Bet on Ice (Boys of Winter Book 9)

by S. R. Grey

Hopping out—yeah, I feel good—I bounce up the steps and ring the bell.

  Cricket answers the door wearing a sexy formfitting floral dress. She looks stunning. The gauzy fabric hugs her every perfect curve. I also like how her hair is down, but with lots of bounce. It looks like she’s curled it at the ends.

  “You look gorgeous,” I tell her.

  “Thanks. You look pretty hot yourself.” Her eyes trail up and down my body appreciatively.

  I can’t help it. That has me thinking dirty thoughts.

  Quickly, I hand her the bouquet. “Uh, these are for you.”

  Taking the flowers, she raises them to her nose and breathes in deeply. “Mmm, they smell fantastic, Landen. Let me just run back in for a sec and put them in some water. Then we can get going.”

  “Okay.”

  She doesn’t ask me in, nor do I follow.

  I already want so badly to hold and touch her.

  Why tempt either of us with her bedroom so close by?

  She’s only going to be a couple of minutes, anyway.

  Once Cricket rejoins me on the doorstep, she turns to lock her door.

  I try not to check out her ass too much.

  But, of course, it’s hard and I really don’t succeed.

  None the wiser of what I’m up to, she spins around to face me.

  Innocent look in place, I hold out my arm. “Shall we?” I ask.

  Sliding her little hand in the crook of my elbow, she says, “Let’s.”

  She’s smiling, and I’m grinning like a fool.

  This is turning out to be more fun than I thought it would be.

  Taking a step back maybe isn’t so bad.

  On the way to the restaurant, I tell Cricket that I made a reservation at the very same place we went to on our first date, all those months ago.

  “I like that,” she says.

  “Yes,” I concur. “It seemed…appropriate.”

  “It does,” she agrees.

  It’s going to be like we’re reliving—and rewriting—the past. We can keep it the same in some ways but make it better in others.

  At the restaurant, we follow the original script and order filet mignon and merlot.

  But we don’t head out to the desert afterward.

  There’s a movie, but no fast driving.

  There’s also lots of hand-holding and a few shy smiles, but no getting each other off in the driver’s seat of the Ferrari.

  I sort of miss that one.

  I remind myself, however, that there will be ample opportunities to relive that experience again down the road. Pun intended.

  At the end of the night, there’s a good-night kiss on Cricket’s front steps.

  It’s sweet and loving, and it holds the promise of a brighter and better future for us.

  And that, my friends, is what is making this all worthwhile.

  Landen Scores

  Over the next couple of weeks, Landen and I go out on many dates. Dates that pretty much follow the pattern we started that first Saturday night.

  There are dinners, movies, pretty flowers from him, and chaste kisses by the door.

  Okay, the kisses are becoming less and less chaste as time goes by.

  Some are downright smokin’ hot.

  That’s all right, as the increasing heat between us is indicative of our growing relationship.

  This experiment is turning out to be a success.

  Another victory, occurring in the background for me, but in his professional life for Landen, is that the Wolves are on a tear.

  The team is winning games like crazy.

  Picking up Sebastian, who now plays at his go-to position of center since Blake is back in the lineup, has proven to be a masterful stroke of genius.

  By early April, the regular season is coming to a close, and the Wolves have secured a playoff spot.

  Yay!

  Everyone is thrilled, so when Ahren asks if I’d like a ticket to go see the last home game of the regular season, I’m all in.

  “Hell yes! I’d freaking love to go,” I tell her, my enthusiasm bubbling over.

  Hey, what can I say?

  I love hockey.

  I love the Wolves.

  And I, of course, love Landen.

  Sigh.

  Frowning, she says, “Only thing is I was only able to secure one ticket due to the high demand.”

  “That’s fine,” I assure her. “I don’t mind going alone.”

  I’m actually more than fine with it, as it will give me an opportunity, like during the first game I ever attended as an employee, to focus on the game.

  And, well, on Landen.

  Hee hee.

  That’s exactly what I find myself doing a few hours later.

  Seated in a luxury box in the first row, all by myself since the fans in the close by seats wandered off a while ago, I lean forward and watch my man play superb hockey.

  We’re midway through the second period, and Landen’s line is back out on the ice. They’ve been on fire tonight, having scored twice already.

  One goal was a Blake wraparound beauty, and Sebastian put the puck in the net on a sweet breakaway shot.

  “Now it’s Landen’s turn,” I mutter, as if saying the words can make it happen.

  Hey, they may.

  I believe in the power of positive thinking.

  The guys are setting up in the other team’s zone, passing like they’re on a power play.

  They’re all so good.

  Just as I’m thinking that, Landen flips the puck to Sebastian, who settles it down before passing it to Blake.

  Landen uses that time to position himself in front of the net.

  Blake then fakes a shot to Landen but actually passes the puck to Sebastian.

  That throws the defenders off just enough that when Sebastian passes the puck to Landen, no one is there to block his ensuing shot.

  He beats the goaltender and scores!

  “Yes!” I stand and jump around to the fun song that’s played every time the Wolves score.

  There’s a couple, who has returned from getting food, in the row behind me, so I turn around and high-five them both.

  “That’s your man, right?” the lady asks, nodding to the ice where Landen is celebrating his goal with his linemates.

  I realize then and there that he absolutely is my man—in heart, mind, and soul.

  I’m his in those ways too.

  Nodding excitedly, I reply, “Yes. Yes, he is.”

  Winking, she says, “Well, then, looks like you guys have some celebrating to do later tonight.”

  I just laugh and turn back around.

  But you know what?

  She’s right.

  Landen is mine in so many ways, as I am his, but our bodies haven’t joined in far too long.

  I know then that we’ve reached the point where it’s time.

  There are no more misgivings, no more hesitations, and no more fears. It’s just me and Landen, in love and for all the right reasons.

  So yes, we do have some “celebrating” to do later tonight.

  Good thing we have plans to meet up at his house after the game.

  We’re supposed to watch a movie.

  Ha, movie, my ass!

  Landen doesn’t know it yet, but he’s about to do some hot and sexy scoring off the ice…with me.

  The Best Kind of Celebrating

  We win the last regular season home game.

  I’m thrilled with how my line played.

  We scored three of the five Wolves’ goals.

  Not too shabby, if I do say so myself.

  The locker room is raucous.

  Everyone is in a fine mood, including me.

  Still, I can’t wait to shower and dress and head home. I’m supposed to meet up with Cricket so we can watch a movie.

  Well, that’s the plan, anyway.

  I’m so amped up from this stellar game that I wish I could show her how much…in bed.

  That’d be a much
better—and more fun—way to celebrate.

  But alas, it is what it is.

  We’re still holding off on moving forward physically.

  Sighing, I slip off my pads.

  Blake, seated next to me on the bench, also undressing, asks, “What’s up, Zehner? It sounds like your postgame euphoria is fading already.”

  “It is,” I confess. “But not in the way you’re probably thinking.”

  “Yeah?” He raises a brow. “How so, then?”

  I hesitate, then simply tell him the truth. “It’s just that Cricket and I are meeting up to hang at my house later, and I fucking wish I could ‘celebrate’ properly”—I clear my throat meaningfully—“with her.”

  Blake frowns. “Uh, why can’t you?”

  Of course he’d be confused. He knows we’re taking things slowly after reconnecting, but I’ve never told a soul that’s meant no sex.

  When I don’t immediately reply, though, he figures it out. “Ahh, you guys are taking the old ‘hold off on sexing’ slow approach, eh?”

  I nod. “Sadly, we are.”

  Patting my back, he says, “I don’t know, man. That works for a while, but maybe it’s time to give up on it. You got to get back to doing it someday, right? What better time than after a great game like the one tonight?”

  I think it over and realize I completely agree.

  “You know what?” I say. “You’re fucking right. Why are we still waiting?”

  Looking confused, he says, “I don’t know, dude. You tell me.”

  Nodding, I continue, “Maybe I just needed to hear it out loud from someone. I mean, hell, Cricket and I are so much more committed to each other than we were a month ago. There’s absolutely no reason to keep holding off.”

  Blake’s eyes widen. “Holy hell, are you saying you haven’t fucked your woman in a month?”

  I groan. “Ugh, I am saying exactly that. Please don’t remind me.”

  He lets out a low whistle. “Dude, I’m sorry.”

  “Thanks,” I deadpan.

  Blake shrugs. “I don’t know, man. If I were you, I’d definitely end that shit tonight. Besides celebrating, you sure don’t want to wait so long that she forgets how good you can make her feel. It could end up with you guys reaching a point of no return, like sort of friend-zoned forever.”

  “Shit, I don’t know about that,” I reply.

  But what if he’s right?

  “Damn it, that’s it,” I suddenly announce. “I am so fucking out of here.”

  Blake, knowing what I’ll be doing real soon, laughs. “Good decision, man. Now go have some fun.”

  “Oh, I plan to,” I reply.

  I take off the rest of my gear so quickly it’s not even funny.

  I then take the quickest shower ever, get dressed, and practically jog out to my car.

  There’s an extra step in my stride too.

  And why is that?

  Because I’m about to give Cricket a night to remember, one she’ll never forget.

  A Night to Remember

  Landen and I pull up to his house at the same exact time, me entering from one end of his semicircle driveway and he from the other.

  We park facing each other.

  Then we get out of our cars.

  Our eyes meet from afar.

  We walk until we’re facing one another in the driveway, only a few feet between us.

  I see then that we’re on the same page.

  Decisions have been reached, and it looks like we’re thinking the same thing.

  There’s nothing stopping us now except a few unspoken words.

  Let’s get this thing moving, my inner voice gripes.

  Yes, let’s.

  Clearing my throat, I say, “That was some game, huh?”

  “Did you like it?” Landen asks, tilting his head slightly to one side.

  His hair is still a little wet from his shower, making it appear darker than the usual blond shade.

  And his eyes, even in the dim lighting, twinkle mischievously.

  Smiling, I take a tentative step toward him. “I did enjoy it,” I say.

  “How much?”

  “This much.”

  I close the gap between us, and then my lips are on his.

  Yeah, I’m making the first move, letting him know that I’m ready…for more.

  I stand on my tiptoes and wind my arms around his neck.

  He deepens our kiss.

  I’ve missed this—the way he tastes, the way he feels, the subtle shift of his body, and the little sigh he lets out as excitement begins to overtake him.

  I feel it too, the palpable sexual tension in the air.

  It’s never left, it was just brewing.

  But I’m done with that.

  Pulling back, gasping, I ask, “Do you want to go inside?”

  Landen raises a brow. “Do you?”

  I nod. “Yeah, I do. I think the time has come. We need each other in more ways than just kissing and holding hands.”

  Laughing, he says, “Damn, woman. You read my mind.”

  “Did you decide tonight?” I ask, curious as to when he reached his decision.

  Nodding, he tells me, “Yes.”

  “When?”

  “After the game. You?”

  I smile. “Same.”

  Landen then sweeps me up in his arms so quickly I barely know what’s happening.

  Just as fast, he carries me into his house.

  “Hmm, this feels very ‘caveman’ of you,” I say, laughing, as he starts up the stairs.

  I don’t tell him that I love it.

  An in-charge Landen is extremely hot.

  Holding onto me more tightly, he growls, “You got that right. Just wait till I have you in my bed. And then under me, on top of me, and in every possible way. I’ve been waiting for this moment for a long time now.”

  His words send quivers down my spine and to other much lower regions, regions that need his touch, his mouth, his cock.

  I let out a groan. “Just hurry, okay?”

  He laughs as we reach the landing. “You sound as anxious for this as I am.”

  “I may be even more anxious,” I admit.

  Very seriously, and slowing down for a sec, he says, “That is not even possible, babe.”

  “Hmm, I don’t know about that.”

  Striding quickly again, he mutters, “Yeah, we’ll see.”

  With me securely in his strong arms, Landen kicks open the door to his bedroom and ushers us inside.

  His alpha male actions continue as he tosses me onto the bed.

  Giggling, I roll over onto my stomach. “I want to watch you undress,” I say, my voice thick with lust.

  “Your wish is my command,” he tells me as he tugs his black long-sleeved tech tee over his head, revealing sculpted abs and a smooth, wide chest. “But…”

  “Yes?”

  “I get to watch you take your clothes off next.”

  “Absolutely,” I agree, nodding enthusiastically. “Fair is fair, right?”

  “You bet it is.”

  Landen unzips his dark pants and takes them off slowly.

  He takes extra time to ditch his shoes and socks, and I grow impatient.

  “Just get naked, will you?” I grind out as I rise up to my knees.

  “I guess you weren’t kidding about being more anxious than I am,” he teases.

  “I told you,” I groan.

  I start taking off the Wolves jersey I’m wearing—his number, of course.

  Once it’s over my head and in my hands, I toss it to him.

  He catches it and throws it aside.

  Standing in only his boxer briefs, his huge erection on full display, I quickly strip down to just my panties.

  Landen’s eyes travel over my breasts, down my taut stomach, and then lower still.

  “Those”—he nods to my lacy pink undies—“need to go.”

  “You first,” I coo.

  With no hesitation, he whips off h
is boxers, freeing the cock I want so much.

  “Mmm…” I purr.

  I’m as excited as he is.

  Yeah, those lacy panties he wants off so badly are thoroughly soaked.

  As I start to pull one side down, I say, “I want you inside me right away. When I say no more waiting, I mean no more waiting.”

  “Shit, woman, you’re not messing around.”

  “I’m not.” I pause on tugging my panties down my legs and warn, “I mean it, Landen. I’ve waited long enough for this.”

  “You and me both,” he growls. “Now get rid of those panties or I’m ripping them off you.”

  I giggle. “Oooh, promises, promises.”

  That’s all it takes before Landen descends on me.

  Pushing me back onto the bed, he does indeed tear my panties off.

  “Good thing I didn’t really like those,” I tease as he throws the tatters aside.

  Landen is too focused on spreading my legs to discern that I’m kidding around, and he tells me, “I’ll buy you new ones.”

  I make him stop for a sec so he can look at me.

  With my hand on his chin, I say, “I don’t want new ones. I just want you.”

  Sighing, he leans his forehead to mine as he slowly pushes into me.

  “Damn, you feel so good,” I gasp.

  “Not as good as you feel, beautiful.”

  We both still then, clearly needing a quiet moment of connection.

  But soon what’s natural takes over, and Landen begins to move.

  I match his every thrust, rolling my hips in the way I know he likes.

  “I love you so fucking much,” he says. “I’m not afraid to tell you that anymore.”

  I say it in return, and add, “You’re my forever, Landen.”

  It’s true.

  No matter what, if there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that Landen Zehner is the man for me.

  I’ll never want or love anybody as much as I love and want him.

  I know he feels the same way.

  And I know he’s made peace with that.

  As have I.

  Sighing contentedly, Landen buries his face in my neck and responds in the way he’s best at—loving me with all his body and all his heart and soul.

  Let’s Close This One Out

  Cricket tells me I’m her forever, and it gets me to thinking about where we should go from here.