Chapter 14
Vanessa
fourteen
. . .
He scored a goal and an assist last night. After a quick post-game dinner in the locker room, the guys board the plane to Philly. As much as I want to, I can’t sit beside Sven—Patrice, the social media coordinator, wants to chat about some promos we’re doing tomorrow.
I eat breakfast hours before the players are up, and I’m already at the arena and getting my regular job duties done by the time the players show up for prep.
During pre-game skate, I’m standing at the bench with Joaquin, who is filming some footage of the behind-the-scenes.
An orange jersey skates past us. We’re on our side of the ice, so I don’t give it much thought until it appears again, spraying us with ice.
“Hey, Van,” he says, taking off his helmet.
My eyes go wide, and I grin. “Wyatt!”
He grabs for me, and I let the buffoon hug me. I almost forgot he played for this city.
There’s a murmur from the staff behind the bench. They probably think I’m fraternizing with the enemy or some bullshit like that. It couldn’t be further from the truth.
“Haven’t seen you in a while, chicky,” he says. He smells like sweat, even though the game hasn’t started yet.
“Yeah. You’re taking care of yourself?”
My roommate’s brother grins. “Well, you know me.”
“Yeah. I do. That’s why I have to check.”
Wyatt smirks. “You don’t usually travel with the team.”
“Things change,” I say shortly. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Sven skating around the ice, glaring in our direction. He fires a puck toward the net and Lewis dives out of the way.
“So it’s not just to see me?” Wyatt winks.
“Yes, definitely, it’s all a ploy to see you,” I tell him dryly. Pope, stretching his hamstring nearby, looks over at us curiously. “You’re ridiculous. Glad to see you haven’t changed, dude.”
“You should have called me. We could have hung out while you’re here.”
“We’re on a back-to-back. Got in last night and I’ve been here all day.”
Wyatt shakes his head. “Next time. I won’t be up in Boston until January, I think.”
“We’ll sit down and compare schedules later,” I promise. “You should get back to your side of the ice. Your coach will get pissed.”
“Yeah, maybe.” He runs his hands through his hair. “Take good care of Bex, you hear?”
“She can take care of herself.” She’s close to thirty and working on a doctorate degree. She’s a functional adult.
“She’s my baby sister,” he says. “I worry about her.”
“You don’t have to.”
“I do, though.” Wyatt sighs. “I’ve got to go.”
He ducks down and kisses me on the cheek, then pats me on the head like a child.
The guys continue to warm up, and I watch as Sven shoots an absolute laser at the goal. Lewis doesn’t attempt to block it—he lets the missile fly by him.
“Let’s try not to decapitate our goalie, thanks,” Coach Turner calls.
“What’s up his ass?” Joaquin mutters.
“No clue,” I say, but something skates across my brain, scratching a spot that whispers he didn’t like Wyatt’s attention on me.
I shrug it off because I’ve barely seen him all day. It’s been a busy time—I’ve barely had enough time to breathe. From the time we touched down in Philly last night, and I crashed into bed the second my hotel room door closed, to waking up this morning, it’s been go-go-go.
I don’t know that I’m cut out for a life on the road.
Or, maybe, I just need to take a pre-game nap like the athletes.
With the athletes?
Well, with one athlete in particular.
Sven is big and imposing in his gear. The skates make him even taller, and the pads broaden his big chest, and when his eyes lock on mine from across the ice… my heart goes pitter-pat, and my pussy clenches around emptiness.
It’s been a long time since I’ve gotten laid. Even though I’m capable of taking care of any physical needs on my own, I do miss the physical intimacy of having a partner. Being held. Sleeping beside someone. Spending a leisurely morning naked in bed.
Lying in his bed, curled up in the circle of his arms… it was like all my thoughts and fears went away. I wasn’t tired from the early wake-up call, and my feet didn’t hurt from running around all day, and I wasn’t worried about ten thousand possibilities of “what if.”
I could just breathe.
Barely paying attention to the movie he put on last night, I was more preoccupied by the warmth of his bare chest against my back, and his strong hand rubbing my arm, and the spicy fresh scent of his soap.
I like him.
I knew he was attractive. I knew he was a nice guy.
But I wasn’t supposed to develop feelings for my fake boyfriend.
The first night of this trip, the only thing I wanted to do was be with him. A few of the guys had invited me to the bar. Patrice and Angelica went out with some friends in town.
And me? All I’d wanted was to see Sven, talk to him, cuddle with him, and just… exist in his space. I wanted him.
Fuck. I think I want this to be more than it is.
Blowing out a breath, I rub at my forehead. This is confusing. Feelings are confusing. Why do I have to feel this? I just want?—
Him.
I want him.
With perfect clarity, I know it as well as I know my name.
How did it take me so long to see it?
Sven rushes to a stop in front of the boards, dropping his gloves to the ice. I step forward and he cages me in, his hands on either side of mine. His eyes are wild.
“You?” he growls. “And Whitney?”
There’s a faint murmur behind me. I don’t know if it’s Joaquin or one of the coaches.
I shake my head. “Wyatt’s not... you know we’re not…”
“You’re mine,” Sven says, his voice low. His hands settle on my hips, pulling me as close as we can get with the boards in the way. The metal ledge is digging into my belly, but I can’t care, because it’s keeping me from him.
I swallow.
“Say it,” he says. “You’re mine.”
“I’m yours,” I whisper.
Ducking his head, he takes my mouth in a rough kiss. There’s nothing sweet or gentle; he attacks my lips, nipping at me. I melt and he draws me closer, half holding me up against the boards as he sweeps his tongue into my mouth.
There’s a wolf whistle from behind him. Slowly, Sven pulls away, his eyes glazed.
Grabbing the front of his jersey, I pull him back to me, sliding an arm around his neck to keep him close. His hand dives into my hair, twisting the strands around his fist.
There’s a spray of ice, and he jerks back to glare at the interloper.
MacGregor grins, unrepentant. “You realize the broadcast already started, right?”
“So?” He grunts.
“The whole country just saw that kiss. Not the time or place, bud.” He claps a hand on Sven’s shoulder. “Happy for you two. Would be happier if we got the W tonight, though.”