Chapter 22 Brody
TWENTY-TWO
brODY
H.E.
I thought you were walking my way.
Where did you go?
Me
Everyone in this room wants to talk to me, which is annoying as fuck when I have more important things on my mind.
H.E.
Yeah? Anything good?
Me
Namely wondering what underwear you have on under that dress.
H.E.
Better come find out, Coach.
Me
It’s truly amazing you haven’t made my blood pressure skyrocket.
There’s a coffee shop two blocks up the road. I’ll meet you there and we can split a car to my place.
Give me fifteen minutes.
H.E.
If I send you a picture of what’s underneath my dress, will it get you to move faster?
Me
Ten minuets, and I don’t need bribing.
It’s thrilling to be sneaking out of here with Hannah.
The adrenaline coursing through me is new, unfamiliar, and so different from what I used to experience when I was on the ice.
She exits through a set of doors away from the lobby and I veer to the right, doing one last lap to make it obvious as hell I’m still here while she’s not.
My plan is foiled when Grant appears in front of me. He’s missing his tie, and the champagne glass in his hand is almost empty. He looks wary when his locks on mine, and I stop in my tracks.
“Everett,” I say, checking my watch. “What’s up?”
“Hey, Coach.” He runs a hand through his hair and shifts on his feet. “Can I, um, talk to you for a second?”
“That depends. Are you going to get out of the extra skating I gave you?”
“What? No. I’ll give you two extra hours if you want. It’s more… personal?”
It comes out like a question, and I tip my head back, blowing out a breath while I look at the ceiling.
It would be so fucking easy to brush him off and dash out of here, but that doesn’t fall under the values I try to implement with the team.
I want Hannah more than I’ve ever wanted anything else in my life, and I hope to every higher power out there she understands why I’m late.
“Come here.” I motion to a quiet alcove in the breezeway that leads to the lobby. “What’s going on?”
“I’m afraid I’m going to get in trouble with the league,” he whispers. “And I want to know if you can forward me a copy of our CBA.”
“Our CBA,” I repeat. “What did you do, Everett?”
“Nothing. I just want to make sure my, ah, extracurricular activities aren’t going to get me suspended.” His ears are bright red. He downs the rest of his drink and holds the champagne flute with a tight grip. “It’s nothing illegal.”
“Okay. Are you betting on games?”
“I don’t know how any of that stuff works.”
“Are you physically assaulting someone when you’re off the ice? Roughing up the person you’re sleeping with and threatening them if they talk?”
“What?” The color drains from his face. His mouth falls open, aghast. “I’ve never… I would never put my hands on woman. Ever.”
“Are you threatening fans on social media?” I ask, trying to run through things players have been reprimanded for in the past. Article 18-A from the CBA that outlines commissioner discipline for off-ice conduct is fuzzy.
Even fuzzier after drinking and kissing Hannah, and I can’t remember the procedure.
“You’re looking at a fine, suspension, or an expulsion if—”
“I haven’t done anything like that, and I never will. It relates more to, ah, personal relationships? And who I’m allowed to be in one with?”
“Grant. You know our team policy is inclusive to all relationships, right? And you don’t have to disclose anything you’re not comfortable with.
Private things are allowed to stay private, even if you’re a public figure.
” I drag my knuckles over my chest, thinking about Hannah waiting for me.
“If it makes you feel better, I’ll forward you the CBA in the morning. ”
“Thanks, Coach.” Grant’s shoulders sag with relief. “That would be amazing.”
“Thanks for trusting me. You need anything else, let one of the older guys know. Hudson and Maverick are good people.”
“I know they are. See ya on Monday.” With a salute, he turns, practically skipping away.
Knowing I’m behind schedule, I hightail it down the steps of the hotel. I ignore the ache in my knee, jogging the two blocks it takes for me to get to the coffee shop I suggested. Hannah is standing on the corner, arms wrapped around herself to stay warm, and I rip my jacket off.
“I’m sorry.” I drape it over her shoulders and rub my hands up and down her arms. “I was talking to your brother.”
“Grant?” She lifts an eyebrow, her breath coming out in puffs in the night air. “Did he—”
“No. Had some questions about team related stuff, but we’re good.” I dig out my phone, ordering us an Uber. “Are you cold? There’s a bar a few doors up we can sit it while we wait.”
“I’m better now.” Her nose brushes against the lapel of my jacket, giving it a deep inhale. “Tell me your place is going to be nice and cozy when we get there.”
“I already adjusted the temperature on my phone. You’ll be toasty. And if you’re not, I also have a towel warmer. We can throw a couple blankets in there and make a heated tent.”
“Now you’re talking.” Hannah smiles up at me. “How much have you had to drink?”
“Enough to be a slightly buzzed. Not enough to start stumbling.” I pull my jacket tighter around her. “What about you?”
“Perfectly sober. I don’t want to forget anything about tonight.”
“I don’t either.” My phone chimes, telling me our car is arriving. “I canceled practice in the morning.”
“What?” She laughs, her hands resting on my chest. “Why?”
“Don’t think four or five hours with you is going to be enough.” I wrap my arms around her waist, burying my face in her hair. “I want you so fucking bad, Hannah.”
“I want you too, Brody.” Her lips, featherlight against my throat. “Tonight. Tomorrow morning. As many times as you’ll have me.”
A car honks, and I wave down our Uber driver. We settle in the back seat, Hannah sitting in the middle so I can keep my arms around her. She rests her cheek on my shoulder, thumb stroking over my knuckles, and I blow out a breath to keep my heart rate steady.
“What are you thinking about?” she murmurs, a hand on my leg. Her fingers dance up my thigh, all the way to my hip, then stop at my belt. “Anything good?”
“If I told you, I’d lose my perfect Uber rating.” I turn my head, my lips finding her ear. “I’m thinking about how easy it would be to hike your dress up. I could put my jacket over your lap and slip two fingers inside you. The driver wouldn’t know I was fucking you, but I would.”
“God.” Hannah drops her head against the seats behind us. “I forgot how talkative you are in bed.”
“I’m happy to remind you.” I pull down on her bottom lip with my thumb. “And stop calling me god, sweetheart. You know my name. You screamed it last time, didn’t you?”
“Careful, Brody.” A palm, right over my cock. Thank fuck it’s dark as hell outside so the driver can’t see what she’s doing. “Keep talking like that, and I’ll make you get on your knees.”
“Like I wouldn’t do it willingly.” I brush her hair away from her neck, kissing her throat.
I’m not normally this handsy, not normally so flustered I get hard in the back seat of a rideshare, but Hannah is addicting.
I’ve gone too long without getting my fill, and I don’t know if I want to savor her or devour her. “Are you wet, Hannah?”
“You’ll have to wait to find out.” Her smirk is coy. She knows exactly what she’s doing to me. “Are we there yet?”
We are, thank fuck. We pull up to my building and I leave Hannah in the warm car, rounding the vehicle so I can open her door. Fishing out some bills from my wallet, I toss the money to the driver and thank them for the safe drive, trying not to look too desperate when I tug on her arm.
“Before we get started,” I say, practically smashing the button for the elevator in the lobby, “we need to have a quick conversation.”
Hannah presses into my side, her hand on my back. “About what?”
“Testing. Partners. I haven’t, ah, been with anyone since we slept together.”
“Wait.” She files into the elevator, pulling me behind her. “You haven’t?”
“No. Didn’t seem fair to lead another woman on when I was picturing you the whole time,” I mumble. “Even after I ran away from you. Even when I knew I didn’t have a chance. I was still thinking about you.”
“Oh.” Hannah touches my cheek. “I haven’t slept with anyone either. I kissed a couple people, but nothing else. Not like what we had.”
“Does it make me a terrible person to say I’m glad that woman stood you up?” I move my jacket away from her arms, bending to kiss her shoulder. “Because now I get to have you.”
“I won’t dock a point,” she says. We reach my floor, and I’m proud of myself for not kicking open the door to my condo. “But only if you make me come.”
“What else do you want, baby? The moon? I’ll bring it out of the fucking sky for you.”
Her grin is bold. She holds my neck, pulling my mouth to hers as we step inside. She kisses me carefully, a change of pace from how frantic I feel. She swipes her tongue against mine, moving with me as I lock the door behind us.
“My god,” she whispers, turning to look around the foyer that leads to a large living room. “I’m going to need a tour later. This place is massive. Do you require a vial of blood for me to enter? Proof of my income?”
“Such a brat.” I take her purse and my jacket, leaving them on the floor. Sweeping her off her feet, I carry her down the hall, flipping on a couple lights as we go. “And a pain in my ass.”
“You like it.” Hannah makes quick work of my tie, tossing it behind us. “Wow. A headboard? Curtains? An armoire? You have a grown up room, Brody Saunders.”
“I’m a big boy, remember?” I set her on the mattress, kicking off my shoes and socks. My shirt comes next, the buttons pissing me off. That gets discarded too, and she reaches for me to join her on the bed. “Hi.”
“Hi.” She smiles, sitting up on her knees. “Will you tell me about your other tattoos?”
“The rose on the back of my hand is the flower from Olivia’s birth month.
Got it when she was born.” I falter when Hannah kisses my chest, fingers fanning out over my stomach muscles.
“Hockey sticks. That one is easy. Olivia’s initials.
” I tap the small O in the middle of a heart above my wrist. “Many, many more. I could tell you all the stories, if you want.”
“No. Let me see the flower again.”
“This one?” My left hand slides up her neck, wrapping around her throat. “Look at you wearing my jewelry.”
“I’ve always liked necklaces.” Her eyes flutter closed. She sighs, the strap of her dress slipping down her arm. “The tighter the better.”
My cock hardens at her admission. My skin burns hot, and I need her so badly everything fucking aches.
“Come here.” I stand, helping her to her feet. When she has her balance, I drop to the floor, running a hand up her leg. Over her knee, up her thigh, under her dress. I stop when I reach her underwear, twisting the lace. “I’m not going to be gentle with you, Hannah.”
“Good.” Her fingers thread through my hair. A tug. The scrape of her nails against my scalp. Heaven. “I don’t want you to be.”
“I’m going to mark you.” I lift her calf, setting her foot on my shoulder.
Her strappy shoes are difficult to take off, but I get there eventually, letting the heel hit the hardwood while I suck on the skin above her knee.
“I might leave a few bruises behind.” I move to the other foot, repeating the process. “I like to be in control.”
“What if I like to be in control too?” She looks down at me, eyes heavy-lidded. “Who’s going to win?”
You, I think pathetically.
Because I’m a helpless fucking wreck.
“We can take turns,” I say. “Each share the victory.”
“Would you crawl for me, Brody?” Hannah backs up, taking a seat on the edge of the bed.
She spreads her legs, knees opening wide, and I whimper when she bunches her dress at her hips.
I see light pink lace. A damp spot already.
She pulls her underwear to the side, eyes on me. “What would you do to taste me again?”
“Anything.” I lick my lips. My hands tremble as I unbuckle my belt and unzip my pants, the slacks falling to my ankles. “Anything you want.”
Leaning back on an elbow, she grins. This smile is pure power. She knows she has the upper hand and she’s proud of it.
“Prove it.”