41 Vendetta against myself
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
Vendetta against myself
RILEY
I must have a vendetta against myself. First I’d anxiously spent the morning waiting for Will to turn up, and now I anxiously waited outside the hockey team changerooms for Richard to buzz me in. If things went pear-shaped, I was blaming this on Will. He’d talked me into it. All collateral damage was on his shoulders.
The door swung open and Richard appeared, smiling warmly. “I’m glad you made it work, Riley. The guys have just started stretching.”
He stalked back the way he’d come without another word. Not allowing myself a moment longer to agonise, I followed him into the lion’s den.
He gestured to things as we walked along the hallways, giving me a mini tour. I didn’t reveal that I’d been here Sunday morning – on my knees in the shower sucking off one of his star players.
“Here’s a pass so you can come and go on your own,” he said, handing me a lanyard. “After the team is finished stretching they’ll get dressed for a pregame skate before coming back into the locker room to gear up for puck drop.” He shoved open a door with his hip. “I’ll introduce you to them and the staff as the night goes on.”
I got no warning before Richard opened another door that led to the room all of the players were currently in. This wasn’t some stereotypical rom-com moment where all eyes moved to me, there was too much hustle and bustle back here for them to notice an extra body. One player did notice me though.
Will discreetly smiled at me from across the room. He was wearing a grey training shirt and black athletic shorts, and he was foam rolling his abductors, mid-conversation with Tripp.
“Riley?”
I searched for the voice in the busy room. Beth, Parker’s friend and the person responsible for resorting me to Will’s swag, skipped over. Her platinum blonde hair was curled in fun waves, and she was wearing snug jeans with a Phil-U polo. One that was much too tight and ended above her midriff, which I expected was the plan.
I, on the other hand, was in leggings, a Phil-U sweater, vest and trainers. Not to mention I hadn’t washed my hair since it’d gotten sweaty earlier during my session with Will. I’d tied it in a high ponytail with a shit ton of dry shampoo.
“What are you doing here?” I asked.
Beth flashed a phone in my face. “I volunteered to help with the hockey team’s socials this season.”
I’ll admit it was nice having a friendly face here. Even if that face had likely only volunteered on the chances of picking up.
“It’s a full-time gig,” Beth explained. “There’s three of us that roam around getting content. Then we send it off to the social media manager and she turns it into cool posts. Look.”
She opened Phil-U’s hockey team’s Instagram and loaded the Stories. Sure enough, six minutes ago there was a Story posted of the team stretching. I don’t know how Will dealt with that, keeping his focus on his stretches when there were people filming his every move.
“What are you doing here?” Beth asked.
“I, um–”
“Riley. Come with me,” Richard called out.
I shot an apologetic look at Beth. “I’ll catch you later.”
When Richard held open the door, I followed without question.
“Tonight will likely be hectic, but I want you to tail me like a shadow. That’ll give you a good idea of what happens on a game night.”
I liked the sound of that. Richard’s background was the NHL itself. He’d stepped into this role as a segue to retirement, wanting a better work-life balance. There was a wealth of knowledge in his brain that I wanted a front row seat to.
Two students from my class were already waiting in Richard’s office. Richard must have given them a head’s up that I’d be here because they smiled warmly .
I quietly sat in the corner as Richard stepped them through the game plan for tonight, including the players who needed special attention for injuries. Will’s shoulder wasn’t included on that list, but I was happy to discreetly pay attention on behalf of everyone.
Richard was right about the pregame routine being chaotic. After establishing himself in the training room, players came and went, getting taped, prodded and inspected before gearing up. I mentally took countless notes. I needed to get home and hurriedly type them up before I forgot anything.
I’d heard rumours of his professionalism, but tonight had been something else. Richard’s confidence surpassed all my prior mentors, and it was obvious each player as well as all the coaching staff carried respect for him.
“I need to relay a few things to Coach Hall before puck drop. Are you good to hang around here for few minutes?”
I nodded eagerly. Maybe too eagerly. I was more than happy to stay.
Richard left, leaving me with the other two student trainers who were on the far side of the room. One was helping a freshman tape his wrist and the other was packing up. I made a move to help, but a hand closed over my arm.
Turning, I was forced to look up at Will. He was dressed in everything sans his helmet and gloves. He usually towered over me, but he did so even more in his skates right now.
A familiar heat pooled below. While he’d looked delicious lying on my bed earlier in his muscled, tattooed, naked glory, he was a different kind of delicious now. I’d never been up close to Will geared up like this. I liked it. Like, a lot.
He seemed to be reading the appreciation on my face because he smugly grinned. “I probably have time for a real quick quickie if you’re up for it.”
“Caufield,” I whisper-yelled, edging out of his grasp.
Checking over my shoulder, I frantically surveyed the room for the other three people. Thankfully they were too far away to have overheard.
“If you want to pretend like I haven’t had my lips on every inch of your body, be my guest, Dover.” Will stepped closer, lowering his lips to my ear. “Now it’s time to see if my fix of your tight pussy has upped my game.”
*
Upped his game was an understatement. Will was electric on the ice. I wasn’t the only one who’d noticed. The coaching staff, his teammates – even the crowd had been chanting his name when he scored his second goal of the night. I’ll admit that having a VIP seat to the Will Caufield show was pretty cool.
Even beneath his helmet, his grin was palpable as he jumped the boards for his final shift of the night with Levi. Those two were like one entity on the ice. How other teams stopped them once they begun doing their thing was incomprehensible to me. It’s like they communicated telepathically or something. It was cool to witness. Though I knew Tanner hated it. He’d once mentioned the coach of Allentown always stressed the importance of severing the bond between Caufield and Holloway. I was unsure whether the team tonight had tried. If they had, they’d failed miserably.
When the third period ended, our home crowd cheered loudly. The five-two win was a massive confidence boost before Saturday night’s game.
I didn’t truly believe that Will needed to sleep with me to play well, but if that’s what his weird hockey superstition was, then who was I deny the team of his post-coital abilities. At least that’s what I told myself when he stepped out of line on his way to the locker room and discreetly stopped beside me.
“So, Saturday?” he prompted.
“Saturday,” I agreed.