Chapter Two
JENNA
“Is that good for you, baby?”
It would be if he was actually massaging my clit and not my pubic bone.
“Yes,” I reply in my best faux moan, one I’ve perfected over the past few months. Initially, I would be honest because I’m nothing if not truthful, but I quickly learned that telling a guy he hadn’t made me come was more trouble than it was worth.
I can’t deal with the barrage of responses like: “What’s wrong with you? I’ve never had a girl struggle to climax with me before.” And, “Why don’t you relax? You’re so uptight.”
Yes, Casanova, it has to be all my fault, doesn’t it? It couldn’t possibly be the fact that you’re rubbing a numb area, and now I only feel sore from the way you’ve prodded at me for the past hour rather than turned on.
“Come for me, Jenna,” he—the guy hovering above me, whose name I can’t remember—rasps into my ear as he slowly pumps in and out of me, his fingers still way off the mark.
How can my labia even remotely resemble a clit?
“Are you close?”
Since I’ve given up on talking and subtly helping him with a lesson in female anatomy, I nod my head once and pray he finishes soon.
“I’m not coming until you do, Jenna.”
Well, shit, now this really is awkward. Nameless Guy knows my name and wants to look after my needs in bed. There’s no way I’m going to climax. Not genuinely anyway.
On the next stroke of his dick, I release a whimper that sounds borderline passable as an orgasm and then another when he slides into me again.
Lord above, please let this be over soon. I promise not to sleep with another guy ever again.
I’ll become a nun and be a well-behaved girl for the rest of my life.
“I’m gonna come. I’m right there.”
Thank Christ for small mercies.
“Do it,” I tell him, gritting out the words and trying to sound as into this as he is.
The attraction I felt for this guy a few hours ago when I agreed to head back to his place might’ve all but dissipated, but I’m not a complete hard-nosed bitch. He clearly wanted to look after me tonight, and that’s one up from the guys I usually get with.
It’s just a shame his bed game didn’t quite match up to all the promises he’d repeated in the bar.
On a groan that vibrates in my eardrum, he finally finishes and pulls out, sitting back on his heels as he snaps the condom off and tosses it into a trash can by his bed.
He turns back to face me, a smirk pulling at his top lip. I’ve seen that look before—one that leaves no doubt that he’s already thinking about round two.
I sit up and pull the duvet over my body, trying to send a message that I’m done. In fact, I’m likely leaving in the next thirty minutes.
He drops his head between his shoulders and shakes it slowly.
“I was going to ask if you wanted to stay the night …” His smirk is gone when he lifts his head, running a hand through disheveled sandy-blond hair.
“But by the way you just recoiled up the bed, I’m guessing a repeat performance is out of the question. ”
At least he’s perceptive.
I look over at my bag and clothes hanging from a chair on the far side of his bedroom.
I’ve got no idea who I went home with. All I know is, he drives a fast car and owns his own legal practice.
He reminded me often enough. For all I know, he could be a serial killer with a dozen women locked in his basement.
I push down the thoughts and smile sweetly. “Staying over isn’t my usual MO. Plus, I have practice first thing in the morning.”
His blue eyes flare wide, and now I’m internally scolding myself for giving away information. I never offer guys more than my first name. It’s easy to stay under the radar since female soccer players aren’t exactly famous.
“Now it all makes sense.”
He points to my covered body, and I quirk a brow.
“What do you mean?”
He edges closer, and I’d back away further if I wouldn’t fall off the bed.
“Your body is so tight. Toned to fuck. Your muscle-to-fat ratio is basically zero. Since you wouldn’t tell me anything about yourself earlier, I figured you just worked out a lot, but you being an athlete makes way more sense.”
My raised brow rises further. “I only said that I had practice. I could be a musician.”
His confident headshake isn’t buying it. “Nah. What sport do you play?”
“I’m a swimmer,” I blurt out a little too quickly.
He shrugs and joins me under the duvet, resting an arm along the headboard behind me. He’s getting comfortable, and I just want to get out of here.
Why is it so fucking hard to find a boyfriend in this town? I’m twenty-seven, hardly retired. My last boyfriend, Lee, started off so promisingly until the relationship fizzled to nothing.
I just want a man to make me feel alive. Excited.
“You don’t have the build of a swimmer.” His eyes scan me beneath the duvet again. “You’ve got the height, but your shoulders aren’t screaming swimmer to me.”
I fight back an eye roll. “For a lawyer, you sure as shit seem to know a lot about physiology.”
Shame you didn’t pay closer attention in sex ed.
“My ex-girlfriend was a physical trainer. You remind me of her a lot actually.”
Annnd get me out of here immediately.
“Lovely,” I deadpan. “I play ice hockey.”
He pulls back, examining my face for a lie. “You have the feisty attitude. What position?”
“Goalie.” At least that part is truthful.
Nodding once, he reaches over and passes me a glass of water. I study it for a few beats, checking for any residue at the bottom.
“You can sniff it, too, if you’d like. I promise I haven’t spiked it.” He chuckles. “I spend my life prosecuting criminals. I don’t plan on becoming one.”
I set the glass on the nightstand beside me, not bothering to risk it. I’ve hooked up plenty of times since Lee and I split, and I’ve never felt so unsure as I do now. Perhaps the magic of one-night stands is wearing off. Not that they’re all they’re cracked up to be anyway.
“I’m a big hockey fan,” he continues, pushing some hair away from my face.
“I genuinely thought the Blades were going to lift the Cup last season.” In the soft glow of the room, his easy face turns harder.
“We need to offload Tommy Schneider—and fast. All the guy does is warm the penalty box. That powerplay deep in the third of the final game last season cost us everything.”
Every inch of my body tenses, including my jaw.
“You’re a big fan of him too, I see?”
He drops his arm from the headboard and rests it around my shoulders. I hate it, but I’m too distracted by the face of the one person I hate more to shrug off his advances.
“He’s a prick,” I bite out, unable to hide my disdain.
“Shouldn’t you be defending his honor since he’s a fellow player?”
A single bubble of my sarcastic laughter fills the room.
“No! I happen to agree with you. The Blades general manager made a huge mistake when he signed Schneider, and he absolutely cost us the Cup. If veteran defenseman, Emmett Richards, hadn’t busted his knee, there’s no doubt that he would’ve been on the ice and not serving major penalty time like Tommy. ”
He shrugs, not looking as sure as he did before. “I guess the Flames guy did have it com—”
“Their winger did nothing wrong,” I say, cutting him off. “Tommy is looking for a fight every time he enters the rink, and he’s a fucking liability. You know his dad nearly killed a Scorpions defenseman, right?”
He nods along, already looking bored with the conversation. I continue anyway, hatred turning into word vomit. I know it looks like my anger appears unjustified, but really, it isn’t.
“He’s a dangerous thug, and he needs taking out of the game.”
Retracting his arm, my hookup pulls back the duvet and rises from the bed. “Sounds to me like I touched a nerve. Did you sleep with him and now there’s bad blood?”
I scoff. “I would rather eat myself.”
On a light chuckle, he pulls on a pair of boxers and heads for the en suite. “I’m going to grab a shower; I’ll be back in a second.”
When he closes the door, I flip back the duvet and stalk across the room toward my bag, pulling out my cell to see multiple messages from my girls.
Kendra
$100 says Jenna went home with Jason.
Collins
I see your bet and raise you another $100.
Darcy
I didn’t think she was into blond dudes, but he’s a lawyer, and he drives a Maserati.
Oh, so that’s his name.
I type out a quick text with one hand as I begin getting dressed.
Me
I did, in fact, go home with him. Although I am now leaving. He’s in the shower.
Collins
It sounds like I’m the only one winning from tonight. He was that bad that you’re already sneaking out? It’s only eleven p.m.
Kendra
She needs to leave now; we have practice in the morning.
Kendra Hart, otherwise known as the most committed center back I have ever played with. Also my best friend and the wife of Jack Morgan, newly appointed captain of the New York Blades.
Collins
Eh, who needs sleep? Sawyer keeps me up all night, and I’m good to go for work the next day.
Collins Bryce, all-round bad-ass biker girl with a Harley-Davidson empire. Recently married to Sawyer Bryce, former captain and veteran Blades defenseman, playing out his final season in the NHL.
Darcy
I feel like we need another girls’ night to discuss Jenna’s Jason experience in more detail. Archer and Emily are inseparable, and I plan to take full advantage.
Darcy Moore—mom to baby Emily, wife to the Blades goalie, Archer Moore, and an all-round British queen—completes my favorite trio, formed of women I couldn’t live without.
Me
I’m down for that. Although there isn’t much to tell. The sex was meh, and he thinks I’m a hockey player.
Kendra
Ha! Now he’s going to be showing up at the rink, hoping to catch a glimpse of you.
Me
We all know there’s zero chance of that happening. I don’t go to the rink anymore, remember?
Collins
Girl, you can’t avoid Tommy Schneider forever. It’s been eight months since he punched your brother.
Rage builds inside me again as I slip my feet into my boots and zip them up one at a time.
Me
He nearly broke Holt’s jaw! He’s lucky Holt agreed not to press charges and he didn’t go to the press. He only kept quiet because he didn’t want a bar fight tainting his own rugby career. It was uncalled for, and he’s a dick. Plain and simple.
Kendra
Just ignore him. You don’t need to even acknowledge his existence. I miss going to the Blades games as a group.
Darcy
I get why you’re mad, but I agree with Collins. You can’t avoid him forever. It’s the first game of the season next week. Why don’t you just come? He probably won’t even dare look at you, never mind speak to you, after what happened.
Me
You sure about that? He lives to piss me off. He was doing that well enough before he hit my brother. All because he couldn’t handle that I’d turned him down. I wouldn’t pee on Tommy if he was on fire, let alone sleep with him.
Collins
*snort* I can’t believe you told him that. Way to dent a guy’s ego.
Me
Yeah, well, the truth hurts. And I’ll tell him that again if he even so much as looks in my direction.
Kendra
I think Tommy got the message the first time around, babe. Plus, I’m ninety-nine percent sure Holt will board a flight from France if he goes near you again.
Me
True. I’ll think about the game. Right now, I need to get out of here, undetected. The shower just stopped.
Snatching my bag up from the chair, I creep across the bedroom, a small sense of guilt settling inside me as I pull the door open and close it quietly behind me. Jason doesn’t deserve to be abandoned, but I’m calling time on tonight.
I take the stairs quickly and breathe a sigh of relief when the front door opens. Bringing my finger to my lips, I quickly shush his cute Westie dog and silently step out into the Brooklyn night air.
Heading up the sidewalk to flag down a taxi, I type out a final message to the group.
Me
Mission accomplished. I’m out and free. A quick roundup of the night: two drinks, a cute Westie dog that I’d honestly rather have snuggled than his owner. Zero orgasms were achieved, and I’m ten out of ten grabbing Chick-fil-A on my way home. Screw the nutritional plan. I need junk food.