Chapter 13
Thirteen
Noah
I’m still reveling in the taste of Andie’s juices when I head to the arena the next day.
Heading into the building with the usual nod to the guard at the entrance and the staff milling about, I make my way to the locker room with my duffel bag slung over my shoulder, backward cap taming my hair, and mind full of images from last night.
I haven’t been able to think about anything other than the glistening pussy detonating on my mouth, not once but twice. And then getting exhausted from it to the point she fucking passed out.
I’ve been with countless women, and I’m not being arrogant when I say that for even a second. It’s just a fact, a reality that comes with being a famous NHL goalie. But no other woman has ever been as fucking responsive as Andie Moore.
Eating a woman out has never made me as hard as eating her out, enough that I had to jerk off right there and then on my knees.
But it wasn’t just the sexual part; being in her electric presence made me forget about all the shadows hanging over my head, sucking me into their void of despair. Made me forget what a fuck up I am.
She isn’t sharply beautiful, not in the way the models or actresses are.
To truly see and revel in Andie’s beauty, you must take a closer look, giving her your undivided attention. Her beauty creeps up on you, surprises you, and makes you realize how the fuck you never saw how strikingly stunning she is.
All my thoughts about her and feet come to a screeching halt in the corridor the moment Ezra materializes in front of me.
He’s leaving Kaeli’s office, his face in a pout you’d never have seen before Kaeli came into his life. Kaeli follows him to the door, pushing him out, she whisper-yells, “Let me work, Ezra!”
They haven’t taken note of my presence, too lost in each other. He points to his lips, begging for a kiss. Kaeli rolls her eyes at him, but a smile sneaks up her lips as she grants him the wish.
She melts into him the second their lips touch. At their affection and the love shining in their eyes, an ache blossoms in my chest—unbidden.
I wish I had love as they have, a partner to lose myself in.
Just as that thought pops into my heart, my mind’s noise threatens to drown them out with its scream.
Unworthy. Messed Up. Depressed. Useless. Waste of space.
My vision starts to get blurry, and the voice at the back of my mind begins to consume me. I lose my hold on reality, getting sucked into the dark vortex of misery and doom.
My head spins, balance becoming unstable as my hold on the bag tightens.
It’s Ezra’s voice that pulls me out of the impending spiral.
And for that I’m grateful.
“Hey man, what’s up?” He looks at me with a concerned expression, his arms wrapped around Kaeli’s waist.
The fog clears from my eyes, and I can see them again.
With a gulp and an internal shake of my head, I greet him.
“Hmm,” I hum. My eyes shift to Kaeli, who looks at me with a smile.
Looking at her, you wouldn’t be able to tell that she was kidnapped.
However, she has visibly lost weight and is only now returning to work daily.
“Hey, Kaeli,” I say, happy to see she’s safe and sounds.
My best friend went ballistic when she was kidnapped. He wanted to obliterate everything in his path to find her, and for a second, we all thought we lost her. Gladly, we didn’t.
I’d never seen a grown man cry, not until Ezra, when he thought he’d lost her. Even Andie was shaken, barely hanging onto her cool when we went to track down Kaeli.
She had hugged Ezra, seeking a semblance of comfort, and I’d be lying if I said I didn’t want to be the one she came to.
Ezra plants one final kiss on Kaeli’s lips and forehead and strides toward me. “See you later, Feather,” he winks at her as we both make our way to the locker room.
His playful expression dissolves, and he looks at me. “You alright?”
“Hmm,” I respond.
“Okay, grumpy man,” he scoffs, shaking his head.
He knows I’m a broody fucking asshole and is accustomed to my monosyllabic responses.
“Where were you yesterday, dude? The guys and I tried calling you a couple times, but the call went straight to voicemail,” he asks, sliding his hands in his sweatpants.
“Went to sleep early,” I grumble, lying through my teeth, which he’d punch in if I uttered the truth.
He sighs in relief, raking a hand through his hair. “Oh, that’s good. Had me worried there for a second,” he bumps his shoulder into mine.
I can’t even look at Ezra as the guilt slams into me like a sledgehammer. I’m the worst fucking friend for being sexually involved with his sister, when he explicitly mentioned that she’s off-limits to the team in the past.
What’s more messed up is that I can’t even bring myself to care. I don’t regret a single second of yesterday.
That makes me feel even worse. Ezra has been a lifesaver, and this is how I repay his kindness.
Liar. Selfish.
My mind pipes in, but I shoo the voice away.
In the locker room, I quietly get into my gear as chatter flows around me, songs from Sebastian’s stereo playing loudly, helping me drown out the noise in my mind until we hit the ice.
It’s his new hobby, playing 90s songs whenever we’re in the locker room or a bus, or on a private flight for an away game. Initially, it bothered me, but when I discovered how it helped me focus on something other than the ghosts of my life, I didn’t seem to mind it. I welcomed it even.
Soon, we’re on the ice, getting ready for tomorrow’s game with the Tampa Titans. Coach James has us run through a rigorous drill, not letting us take it lightly for even a second.
That’s what I love about this sport: you can lose yourself in it, shut out everything weighing on your mind, exhaust your body until you can’t stand straight, and pass out.
It has helped me all my life; hockey might be the only reason I’m standing sane today. My past, my life, and the people in it, people who should’ve protected me, did everything in their power to tear me down, to make me lose sanity, make me lose myself to the shadows hanging over me.
Most might be befuddled as to how a puck coming at you at a breakneck speed helps you. And I do understand their reservations. It’s just that pain never bothered me, not when it became my companion from a young age.
Being a goalie meant stopping the players from getting a puck inside the net. And the precision and focus required helped me forget everything else, including the shit that my life was.
Hockey is the only thing that has never let me down when everyone around me did.
It didn’t today either. It helped me forget about last night, about Andie and the sounds she makes when she comes, how her face is overcome with pure bliss, her pretty pink pussy glistening and tempting a man like me to sin, her curves to die for.
Being on ice worked, or so I thought, because the moment Ezra came charging, trying to sneak a goal past me, the flashes of me bringing his only sister pleasure streaked in front of my eyes, momentarily freezing me. When I finally came to it and moved, it was already too late.
The puck was inside the net.
My teammates ceased right where they stood. The screeching of the blades as they stopped on the ice was the only sound you could hear because everyone had stopped breathing—including me—too surprised by that goal.
Not even Coach was breathing, and he wasn’t that easily surprised. Not when we threw him a birthday party, and not when Seb’s ass was front and center of every tabloid.
Yet, today he looked at me like he couldn’t bring himself to believe that I’d let one of my teammates score a goal during practice. His reaction was similar to everyone else’s as I scanned the rink.
Trying not to make a big deal out of it, and get rid of that itch I was getting with everyone’s laser focus attention on me, I feigned a smirk, which felt unnatural. “You getting past me? That’s good.”
Ezra comes closer, coming to a halt right in front of me as he removes his helmet and tucks it under his arm, his hockey stick resting between his legs, while others seem to talk among themselves, giving us a moment.
“Pardon my French, but what the fuck was that, Noah?” His gloved hand extends, digging into my shoulder pad.
A strong wave of remorse washes over me, threatening to drown me. Here, he is concerned about me, and look at me getting involved with his sister, whom he clearly mentioned is off-limits.
Liar. Backstabber.
Now is not the time! I reprimand myself.
“It was you sneaking a goal past me,” I shrug, not wanting it to be a bigger deal than it is.
He cocks his eyebrow, head tilted to the side as he studies me while I try my damnest not to let him through. “That’s never happened before,” he points out.
“There’s a first time for everything, dude. Don’t make it a bigger deal than it is. I’m just exhausted,” I say, already tired of this conversation.
I couldn’t sleep a wink last night. Not when Andie’s essence was still on my tongue.
“But—”
“Enough, Ezra,” I snap at him, easily letting the broody and angry side take over. That’s the only way he’ll stop digging.
It works because he shuts his mouth, his jaw clenched tight, and with a nod, he skates away. I breathe a sigh of relief after him.
I feel bad lying to him. But there’s nothing I won’t do for Andie. And if lying to the people closest to me is what it takes to keep her happy, then so be it.
* * *
All of us are dead on our feet by the time we head back into the locker room. Half the players are already out of their gear and ready to take a shower, and the others are chatting among themselves.
Most are talking about me, as evidenced by the occasional glances they throw my way while whispering to each other. I grind my teeth, and it takes everything in me not to rip them a new one.
I don’t because it’s not their fault that I let myself get distracted for the first time since they’ve known me. Sure, other teams make goals all the time, but never have I ever let one get past me during practice. And it grates on my nerves as much as it shocks them.
My gaze falls on Ezra as he leans against the stall, his phone in hand. With the smile on his face, it’s clear he’s texting Kaeli. A fizzle of envy skates down my spine at their relationship, followed by guilt for being jealous that my best friend found his happily ever after.
Cautiously, I walk over to him, needing to make it right between us. “Hey,” I mutter, just enough for him to hear.
His shoulders visibly stiffen, and his smile drops at the sound of my voice, making a lead weight settle in my stomach.
Without looking at me, he types out a quick response and places his phone in the stall, finally moving his eyes to me.
He must’ve seen something on my face, because the stiffness eases a bit. “Hey,” he sighs, waiting for me to broach the subject.
“I’m sorry for snapping at you.” I apologize. People might see me as grumpy, a brood, a man with an attitude problem. I won’t lie and say I’m not, because I am.
But I also always try to do the right thing, apologize when I hurt the people I care about—intentional or not.
The tension bleeds from both our bodies. “No worries, man. It’s my bad for prying.” He waves his hand in the air, his lips lifting in a smirk.
“Got any plans after this?” he asks, his arms folding over his naked chest, a towel slung low on his waist.
My brows furrow. “I guess not,” I shake my head, wanting to know where this is going.
“Good. I’m gonna crash at your place, and you’re gonna make me something delicious because Kaeli, Andie, and her friend Aurelia are having a girls’ day today.
Which means I’m not welcome at home until late in the evening,” he grumbles the last part, not the least bit happy at having to stay away from his girlfriend.
Humor at his grouchiness makes me smirk at him. “And they call me grumpy,” I comment, not missing a chance to pull his leg. Who’d have thought Ezra Moore would be tied down?
He rolls his eyes, mirth dancing in his eyes nonetheless. “Fuck off,” he chuckles, jabbing my shoulder playfully.
“Any special request for your meal?” I cock my eyebrow at him, letting him off the hook, my heart feeling a little lighter now that everything’s okay between us.
“Chef’s choice,” he says, standing straight and picking up the phone once more as it buzzes with a notification, no doubt from Kaeli.
Before I can reply, Seb yells the second he comes back from a shower, “I heard that! I want to eat Daddy’s food too!”
“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” I groan under my breath, shooting a glare at Ezra, who chortles at my luck.
“What!? Don’t look at me!” Ezra raises his hands, trying his hardest to suppress the laughter that spills the moment Seb comes closer, because the kid doesn’t know when to stop.
“You’ll let me come, won’t you, Daddy?” He wiggles his eyebrows, his smile resembling that of a clown everyone is scared of, giving me the hives.
The rest of my teammates laugh at his antics and invite themselves to my place.
“Don’t call me that,” I growl at Seb. If I thought that a glare would stop him, boy, was I wrong.
“What?” He blinks at me innocently, dropping his towel, not a least bit ashamed about being naked as the day he was born, before he slips into his briefs. Not that any of us are. We’re pretty desensitized to seeing each other’s junk out in the open.
“You don’t want me to call you ‘Daddy’?” Seb continues. “But I love it,” he pauses, “Daddy.” He feigns a pout, making the remaining guys in the locker room snicker, enjoying every second of my torture.
“Ughh, Goddamnit, Rookie!” I grunt and turn around on my feet, raking a rough hand through my hair, desperate to leave this conversation as I pick my towel from the duffel.
Seb yells at my back, making a show of wearing his clothes hastily. “Oh, don’t leave me, Daddy!”
The locker room rings with the laughter of the guys, placing bets on what it would take for me to rip Seb a new one.
The kid’s going to make me go bald with how much he makes me want to pull at them.
Seb’s teasing voice follows me to the shower, as I shake my head at him, a small smile sneaking on my face when no one can see me.
“Daddy! I’m coming!”