Chapter 22
JO
“I can’t even tell what that is.”
“Jo, you wound me.”
I set down my cell phone with Nico’s face on my screen to pick up my latest knitting project. “These are mittens. That is…not.”
He plays at being offended, his lump of yarn hanging off a knitting needle as Cubby laughs in the background. “Joey! You’ve turned the biggest player in the league into an old lady staying in to knit!”
Nico playfully rolls his eyes, shoving at Cubby when he tries to take over the frame, teasing him about not going out.
Nico and I haven’t spent any time together since the morning he left my apartment to travel for a game.
Even when the Iron’s played at home, they’ve been booked to travel directly after, so we’ve been communicating via FaceTime, texts, and through my camera lens.
“That’s okay, though,” Cubby says, giving Nico a patronizing pat on the head. “Whatever you’re doing, Jo, keep it up. Our man here is on fire.”
It’s true. Nico’s been playing better than ever.
“Hurry up and shower. We’re leaving in ten minutes.” Nico bats at Cubby, who smooshes his face.
“You’re wound up tight.” Cubby leans in close to the phone, so all I see is one eye, half of his nose, and his busted lip from the game earlier. “You need to relieve him, Jo. Can you do it in the next five minutes while I’m in the shower?”
I grimace. “You are so gross.”
Nico pushes Cubby out of the way, eyebrows raised at me. “Challenge extended, Atkins.”
“Not accepted, Tremblay.”
Nico blows a raspberry while Cubby boos in the background. A moment later, I hear the faint noise of a shower turning on, and then Nico grins. “We got time, babe. Let’s go for the gold and see how fast I can get you off with phone sex.”
I roll my lips over my teeth. “No.”
“Ugh, fine.” He props up his head on his hand and asks me his usual question. “Whatcha get up to today?”
And I fear I’ve gone and done the thing I didn’t want to do.
I’ve fallen for my fake fiancé.
I’m not sure when exactly it happened or if it’s been such a slow process I didn’t even notice because of all the gifts and flowers and smiles and the way he softens his voice when he says “There’s my Jo” whenever I answer his call.
I don’t know if it has something to do with my concussion, that I was knocked out and woke up in a sudden fairy tale, or if he’s simply managed to sweep me off my feet, protecting me from my family, and forcing me to come out of my shell.
Or maybe it’s all of it.
I’m not sure, but I can’t deny it anymore.
I really like Nico Tremblay.
I pick up my cell phone, settling it against the pillow on my bed, as if he’s next to me. “I booked a darkroom for the end of the month to develop my film so—”
“I’m still coming with you, right?”
I snort at his impatience. “Yes, you’re still coming with me, but I really don’t think you’ll enjoy it. The process is long and boring.”
“I don’t care.”
“If you say so.”
“I say so.”
When I give in to a growing smile, he grins. God, I really, really like him.
“So, who’s all going to dinner?” I ask, curling up underneath my blanket.
“Me, Sheffy, JP. Cubby’s been DMing with this girl here, so I think she’s going to be joining us with some friends, but don’t worry.”
Since Nico and I have become “engaged,” Cubby’s taken on the role of the team’s sole manwhore.
Sweeping up, according to Nico. But I’m not worried, and I tell him so.
“I’m the one you’re on the phone with right now, and I’m sure I’ll be receiving a send me a picture of your tits message later, so, no, I’m not worried. ”
“Sassy Jo is my favorite, and you’re not wrong about that request.”
“And the answer is still no.”
It’s only ten o’clock, but I cover a wide yawn since I stayed up to watch his game in Vancouver last night.
I don’t know how Nico does it, his body adjusting to all of the time changes on top of playing games.
They have an evening game tomorrow in Vegas, and they’re flying to Philadelphia directly after, with one day off before another at home.
It’s nonstop, but Nico always finds time for me.
“We won’t land until midnight tomorrow probably,” he tells me, “but I’ll pick you up early Monday morning. We’ll go to breakfast.”
I huff. “What if I have plans?”
“Cancel them.”
“What if it was a job?”
“I’ll come with you.”
When I roll my eyes, he winks at me. “Can’t get rid of me that easy, and I know you don’t have plans or a job because you would have told me already, so have your bag packed, and be ready for me to pick you up at eight. We’re spending the day together, then you’re sleeping at my house.”
“You’re so pushy.”
“You’re goddamn right, and you better—”
“How does this look?”
Nico turns over his shoulder at Cubby’s voice before he laughs briefly then moves his phone so I can view Cubby in a light pink suit jacket and matching shorts. Nico clucks his tongue. “Like a douchebag.”
Cubby holds out his arms. “Brin’s favorite color is pink.”
“So?”
“You’re wearing shorts.”
“They’re Tommy Hilfiger!”
Nico sighs and turns to me, as if we’re in on some inside joke. As if I share any of Nico’s fashion sense. I don’t, but I laugh anyway, and he touches the screen. I imagine he’s touching my bottom lip. “See you Monday morning.”
“I’ll be ready,” I promise.
A day and a half later, I open the door to my apartment before he even knocks.
“There’s my Jo.” He wraps his arms around me to lift my feet off the floor. He’s the one who’s been away, but hugging him feels like I’m the one coming home.
“Missed you,” I say reflexively against his neck, and he sets me down, smiling extraordinarily wide.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
He kisses my temple, cheek, and mouth. “Missed you too.”
Then he picks up my overnight bag from the floor and takes my hand, guiding me out of the building, to his car down the block.
We catch up while we have breakfast at a little café by his apartment before we head to his place.
As we’re walking upstairs, we run into a small, gray-haired Black woman, who greets Nico with a hug. “Welcome back!”
“Hey, Alma. Did you get your cheesecake?”
She removes his backward cap from his head, saying, “Of course, and we don’t wear hats inside.”
He ducks his head indulgently, hiding his hat behind his back. “Sorry, Alma.”
She chucks his chin then focuses on me. “And who is this?”
Nico drapes his arm around my shoulders. “This is Josephine, my fiancée.”
“Ah.” Alma’s dark eyes light with recognition. “Nice to finally meet you. I’ve been wondering when he was going to introduce me to the girl who’s stolen his heart.”
My skin heats with a blush as Nico motions between us. “Jo, this is my neighbor Dr. Alma Peterson. She’s a former poetry professor and Gus’s current babysitter. She refuses to let me pay her, so I send her cheesecakes instead.”
“Delicious payment,” Alma says with a smile my way before turning back to Nico. “How are you feeling, honey?”
“Good.”
“Seemed like you got your clock cleaned yesterday.”
Nico sighs. “Thanks, Al.”
The Iron lost to Vegas by three goals. It was ugly.
“You’ll get them next time,” she says with a loving caress of Nico’s cheek and shoulder. “Now, I’ve been meaning to talk to you about Thanksgiving. I’m not going to be traveling back to Michigan this year, so how would you like to come over? The both of you?”
“Yeah, that sounds great,” Nico answers for the both of us.
Pleasantly surprised by her hospitality, I take a moment to recover, but when Nico squeezes my hand, I nod. “Yes, I would love that. Thank you.”
“Good. I’m looking forward to it.” She smiles. “I would stay and chat, but I’ve got to get going to my book club. I will see you later, Nico. Be good and take care of this young lady.”
She waves and continues down the stairs.
“She seems sweet,” I say as Nico opens the door to his apartment.
“Alma’s the best. Her husband passed a few years ago, and she’s never had kids, but I’ve been lucky enough to be semi-adopted by her.”
Gus meows as he weaves between our legs, and I bend to scratch behind his ears, as I mention what I know is a touchy subject. “You’ve told me more about Alma than you’ve told me about your own parents.”
Nico lifts Gus up when the cat paws at his leg, all but shutting down this conversation with a terse, “My dad died in his office of a massive heart attack, and my mom doesn’t have much to say unless she needs me for something, so…”
“I’m sorry.” I lean into him, rubbing his back.
He makes a nonchalant sound that clearly isn’t nonchalant. “It’s hard to miss something you never had, you know?” He shrugs. “I have Alex’s mom. Alma.” He presses a kiss to my hair. “And now you.”
I slant my head back. “You think of me as a mother figure?”
He lets Gus go to tunnel his fingers into my hair. “I think about your figure quite often, and nothing about those thoughts is maternal.”
I curl my hands around his wrists, pressing up onto my toes to accept his kiss, his tongue licking against mine. He tastes like the mint he snagged next to the register on the way out of the café.
From his place on the floor, Gus meows, annoyed, and Nico breaks our kiss to tell him, “Sorry, buddy. No cuddles for you right now.” He turns back to me, eyes darkening. “Got other plans.”
Then he guides me backward through the kitchen and down the hall to his bedroom. While I am no longer a virgin and have become well acquainted with Nico’s allure and influence, my heart still continues to beat erratically, knowing what we’re about to do.
Like my body remembers.
The touch of his fingertips.
The press of his mouth.
The pressure of his weight over me.
Within a minute, we are both naked and on the bed, all roaming hands and scraping teeth, and after a few days away with difficult games, I imagine he’s tired.
“Lie back,” I command, with more confidence than I feel, my hand on his shoulder. He doesn’t move at first, too busy kissing his way down my chest, but I stop him before he can hit his target. “Come on. I want to make you feel good.”
He flicks at my nipple with his tongue. “Feeling pretty good right now.”
I force him back with two hands, and he eventually gives in with a wicked curve of his mouth. “All right, you win. Do your worst, woman.”
I start at his throat, tasting the salt of his skin, then drag my tongue down the indentation between his pectorals and over to his flat nipples.
He hums his appreciation when I kiss the bruise on his side, and he hooks his fingers into my hair to lift it up when I drift even lower, to where the head of his erection juts up.
I barely have my mouth around him when he sucks air through his teeth. “No, no, that’s not what we’re doing. Come here.”
Before I know it, he hauls me up and turns me around, straddling him. He grips my hips, scooting me back, settling a hand between my shoulder blades to push me down, putting me in the position he wants. “Yeah, this is better.”
But I don’t think I like it. I’m totally exposed with his face right there.
As if he can feel my hesitation, he rubs his hands up and down my thighs, over my butt cheeks, spreading and plumping.
“Don’t worry. I love everything about this.
I’m gonna put my mouth on your pussy while yours is on my cock, and all I’m going to be thinking about is how good it feels. How much I love to lick you.”
Still, I don’t move.
So he hits me with his puppy-dog eyes. “Please, Jojo.”
I can’t ever say no to him, and with how his hips are arching up, as if he can’t control himself, it makes me feel powerful. He really does want this. Loves it.
So I find my balance with one hand while I fist his length with the other and lower my mouth.
When I swirl my tongue around the tip, he groans, hips bucking again, his breath hot on my thighs, fingers digging into my backside.
Taking my cues from him, I swallow him deeper, sucking hard, and he moans at the same time his mouth lands on my clit.
Then it’s me moaning. Hips rocking instinctively. Uncontrollably.
Before long, I’ve forgotten what I’m supposed to be doing, lost in the feel of his circling tongue and his scruffy beard scratching my thighs. My orgasm sneaks up on me, only to burst with a sharp cry from my mouth and gentle humming from his.
I flutter my eyes open and hitch my leg over, moving off him, my equilibrium a little worse for wear. He holds me steady with a hand at my waist as he wipes at his mouth with the back of his hand. I glance to his still-raging hard cock. “I’m sorry, I—”
He cuts me off with a chuckle, leading me down to lie on the bed. “You’re sorry for doing exactly what I wanted you to do?” He shakes his head in faux irritation before reaching for a condom. “If that’s the case, you’re gonna be doing a lot of apologizing today.”
I bite into my bottom lip, trying to hide my growing smile. “Yeah?”
“You owe me a lot of orgasms.”
“Me?”
He nods seriously. “I’ve been gone for five days. Two for every day I was gone.” Then he toggles his head, changing his mind. “Three.”
“I am not going to orgasm fifteen times.”
“Babe.” He tsks like I’m a naughty child. “We have all day, and I have an excellent wrist shot.”
I burst out in a big laugh. One that makes him wrench back, offended. Even as his eyes gleam.
Red meat to a professional hockey player with twenty-four hours until he has to be on the ice for morning skate. I suddenly have the impulse to cover up, but he clutches both of my wrists above my head as he holds himself over me. “Game on.”