Jett

by Sawyer Bennett

  “Lucy,” Jim murmurs as they head our way. “I want you to meet someone.”

  “In a minute,” she replies, but Ella’s head turns at Jim’s words and she sees Riggs coming.

  Her hand reaches out, touches Lucy’s shoulder and that’s all it takes to get her daughter’s attention. Both women put down their Whac-a-Mole stuffed bats.

  “What’s up, man?” I say, closest to Riggs as I reach out a hand. He silently takes it in a side clasp, then nods over at Jim.

  Knowing he can’t get away without introducing his sister, he puts a large hand on her shoulder and gives it a slight, reassuring squeeze. “This is my sister, Janelle.”

  We all smile at her, but it’s Ella that steps forward—ever the mom and ready to spread one wing over the girl who looks very uncomfortable. “Janelle… we are so happy to meet you. This is my daughter, Lucy.”

  Lucy beams at her potential new friend, even though she’s a few years younger. Janelle manages a small smile back.

  “Want to play Whac-a-Mole?” Lucy offers, tossing her head toward the game.

  “I’ve never played,” Janelle replies.

  “No worries,” Lucy assures her and beckons her to come to her side. Ella steps out of the way and Lucy picks up both stuffed bats, handing one to Janelle. “You just try to smack the mole when it pops up. It’s great therapy.”

  Ella laughs, as do Jim and I, but Riggs and Janelle don’t. However, Jim pulls out some money and hands it to the attendant, who starts a new game as Janelle follows Lucy’s direction.

  We all watch for a few moments and it doesn’t take long for Janelle to give in to the enthusiasm of teenage girls trying to smack a rodent. A few moments more, and Janelle is actually laughing along with Lucy.

  I cut a glance to Riggs, and for the first time since he came to this team, I actually see a genuine smile on his face. He looks relieved and his eyes seem to shimmer with some sort of gratitude as he watches his sister.

  My skin prickles and I move my gaze beyond Riggs. Several game booths down, I spy Emory standing with Felicity and Jenna as they play a ring toss game. I watch for a moment as Emory demonstrates to Felicity how to toss underhanded, and Jenna—who I’m glad to see ventured out—takes pictures with her iPhone. For a moment, I take in how beautiful their little family unit is and a small part of me could see myself right in the middle of that.

  But Emory and I agreed no complications. No strings. Casual.

  I can do that too.

  I clap Jim on the shoulder and give a nod toward Riggs. “I’ll see you guys later. I’ve got a date.”

  Jim blinks in surprise, while Riggs’s expression remains impassive. I don’t give them a second glance as I move toward the women.

  I’m a good thirty feet away when Emory’s head turns, as if she could sense I was coming, and her eyes lock onto mine. A breeze pulls at her hair and she tucks it behind an ear, giving me a welcoming smile before turning back to her daughter.

  When I reach them, Jenna says hello first, and I’m pleased she doesn’t drop her gaze, duck her head or make an effort to ensure her hair is hanging over her shoulder to cover her scars. We had a lot of fun at Not-So-Thanksgiving Dinner last night and I’m pleased she feels at ease with me.

  “I don’t see any stuffed animals,” I comment to the ladies.

  Emory shoots me a glance, putting her hand on Felicity’s lower back as she prepares to toss another ring. “We just got started on the games. Decided to hit all the rides first.”

  Felicity makes a toss, and it falls short of the playing board. She’s not discouraged as she looks to me, then points upward. “I’m going to win that big pink unicorn.”

  “Let’s see you do it,” I reply, leaning against the wooden post at the corner of the stall.

  Determination causes her facial features to scrunch up. She takes another ring and tries to lob it underhanded. The ring hits one of the outside stakes and bounces off.

  She tries three more times before I step in. Pulling a twenty out of my wallet, I hand it to the vendor, who hands me a stack of rings in return. While I’m a professional hockey player and fairly gifted in the athleticism department, it takes me almost the entire stack to win the pink unicorn for Felicity.

  Her smile is infectious as I hand the fuzzy stuffed animal over. She beams up at me. “Thank you, Jett.”

  “You’re welcome,” I reply, thinking that happiness was the best twenty bucks I’ve ever spent.

  “What game should we play next?” I ask her.

  “Actually,” Emory cuts in, cutting a glance to Jenna, who nods. She squats down to get face to face with her daughter. “Aunt Jenna is going to take you around the carnival for a few more games before heading home, and I’m going to go with Jett to get a drink.”

  Felicity frowns, and points to a food stall right beside the ring toss. “They have drinks there.”

  “Um, yes, they do,” Emory stammers a bit, shooting me a helpless look. I just shrug, having no clue how much truth a seven-year-old can handle. I don’t even know if Emory is recently out of a relationship with Felicity’s dad or if she’s explained dating.

  Emory smiles at her little “mini-me” in bemusement. “Jett and I are going to go somewhere that serves adult drinks and only allows adults to go in.”

  “But why?” she asks, head tilted in curiosity.

  “Because… because…” Emory stammers.

  “Oh,” Felicity says, as if something just dawns on her. “So you can talk to him more about his “intogram” account.”

  “Instagram,” Emory says with a laugh, and shoots me a conspiratorial look. “And yes… we’re going to talk more about that.”

  Like hell we are, but I merely nod in agreement.

  There are hugs, and Emory presses some money into Jenna’s hand, warning her not to let Felicity eat too much junk at the carnival. As we’re leaving, she says, “I’m not sure when I’ll be home, but I’ll text you later to give you an idea.”

  I could take that to mean so many things, and in my dreams maybe it means she’s coming home with me tonight. Both of us have admitted that this is heading toward a bed, but if it doesn’t happen today… I’m okay with that too.

  More than anything, I want to learn more about Emory, and doing that over a drink or two sounds like a great way to spend the rest of my day.

  We say our goodbyes and I lead Emory through the carnival, and out to the parking lot where I’d left my Urus. A few fans stop me on the way, and I don’t hesitate to pose for photographs and sign jerseys. It’s Fan Day after all, and I’m not surprised in the slightest when Emory takes pictures of me with various fans. I guarantee one will make its way onto the Vengeance IG account before we reach the bar.

  When we make it to my vehicle, I move to the passenger side and open the door for Emory. She shows no signs that she knows this SUV costs over two hundred grand. In this moment, I’m glad she doesn’t because now it just seems like an arrogant waste of money.

  I gently close the door behind her, move around the back, and enter the driver’s seat. After I start the engine, I tell her, “There’s a cool little bar a few blocks down—”

  “Actually,” Emory says, her voice cracking slightly. She coughs and turns to look directly at me. Her voice is strong and without any doubt. “Actually… you live downtown, right? Maybe we could just go have a drink at your place.”

  I’ve had many women come on to me over the years, and I’ve always prided myself on maintaining control and being suave in my flirtations. But Emory’s request has rendered me slightly speechless.

  “My place?” I ask, because surely I heard her wrong. I mean…yes, we’re headed toward a bed sooner or later, I just didn’t think it would be this soon.

  “For a drink,” she says with a meaningful look. “Let’s start with a drink and see what happens. Maybe it will be just a drink. Maybe it will be something more. Didn’t we agree to play this casual and we could make what we want of it?”

 
“We did,” I agree, then level her with an apologetic grin. “But all I have is beer at my place.”

  “Good thing I like having a pint now and again,” she replies with a laugh.

  “To my place then,” I reply, putting the car in reverse and trying to ignore the hammering of my heart.

  CHAPTER 9

  Emory

  Jett’s car is really nice, and I have no clue what it is. Never much paid attention to those things, but I also know he makes millions and can afford whatever he wants. And in the weeks I’ve known him—since that first day he hit on me and I coldly turned him down—I’ve never had the need or opportunity to even consider his wealth.

  But now we’re in what’s a very expensive vehicle, heading to his downtown condo, which I’m betting is posh and only for the elite of Phoenix, and wondering what I’ve gotten myself into.

  Sex, Emory.

  That’s what you’re getting yourself into.

  A tiny giggle escapes me, because I’m nervous and this is so awkward.

  “What’s so funny?” Jett asks, his tone curious and filled with good nature as he glances at me.

  I snicker, softly at first, then snort as I turn my head his way. He frowns, probably wondering if I’ve managed to go crazy in the two minutes since we’ve gotten in his car.

  “Emory?” he asks hesitantly, before putting his eyes back on the road.

  I fumble at the opening of my purse sitting on my lap and reach in, pulling out a small box of condoms. I hold them up for him to see. His eyes come back my way, see the box, and then his eyebrows climb right up his forehead.

  A second passes, then two, before he says, “You certainly are prepared.”

  I laugh again, shoving the condoms back down into my purse. I clamp down tight, forcing myself to stop this unholy chortling sound, then end up coughing.

  “I’m sorry,” I finally say, shaking my head. Another snort, and I clap my hand over my mouth.

  I risk a glance at Jett and his eyes are crinkled in amusement, perfectly full lips quirked. “Nervous, huh?”

  “Oh, am I ever,” I drawl as I remove my hand from my mouth. Then I ramble. “I mean… lost my virginity my senior year in high school. That was an event I hardly even remember because it was that unremarkable. Then there was the proverbial partying and a few one-night stands in college, and then… well, I met Felicity’s dad and that’s all there was. Just him.”

  I sneak another peek at him, and while he’s looking back at the road, I can see understanding in his expression. “I’m guessing it’s been a while for you, huh?”

  Nodding, I admit, “A long time. A long, long time.”

  “Well, you’re not getting graded on this assignment,” he assures me. “And we don’t have to do anything but have a drink.”

  A sigh escapes me, my body’s way of saying just calm down. “I know. But…”

  The silence is heavy as I go super shy all of a sudden.

  “But what?” Jett prompts.

  “It’s just… it’s hard to explain. Being a parent—especially a mom, no offense to dads—especially a single parent, you put yourself last. Everything else is put ahead of your own wants and needs. So, I’m rationalizing that I’m finally taking something for myself, and that’s good. I deserve it. But at the same time, the thing I’ve chosen to take—”

  “Which would be me?” he interrupts with a grin.

  I nod with another giggle. “That would be you, and a casual type of fling… well, it’s just awkward. I’ve chosen to do something totally out of my comfort zone and I’m out of practice and what if I’m awful—”

  Jett takes my hand and squeezes it, the move so sudden my words cut off. “You can’t be out of practice,” he assures me. “It’s like riding a bike. And if you are out of practice, I’ll give you plenty of opportunities to practice. It won’t be a hardship on me.”

  The snort comes again, and it sounds awful, but I also feel the tension seep out of my body along with it.

  “It will be fine,” he says, giving my hand a squeeze before releasing it. He does this as he slows down and turns on his signal to pull into a parking garage beneath a building that can’t be more than ten stories tall. I assume it’s his condo building, as evidenced by the numerous outdoor balconies I see studded up the side of it.

  Jett navigates the parking garage, moving up one level and taking a spot marked “Reserved” by the elevator. I’m guessing he paid a premium for it.

  After he shuts off the engine, he undoes his seatbelt and turns to open his door. I know he’s going to come around to open mine, and my nerves fire back up again. He’s gone, the interior silent after he shuts his door, and my palms start sweating as he rounds the back of the vehicle. I undo my seatbelt and he opens my door, holding a hand out. I take it, clutching my purse in the other.

  Jett steadies me as I swing my legs out of his vehicle, plant them on the concrete floor and make a command decision. Dropping my purse, I bring my hand to his chest, curl my fingers into his shirt and give it a tiny tug to get his attention.

  I have it.

  His eyes laser onto mine, his hand covering mine as his breath goes still in his chest.

  “I’d like to know if I remember how to kiss,” I whisper, needing anything to dispel my doubts about this evening.

  Just a kiss to tell me if this attraction is real, if my desire to have physical intimacy is real.

  More than anything, I need to know if he wants me back.

  Time goes still and his eyes stay locked on mine. I can’t read a damn thing on his face and I’m starting to think perhaps this bold move might be a turnoff.

  I even start to take a step back, but I’m startled when his hand releases mine and shoots to the back of my neck to hold me in place. No man has ever held me this way. Tight, without pain, but the message is clear. I’m not moving anywhere unless he lets me.

  A tingle moves up my spine, and it’s most definitely not fear.

  It’s excitement.

  I look into Jett’s eyes and how can such a cool blue look so warm and intense?

  Then he’s reeling me in, using the slightest pressure on the back of my neck to pull me forward. I don’t resist, going to my tiptoes because while I’m average height for a woman, he’s so much taller.

  There’s a flash of something in Jett’s eyes… not triumph, but perhaps satisfaction.

  His mouth is on me as he pushes me back into the car door. Both hands to my face, he moves his body into mine and the heat and strength of him seeps right into me. There’s no hesitation as his tongue moves into my mouth and mine is there to meet it.

  Something raw and almost painful rumbles up out of my chest—a sound of animal need I haven’t ever felt. Jett reacts, groans into my mouth, and wraps an arm around my lower back to press my hips against his.

  And, oh wow. The hard length of him against me causes my legs to tremble and warmth to gather between my legs. I tear my mouth away, for sure knowing exactly what I want tonight, and it isn’t a drink to set the mood.

  I want Jett now.

  He must know it because he mutters in a guttural voice, “Let’s go.”

  He leans over, nabs my purse, and takes my hand, dragging me to the elevator. It comes blessedly fast and when we are inside, he presses the button for the top floor—number eleven.

  Half expecting him to kiss me again on the ride up, I’m strangely touched when instead, he pulls me into his side and wraps an arm around my waist.

  The elevator door opens, and with gentle guidance, Jett propels me out. We cut left, walking to the end of the hall, bypassing doors to the left and right, and move straight to the end, indicating it’s a corner unit.

  Rather than pull his keys out to unlock the door, he spins me around and then his mouth is back on me. I moan as Jett’s hands come to my hips to hold me in place as he presses his hard length against me again.

  And he grinds.

  The friction is almost too much for me to bear because it�
�s been so damn long, and I forgot what it’s like to have a man want me in this way. Lust sweeps through me, and I need him to know I want him in the same way.

  I manage to snake a hand in between us, palm his erection, and squeeze it through the denim. Jett groans into my mouth and flexes his hips into my hand, demanding I do it again.

  And I do. I grip him hard, stroke him through the material as Jett brings his mouth to my neck. Grazing his teeth there, I shiver as his lips move up to my ear. “Got those condoms ready?”

  I manage to make some sound of assent.

  “Good,” he growls before biting my ear lobe. “Not sure we’re going to make it to the bed.”

  My head is spinning at the implication.

  Sex here in the hallway?

  I know deep down I should object to that, but damn if I don’t want it. That super dirty fantasy is stopped in its tracks when Jett gently removes my hand from the front of his pants and digs down into his pocket to pull out his keys.

  Efficiently, he opens the door, pulls me inside, and quickly enters a code into the alarm to quiet the beeping. It’s almost enough time for my skin to cool, but then Jett’s arms are around me and he’s lowering me right onto the thick white carpet just past the parquet foyer. I vaguely notice a coffee table to my left and an l-shaped couch only a few feet from that.

  And yet… he couldn’t wait to make it those few steps and I’m on the floor with Jett on top of me.

  His blue eyes lock on mine for a brief moment before slowly moving to my lips, as if he’s considering where to start. He must decide that’s a good place because he’s kissing me again, and I now realize he was barely kissing me at all down in the parking garage.

  He consumes me with his lips and tongue, and I barely notice him nudging my legs apart so he can settle his hips against me. I feel shameless when I spread them wide, raise them slightly and lock my legs around the back of his.

  What follows next is almost hard to describe. There’s the claiming kiss that goes on and on, but he’s grinding his cock against my core as his hands start furiously grabbing and clawing to remove our clothes.