Ice Contact (Milwaukee Steel Riders #1)

7. Hayes

7

hayes

W elcome to Milwaukee indeed. If this is the welcoming committee, I’m going to look for sponsorship deals with the Milwaukee Tourism Board, because damn .

But… fuck. She has a boyfriend. On the other hand, she was the one who put her arms around me and pulled me in close enough I could feel the pounding of her heart. Those soft lips, capable of singing the most beautiful songs, were so close to mine. God, I wanted to kiss her. Fuck her shitty-ass boyfriend.

And now I’m home in my apartment. Alone. No internet. No TV. Just my imagination. I am definitely not going to lie here in my empty apartment imagining those lips on other places of my body. I shift on my bed, lacing my fingers behind my head. Nope. I’m a respectful gentleman. Staring at the ceiling, I hear the low rumble of the fridge, filling the void Olivia left. My jeans feel tight as I relive the night over and over. I need more alcohol.

And a cold shower.

I strip off my clothes, my phone slipping from my pocket, hitting the floor with a loud thud. Holy shit…I could Google her! Find her on social media maybe? Snapping my phone off the floor in an instant, I hop back on my bed to do some detective work. Shit. We did not exchange last names. Damnit. Maybe she’s on the bar’s social media page? A quick search for Walt’s on Water only brings up a few check-ins and one bad review claiming they had the world’s worst mozzarella sticks and should be ashamed to serve them in the dairy state, but no actual social media page. Remind me to stick to the cheese curds . Turns out Walt’s is in the technology dark ages. And no mentions of Olivia. I drop my phone on my stomach.

Fuck.

Maybe I’ll go back to the bar tomorrow and see if that bartender, Johnny, will give me the scoop. I think I saw him smiling when he caught us outside. Or maybe it was an evil smile. He does work for Walt, who apparently knows Olivia’s boyfriend somehow. Then again, he seemed like he wasn’t a fan of Banks. Or Bart. Or whatever the fuck that guy’s dumbass name is.

I throw my arm over my eyes, fisting my sheets with my other hand. I can let this go. I’m not here to find a relationship. I just got out of a really shitty one. I’m here to work hard and play hockey, building a new life for myself in a new city. I’m a professional. We hit the ice every day, putting our personal lives aside and focusing on the task at hand. Speaking of hands …they were so petite and silky. The thought of what I want her doing with those hands has me hard as a rock.

Fuck cold showers.

Palming my dick, imagining her hands instead of mine, I dream of her soft lips parting to take me in one inch at a time. Wishing her fingers were digging into my ass to pull me further into her mouth. Wanting her to look up at me with those fathomless eyes while she licks and sucks my thickness. I move my hand slowly at first, then faster and faster, longing to have Olivia here, in my bed, lying beside me. On top of me. Beneath me. Every muscle in my body tenses as a warm feeling overtakes my abdomen. Fantasizing about my cum exploding across her tits and her tongue sends me over the edge. Screaming her name, I find my release longing for more of her.

“Fuck. I am totally screwed.”