Epilogue #2
“Fuck,” I breathe.
How am I lucky enough to find a man who understands me so wholly?
“Then make me yours,” I breathe, my hips writhing, desperate to feel him.
He shoves his underwear lower, freeing his erection, and I lick my lips at the sight of the precum beading at the tip. But I’m distracted from wanting to taste him the second he rips my panties from my body, leaving me naked and fully exposed for him.
“Fucking hell, baby. I’ll never get enough of you. Ever.” He shuffles forward with his fingers wrapped around his shaft, and I watch as he drags the head of his cock through my folds. “Christ, you’re soaked,” he groans, coating himself in my juices before he notches himself at my entrance.
“I need you,” I whimper.
“Not as much as I’ve always needed you, baby.”
Slowly he pushes inside me. It’s the most delicious torture I’ve ever experienced.
I gasp when he pushes the last inch inside me, fully seating himself where he belongs.
Tears continue to spill from my eyes, but before he has a chance to move, I reach up and press my palm to his chest, feeling the way his heart pounds against his ribs.
“Hayden?”
“Yeah, baby.”
I swallow thickly as I take a moment to prepare the words I’ve wanted to say to him for so long, but have held back. I didn’t know what I was holding back for. But I do now. I was waiting until there was nothing stopping me from moving forward.
“I love you.”
His breath catches as my words hit him.
Sliding my hand up, I sit, putting us chest to chest, shifting the angle of him inside me, sending pleasure racing through me.
“Hails,” he whispers, his eyes locked on mine. “Say it again.”
“I love you, Hayden Monroe. I love you so much.”
“Fuck. That’s…” He shakes his head, trying and failing to process my words. “I love you too, baby. So, so much. I can’t wait to spend the rest of my life loving you.”
He doesn’t give me a chance to agree. His lips find mine, and he lays me back down and sets about starting on our future, right here on my bedroom floor.
KILLER
Unknown: Hey sexy, do you have plans tonight?
Irritation rattles through me as I stare at the message lighting up my screen.
It’s a pretty standard feeling these days, seeing as my life is falling apart beneath my one solid foot.
Overexaggeration? Yeah, possibly. But I figure that while I’m hopping around on one leg and a set of crutches with my future hanging in the balance, I’m allowed to be a little dramatic.
It’s not the first time I’ve been propositioned by some unknown woman, and I’m sure it won’t be the last. Fuck knows how they even get my number. If I cared to look, I’d probably find it listed along with some of the others on a bunny site somewhere, but I’d rather not know.
Instead, I continue staring at the message, just another reminder that my life is over.
I can’t play the game I’ve dedicated my life to. Hell, I can’t even walk to my kitchen to get a fucking beer. I’m certainly not going to be able to fuck the way I’d like to, either.
See? Life over.
“We’re gonna order in. Any suggestions?” Rett asks as the elevator takes us toward his floor.
“Whatever, man,” Hayden—aka, my replacement—comments.
Bitterness stirs within me, although not at him. I could never truly be angry with Hayden Monroe; it would be the equivalent of getting mad at a cute Labrador puppy. It’s at the situation.
Deep down, I’m happy for him. He’s getting his chance to shine, playing on the first line with Rett, and I’d be lying if I said he wasn’t killing it. He’s only a few games in, and he’s holding his own, proving that Coach made the right decision in making him Rett’s partner.
The only issue is…where does that leave me?
I know that realistically, I’ve got nine months out, if not more, while I recover. But when that time is up, will the Vipers still want and need me?
Anxiety twists up my insides at the thought of being traded.
It’s always a possibility as a hockey player, and it’s a thought that’s always at the back of our minds, even when we’re playing at our best. But now, when I’m not playing at all…well, that thought is no longer lingering at the back.
It’s right at the goddamn front.
My life is here in LA, my teammates, my friends. The thought of leaving it all behind makes me feel physically sick.
“Killer?”
I’m vaguely aware of someone saying my name, but I’m too lost in my own head to respond.
“Killer? What do you want for dinner?”
Nothing.
“Calvin Kellar!” At the sound of my mostly unused full name being barked at me, I’m suddenly dragged back into the here and now. “What the fuck do you want to eat?”
I shrug. What we order in is the least of my worries right now.
“Shouldn’t you be asking your fiancée?” I mutter. She’s pregnant, after all; she’ll be the one with the firm idea of what we’re eating.
“Yeah, but she’ll want everything covered in pickles again. It’s her new thing,” he says before pulling a jar from the bag he’s carrying to prove a point. “This jar right here is gonna get me laid tonight,” he states proudly.
I groan as jealousy crashes into me.
I’m not sure I’ve ever had a dry spell like this. And that’s fucking saying something, because it’s only been just over a week since my accident.
Fucking Cooper fucking Nash.
I want to get laid, damn it. And while I know there are still plenty of willing bunnies out there who’d be more than willing to scratch my itch, I don’t want to be the fucking invalid who can’t perform to his reputation.
“Sweetheart, I’m home,” Rett calls the second he pushes the door open. Hayden catches it behind him so it doesn’t smack me straight in the face.
“Thanks,” I mutter, navigating myself inside.
I wanted to go home after my PT session, but no, these motherfuckers wouldn’t allow it. Apparently, I’m wallowing, and they don’t like it.
Well, tough fucking luck. They’d be wallowing too if they were in my position.
“Whoa, what the fuck is going on here?” Hayden asks the second we emerge into the large living area to find three women with facemasks on and a whole host of beauty products littering the coffee table.
“We’re testing out some new products for the salon,” Bea explains before her best friend pipes up with, “And you’re just in time, because we need some more guinea pigs.”
“I’m in,” Hayden says happily as he drops down beside Hailee and kisses her despite the goo on her face. “Hey, baby,” he whispers before adding, “my skin is dry as hell. Lather me up.”
“Jesus Christ,” I mutter.
“I was hoping you’d say that,” Bea says happily. “Rett, you in, baby?” The second she bats her eyelashes at him, I know he’s a goner. Everett Donnelly might be a beast on the ice, but at home, he’s nothing but a fluffy freaking teddy bear. It’s the weirdest transformation I’ve ever seen.
I’m distracted by my thoughts when my skin begins to burn with all their attention. Okay, no. Not all their attention. Just one of them, really.
“Are you gonna help us out as well, Killer?” a raspy female voice asks, and fuck if the sound doesn’t go straight to my dick like it always does. It also doesn’t matter that her face is currently smeared with purple shit; she’s still the most beautiful woman in the room.
“I think I’ve got enough shit going on over here. Thanks for the offer, though,” I mutter as I maneuver myself toward the couch and drop into it with a groan.
“You need anything, man?” Rett asks, eyeing me cautiously.
“To go home?” I deadpan.
“Well, tough, because we’re here now and we’re ordering—”
“Mexican,” Bea shouts. “With extra pickles.”
Rett smiles at her fondly, and the rest of us wisely keep quiet. There’s no way in hell I’m arguing with a pregnant woman about food.
We place the order while the girls make Rett and Hayden their little bitches, smothering their faces with junk.
“Oh, it tingles,” Rett states. “I bet this would feel incredible on your—”
“Don’t say it,” Bea warns, giving him a glare.
“What?” he asks innocently. “You know I’m right.”
“He’s got a point,” Sienna agrees.
“See,” Rett declares. “You should try it, let us know how it goes.”
“Hard pass. I don’t think this is designed for those places. There are some pretty good tingly lube options these days, though.”
“Is that right?” Rett asks, leaning closer to Sienna for all the details.
Shaking my head, I push myself back to my foot, and, using one crutch, I hop toward Rett’s bathroom.
“Need a hand?” Hayden asks, although when I look back, I find it hard to take him seriously with his face covered in pink shit.
“I can handle taking a leak by myself,” I scoff before continuing forward to the sound of silence behind me.
They’re worried about me; I can see it in their eyes. What I really don’t need is to hear it in their words.
It takes me longer than I’d like to do my business, and then when I turn to wash my hands, I make the mistake of looking in the mirror.
Fuck. I look like hell.
My hair is a mess. It needed cutting before the accident; now, it’s annoyingly flopping down over my forehead, and I haven’t shaved since before that fateful game either. Honestly, I’m not sure I’ve ever seen myself look this much of a mess.
Tearing my eyes away, I force myself to turn around and put my reflection behind me. Honestly, it’s understandable why everyone is looking at me as if I’m about to break.
Angrily, I rip the door open, and the second I turn the corner, I come face to face with Sienna.
My chest tightens at the sight of her, but like always, I stuff it down, refusing to let anything show on my face.
“Did they seriously send you out here to check on me?” Her lips part, but no words come out for a few seconds.
“N-no, I need the bathroom and—”
I take a step forward, closing the distance between us.
The floral scent of her perfume hits me, and I’d be lying if it didn’t make my mouth water.
She gasps as she stares up at me, I have no idea what she sees in my eyes, but it makes hers narrow.
“I don’t need a babysitter, Sienna.” Just saying her name does things to me.
“I-I never—”
“Do you know who I am?” I demand before I can swallow down the words.
A smirk kicks up the corner of her lips. “Of course I do. You’re Calvin freaking Kellar. Best D-man on the LA Vipers roster—don’t tell them I said that,” she adds, but her humor is lost on me.
The first time I saw her in that club, I thought my eyes were deceiving me.
They weren’t. But every image that played out in my mind that should have followed that meeting withered and died, because from the second she looked at me, it was clear she didn’t have a clue who I was.
Well, besides my position on the Vipers.
“Yeah,” I muse as I manage to move around her. “That’s what I thought,” I mutter to myself as I hobble away.