Chapter 30 Heather #2
Damn, I really have to do better at this subtlety thing. I tell myself I’m cheering for the whole team and following the puck like everyone else in the arena, but that’s a complete lie.
My eyes keep finding him, tracking every movement he makes with more intensity than even the coach has.
The other team’s forward breaks away with the puck and races toward Grant’s goal. I gasp and jump to my feet, along with everyone around me. The forward winds up for a shot, hard and fast, aimed at the top corner.
But Grant is already moving. His whole body extends, with one gloved hand shooting up to snatch the puck out of the air like it’s a particularly annoying fly.
The cheers are deafening, and I’m smiling and waving my hands in the air like a crazy woman.
His focus never leaves the ice, except to occasionally seek me out, like he can’t be completely comfortable unless he knows exactly where I am and what I’m doing.
Which, honestly, I can relate to.
He drops back into his ready stance, and even from here I can see the way his muscles coil and release with each movement.
He’s so big, with so much raw power—anyone can see that much, obviously—but watching him on the ice and seeing how he uses every inch of his size and strength to dominate his opponent, it’s different now.
Because now I know exactly how big he is. I know what all those muscles feel like under my hands. I know the weight of him when he’s pressing me into the mattress and the way his body feels when it’s moving against mine.
Wet heat floods through me, and I shift in my seat, trying to focus on literally anything else.
It’s only been a few days since our weekend together, and we’ve barely touched each other. We haven’t kissed. Haven’t done much more than exchange a few loaded glances when April isn’t looking.
I’m worried about sneaking around in his house. Terrified, actually, that April will wander downstairs at the wrong time or walk into the wrong room. The risk is just too high, even when I know how good the reward can be.
But god, I feel like an addict who hasn’t gotten her fix.
On the ice, Grant makes another save, this time deflecting the puck into the corner where another one of the Aces scoops it up. The crowd roars, and I have to smile as Grant taps his stick against the goal post three times.
And now I’m remembering the way those big hands felt on my body. The way his fingers knew exactly where to touch me and how to make me come all the way apart.
My thighs squeeze together, and I have to take a slow, deep breath to steady myself.
This is crazy. I’m sitting in a crowded arena, surrounded by thousands of people watching a hockey game. I shouldn’t be getting turned on right now.
But I am.
Just watching the power in his movements, the intensity of his focus, and the way he commands the space around him makes my clit throb.
Hard. That part of me that felt so detached and lifeless for so long has roared back to life, and it apparently has zero interest in being quiet or patient or reasonable anymore.
The final buzzer sounds, and the Aces have another win. The arena explodes with noise as the crowd surges to their feet, cheering and stomping. On the ice, the players swarm together, tapping helmets and celebrating.
Grant pulls off his helmet, and even from this distance, I can see him scanning the crowd. His eyes find mine almost immediately, and for just a second, everything else fades away. It’s just the two of us, and I swear I can almost feel the heat radiating from him.
Then one of his teammates practically tackles him in a bear hug, and the moment breaks. But I’m still watching him like a lovesick fool and still thinking so many dirty thoughts that I should absolutely be blushing.
I’m not blushing, though. Not even when I see the sheen of sweat on his skin and have a flashback of that salty taste on my tongue. Not even when I remember the sounds he makes when he comes, or the way it feels to have him sinking into me, demanding everything I have to give.
I shake my head and blink those excruciatingly hot mental images away, because I need to go meet my sister and daughter in the friends and family lounge.
My sister, my daughter, and Grant. My… roommate.
That thought washes over me like a bucket of cold water, which is exactly what I need as I make the short walk to the lounge.
Inside, the whole space is buzzing with energy after the Aces’ win. It only takes about three seconds for April to find me and race over to give me the play-by-play of the game and everything she did with Margo behind the scenes.
The players start to filter in a few minutes later, loud and raucous as they celebrate with their loved ones.
Grant is one of the last to arrive, freshly showered and dressed in the suit he normally wears to and from home games. He’s not quite smiling, but he’s not scowling either, which for Grant basically counts as the same thing.
Our eyes meet across the room, and I feel that same jolt of heat from earlier. But then April tugs on my sleeve, asking if we can get pizza on the way home, and I force myself to look away.
Just as well, because this is the worst possible place and time to start getting turned on.
And the universe seems to agree with me on that point, because Margo walks up to me and gives me another excuse to stay distracted.
“Great game, right?” She’s all smiles, since Noah led the team in goals scored.
“It was amazing. The guys were incredible out there.”
“Probably because I had their biggest fan down by the bench with me.” She tosses April a wink. “They might steal her as the new mascot if we’re not careful.”
April whoops and jumps in the air, making us laugh. “I don’t think you’ll hear any arguments from her,” I say, shaking my head.
We talk for a few more minutes, then Margo shifts gears. “So tell me more about this event you’re planning at the shelter. You mentioned it the other day, but you were kind of vague.”
I feel my cheeks warm slightly, but only from the memory of why I was so distracted that day.
But no, I seriously have to push those thoughts aside and get it together.
“It’s a fundraiser dinner, actually. We’re trying to raise money for some renovations.
The kitchen desperately needs updating, and we want to add at least one more bedroom so we can take in more families. ”
“That sounds amazing, Heather. When is it?”
“In a couple of weeks. I’m pretty excited about it but also pretty nervous. This is the biggest event I’ve planned yet, and there’s so much riding on it. If we don’t raise enough money, we’ll probably have to put off most of the renovations for another year, at least.”
Margo starts to give me a sympathetic nod, but then her face lights up. “Hey!” She raises her voice to get the attention of several players and their families nearby. “Who wants to support an amazing cause and make Heather’s life easier at the same time?”
My eyes go wide as I realize what’s happening. “Margo, stop. You can’t seriously expect—”
But she’s already in full promotional mode. “My sister is planning a fundraiser for New Horizons, a women’s shelter here in Denver. It’s coming up in two weeks, and I think we should all go show our support. What do you say, guys?”
Noah appears at her side and slips an arm around her waist. “I’m in. I was happy to help last time, and I’m happy to help now.”
All I can do is smile and thank him. The donation he made last time very likely saved us from shutting down, and I’ll always be grateful for that.
The stakes might not be quite as high this time, but that doesn’t stop me from getting a little choked up thinking about how quick he was to offer his support.
“Count me in,” Reese says, raising a bottle of water. “It sounds like a good cause.”
“Me too,” Theo nods. “Is there a dress code?”
“I’ll be there, too,” Sawyer adds.
Several of the other guys start to talk over each other, but they’re all voicing their agreement. It’s honestly almost overwhelming because I know how huge it will be to have the Denver Aces in attendance to help drive donations.
Then I hear Grant’s voice, low and steady, cutting through the noise.
“You know I’ll be there.”
I turn to find him looking directly at me, and there’s something about the look in his eyes that makes my breath hitch in my throat. He isn’t just supporting the shelter. He’s supporting me right now in front of everyone.
“Thank you,” I say, meaning it for everyone but aiming it at Grant. “This means a lot.”
Margo makes an excited noise and takes my hand to give it a squeeze. “See? There’s nothing to be nervous about anymore. Everything is going to be perfect!”
I hope she’s right. Because right now, with Grant’s eyes still on me and my body still thrumming from being so close to him, perfect feels like a very complicated word.