15. Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Fifteen
Kevin
Dallas feels quick and brutal.
My shoulder's screaming. Ribs ache from blocking those shots in Utah.
I don't care.
Two more periods. Then I'm done. Then I can go home.
Second intermission, I check my phone.
Ranger's Mom
You're playing angry tonight.
Motivated.
Ranger's Mom
By?
Getting home.
Ranger's Mom
Ranger will be happy to see you.
Thanks, Ranger. At least someone misses me.
Ranger's Mom
He's the one who misses you most.
Liar.
Ranger's Mom
Prove it.
I will. When I get home.
Ranger's Mom
Sounds serious
Sarah
Ranger's Mom
Kevin
Are you wearing it?
Ranger's Mom
You know I am.
Send me a picture.
Ranger's Mom
You're in a locker room. Again
Don't care.
Ranger's Mom
Your teammates are going to notice
They already know something's up. Just send it
Long pause. Then my phone lights up.
Same mirror. Same messy bun. Same bare legs.
But this time she's added something — Ranger sitting next to her in his matching jersey.
Ranger's Mom It’s our pfp for OnlyPaws. In case the Super PawMart thing doesn’t work out.
I laugh out loud and Liam looks over. "What's so funny?"
"Nothing." I lock my phone.
"Sure, Sunshine. Keep telling yourself that."
When we win 3-2 and the buzzer sounds, I'm off the ice before most of the guys.
Post-game is a blur. Give quick answers to a couple of reporters. Shower fast. Get to the bus. Get to the airport. Get home.
The flight back is barely an hour but feels endless.
My phone buzzes as we're taxiing.
Ranger's Mom
Safe flight?
Just landed. Getting my stuff.
Where are you?
Ranger's Mom
Your place. Dog-sitting, remember?
Which room?
Ranger's Mom
Why does that matter?
It matters.
Dots appear and disappear for what feels like forever.
Ranger's Mom
Guest room. Watching Bridgerton.
Stay there.
Ranger's Mom
Kevin—
Please. Just stay there. I'll be home in less than an hour.
Ranger's Mom
An hour is a long time.
I'll make it worth the wait.
Ranger's Mom
Promises, promises.
I keep my promises, Sarah.
She doesn't respond.
I can picture her perfectly. In my guest room. Hopefully still in my jersey. Waiting for me.
It's the middle of the night and the roads are emptying out, but somehow I still hit every fucking red light between the airport and downtown. Finally, though, I make it to the place I’ve wanted to be all week.
Home.
The condo is dark except for the glow from the TV shining into the hall from the guest room. I can hear Bridgerton playing — violins and British accents and dramatic declarations.
Ranger's immediately at my feet, tail wagging, but quieter than usual. He’s in protector mode.
Makes two of us.
"Hey, buddy," I whisper, scratching behind his ears. "Where is she?"
He leads me across the living room, down the hallway, and just outside the guest room where the door's cracked open.
And there she is.
Sarah's curled on her side facing the TV, blonde hair spread across the pillow, wearing my jersey. The hem's ridden up enough that I can see black lace panties and soft skin. She's got one hand tucked under her cheek, the other resting on the remote.
She looks perfect.
I lean against the doorframe, just watching her. The city lights from the window catch in her hair. On screen, some duke is probably declaring his love or whatever the fuck happens on that show, but I can't look away from her.
"You gonna stand there all night, or are you coming in?"
Her voice makes me jump. Her eyes are still closed but she's smiling.
"How'd you know I was here?"
"Ranger gave you away. His tail sounds different when it's you." She rolls onto her back, stretching. "How was Dallas?"
The jersey rides up further and it takes everything I have not to groan at the strike of desire that hits hard enough to knock me over.
"Long." I push off the doorframe, moving into the room. "We won."
"I know. I watched."
"In that?" I gesture to the jersey.
"I promised, didn't I?" She sits up and the jersey falls off one shoulder. Black bra strap visible. I’m battling my libido harder than I battled anyone on the boards during the entire road trip. "Nice assist in the second."
"That was Liam's goal."
"I know. But your pass was prettier."
I sit on the edge of the bed. "Thanks for watching the whole game."
"Ranger insisted." Her smile's teasing but her eyes are dark. "And maybe I wanted to."
"Maybe?"
"Definitely." She bites her lip. "Kevin—"
I touch one finger to her lips. "Don't."
"Don't what?"
"Don't overthink this." My hand slides to her knee. She shivers. "We've been texting all week. You've been wearing my jersey. Sleeping in my bed. We both know what this is."
"Do we?"
"Yeah." My hand moves higher, thumb stroking the inside of her thigh. "We're way past casual, Sarah."
"We said—"
"Fuck what we said." I cup her face with my other hand. "I've been thinking about you for almost a week straight. Checking my phone between periods. I pointed at a camera after that assist because I wanted you to know it was for you."
Her breath catches. "Kevin—"
"I don't want you in the guest room. I don't want to pretend." I lean closer. "Tell me you want the same thing."
"This is a bad idea," she whispers, but her hand comes up to my chest, fingers picking at my tie.
"Probably." I kiss her softly. "So, tell me to stop."
"I can't."
"Why not?"
"Because I've been thinking about you too." Her hand slides into my hair. "Since you left. Since Vancouver when I watched them hit you and it made me want to cry. Since that first board meeting when you showed up in that navy suit and made me completely lose my train of thought."
"You were the only person I saw in that room." I kiss her deeper. She opens for me immediately. "Sarah—"
"Don't talk." She pulls me closer. "You've been gone for days. How about we just — you know — don't talk."
So, I don't. She told me what she wanted me to do. And I can do exactly that. Gladly.
I kiss her like I've been dying to all week. My hands tangle in her hair, tilting her head to deepen the kiss. She tastes like something sweet — maybe the chocolate I know she keeps in my pantry for late nights.
She pushes my jacket off my shoulders. Unties my tie with fingers that fumble slightly. Starts unbuttoning my shirt: top button, then the next, working her way down while my heart pounds against my ribs.
I come a little more undone with every button she frees.
Fuck, I want her so bad I could come right now without her even touching me.
But I will touch her.
I'm going to make sure she knows exactly what she does to me. What we do to each other.
I'm going to make her forget every rule we’ve made. Make her forget we're supposed to keep this casual and private and uncomplicated.
She's mine. And I'm hers. And everyone else can fuck off because this — her hands on me, my jersey on her, both of us in my guest room because we couldn't wait to get to my actual bed — this is what I thought about every day — every hour — while I was gone.
She tugs at my shirt, and I pull back just long enough to shed it completely. Her hands are immediately on my chest, tracing the lines of muscle, nails scratching lightly down my abs, and I groan into her mouth.
"You have no idea what you do to me," I mutter against her lips.
"Show me. I want to see it all."
Wish granted. She wants to see it all, she’ll get it all.
I push her back against the pillows, settling over her. The jersey's bunched up around her waist now, and I can see the matching black lace set underneath.
"This is new," I say, hooking a finger in the waistband of her panties, letting my knuckles graze her hip bone.
"I went shopping." Her cheeks flush pink. "After the Vegas game. I thought… I don't know what I thought."
"You thought you'd wear them for me?"
"Maybe."
I grin. "Good. Because they're staying on for now. I want to see you come apart in my jersey first."
"Kevin—"
My hand slides between her legs, over the lace, and she's already wet. "Fuck, Sarah."
"I've been thinking about you," she admits, hips rolling up against my hand. "All night. Wondering when you'd get home. Wondering if you'd—"
"If I'd what?"
"Touch me like this." She gasps when I press harder, right where she needs it. "Look at me like you are right now."
"How am I looking at you?"
"Like you want to devour me."
"I did. I do." I push the lace aside, fingers finding her slick and hot and perfect. "I will."
She's already close — I can feel it in the way she's trembling, in the way her hips chase my hand, in how her breathing's gone shallow and quick. I work her with my fingers, watching her face as she climbs higher.
Every shift in her expression drives me wild.
"That's it," I murmur, curling my fingers to find that spot inside that makes her gasp. "Let go for me, baby."
"Don't — oh fuck — maybe you shouldn’t call me that."
"Why not?" I press my thumb against her clit while my fingers work inside her.
"Because it makes this feel — ohhh — like more than—"
"It is more." I capture her mouth in a bruising kiss. "We both know it is, baby."
She comes with my name on her lips, pulsing around my fingers, back arching off the bed. I work her through it, gentling my touch as she comes down, watching every second of pleasure cross her face.
When she can breathe again, she pushes at my chest. "Your turn."
"Sarah, you don't have to—"
She raises an eyebrow. "I want to."
She's already working at my belt, and who am I to argue?
I stand long enough to kick off my pants and boxer briefs, and when I look back at her, she's crouching a bit on her knees on the bed, jersey hanging off both shoulders now, hair messy from my hands, looking at me like I'm a Christmas present she’s been planning to unwrap slowly.
"Come here," she says, and I do.
I'm very coachable.
She wraps her hand around my cock and I have to close my eyes for a second or this is going to be over embarrassingly fast.
"Fuck."
"Sensitive?"
"It's been almost a week of cold showers and thinking about you in my jersey." I open my eyes to find her smiling up at me. "So yeah. Sensitive."
She leans forward, and when her mouth closes around me, I nearly lose it right there.