“You’d better learn how to take it because that’s never going to fucking happen.”
“Stop! You’re doing it again. Unless you’re planning to come over here, you’d better quit it.”
“Fine,” he chuckled. “I’ve got to run anyway. Literally.”
“Run hard.”
“It’s the only way I know how.”
How true that was. Once he’d found me again, he’d come after me hard, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.
“Get to work.”
“You, too, firecracker.”
“Talk to you later, ice man.”
“Fire and ice?” he laughed. “It’s fitting considering I’m hard as ice whenever I’m near you.”
“Lucky for you, I know how to melt all that ice.”
There was no denying it. I’d proven it often during our weekend together.
“Delivery for you,” Lucy called out as she walked into my office at the end of the week.
It had been another long one, for both Jason and me. We’d barely gotten to see each other, and he was leaving again tomorrow for another series of away games. But first he had a home game in a couple of hours, which meant I wasn’t going to get much time with him before he left.
“Thanks.”
I waited until she left the office to rip into the envelope she handed me. Inside, I found a note—written in the same masculine scrawl I’d looked at about a hundred times on the card from the roses Jason had sent me—and a ticket to tonight’s game.
Cecily,
I miss your gorgeous face. Come to the game so I can see it while I’m on the bench?
Jason
I couldn’t possibly resist an invitation like that. Dumping a few folders into my bag so I could get some work done from home over the weekend, I packed everything up and headed out.
“Where are you off to so early?” Lucy asked as I walked past her desk.
It was already five o’clock, but I usually didn’t leave until six or seven. “I’m going to the Cavaliers game.”
“Great idea! Maybe I should go, too.”
I jumped at the sound of Sloane’s voice since I hadn’t heard her come up behind me.
“Sorry. I only have one ticket.” My apology was insincere, but I managed to sound like I meant it.
“I’m sure I can get us new tickets, next to each other,” she countered.
“Don’t forget, you’re expecting that call from Hawaii in a couple of hours,” Lucy reminded her.
“Stupid time difference,” Sloane grumbled. “I totally forgot about that appointment, and it can’t be put off. One of my clients wants to host as realistic of a luau as possible, and I’ve got a lead on some amazing hula and fire knife dancers we might be able to hire for the event.”
“Another time, then.”
“Definitely,” she agreed. “Making sure our faces are seen is a good way to give us a leg up over the competition.”
I was going to be seen—just not the way she meant it. Offering both of them a jaunty wave, I raced out the door. I needed to hurry if I wanted to make it in time for the puck drop. I had to stop at home to change first since my stilettos and knee-length skirt weren’t considered proper hockey game attire. I’d been to plenty games over the years, and I knew I’d probably trip down the stairs if I tried to attempt them in these shoes.
During my quick trip home, I changed into jeans, a Cavaliers jersey Alec had given me when I first moved to Chicago, and black, knee-high boots with a lower heel. I also pulled my hair back into a braid and refreshed my make-up. I wanted to look my best if Jason was going to be watching me, in part because I knew it meant his friends would be looking my way as well. I needed to do my man proud.
After a not-so-quick cab ride, I arrived at the arena with plenty of time to spare. As I made my way down to my seat, I was glad I’d made that stop at my place. The ticket Jason had given me was all the way at the bottom, right on the glass. I was on the blue line, front and center, with one of the best seats in the house. I made it there in time to watch the warm-ups. The Cavalier goalie led the team onto the ice, and my eyes locked with Jason’s as he followed him out. My lips tilted up in a smile when Alec knocked him on the ass with his stick to get him moving.
I sat with my chin in my palm, enjoying the warm-ups almost as much as any game I’d seen. The drills were the same as usual—breakaway shots on the goalie, two-on-ones, and line rushes. It was the first time I’d seen Jason skate, and I enjoyed the byplay between him and his line-mate, Ryan Forrester. Around the five-minute mark, they collected the pucks for a pass and shot drill, but Jason skated into the neutral zone and tapped his stick against the glass in front of me. Then Alec sent a slap shot soaring into the boards next to him, offering me a wave before they skated off the ice and disappeared into the locker room.
While they were gone, I ran upstairs and grabbed an Angry Orchard cider and a hot dog with ketchup and pickles. The guy at the concession stand had shaken his head when I’d ordered it. I tended to get that reaction since most Chicagoans got their dogs with mustard, chopped onions, sweet pickle relish, a dill pickle spear, tomato wedges, sport peppers, and a dash of celery salt. I’d never been tempted to give it a try since it seemed like way too many toppings to me, but I had taken to using celery salt. I just forgot to ask for it sometimes.
I’d polished off my hot dog and half my cider by the time the puck dropped. I spent the first two periods on the edge of my seat, engrossed in the game. It was a great match-up, but no goals were scored. At the start of the third period, Jason was sent to the penalty box on a tripping call. It looked to me like the penalty was worth it since the other player had been about to break out past the Cavaliers’ defense, but Jason looked pissed while he waited for his two minutes to be up.
His team was able to kill the penalty, and as soon as the clock ran down, he raced out of the box. He stole the puck away from the other team’s offense, passing it down the ice to one of his teammates. His play started a cycle of passes that eventually led to a shot on goal. It bounced off the goalie’s leg pad, and the right wing swooped in and scored on the rebound.
I surged to my feet, cheering loudly with the rest of the crowd. I turned to grab my bag off my seat and felt a tingling sensation on the back of my neck. When I sat down, I found Jason leveling me with a glare from the bench, his gaze dropping down to my jersey and up again. I glanced down, but I couldn’t figure out what was bothering him until he pointed at Alec on the ice.
“Oh, shit,” I mumbled to myself. The jersey I’d grabbed had Alec’s name and number on the back. Judging from the look on Jason’s face, I’d better stop at the team store before I left the arena to buy myself a new jersey with his name and number on it.
13
Jason
Our game on Friday night had gone into overtime. The extra minutes on the clock plus an unusual number of calls by the refs meant I hadn’t left the arena until shortly after eleven o’clock. Since Cee-Cee had a seven a.m. meeting, I’d dropped her off at her apartment without going inside. If I had, she wouldn’t have gotten any sleep with the mood I’d been in after seeing Alec’s name and number on the back of the jersey she’d worn to the game. Logically, I knew she had it because they were friends—and only friends—but my brain refused to listen to reason and wanted to see her with my jersey draped over her body.
She’d partially appeased the beast when she pulled one of mine out of a bag and told me she’d bought it while she was waiting for me after the game. It had delayed me for the time being from giving her the practice jersey I’d tucked into my bag, but I’d still given her a punishing kiss that left her lips swollen before I’d let her out of my car. I’d never had a jealous bone in my body before, but all of them were with Cecily—I was insanely possessive of her.
It was a damn good thing that we only had two away games in a row, and we were already heading back home five days later. A full week away from her would have been almost more torture than I
could have handled. I probably would have ended up sending her a plane ticket instead of the gift I’d arranged to be delivered to her at work around lunch time. That was a full hour ago, but I hadn’t gotten a text confirming that she’d received it yet. I was antsy as hell to see how she reacted to it, and the wait was killing me.
I nudged Alec with my elbow. He’d dozed off in the seat next to me about an hour ago. “What?” he asked groggily.
“Let me see your phone.”
Without bothering to open his eyes, he dug into his pocket, pulled it out, and handed it to me. I tapped the button to power on the screen and groaned when I saw a bunch of iMessage notifications pop up. “Shit.”
“Just tell me what the hell is wrong so I can go back to sleep,” Alec grumbled.
I tossed his phone onto his lap. “Nothing. I just thought maybe the wifi was acting up.”
He cracked open an eyelid, and looked at me questioningly. “Why’d you think that? The wifi on the plane always kicks ass.”
“It’s not important. Never mind. Go back to sleep.”
“Bullshit.” He leaned forward, both eyes open and aimed right at my face. “You wouldn’t be sitting there with your knee bouncing a mile a minute unless it was important.”
“I thought Cecily would have texted me by now, that’s all.”
“Seriously, man?” he sighed. “You woke me up because Cee-Cee hasn’t sent you a message today?”
“I got one this morning, but—”
“Let me get this straight,” he interrupted. “You’re freaking out because you haven’t heard from her—while she’s at work, and you’re on a plane—in a couple of hours? That doesn’t make any sense. Why do I feel like you’re holding out on me?”
“Fuck you,” I muttered, slouching down in my seat.
“I’ll take that to mean you’re definitely not telling me something.” He picked his phone up and started to mess with it.
“What’re you doing?”
“Texting Cee-Cee. Maybe she’ll tell me what the hell is really going on since you’re being such a pansy ass.”
“The fuck you are!” I snatched his phone out of his hand before he could hit the send button.
“Then tell me what the fuck is going on.”
I mentally cringed as I offered him an explanation. “She always texts me when she gets one of my gifts, and it’s weird that she hasn’t said anything yet. It’s been at least an hour.”
“What’d you send her? Maybe she hates it.”
I punched him in the shoulder. “That, right there, is why I didn’t want to tell you what the fuck was going on.”
“Aww, c’mon. I was only kidding. I’m sure you give good gift.”
“My gifts are fucking awesome. Even Cecily says so.”
“Gifts”—he lengthened out the ‘s’ sound—“as in plural? How many have you sent her already?”
I did a mental tally in my head and lowered my voice as I answered. “Five. Maybe six, depending on if you think a bunch of pizzas count.”
“Dude.” He shook his head in disbelief.
“What?
“I love Cee-Cee.” I glared at him, my fingers digging into my thighs as I told myself not to punch him, making him laugh. “Like a sister,” he added, knowing damn well what he’d said that pissed me off. “And I want the best for her. But I’ve gotta tell you, five or six gifts in three weeks is four or five too many. You’re spoiling her, and she’s going to expect you to treat her like a princess for as long as you’re together.”
“I’ve got no problem with that. It’s what she deserves.”
He stared at me with narrowed eyes for a moment, tilting his head to the side. “You really mean it, don’t you?”
“Yup.”
He clapped me on the shoulder. “Then all I’ve got to say is I’m happy for you both. You make a good couple.”
“Thanks.” Not only did I consider Alec to be a close friend, but I knew his friendship was important to Cecily. His approval meant a lot to me.
“And at least you’ve got the money to keep on showering her with presents,” he added.
“Yeah,” I sighed, leaning back against the headrest.
“I hate to be the one to point it out to your moody ass, but that was an odd reaction.”
“Only because you don’t know that I haven’t mentioned the family business to Cecily,” I admitted. “I let it go too long, and now it’s going to be an awkward conversation.”
“Nah. You’re overthinking it. She’s not going to care that you’re loaded.”
“I know.” It was one of the reasons I’d never seriously dated in the past. Or the opposite, actually, since I’d learned in high school how fake girls could be once they found out who my parents were. I didn’t have to worry about that with Cecily; I knew her feelings for me were real. She might not have told me what she was feeling, but she’d shown me. I wasn’t sure how she was going to react to me not telling her about it yet, though. I was hoping she’d understand it hadn’t been intentional. Although, there was a part of me that was thrilled as fuck to know our relationship had developed without my family money factoring into it in any way.
“How did you explain the hotel suite, then?”
I cringed, thinking about my answer. “I didn’t.”
“But she knows you live there, right?”
I nodded.
“She didn’t find that weird at all? That you’ve been in Chicago for almost a year, but you’re living in a hotel?”
“I don’t think so.” Thinking back on it, her reaction had seemed a little off—not that she’d had long to respond before the chemistry between us boiled over the second time around. Then we’d been too busy the rest of the weekend for the topic to come up again.
The alert on my phone drew my attention. “Thank fuck.”
“Cee-Cee?”
“Yeah.”
Cecily: One of your practice jerseys??? It’s way better than the one I bought at the team shop.
Me: It’s not like they can sell them there. What would they charge? They’re priceless.
Cecily: Is it the extra sweat that makes it priceless?
Me: The jersey was freshly laundered, but I’ll get as sweaty as you want with you later. In bed.
Cecily: I kind of got that you were leading there with the room key card at the bottom of the box.
Me: How soon can you be there?
Cecily: I penciled in a fictitious meeting for 3 o’clock.
Me: I love the way you think.
The flight attendant’s voice came over the intercom, telling us to prepare for landing. As the wifi signal dropped, I stared at my last message to Cecily—and that four-letter word.
Fuck, I was starting to think I just flat-out loved her.
I was running behind schedule when I made it back to the hotel. It was almost three o’clock when I walked into my suite. There was music playing from the bedroom, and I found Cecily perched on the edge of my bed when I walked in there. She wasn’t wearing anything except for the jersey I’d sent her. Her hair was down, hanging over her shoulders and brushing against her tits. Her green eyes were heavy-lidded, and her lips were tilted up at the edges in a playful smile.
I dropped my bag in the doorway and stalked towards her. “You look damn good with my name and number on you.”
“You think?” she asked, rolling onto her knees and turning so I could see the back of her jersey.
“I don’t know.” I toed off my shoes and tore my shirt over my head before moving closer. “I probably need to see it more closely to be able to tell for sure.”
“Then by all means, do an up close and personal inspection of every inch of it.”
I shoved my jeans and boxers down my legs, kicking them off along with my socks. Once I was naked, I climbed on the mattress and traced the letters of my name with a finger. “I like this more than I should. I think you should wear my name on you all the time.”
She glanced over her shoulder at m
e. “It’s not really professional attire.”
“You can’t talk your boss into a new dress code? Even just for dress down Fridays?”
I was surprised by her sarcastic laugh and how she rolled her eyes. “If she thought it would land the Cavaliers as a client, she’d have us wearing jerseys to the office every day of the week.”
“She knows we have Stan on staff for that stuff, right?”
“Yeah, but apparently there’s been a persistent rumor about them hiring an outside firm. She’s been on my ass to talk to Andrew about setting up a meeting with Pied Piper.”
“You can let her know that an inside source told you the grapevine got it wrong. Stan was on the road with us this trip, and he mentioned they’re hiring him an assistant.” I gently pressed between her shoulder blades until she was on her hands and knees. “You can also tell her, the only person allowed on your ass is me.”
She laughed huskily, but it turned into a moan when I slid my palms over her firm ass cheeks.
“Fuck,” I groaned. “You really are wearing nothing but my jersey. Not even one of those tiny pairs of lacy panties you like so much.”
“And somehow I suddenly feel overdressed.”
“You can take it off.” I nudged her legs apart and lifted her hips higher. “After I fuck you in it first.”
“God, yes. I’ve been thinking about it ever since I saw your room key.”
I drew a line along the crack between her ass cheeks. “Is that why you’re so damn wet for me? Do you have more fantasies we can add to the list?”
“Yes,” she hissed out as I dipped my finger lower.
“We’ll add that to the list for later, too. But not until we cross an item off mine first. You, naked except for my jersey, writhing beneath me.” I flipped her onto her back. “Just like this.”
I shoved a pillow under her hips, lifting her up so her pussy was on display for me. Thrusting a finger inside her, I groaned. “So fucking hot for me.”
“Jason,” she gasped when I withdrew my finger and shoved two back in. Her hands were clenched in the sheets, and my jersey had ridden up until the bottom half of her tits were bared.
Checked Into Love (Bachelorette Party Book 2) Page 12