18. Dutton
Dutton
“ W hat are you doing here?” I ask when I see Bridgette leaving my place just as I’m getting home. My words come out unnecessarily grumpy, even for me, but we’ve been together for two months now, and she’s only been at the hockey house one time, and that was for a pool party a couple weeks ago.
“I came to drop off Bran’s meds. He always forgets to pick them up at the pharmacy,” she says, tucking her hair behind her ear as her eyes dart around the empty porch and driveway.
“Nobody’s out here,” I tell her. It’s a damn good thing my hands are full of hockey gear right now, because I’m so damn tempted to reach for her.
It kills me that she was here tonight, but not to see me.
It sucks that when I see her on campus, I have to pretend I don’t know her.
And it fucking blows that when Ollie’s mooning over his wife or JT’s getting all sappy about his fiancée, I have to stay quiet and pretend I’m a hapless single putz like the rest of the guys.
Or worse, like I’m joining them in their never-ending quest for meaningless hookups.
“Want to come inside?” I ask, knowing full well I’m being kind of a prick. She was literally just inside, so there’s no reason for her to reappear. And we both know she’s not going to walk into the living room holding my hand like she might if we were a regular couple.
She’s already shaking her head before she even opens her mouth.
“Oh, I can’t. And just to warn you, the guys invited a few friends from the lacrosse team over, so it’s a little noisy in there.
Actually, since it’s kind of loud and crowded in there, and my brother’s totally occupied, maybe you and I could do something?
There’s a movie playing in the student union tonight.
And there’s trivia at Wolfie’s. But a lot of people know Bran there, so maybe?—”
“Maybe you should come inside with me,” I say, dropping my stick and putting my hand around her waist. “Come on, it’s the perfect plan.
You said it’s loud and crawling with people.
No one will notice us, especially if we go in through the back.
Besides, Mickey thinks you left already, right?
That means he won’t come looking for you, and nobody comes up to the third floor anyway. ”
I can see the indecision on her beautiful face.
She wants to be with me as much as I want to be with her.
“Think about it, Bridgette,” I coax. “Do you want to spend the next few hours in my bed or at the student union watching a movie? What’s playing?
We can stream it if you’re dying to see it that bad. ”
She shakes her head. “I don’t even know what’s playing. And if I would go upstairs with you, I wouldn’t want to watch a movie.”
She’s killing me here. “Then come on, live on the wild side a little. Let me sneak you upstairs so we can not watch a movie together.”
“What if my brother sees us?” she asks, biting her plump bottom lip.
“What if we tell him the truth?” I counter. I’m pushing the issue, even though I know it won’t get me anywhere.
“We will. I will,” she insists. “Soon. I just haven’t had a chance to talk to him one-on-one, and that’s what I need.
And I get why you’re frustrated, but walking into a party and dropping a bomb on him is not the way to go about breaking the news.
But...I really don’t want to leave just yet, and since Mickey already thinks I’m gone, we might just be able to pull this off, if you think we can get inside and upstairs without being detected. ”
“You just called your brother Mickey,” I say, leaning in for a quick kiss. “And yeah, we can do this, as long as Blue’s not too drunk to run interference. And he better fucking not be. I don’t care if we do have a bye week. We’re still in season and we have a damn tournament next weekend.”
Bridgette’s nibbling on her lip again, but this time, it’s like she’s trying not to laugh.
“What?” I ask.
“Bran said almost the exact same thing as he was unloading cases of soda for the party tonight. For what it’s worth, I think they’re ordering pizzas and playing video games.”
“They sure as hell better be,” I grumble, tucking my hockey stick under my arm and leading Bridgette around the side of the house to the back entrance.
I shoot off a quick text to Blue, and in true bestie form, he doesn’t even ask questions.
He just tells me to wait for the signal.
Bridgette’s holding my hand, and even if we are standing in the damn shadows, at least we’re together.
Between the start of hockey season and everything going on with my dad, it was probably a little crazy to start a relationship, but I was powerless to resist her.
And I’m damn glad about it. Things between us aren’t always perfect—like the fact we’re sneaking into my own damn bedroom—but life with Bridgette is so much better, so much brighter than I ever thought anything could be.
My phone buzzes, signaling that it’s go time, so I squeeze her hand and we creep through the back door. I hustle Bridgette up the steps in front of me, swatting her ass as I go.
And then I hear my name.
Shit. We both freeze on the stairs, and when Ollie calls for me again, I lean all the way back so that just my head is visible. “What’s up?”
“What’s up?” he mimics. “It’s a party, Sparky. Get your ass down here and grab a slice. It won’t kill you to be social for ten minutes.”
I’m only ignoring the dreaded nickname he used because Bridgette’s in front of me, and she looks so damn good that I’m not going to waste thirty seconds bitching at Ollie when I could put that thirty seconds to good use when we get up to my room.
“I stink. Let me grab a shower, and then I’ll think about possibly gracing you fuckers with my presence.”
“If your shower lasts more than three minutes,” Ollie warns, “the food will probably be gone.”
“I know. That’s the genius of my plan,” I say, before giving Bridgette’s ass a squeeze and following her upstairs.
The landing to the second floor is tricky, because that’s where Mickey’s room is.
I doubt he’s up here, but knowing that guy, he could have popped back up here because he forgot something or because he’s looking for the cat treats he feeds to that mangy stray cat he loves.
Luckily, the coast is clear because Blue’s standing guard and giving us the thumbs up.
There are a couple people milling around, but I don’t recognize anyone, so I think we’re in the clear.
Finally, we’re on my floor. Bridgette was up here on the day of the pool party, but we definitely didn’t have time for a full tour.
We’re in a time crunch today, but she slows down just enough to have a look around.
“What’s with the stripper poles?” She asks, pointing to the metal poles that run vertically through our common area. “I meant to ask you about them when you brought me up here last time, but I got distracted.”
“They run all the way through the house,” I tell her, remembering exactly how much fun it was to distract her. “But on the lower floors, they’re covered by walls or columns. “Maybe I should take advantage of them? Work on my cardio, that kinda thing.” I’m teasing, but her face lights up.
“That’s a really good idea.” She’s smiling at me with a gleam in her luminous green eyes. I’m intrigued as hell, but when we hear noise coming up from the second floor, we dart into my room.
Our clothes are off in no time, like we’re in some kind of stripping contest, but you won’t catch me complaining. One of these days, I’m going to take things nice and slow, removing every piece of clothing from our bodies one by one, just to draw out the pleasure.
But not tonight.
We’re breaking rules and playing with fire, and even though we’re not going to get caught, there’s something illicit about it that has both of us rushing. I can’t wait until we can take our time, but for right now, I’m going to enjoy every second.
Bridgette’s panties sit in a puddle on the floor, next to her bra, and I’m hard as a damn brick just looking at her. My hands roam over her body, just the same way hers roam over mine. We know every inch of each other at this point, but that doesn’t make us any less hungry or needy.
When my fingers brush at the juncture of her thighs, she widens her stance to let me in, and holy hell. She whimpers as I slip two fingers inside her. She’s so damn wet for me, and when I start to move my hand in a pulsing rhythm, she begins to tremble in my arms.
“You wanna lie down on the bed with me?” I ask as my lips brush against the soft, bare skin of her neck.
“Yes,” she breathes. “And I want more of this,” she says, wrapping her hand over mine to keep the angle and the pressure just where she likes them. Damn, I love that she’s not shy about letting me know what feels good.
“More of this?” I repeat, thrusting my fingers deep inside her and keeping them right there.
“Ungh,” she mumbles, gripping my arms. “Yes, that. More of—bed.”
“More of bed is exactly what I was thinking, too,” I tell her, withdrawing my hand, bringing it up to my mouth, and licking my fingers clean.
I walk us backward and stop just as my legs hit the side of the mattress.
Thank fuck I didn’t make my bed this morning, because I just don’t have the extra two seconds necessary to pull down the sheets.
I need to bury myself in Bridgette’s perfect body, and I need to do it now.