Play to Win

by Kelly Jamieson

  “Mmm. Roll over.”

  He obeys instantly, his cock springing up against his belly, long, thick, heavy veins throbbing. I reach for him with slick hands and drag them from root to tip. He emits another jagged groan.

  “Holy fuck, that feels good.”

  “I like it too…all slick like this.” The lube adds sensation, my hands sliding easily, gripping him firmly. I slip a hand down to push the toy deeper again and in seconds he shouts as he comes, spurting over my hand and his stomach. I’m fascinated and turned on beyond belief, watching this erotic show.

  He lays there, gasping, panting, one forearm over his eyes, his beautiful mouth open. I lean over and press a kiss to his chest, and he lifts his other hand to curve it around my head, holding my hair. “Jesus, baby, that was…holy hell.”

  “Did it feel good?” I kiss him again.

  “Fuck yeah,” he mumbles. “That was intense.”

  “You seem a lot more relaxed.” I smile against his skin.

  His lips curve up too. “Oh yeah.”

  “My work here is done.”

  He chuckles. “Best massage I ever had.” He lets his arm fall to the bed and meets my eyes. “With a happy ending, even.”

  “Yep.” I bend over and kiss his mouth, slow and lingering. I want to tell him I love him. I suck my bottom lip between my teeth and sit back on my heels. He’s looking at me so warmly, so affectionately. My chest tightens and I can’t speak.

  Which is probably just as well.

  Chapter 22

  Théo

  Fuck, I miss her.

  This combine is what I love—hockey. All hockey, all the time. Watching players get tested, talking to players, scouts, other GMs. Also the media, constantly sniffing around for hints of any juicy news.

  But I miss Lacey.

  I call her every night before I go to bed. Text her every morning when I get up. Think about her all the fucking time.

  I need to focus on business. This is important. I’ve been approached by a couple of GMs to feel me out about trades. I need to be smart and strategic, not lovesick and pining.

  Since that night last weekend when I came home wound so tight, my neck, my shoulders, and my jaw all killing me, my head pounding, and she’d taken care of me…I’m bursting with weird feelings. I need her. I want her. I don’t want to be apart from her, which this goddamn trip is forcing me to do. She gave up a night at a club that she’d been looking forward to, to make me feel better, and she’s sneaking in behind the barriers I erected to keep my heart safe from betrayal.

  Not only that, she destroyed me with the hottest hand job in the history of hand jobs, with that anal play I never thought I’d enjoy, and lube that had the top of my head nearly blowing off from the incredible sensation. That was a pretty intimate scene, something I’ve never done with anyone else.

  Focus.

  I’ve got my questions for this eighteen-year-old giant sitting in front of me, one of our highest picks, the questions developed by a sports psychologist. “Here’s a picture of a train with two engines. Which way is it going?”

  The kid’s eyes flicker.

  “Don’t answer that,” I say. “That’s a fucking stupid question.”

  He laughs nervously.

  I switch gears. “Last year you had a lot of personal success, but your team’s finish was disappointing. How do you deal with that?”

  I listen to his response, nodding. Okay, he did well.

  The next guy I talk to isn’t as big. He’s likely still got growing to do, but I ask him, “How do you deal with going up against bigger players in the corners?”

  The next guy we interview tells us his strength is his ability to play an all-around game. We pretty much agree with that. “I take pride in playing a strong defensive game, and I like to use my shot and my speed to my advantage.”

  Good, good.

  Like I told Lacey, we’ve pretty much already decided before this who we want, but it’s good to have a chance to talk to these kids and see how they perform on the testing.

  Things wrap up Saturday. I’m supposed to have breakfast with the GM from Carolina Sunday morning, but I want to get the hell out of here and get home. So I quickly change the breakfast to a drink in the bar Saturday afternoon, change my flight, and I’m home by ten o’clock after a painful five and a half hour flight. I manage to get some work done though, sitting in business class with a nice glass of scotch and unlimited snacks, thinking about my conversation with Tuttle from Carolina. They know we have cap issues and they have room. They’re willing to take some players off our hands.

  I mull over the options, entering numbers into my spreadsheets to see how the cap is impacted. Fuck. We may have no choice but to lose someone we don’t want to.

  I left my car at home so Lacey could use it while I was gone, and the car service is waiting for me outside the terminal at LAX. I jump into the Escalade. Should I call Lacey, or text her, to let her know I’m home?

  Nah, I’ll surprise her.

  Except when I get there, she’s not home.

  I park my suitcase and gaze around the empty house dejectedly. Shit. Where is she?

  I drop down onto the couch and text her. She doesn’t answer right away, so I haul my luggage upstairs and change. Back downstairs with a beer in hand, I check my phone.

  I’m out dancing with Everly and Taylor!

  Great.

  I blow out a breath and sink into the couch. I should have thought that she’d want to go out on a Saturday night. Especially since we didn’t end up going out that night I came home so stressed.

  She’s already made friends since we moved here, one of them my aunt, for Chrissake. She’s even made friends with my mom, going shopping, teaching her to knit. Everyone loves her. She needs a guy who’s social and fun, not a nerdy workaholic like me.

  I don’t feel betrayed. Not exactly. Just…let down. Disappointed. I don’t blame her. I should know better than to think I could have something—or someone—I want so badly.

  I’m not going to kick her out or anything. I’m not an asshole. I just need to be more careful.

  I don’t tell her I came home early to see her; I don’t want her to come home early herself. Not sure if she’d do that, but anyway…I drink my beer and turn on the TV to watch a recap of tonight’s hockey game, the first game of the Stanley Cup final.

  One day, I’ll be there.

  I just need to keep working my ass off and forget about a sexy, sweet woman with incredible hair and long legs and an enchanting smile…

  * * *

  —

  “I didn’t know you were coming home early!”

  I was asleep when Lacey got home last night, and even though I sort of heard and felt her get into bed, I pretended I didn’t and went back to sleep.

  This morning, she’s yawning and making coffee and looking adorable as usual.

  “It was a last-minute decision. Decided I wanted to get back so I could head into the office today and go through all my notes.”

  “But it’s Sunday.”

  I grimace. “I know. But I have some phone calls to make to follow up on meetings I had this week. We need to make some trades and I need to figure things out.”

  “Oh. Okay.”

  “Did you have fun last night?”

  “Yeah! It was a girls’ night. Everly and Taylor brought a couple of other friends and it was fun. We went to Lux.”

  “Nice.” I keep my expression pleasantly neutral. “That’s good. Well, I’ll see you later. I’m going to stop at Starbucks on my way to the office.”

  “Okay.” Her smile holds a hint of disappointment. “See you later.”

  I feel like a giant turd as I drive to the arena. I’ve been away for a week and want
to spend time with Lacey, and she’s obviously disappointed that I’m disappearing, but it’s better this way. I need to keep my distance. As much as I can, when we’re living together, sharing a bed. Sharing all kinds of things.

  Of course I can’t stay away from her totally. I hate myself when she snuggles up to me in bed that night, but I’ve missed her so goddamn much and I want her with a blood-deep craving I can’t ignore, and she feels so fucking good—all long silky hair and soft skin and lush curves. I pull her closer and find her mouth with mine in the dark and lose myself in her, in her taste, her scent, her arms around me.

  “I missed you,” she whispers in my ear as I move over her.

  My chest constricts even as I push inside her body. “Yeah,” I whisper roughly back.

  Her hands move over me, pulling me closer, caressing my hot skin. Her body closes around me, tight, slick, inflaming me even more. I move against her, unable to resist, my need for her raging through me. I want to take her and take her and take her and never stop.

  * * *

  —

  “You don’t need to actually measure the water.”

  “But it says use ten cups of boiling water.” Holding the measuring cup, I frown at Lacey. I’ve read the directions on the package of pasta.

  “It doesn’t matter how much water you use.” She’s starting to lose patience. “You drain the water off after it’s cooked anyway.”

  “Well, that’s true, but I think we should follow the directions.”

  She grips the edge of the counter, looking like she wants to scream. “It doesn’t matter!”

  “Well, it must matter somehow, why else would they put that in the directions?”

  “Aaaah!” She lets out the scream I could see building. Then she lets out a long huff. “Oh my God! It’s a good thing I like you!”

  I crack up. I can’t help it. I like her too. So much. I wrap her up in a bear hug, squeezing her so tight, because I can’t tell her how much I like her. Or…maybe even love her. I can’t. “Okay, we’ll do it your way.” I kiss her forehead, pick up the pot, and run water into it straight from the tap. “There. Living on the edge, baby.”

  She laughs too. “Damn right.”

  We’re making dinner then sitting down to watch the hockey game tonight—the final game of the Stanley Cup playoffs. The teams are tied at three games each, so whoever wins tonight wins the Cup.

  We didn’t plan on a bunch of people joining us, but somehow it happened. It always seems to happen, with Lacey here. Everyone is drawn to her. Pretty sure it’s not me who’s the attraction. Taylor arrives, followed shortly by Manny and Wyatt, and another neighbor couple, Rosa and Marshall. Lacey jumps into hostess action, setting out bowls of chips and dip, and platters of appetizers she magically conjures from our fridge and cupboards.

  Once again, I have to go with the flow. I’m getting used to it. And I’m actually kind of having fun acting as host to her hostess, acting as bartender, serving drinks to our guests.

  “Thanks, man,” Manny says as I hand him a beer. “How are things shaping up with the team?”

  He knows I can’t really tell him anything, especially since he’s likely going to be one of the guys on the chopping block, so I say, “Making progress.”

  “Who’ve you got your eye on for the draft?”

  “I could tell you but then I’d have to kill you.”

  Manny laughs. “Come on. Everyone knows Koskinen, Rintala, and Smith-Evans are gonna go top three. You have second pick, so one of them is likely gonna be a Condor.”

  I smile.

  “Who are we cheering for?” Lacey asks as she settles onto the couch next to me with a beer in her hand.

  I shake my head. “It’s gotta be Pittsburgh, babe.”

  She nods. “Your team. Okay.”

  Most people there are cheering for the Sharks, so there’s a bit of trash-talking going on.

  “Morrison sucks,” Manny says of a Pittsburgh center. “I’ve seen better hands on a digital clock.”

  “Are you kidding me?” I shake my head. “His numbers don’t lie.”

  “He has to stop that puck, or they’ll score!” Lacey cries at one point, talking about the Pittsburgh goalie.

  I turn and give her a look. She immediately gets it and her cheeks turn pink.

  “Sorry,” she mumbles. “Captain Obvious, huh?”

  I try to repress my smile. She’s cute.

  “Oh my God!” she says moments later, staring at the TV. “Can they do that? He just punched him in the face!”

  “Not supposed to,” I answer. “Guess the refs didn’t see.”

  “Well, they should be watching better!”

  Then she really makes me laugh.

  “Oh nice shot! Yay!” And she claps for a Sharks goal along with everyone else.

  “Babe.” I nudge her. “Wrong team.”

  “Oh. Right. But still…that was a nice shot.”

  Can’t argue with that.

  Everly shows up between periods. I have no idea how she knew there was a party going on. Maybe she didn’t.

  Lacey jumps up and dashes over to hug her. “Hi!”

  “Hey.” Everly gives her a hug in return.

  They’re best buds now, apparently. Weird.

  Everly smiles at me. “Hi, Théo. Haven’t seen you since you got back from Buffalo. How was it?”

  “Productive.”

  “Good, good. Oh, hi,” she says unenthusiastically to Wyatt, then turns her back on him and sits next to Rosa and Marshall. “What’s the score?”

  Wyatt’s face pinches up.

  Lacey brings out more food. I hand Everly a glass of wine and refill other drinks.

  Pittsburgh scores early in the second period, tying it up. Lacey and I high-five each other. “Got it right this time,” I murmur to her.

  She knows I’m teasing and gives me a little elbow in the ribs. “I’m learning.”

  The Sharks take a terrible penalty for an illegal hit to the head, and in the power play, Pittsburgh scores again, taking the lead. This opens the flood gates, and they go on to score two more unanswered goals. But the game’s not over. Late in the third, the Sharks put the pressure on and score twice. With seconds left in the game and their net empty, they’re cycling like crazy in front of the Pittsburgh net, in total control of the puck in a last desperate attempt to tie it up. We’re all on the edges of our seats watching, cheering, groaning, and shrieking with every shot attempt.

  The horn sounds to end the game.

  “Yeah!” I pump my fists in the air. I turn to Lacey and she raises her arms to smack my hands.

  The Sharks fans are disappointed, but nobody here was that invested in the outcome. So our party continues as we watch the players shake hands, celebrate, and carry the Cup around the ice. Of course, I feel that pang of longing, that wish that someday I could hold that beauty in my hands.

  I’m working on it.

  Hockey season’s over for everyone now; things are going to ramp up even more for me.

  * * *

  —

  I’m back in Vegas.

  It’s weird coming back. Everything is so familiar.

  Tonight are the NHL Awards. I’m not nominated for anything; nobody from the Condors is. But the Mustangs’ goalie is nominated for the Vezina Trophy and one of the defensemen for the Norris, so I came back to support them and do some networking. There’ll be parties, naturally, but I’m not big on those.

  I have one other mission while I’m here.

  I drive to the apartment building where Lacey used to live. Where she still pays the rent in case her brother comes back and needs a place to live. I take the stairs to the second floor, even though it’s been nearly two months since that day we ra
n for our lives out of there. Of course the suitcase isn’t there anymore.

  I knock on the apartment door and wait. This is probably futile, but who knows.

  The door opens and I’m greeted by a frowning young man with Lacey’s eyes and nose. He’s a few inches taller than her, but shorter than me, with dark gold hair and beard stubble. “Yeah?”

  “Chris Olson?”

  “Yeah.” His frown deepens. “Who are you?”

  “Théo Wynn. Lacey’s husband.”

  His eyes bug out, then he frowns again. “Where’s Lacey?”

  “She’s still in L.A. She couldn’t come with me because she had work and school.”

  “Huh. Yeah. She told me she got a job and was taking a course.”

  “What about you?”

  His forehead creases and his eyes narrow. “What about me?”

  “What are you doing with your life? After stealing money from your sister to pay your gambling debts or possibly gamble more, and trying to pimp her out to your bookies to get them off your back…after letting her bail you out time after time…what are you doing?” I fix him with a harsh glare.

  “Uh…” He seems at a loss. Then he shakes his head. “I’m trying. I am.”

  I push past him to enter the apartment.

  “Sure, come on in,” he says sarcastically.

  “We don’t need to have this conversation in the hall.” I turn to face him. “You say you’re trying. What exactly does that mean?”

  He stares back at me for a moment. “I’ve gone to some meetings,” he finally says, a bit defensively. He rubs the back of his neck. “I know I have a problem.”

  I nod slowly. “Like they say…that’s the first step.”

  Chapter 23

  Lacey

  I’ve just gotten home from my Thursday morning class. I have a few hours before my shift at Jolie starts, and I’m opening the fridge to see what I can have for lunch when the doorbell rings. Théo’s in Vegas for the NHL Awards that happened last night, and he’s going to fly from there to Vancouver for the draft this weekend, so he won’t be home until Monday. I scoot to the door to answer it, expecting Taylor and Byron inviting me to go for a walk on the beach, or maybe Manny wanting to hang out, and throw open the door with a smile.