isn’t racing and my palms aren’t sweaty as I prepare to do so.
Damn, this is crazy. I really need to let Jaxon know I’m Mr. Hockeypants.
First, though, I’d like to make a few key changes to the blog. I’ve been thinking a lot lately. After things spun out of control with the Jaxon post, I’ve learned a lot.
One is that I need to be more careful with my words.
That’s why I’m considering softening Mr. Hockeypants’s rough edges and harsh language. He can still be snarky and hard-hitting, and he’ll certainly still curse like a sailor, but there should be no more personal attacks. They’re just too damaging. I’ve seen the harm careless words can cause.
Sighing heavily, I start typing.
I’m careful to keep the tone positive, writing only glowing things about the new guy we picked up. I even refrain from ripping on the departing Chidders. Though if anyone deserves a good blasting, it’s him.
Just as I’m finishing, I hear Jaxon coming in downstairs.
Eek, better get this up fast.
I hit Publish at the same instant Jaxon is knocking on the bedroom door.
“Babe, why are you in your old bedroom?” he asks, sounding perplexed. “I thought you said you were exhausted and going to bed? And why’s the door closed?”
With lightning speed, I toss the tablet under the bed.
“Come on in,” I call out. “It’s unlocked.”
The door opens and he steps in.
“I guess I just closed it out of habit,” I rush to explain, shrugging.
Like that doesn’t sound shady.
“Mmm, okay,” he murmurs, glancing around.
Thank God my guy is a pervert. He’s not glancing around with suspicion. Nope, there’s nothing but mischievousness in his eyes, especially when they settle in on me.
“You know what?” He grins, and I know that look. Oh, do I know that look. “I just had the most brilliant idea, Cara.”
This is a far more preferable turn in events, so I roll with it, promptly forgetting about blog posts and the tablet under the bed.
“Why, do share,” I purr.
Eyes glinting playfully, he says, “I was thinking about how we’ve never actually slept in here. And you have that nice big bed.” He nods to the king-size monstrosity I’m seated in the middle of. “Why don’t we stay in here tonight? Plus, we can christen the mattress.”
I remind him that not only is his bed the exact same size as mine, but that we “christened” both beds before we decided to stay in his room.
He snickers. “That’s right. Good times.”
He mentions a few of the things we did in my bed and how he’d like to repeat them.
“You’re so bad. Stop. You’re getting me all worked up.”
“Good.” He laughs. “That means my devious plan is working.”
I shake my head, loving every second of this.
“You’re impossible, Jaxon.”
I throw a pillow at him and he catches it easily, and then he comes over to sit on the edge of the bed.
“Seriously, babe, I really do feel like sleeping in here tonight.”
“Yeah right, you’re not fooling anyone,” I snort. “You just want to do all those things you just mentioned in a different bed.”
He waggles his brows. “Variety is the spice of life, you know?”
He has a point, so I agree we should stay in my old room for the night.
Of course, we get started right away on rechristening the bed. Jaxon is really into it too and wears me out. That doesn’t happen often so I let him gloat about what a man he is.
While he’s preening like a stud muffin, I drift off.
I Can’t F*cking Believe This
When I wake up early the next morning, Cara is sleeping soundly.
I think I may have really and truly worn her out, no joke. I say her name out loud and nothing.
Oh, well, it is kind of early.
Sighing, I sit up and lean back on the pillows so I can watch the woman I love sleep.
Jesus, it scares me sometimes how into her I am. But I guess this is what real love feels like. It’s kind of scary and great all at the same time. Great for all the obvious reasons, but scary knowing that someone holds the power to rip out your heart.
But I shouldn’t worry.
Cara is the best.
She’d never hurt me.
I smile as I think of her, and then about last night. Not the sex part, though that was amazing. But no, my thoughts are on how we remained out on the patio long after the sun had set, just talking and feeling close.
Fuck, she’s so easy to be around. I can’t wait till she meets my teammates. I bet they’ll love her as much as I do.
Whoa, wait. Maybe not love her love her. The guys on our team are all pretty decent-looking. I don’t need that kind of competition. As long as they like her, that’ll be good.
Crap, this love stuff sure stirs up the jealousy.
It’s all so tiring. I’m feeling exhausted already. Or maybe that’s because it’s freaking early to be awake.
So why stay up? I should just lie back down and catch a few extra z’s along with Cara.
Yeah, tha
t sounds good.
But just as I’m rearranging the pillows, I accidentally knock Cara’s phone off the nightstand and it somehow ends up under the bed.
I shake my head. I mean really, what’s the freaking chance? I couldn’t do that again if I tried.
Leaning over the side of the mattress, I reach underneath the bed, feeling for the phone. But what I run into instead is Cara’s tablet. She must’ve knocked it off the bed or stand last night before I came in, like I just did with her phone. This bed is clearly an electronics eater. Good thing we sleep in my room.
I finally feel her phone under my hand. Grabbing it up, along with the tablet, I set both items on the nightstand.
And that’s when Cara’s tablet flashes to life.
I should turn that off, so it doesn’t lose battery power.
I reach over to do just that, but then something on her screen catches my eye. I guess it’s because there’s a hockey stick and a puck.
“Aw,” I murmur, “how adorable is that. My girl was checking out a hockey site before bedtime. Even I don’t always do that.”
So many warm and fuzzy feelings wash over me…until I take a closer look and see that the site is none other than that fucking Mr. Hockeypants’s blog.
“What the fuck?” I hiss. “Why would she visit his trashy blog again? Didn’t we go over this?”
Almost like she subconsciously hears me, Cara murmurs something indecipherable in her sleep. But she doesn’t wake up.
Good thing since I’m totally focused on the blog page now.
And why is that?
Because I see it’s in some kind of an “administrative editor” mode.
What the hell is this shit? How could Cara have access like that to someone else’s blog?
I scroll down, my heart racing.
It looks like this “administrative editor” published a post last night, right about the time I arrived upstairs.
Shit, no.
For this one long, drawn-out minute or so, time seems to stop. I just don’t want to face the truth staring me in the face. I’d rather believe Cara is a hacker, and she’s hacked into Mr. Hockeypants’s blog to delete the whole damn thing.
But nothing’s been deleted.
Hell, there’s a new fucking post.