Jett Page 9

  Moreover, it means that in this short time, he’s established a level of care for Felicity that touches me more than I like.

  “Well,” I say briskly, giving him a reassuring smile. “We’ve gotten used to the way things are.”

  I don’t tell him that some nights she cries for her dad and she’s not even sure why, because after two years being absent, her memories of him aren’t all that great. And I don’t tell him I worry she doesn’t have a male role model in her life since we moved from Los Angeles. My dad was there for her, but now it’s just Jenna and me providing for all her needs.

  I most certainly don’t tell him that just because her dad isn’t in her life at this moment, doesn’t mean he won’t be back in it again in the future. That’s definitely something that goes far beyond what a casual relationship allows for, so my words are meant to change the subject. “Thank you for breakfast.”

  He shrugs. “You cooked it.”

  “But you bought it,” I quip with a laugh.

  Jett seems okay with my not-so-subtle move to change the subject and asks, “Do you have to rush right out of here?”

  “Not really,” I drawl, wondering what he has planned.

  Pushing up from his chair, he takes the plates away and sets them on the kitchen island pass through. He then removes the coffee cups.

  Next, he comes to my chair and before I know what’s happening, he’s lifting me and sitting me on the edge of the table.

  It’s a good, solid table and doesn’t even shudder or sway under my weight.

  I open my mouth to ask what he’s doing, but he whips the t-shirt I’m wearing right over my head before pressing his mouth to mine. As he kisses me, he manages to lower my body onto the kitchen table.

  And slowly, with deliberate movement, he works his mouth away from mine, down my neck, over my collarbone and right to my breast. I gasp as my hand comes to the back of his head and I don’t have a lick of embarrassment as my entire body feels primed and ready for him with just those few touches.

  Breakfast was good, but this is a better way to start the day for sure.

  CHAPTER 11

  Jett

  The mood in the locker room is electric after our 3-2 win over the Cold Fury, the team we beat for the Cup last season, and two-time defending champions.

  It’s not just that we beat them.

  It’s that we were getting our asses kicked the entire game and in the third period when it was 2-0, with the Cold Fury looking to route us and smack Legend with a shutout, Bishop pulled off a shorthanded goal after poke checking a sloppy pass with less than four minutes left in the game. He sprinted down the ice all by his lonesome, juked the Cold Fury goalie, and landed us a point.

  A shorthanded goal is guaranteed to rejuvenate a team. Our fans went nuts and their roars never stopped thundering through the arena after that.

  It was that energy that had us scoring another goal—this time a pass from Kane to Jim for a quick wrist shot—only thirteen seconds into the next active play.

  And just like that… in a matter of seconds, we tied the game and put us back on an even playing field.

  The last three minutes of the game was a furious back and forth with as many shots being landed on goal in those last moments as the entire seventeen minutes that had previously been played. When there were less than forty seconds left in the game, Bishop once again managed a wicked steal on a sloppy pass. He didn’t sprint down the ice on his own this time. It was him and Dax, taking on a Cold Fury defenseman who valiantly tried to cut off any angles to the goal.

  It did no good and Dax flipped the biscuit in right over the goalie’s left shoulder.

  In all the Cup playoff games held in this arena, I don’t ever remember the crowd erupting so loudly as with that last goal. It was historic to come back from a two-nothing deficit and win a game in the last four minutes.

  Granted, it’s not the way Coach wanted us to win and while we got some praise in the locker room after, we got our asses chewed as he went over the shortcomings that led us to needing to come from behind.

  But what really made tonight monumental, and truly gave us that extra drive in the end to pull out a win, is that Baden was here in the arena. Since regaining feeling in his legs and making strides in learning how to walk again, he’s become more confident in himself. Dominik invited him tonight and he accepted a spot in the owner’s box, preferring to not make a big deal out of it and wanting to keep away from fans’ eyes for now. Knowing he was up there watching made it more personal to play our best and, while it took us a while to get going, we pulled it out for him in the end.

  It’s a monumental night all the way around and you can’t take away the crackle of energy coursing through all of us, despite having just played one of the most grueling games ever.

  Shower complete and my duffle nearly packed, I trade memories with my linemates of the amazing plays made during those last minutes. We’re all about ready to leave, yet no one wants to stop talking about how amazing that comeback was.

  “Alright,” Bain says, cutting into the game chatter. “Let’s head over to The Sneaky Saguaro and continue this over some beers and fajitas.”

  Riggs stands from the bench, having just finished lacing his shoe, and swings his duffle over his shoulder. “I’m out of here. See you at practice tomorrow.”

  That’s Riggs’ way of saying he’s still not interested in hanging out with us after a game. It’s typical. No one holds it against him, and we all bid him goodbye.

  Bain looks to Jim. “What do you say, old man? Night on the town with the youngsters?”

  Bain snickers like a twelve-year-old, but Jim takes it all in stride. He is one of our older players, but with that comes maturity and a sharp wit honed by years of dealing with smartass teammates. “Think I’ll pass. I have a gorgeous wife waiting at home for me, while you only have your hand, Bain.”

  All the guys acknowledge the burn and Bain takes it with good nature. He looks to Kane, but Kane merely shakes his head. “Sorry. Mollie’s not feeling good and I’m going to go home to take care of my girl.”

  “You mean discuss wedding flowers,” Bain snarks back at him. “You’re a regular old Martha Stewart these days.”

  More laughter, because it’s true, and we love giving him shit over how much he enjoys planning their wedding.

  And I’m all that’s left. Bain turns to me, confidence in his expression. “Looks like it’s just you and me.”

  I give an apologetic grimace. “Looks like it’s just you.”

  “No fucking way,” Bain drawls in disappointment. “You cannot bail on me too. You’re my last single ride or die, man.”

  “Not tonight,” I reply as I zip up my duffle, ready to head out. I’ve got other plans that don’t involve beers, The Sneaky Saguaro and my buddy Bain.

  “Seriously, Jett. What the hell? We always go out after home game wins. And after that stupendous win, how can you say no?”

  My mind blanks. I can’t tell him the truth, because Emory wants this uncomplicated and that includes keeping this thing between us.

  The guys only know I’ve been trying to score with her, and to their knowledge, I’ve repeatedly failed. I’m sure they saw me playing games with Emory, Jenna, and Felicity at the Fan Day carnival, but that told of nothing other than a friendly get together.

  And I’m not about to tell them that things have gotten very hot, very fast, with Miss Holland.

  Instead, I give a dramatic roll of my left arm as I wince. “Shoulder is sore from that hit I took on the boards. Just going to ice it and relax tonight.”

  “You can hoist beer with your other hand,” Bain points out blandly.

  He’s not wrong. And I’m a hockey player, for fuck’s sake. I could take a puck to the teeth and still go out for beers.

  “Do you have a date?” Bain asks suspiciously, and I can feel everyone’s eyes on me.

  Kane, Jim, and Bain wait for me to deny the question.

  Before I ca
n lie, Jim gives a hearty laugh and shakes his head. “No way. Jett doesn’t date. He picks up women, loves them, then leaves them. He has no reason to date, because he’s a chick magnet.”

  He’s not wrong about that and I hate it’s my reputation in this moment. Emory wouldn’t appreciate those details if she were to hear them, and if she’s here long enough, she just might.

  I’m at a loss what to say. I feel the need to defend myself and the fact I can have something more meaningful than a one-night stand should I choose. But that would be blatantly admitting to myself that I am actually interested in something more with Emory. I haven’t figured out exactly what yet, but she’s definitely not in the love ’em and leave ’em category of women I normally pick up.

  “You do have a date,” Bain says in awe, because my silence is ultimately damning.

  I refuse to answer. I promised Emory I would keep us a secret. She is still averse to the whole ‘co-workers having a fling’ thing, and again, this is casual.

  No strings.

  We are not a couple, so why even tell people about it?

  I sling my duffle over my shoulder—the one I just said was sore, but they don’t believe me on that anyway—and throw a hand over my shoulder. “I’m out of here. See you guys tomorrow.”

  “Who are you going to see?” Bain calls out.

  “Is it Emory?” Kane teases.

  I don’t turn around and simply ignore them as I continue to walk away.

  “It’s Emory, I know it,” Jim calls out.

  Yeah.

  They know, but I’m not confirming it at all. I just smile to myself and head to the player parking lot.

  My condo is a short five-minute drive from the arena, and when I pull into my designated spot in the garage, I smile to see Emory’s gray Camry in the other spot I own. I had given her the security code to get into the garage earlier today when we’d made plans to get together after the game.

  I haven’t seen her since the morning I fucked her on my kitchen table before I had to catch the team plane for a road trip. I came back yesterday, but we didn’t make plans to see each other.

  That’s all part of the whole ‘let’s keep things casual’ deal. It would seem very un-casual-like if we rushed to hop into bed again.

  Although that is exactly where we’re going to be hopping tonight, because while we haven’t seen each other in four days, we have communicated.

  All by text and nothing overly deep. I mean, there’s the usual “how did your day go” or “you played a great game last night” type of convo. I actually learned a few personal things about her, such as the hundred different directions a single parent working as an organization Vice President is pulled. I admire the fuck out of how she handles it all.

  We exchanged funny or interesting things that happened during our days, a few lines here or there and then we’d be on our way, doing our own thing.

  In essence, we were both working hard to keep things cool.

  Well, except for last night.

  Last night the nature of our conversation changed directions. As in, we weren’t texting. We were sexting, and let me just say, Emory Holland is damn good at it.

  I learned that while her prim accent and heavy black frames might make the British vixen seem a little on the prudish side, the woman is as much of a freak in bed as I am. She’s bold and uninhibited, adventurous and daring. I also got the sense she might be severely overdue for some of the things we did, and her abandon was unfettered.

  Her sexting was the same, promising things that made my dick hard as I read them and ultimately led my hand to my dick. It also led me to demand she meet me at my place after the game, and she put up no fight.

  I step off the elevator onto my floor, turn right and immediately see Emory leaning against my condo door.

  She’s wearing a gray raincoat that’s buttoned and belted at the waist and a pair of black heels. Her hands are tucked down into the pockets, one ankle crossed over the other. My pulse quickens as the smile she bestows on me is playful and promising at the same time.

  When I’m practically toe-to-toe with her, her head tipped back and blue eyes locked on mine, I tug at the belt around her waist. “What’s up with the raincoat? It’s dry as a bone outside.”

  “I like to be mysterious,” she replies, her eyes sparkling with a knowledge I’m sure she’ll share soon.

  She better share soon.

  Knocking my hand out of the way, she drops hers to the knot in the belt and slowly undoes it. When the ends fall to her sides, those elegant fingers work at the big buttons. My eyes are helpless to look away and they about bulge out of my head when she pulls the raincoat open. I’m staring at her gorgeous body clad in a see-through red lace teddy, so transparent I can see she’s not wearing any panties under the short hem and I’m immediately hard with the need to have her.

  Protectively though, my head whips around to make sure there’s no one else in the hallway and then I’m fumbling at my keys to get the door unlocked.

  Pushing her inside, I mutter just before I take her mouth with mine, “I don’t think we’re going to make it to the bedroom again.”

  ♦

  We didn’t make it to the bed, but we did make it to the couch. I luckily had a condom in my wallet, and because we spent a lot of time learning each other’s bodies the last time we were together, we didn’t need to take that time now. We knew each other’s weak points and both of us went in for the kill.

  It was fast, furious, no-holds-barred sex that was over way too quickly and yet may have been the most satisfying experience I’ve ever had with a woman. I never even got the teddy off and only pulled my pants down to my hips before I was inside of her.

  My heart rate still hasn’t come down as she glides a hand along the side of my neck and says, “You played a great game tonight.”

  I can’t help but grin. I’m still lodged inside of her and those are her first words post-coital bliss? “You watched, did you?”

  “Well, I am the VP of Digital Marketing,” she says primly. “It’s my duty to watch.”

  “You were watching me, admit it,” I tease.

  “Maybe I was,” she replies but doesn’t outright admit it.

  “Can you stay all night?” I ask, not able to stop the words from coming out. I had wanted tonight to unfold according to her terms so I could see just how cool she wanted to be, yet here I am, being totally uncool.

  Emory’s face clouds. “I wish I could, but I can’t. It’s a school and work night and I want to be there when Felicity wakes up.”

  I get it. I really do.

  I still have a tiny flash of irritation, because this is exactly why I don’t date women with kids.

  But the moment that irritation rises, it somehow dissipates like smoke in a strong breeze. Gone before I can even analyze it, and in its place is a measure of respect and awe because Emory is juggling life. She’s a single mom who has a singular responsibility to her child. Her next priority is her career, because that’s how she supports her kid, and I imagine her social life isn’t even next after that.

  And somehow… I’m absolutely okay with that. In fact, I want Emory to feel that she can be with me, and still be a great mom and career woman. I vow right then and there that I’ll never pressure her otherwise.

  Instead, I kiss her and ask, “Can you stay a little bit longer?”

  Her smile is warm and genuine, and relieved that I asked the next best thing of her. “I’d like that.”

  “Me too,” I reply, then I kiss her again.

  CHAPTER 12

  Emory

  I stare at myself in the bathroom mirror and wonder for the hundredth time if I’m making a mistake. About the time I tell myself it’s definitely a mistake, I offer five dozen excuses as to why it’s not.

  I clearly want to go and there’s only a tiny part of me doubting the sanity in doing it, but frankly… Jett Olsson has turned out to be too much of a temptation.

  And I’m not just talk
ing about sex, although that has a lot to do with my desire to see him. Because it’s only the most mind-blowing sex I’ve ever had in my life—not that I’m all that experienced in that way. Past losing my virginity to my high school sweetheart my senior year and a few drunken one-night stands in college, the only long-term relationship I had was with my ex-husband. I thought that was good sex because it was all wrapped up in love and devotion.

  Turns out, I knew nothing about sex at all.

  But I digress.

  I accepted Jett’s invitation to join him at The Sneaky Saguaro after tonight’s home game. He made clear it wasn’t a date, as he knows I still don’t want anyone in the organization to know we’re banging each other. Jett merely wanted me to come out and start becoming a more personal part of the organization. He assured me other members in the executive offices join the team after games, and that I should start doing the same.

  Of course, when he made the invitation and asked me to think about it, he added on that after a few beers at The Sneaky Saguaro, I’d be coming home with him for the night.

  It wasn’t a request.

  It was a demand, and damn if I didn’t just roll over and capitulate.

  So tonight it’s about a few beers and some fun with the team. Jett and I will put on a friendly appearance and nothing more.

  After, I will go to his condo and stay all night.

  Sighing, I tell myself I’m going to do it, no more doubts about it. I pull out my favorite lip gloss to put on as my finishing touch. While The Sneaky Saguaro sounds fun, I’m really in it to spend time with Jett after.

  To make myself available for this Friday night out, I had two choices. I could easily have Jenna watch Felicity.

  Or, find a babysitter for Felicity and convince Jenna to come out with me. She made big steps going to the Fan Day a week ago and while she was skittish and on edge, she ended up admitting she had a modicum of fun.