Chapter 24
twenty-four
. . .
Amelia
Jason is gone when I wake up, the only evidence he was here a hastily scribbled note on the hotel stationary.
Last night was risky. It can’t happen again.
We have the day off, so even though breakfast is optional in the team room, I take myself out to a nearby diner with my Kindle. I would kill for some migas right about now.
Except it seems the team had the same idea, because half the players are seated at a table near the window.
“Amelia!” Sinclair says. “Sit with us!”
“Oh, I couldn’t—”
“Come on, we don’t bite,” Jenkins says, waggling his eyebrows. “Unless you ask us to, that is.”
Despite myself, I laugh, and I allow the waitress to pull a chair over.
So, my quiet morning to myself turns into breakfast with seven hockey players, two assistant coaches, and the statistical analyst. I’m the only woman, but I don’t feel unsafe or unwelcome; if anything, I finally feel like I belong.
Halfway through the meal, MacGregor, Logan, and Gonzo enter the restaurant, Jason on their heels. His eyebrows go up when he sees me sitting with his teammates, but he doesn’t otherwise react.
They’re seated at another table on the opposite side of the diner. My phone buzzes in my pocket, but I don’t dare pull it out, not when the other guys can see the screen.
Excusing myself to the restroom, I duck into the stall and check my phone, half-expecting the worst.
But there’s no jealous rant from Jason. There’s only a quick message: Sorry to sneak out this morning. Miss you already. Have a good day off.
I should give him more credit. He’s a grown man, not an immature fuckboy. He knows where we stand.
As much as I want to go by their table to say hi, it’s not a good idea. So, after washing my hands, I return to my meal. Sinclair, Reynolds, and Jenkins keep me laughing with more and more outlandish jokes, feeding off each other’s intensity. It’s all harmless fun.
Easton pays for the meal—he pays for everyone, despite my insistence I can cover my own food—and I walk back to the hotel with Jenkins and Sinclair. It’s in the low fifties, a welcome respite from the frigid temperatures of the Northeast in late February, but it’s still not exactly pool weather.
Luckily, this hotel has an indoor pool.
After a quick change into my suit, I head for the pool, intending to get some laps in. I don’t mind other form of exercise, but swimming is my favorite. There’s something peaceful about the weightlessness of the water.
Nobody else is around while I do my laps for the better part of an hour. I’m almost done when a person gets into the pool on the other end. I do two more laps before popping up over the side wall, breathing hard.
The man in the lane beside me is an impressive figure cutting through the water, the muscles in his big, broad back flexing with every movement. I appreciate his athleticism. He’s strong and in great shape.
But I have no interest in him, aside from academic fascination. When I was in grad school, I worked with a few members of the university’s swim team.
Shaking my head, I pull myself from the water.
I dry my hands and face with a towel, and then pick up my Kindle and water bottle, bringing them to the hot tub at the other end of the cavernous room.
The hot water is amazing on my sore and jet-lagged body.
I don’t even need the jets; the heat is enough to relax me.
Lost in my book, I hardly notice when another body joins me in the hot tub. Forcing myself to look up, I nod at the person—and then I freeze.
Because Jason sits across from me, his muscular arms spread across the cement ring on the outside of the tub. The water line hits him directly on the solar plexus, highlighting the curve of his pecs and his strong shoulders.
“Hey, stranger,” he says, giving me a teasing grin.
“What are you doing here?”
His grin curves into a self-satisfied smirk. “You mean you didn’t notice me doing laps?”
I swallow. “I didn’t realize it was you.” I have no interest in checking out any man other than mine.
Shaking his head, he huffs out a laugh. “Only you, babe.”
My eyes widen, and I look frantically around the pool. But we’re the only two here.
“Derek said to do my cardio in the water. Doesn’t want me tweaking the knee more.”
I frown. “It’s bad?”
“Well, it’s not good.” His massive shoulders lift in a shrug. “I’ll get through it.”
“I could—”
Jason shakes his head. “Let’s not worry about it right now. Tell me about your day yesterday.”
Laughing, I roll my eyes. “I worked. You saw me.”
“Yeah, but I didn’t see you. How were your sessions? Anyone out of line?”
“The team is great. Everything went well.”
He studies me, his brown eyes intent on my face. “You have plans for tonight?”
“Robby, Joaquin, Patrice, and I are going to the movies. There’s a new James Bond flick out.”
Sven and Vanessa are having a date night. They’re so cute together, but I can’t deny how jealous I am every time they eat breakfast together in the meal room, or sit beside each other on the plane.
I want that with Jason. I want that for us.
“Hm, I’ve heard of it. Maybe the guys and I will go.”
“I can’t stop you. But it’s our thing. You don’t need to crash it.”
“I know. I just want to spend time with you.” His face softens. “I hate that we can’t.”
“Me, too.”
Every day that goes by, it’s harder to remember my reasons for keeping our relationship quiet.
But then, my paycheck lands in my bank account, and I remember.
I’m incredibly fortunate that Brandon and Tyler gave me a place to land when I was let go from Colorado, but if it happens again with the Grizzlies…
I’d probably have to leave Boston. I’ve already applied to all the major sports organizations.
Sure, there are a bunch of universities I could try, and I suppose I could always go the clinical route…
But that’s not what I love. I want to work with hockey players, as boneheaded as they may be. It’s what I want to spend my life doing.
Besides, Jason’s contract is up at the end of the season.
He could sign with another team—or worse, be traded.
Who knows where he’ll be? He says he wants to stay in Boston, but it’s not necessarily up to him.
If the team needs to move him, he could be heavily encouraged to waive his no-trade clause.
On top of that, it’s incredibly early in our relationship to make long-term plans. We’ve only been together for a month, and nobody knows about us. He just ended a marriage. It’s too soon to think about a future, too soon to change my life plans.
Jason reaches across the hot tub, and since nobody else is around, I let him pull me across the small pool and into his arms. I straddle him on the stone bench, my arms winding around his neck.
“Hi,” he whispers, his eyes darting between my lips and my breasts.
My swimsuit is a terribly unsexy one-piece that smashes my boobs into pancakes. It’s designed more for athletics than aesthetics. There’s a cutout where the straps crisscross on my back, and that’s where his fingers go, sliding along the strip of exposed skin.
“Hi,” I whisper back, feeling self-conscious and silly.
He arches up, his lips meeting mine in a heady kiss. I thought the fire would die down as we got used to each other, but if anything, it’s only growing hotter as we learn each other.
His strong body feels so good beneath me, and as he grows hard against my ass, I can’t resist rocking against him. Even with the water and the fabric of our swimsuits between us, he feels amazing between my legs.
“Hey, now,” he murmurs. “None of that.”
“Why not?”
He kisses my neck, the soft scrape of his stubble sending my pulse skyrocketing. I dig my fingers into his shoulders, massaging some of the tension.
“Don’t start something you won’t finish,” Jason warns.
“Who said I’m not going to finish?” Grinding onto him, I swivel my hips, and the groan he lets out is satisfaction to my ears.
My hands trace over his sculpted body, touching him both above and under the water. He feels as incredible as ever. I grow slick between my legs, and it has nothing to do with the hot tub.
There’s a snap that echoes through the pool, and then footsteps, and I break apart from Jason. Breathing hard, I move to the other side of the hot tub, trying to act like nothing is going on.
My core throbs with want, my nipples tight buds. I’m panting, attempting to regulate my breathing.
There are more footsteps, followed by a shriek of laughter. Looking over my shoulder, I see a woman with two boys. Preteens, maybe.
One boy strips off his shirt and shoes, and then cannonballs into the pool. The other boy—his brother?—shakes his head and enters the pool more sedately using the ladder.
Mood? Killed.
Jason catches my hand. “Let’s get out of here,” he murmurs.
Need courses through me, and despite my misgivings, I give in to my impulsive side. “Your place or mine?”