The Final Move

by Victoria Denault

  “Don’t move,” I command and grip her hip tightly.

  She freezes, and with my other hand firmly on my base, I slowly drag the head of my dick across her opening once and then twice.

  “I need your wetness,” I tell her softly and kiss her cheek. “It’ll be easier.”

  I glide across her once more and she shudders and then pushes down again. It’s so warm but so tight. I swear to God she’s almost too small. It almost hurts, but not quite. I know she feels it too because she sucks in her breath and doesn’t exhale.

  “If it hurts, you can stop,” I promise her but I really want to keep going. “It’s okay. Just stop.”

  “No,” she pants in my ear, her hands gripping the back of my neck as she leans back a bit and continues her descent.

  I push up the hem of her dress. I want to see her take me in. I still can’t believe we’re doing this. But we are, and a few seconds later I’m completely inside her. Our eyes meet as she sits perfectly still. My dick is throbbing inside her wet, hot walls.

  “I can’t believe you fit,” she confesses shyly. “I didn’t think you would.”

  “Are you okay?” I ask tentatively.

  She nods and, as if to prove her point, pulls herself up a tiny bit and then back down. The friction is the most intense feeling I have ever felt in my life. She does it again, moving higher so more of me is exposed, and then slides back down more quickly.

  “I like this,” she sighs and does it again.

  I kiss her shoulder and then bite down on it lightly as her next movement is faster and harder than the last. And then I hear Jordan’s voice.

  “I’ll check the barn, Dad!”

  The sunshine slices across the room as the heavy barn door is flung open. Callie flies off my lap. I’m too stunned to react right away but Jordan isn’t.

  “Oh crap!” he bellows and turns away from us, shielding his eyes with his forearm.

  I shove my condom-covered cock back into my shorts and half jump, half trip off the tractor, zipping myself up as soon as I land on the ground. Callie is just standing there with her hands over her face. Thankfully, her dress conceals her lack of panties from Jordan. He obviously knows what’s going on and probably saw my dick hanging out of my pants, but she wasn’t exposed, and for that I’m thankful.

  “Dad was wondering where you went,” Jordan mumbles, still hiding his face. “And I don’t want to tell him now. Can you just go out there? Please.”

  I glance back at Callie and she nods emphatically and makes a shooing motion with her hands. I grab Jordan’s arm and drag him out of the barn, sliding the door closed behind us to give Callie privacy.

  “Dude!” Jordan says with wide, horrified eyes. “You’re sleeping with Callie?!”

  “No.”

  “I saw your dick, Devin.”

  “Lucky you,” I snark, because I don’t know what else to do.

  I start walking back toward the house and the party. Jordan grabs my arm and stops me. “So what the hell?”

  “Look, we’ve been drinking. We were just messing around. Not a big deal.”

  “It’s…she’s like family. It’s a big deal!” Jordan argues and I give him a hard, pointed stare.

  “Unlike you, Jordan, I’m not going to cause a Caplan sister to leave town with a broken heart,” I snap at him harshly and turn away, but not before seeing the hurt pass through his eyes. I ignore the guilt that drops like a stone into my gut and leave him standing in the middle of the lawn. My dad calls me over to pose for a picture with my cousin, his wife and their newborn. It’s going to be an awkward picture because my smile is strained. All I can think about is getting the condom out of my underwear.

  I excuse myself, head into the bathroom and clean up. When I get back outside a few minutes later, guilt gets the better of me and I look around for Jordan so I can apologize. But instead of finding him, once again someone is waving me over. Kayleigh Ratford, whom I’ve known since elementary school, is smiling broadly at me. She introduces me to her sister Ashleigh, whom I don’t ever remember meeting before, even though Silver Bay is so small I must have.

  We walk over to the picnic table filled with food, and I watch them fill their plates and I suggest things for them to try, like my mom’s bacon and blue cheese potato salad and my dad’s ribs. I chat with them as they eat but can’t stop glancing around trying to spot Callie.

  Prologue

  Callie

  Where did you go?” Rose asks me when I walk into the living room, where she and Luc and some of Devin’s cousins are playing video games. I open my mouth and then close it. I can’t tell my little sister—in front of Luc and all these people—that I was just in the barn fornicating with the reason for today’s shindig.

  “I was wandering around.” I simply shrug and sit down beside Rose on the wide ottoman.

  I pretend to be completely absorbed in Luc’s character in the video game as it shoots its way through the levels against some pudgy, sunburned Garrison cousin I haven’t officially met yet. My eyes are glued to the TV screen but all I’m really seeing are the images in my mind of what just happened in the barn. Devin’s lips on mine, his hands on me, his huge dick—inside me.

  “Are you feeling okay?” Rosie asks, suddenly pulling me from those glorious visions. She raises a hand to my forehead. “You look flushed, like you have a fever.”

  I realize I’ve been blushing. I smile self-consciously and swat her hand away lightly. “I’m fine. I’m going to get food.”

  “Bring me back some!” Rose calls out, because she’s clearly not willing to leave Luc’s side. I have a feeling she’s starting to develop a little crush on him. I’m totally going to have to talk her out of that later. I can’t believe watching Jessie fall apart wasn’t reason enough to deter her feelings for one of these idiot hockey players.

  Outside, the first thing I notice is Devin, standing by the big oak tree, with Kayleigh and Ashleigh Ratford hanging all over him. He notices me watching them and his face contorts with guilt for a second.

  Oh no, I think as dread fills me. I don’t want him to feel like that! I look away and walk swiftly to the food table. As I fill two plates—one for me and one for Rosie—I feel him come up behind me.

  “Are you okay?”

  “Yeah. I’m great,” I say firmly. “And look at you with the Ratford babes all over you. Way to go!”

  “They weren’t all over me,” he argues quietly.

  “Dude, they both want you. I can tell,” I tell him confidently and give him a smile before turning back to the food.

  “Callie…listen…I…”

  I interrupt him before he can continue. “Devin. It was fun. I’m glad we messed around, but that’s all it was—messing around. I don’t want anything from you.”

  I glance at him. He’s standing there blinking his big hazel eyes at me. He’s clearly confused but I can also see relief there.

  “I’m not Jessie. I’m not going to get all heartbroken or anything,” I reconfirm and pat his chest with my free hand. “I don’t want what she wants—to have a Garrison fall in love with me. I don’t want anyone to fall in love with me. I just want to get Rosie through school and get the fuck out of this town. That’s it.”

  “I just don’t…I don’t do things like that with anyone,” he explains, telling me what I already know. “I just want you to know I didn’t…I don’t regret it but I…”

  “Enough,” I say, raising a hand to get him to stop talking. “It was fun and fucking hot. Let’s just leave it at that. I don’t want what you want, Devin, but there are a ton of other girls who do, and two of them are standing over there. Go show them what a great dick you have.”

  He blushes at that. It makes me feel victorious. I love making boys blush. It means you’ve taken away their control.

  “You’re something special, Callie.” He bends down and kisses my cheek lightly. It makes me feel warm. Just before he walks away I grab his hand and give it a quick squeeze.

&nb
sp; “If you ever stop wanting one of those silly, suffocating relationship deals, call me and we’ll finish what we started.”

  He laughs and nods. “Deal.”

  Chapter 1

  Devin

  The porch light is on as I walk up the front stairs. I can see a faint glow behind the pale curtains in the living room. Conner is still sobbing in my arms. I sigh heavily. “It’s okay, slugger. It’s okay. You’re home.”

  “Mama,” he bellows and my heart breaks. Before I can knock, Ashleigh has the door open and she’s reaching for her only child.

  “Mommy!” Conner wails and wraps his tiny, chubby arms tightly around her neck.

  We stare at each other. For a second—but only a second—I see sympathy in her eyes. Ashleigh hugs him to her chest and runs her hand over his hair. “It’s okay, baby.”

  “I didn’t know what else to do,” I confess, feeling helpless and angry all at once.

  “It’s going to take time, Devin,” Ashleigh replies as she places Conner on the ground. He wraps his arms around her leg, not wanting to let go of his mother, but at least his sobs are slowly halting.

  “Maybe,” I reply and catch her eye. “But maybe it’s a sign we shouldn’t be doing this. We shouldn’t be putting our son through this.”

  “Devin, please,” she says in her frustrated voice—the only one I’ve heard come out of her mouth for months. She presses her lips together in a tight line and bends down, rubbing our son’s back gently. “Conner, honey, can you go into the den and play with your Legos?”

  He sniffs but nods and untangles himself from her legs and shuffles off. He glances back at me and gives me a wave and a feeble smile. My heart starts to crumble once again and I run a hand through my hair in aggravation.

  “He just isn’t adjusting,” I say firmly and lean on the doorframe, because she hasn’t invited me in—to my own fucking house. “If you let me stay in the fucking guest room, like before, he would at least be able to sleep at night.”

  “He sleeps fine here,” she counters, but I know that’s not completely true. She’s had to call me several times at night to talk to him over speakerphone and calm him down. He wants his daddy to tuck him in when he’s with her and he wants his mommy to tuck him in when he’s with me. “And you moving back in defeats the purpose of giving each other some space to figure this out.”

  “Space isn’t going to figure this out,” I shoot back harshly. “Counseling and effort and compromise is what’s going to fix this.”

  “Callie called.” Ashleigh changes the subject abruptly, tucking her long hair behind her ears. “She took a job on a show that’s going to film here.”

  “What?” I’m stunned.

  “She’s moving here. New Jersey area, I think. And she wants to see us,” Ashleigh continues.

  “When? For how long?” I’m even more aggravated than before. This is not what I need right now.

  “I don’t know. She didn’t say in the message and I haven’t called her back,” Ashleigh replies, crossing her arms over her chest. “I’m not going to lie anymore, Devin.”

  I want to punch the shit out of something—not her, of course, but a wall or a door or something. I haven’t told my parents or even my brothers that Ashleigh asked me to move out for a bit. I didn’t want to tell them either. They would make a big deal out of it. Or, more accurately, they would make me face the reality that it was, in fact, a big fucking deal.

  “I’ll handle it,” I say swiftly.

  “Devin…”

  “I should go before Conner comes back,” I say flatly, holding back the anger and pain that’s building inside me. “I have an early practice tomorrow, and if he sees me leave, he’ll flip out again.”

  Ashleigh does nothing but nod her head gently. I turn and head back down the stairs. I call Callie on my cell as I walk back toward the three-bedroom brownstone I started renting a few weeks ago when Ashleigh told me she needed space for a while. Callie’s voicemail picks up and I curse, but I curb my frustration when I hear the beep.

  “Hey, Callie! Ashleigh mentioned you called. You’re coming to Brooklyn?” I swallow and work hard to keep my voice cheerful. It sounds forced, even to me. “Why don’t you call me back on my cell and we’ll make plans to hang out. Make sure you call my cell, okay? Thanks!”

  I disconnect and sigh. How did my life end up here?

  I wander the streets aimlessly. Brooklyn is quiet on this fall night with only a few people walking by me. A block before my rental home, I turn left and head for one of the busier commercial streets toward a place I’ve been going a lot lately—a pub. I can’t go back to that townhouse. I hate it there as much as Conner does. Maybe more. If I could get away with throwing a fit and crying my eyes out—if I thought that would make Ashleigh stop this bullshit—I would.

  Does she really not love me anymore?

  She has to still love me; otherwise, she would just ask for a divorce. She never would have come back here with me this season. She would have stayed in Silver Bay…right? But even if she loves me, does it even matter at this point?

  Do I still love her?

  I love the child she gave me and I love the vision we both once had for our life together. I wanted that vision to be a reality. I always wanted that. But can I say, without a doubt, that I still love her? No. But I want to love her again and I want to make it work, because divorce is failure, and I’m not ready for failure. That’s all I can say right now.

  I walk in and take a seat at the glossy, dark wood bar. Vinnie, the bartender, gives me a friendly smile. It’s sad that I know his name. It’s sadder that he pours me a Sam Adams lager without me even having to ask. I smile gratefully and take a sip.

  I still blame myself a lot for ending up here. I knew Ashleigh’s first year in Brooklyn had been rough. She hated how big the city was and wasn’t comfortable being left for road trips. She missed her family and friends like crazy. I’d spent thousands of dollars flying her loved ones out to spend time with her, but it wasn’t enough. She wanted me to be there more and there was just no way I could make that happen.

  She’d worked through it. I’d made a point of calling her a few times a day from road trips and emailed and texted her constantly. It was the best I could do. She didn’t like a lot of the other hockey wives either, so the fact that, when I was home, there were a lot of team events they wanted us to attend didn’t help matters. She complained constantly that we didn’t have enough alone time.

  After our first year in Brooklyn, I was honestly panicked at how strained our relationship had become. She told me flat out she didn’t think she could return to Brooklyn next season. Desperate, I had taken her away to Europe—just the two of us. The trip did bring us closer. We went back to the way we were when I asked her to marry me—in love and happy and devoted to each other. She got pregnant with Conner on that trip. That was the happiest we’d ever been. Maybe the happiest we would ever be. God, I fucking hope not. I don’t want my marriage to end. I really don’t. I am not ready to fail.

  “Captain!”

  I recognize the voice before I even turn around. Tommy Donahue is standing at the other end of the bar, waiting on Vinnie to pour him a pitcher of beer. He smiles at me happily. The kid is always happy. He just recently turned twenty-one, but with his freckles and dark red hair he looks more like a teenager from a cheesy sixties sitcom—if they’d made one about a kid with a killer wrist shot.

  “Hey, Boy Band,” I say casually, but somehow I feel embarrassed about being caught drinking alone.

  He rolls his eyes at the horrible nickname the team gave him—insinuating he looks more like a goofy boy band member than an elite athlete. The moniker stuck like glue since he came up from the minors last year.

  “Are you waiting for your wife?” he asks, and I realize I’m great at keeping secrets. The team doesn’t have a clue what’s going on—well, except for our goalie, Mitchell Lupo, whom I told outright because I crashed at his house when Ashleigh first asked me
to leave.

  “Nope. Just some alone time,” I reply with a forced smile. “You take it easy. We have practice early tomorrow.”

  “Yeah, of course.” He nods and pays Vinnie, then hesitates. “You want to join? We’re at the back watching the Winterhawks game on the big screen.”

  I think about it. Watching my brother Jordan’s team play and hanging out with some teammates is definitely better than sitting alone stewing in my frustrations. I nod, hop off the stool and follow him back to the seating area with the TVs on the wall.

  At the table are three other guys I play with: Todd Anderson, Zach Klaussner and Riley Adams. There are also three girls—all of them wearing too much makeup and not enough clothing. The boys all call out jovial greetings to me as I sit down at the end of the table next to Tommy and turn my eyes to the big screen against the far wall.

  The Winterhawks are playing the San Francisco Thunder. The guys talk through the game. Tommy critiques the plays the coaches are calling. Zach makes snarky comments about the players, calling every single one of them a pussy. Riley explains the game to the girls—using layman’s terms and the salt and pepper shakers as makeshift players for visual cues. Halfway through the second, I watch Jordan deliver a solid hip check, sending a Thunder forward to the ice on his ass. Our table cheers and whistles its appreciation.

  “I taught him that,” I joke cockily and they laugh. It feels good to have an authentic smile on my face. I order another round for everyone and add shots of tequila to the mix.