Chapter 22
Chapter Twenty-Two
Alexei
“Dude, we won!”
Every guy on this team would get laid tonight, even Foley, who had complained about not scoring the entire year. Winners had no problems attracting pussy. This was an incontrovertible fact.
Jason threw his arm around my neck and kissed my cheek. “You played well, Naz.”
“I did.” Two goals, one assist.
“Yet you’re still sober.”
Nothing would stand in the way of what I needed tonight. No whiskey dick for me.
“I cannot help it if my tolerance is higher.”
“You’re kind of an asshole. But I still love you.” Another cheek kiss.
“We will play against each other soon as pros. You will not love me so much then.”
“I’ll love you more because I’ll beat you.” The nonsense of the trashed.
“Not playing for LA you won’t.” I patted his cheek. “I will also miss winning at PlayStation.”
“You’ve been up against the wrong player, Nazarov.”
The energy shifted, my body with it, as I looked up into the silver eyes of Lauren. She smiled at me, then switched her attention to my teammate.
“Isner, are you already wasted?”
He stood and hugged her. “It’s my best girl! Lemme get you a drink. Theo!” He yelled toward the bar. “Get one for Lo.”
Isner’s brother, the famous Theo Kershaw, had put his credit card behind the bar, and everyone was acting as if they had never had a free drink in their miserable lives.
“I’ll get one and maybe some water so you can pace yourself.” She offered up that sly grin I adored. “Are you the only sober person here, Nazarov?”
“I do not drink as much as people think I do.”
“Love you, Lo,” Jason said as he clumsily patted her arm.
“I love you, too, Isner.”
She winked at me, then disappeared. It had been almost a month since that kiss, and we were both too busy with school, practice, and games to spend any time together. But tonight, nothing would stand in our way.
A minute later, Theo returned and I stood. “Take my seat, Mr. Kershaw.”
“Mr. Kershaw? I’ve never heard such disrespect.”
“You just called my brother old, dude.”
Theo laughed and sat beside his brother, so I felt okay about leaving him. The crowd at the bar was five people deep and Lauren was getting nowhere. I slipped my hand into hers.
She turned, smiled, and held it tightly. Then she led me away through the crowd toward the bar’s back exit to the alleyway. Toward heaven.
Once outside, something else took over. Fate, hormones, desperation. Our mouths fought for the upper hand. Our bodies vied for supremacy. I should have known she would not approach this with anything less than winning on her mind.
But I wanted it to be special.
Because she was special. She was everything.
“Lauren,” I said between deep, wet kisses. “Lauren, come home with me.”
“No, just—” She ran her hand over my stiff cock and squeezed. “Just touch me.”
So I did. I cupped her ass and melded my body with hers, so there was no doubt about my intent. My desire. My obsession.
For months we had circled each other, wary as cats, and now we were here at last. Finally connecting in all the ways that mattered.
“Alexei, please.” To hear my name spoken with such urgency by this girl, who was always so sarcastic, so aloof, spurred me on. I pushed my hand inside her sweats, deeper still, and found her wet.
We groaned in unison. I rubbed through all that moisture, gathering it to lubricate my fingers as I speared her again and again. She grabbed at my sweats and pushed them down, freeing my cock. She stroked once, twice. I hissed and pushed her hand away with my free one.
“Nyet.”
“Condom,” she gasped. “Say you have one.”
I did, but if I used it, this would be over too quickly. I wanted it to last. I wanted forever. Instead, I fell to my knees, yanked her sweatpants down, and burrowed between her thighs.
One lick of her sweet pussy and I almost came on the spot. Thankfully she didn’t take long—she grasped my hair, her thighs went stiff, and her muffled cry echoed against the alleyway dumpsters.
The next few minutes were a blur. I managed to get the condom on, and then, then, fuck, I was inside her and this feeling was better than winning the game, than getting my draft team pick, than anything I had ever experienced.
This feeling was coming home.
I hooked a hand beneath her thigh and lifted her up, heightening the angle. She buried her face in my neck, muffling her moans as I thrust hard, building to something that I wished could last a lifetime.
I needed to see those silver eyes. “Lauren,” I groaned as I tilted my head back. At the same time, I stilled, lodged deep inside her, and nuzzled my nose against hers.
She stared back at me, those big storybook eyes like full moons. I moved slowly and watched as she gasped. But her eyes remained open, as if she knew how important it was that we stay in this moment. As if she understood it would be over soon.
All of it.
I pressed my forehead to hers and kept my gaze locked on target. I couldn’t tell her how I felt—it was wrong to give her hope—but I could let her know with my eyes and my hands and my dick.
I loved Lauren Yates, and this was the only way I could say it.