14. Natalie
Natalie
Logan’s mansion is ridiculous.
I'm talking three stories of glass overlooking the Hudson River, with a pool that seems to stretch into infinity.
A DJ booth is set up on a deck that overlooks the lawn.
Crystal chandeliers are hanging from the outdoor pavilion, and waiters are circulating with champagne and canapés that look too beautiful to eat.
“This is insane,” I whisper to Avery as we step through the entrance.
“Welcome to NHL money,” she says with a grin. “Wait until you see the indoor basketball court.”
“He has an indoor basketball court?”
“And a bowling alley. And a home theater that seats thirty.” She links her arm through mine. “Come on, let's get drinks.”
The party is already in full swing by the time we arrive. Players and their wives and girlfriends mingle with team staff and sponsors, and everyone is dressed to impress. I'm glad Avery convinced me to shop for a dress. This is not a party where you can wear any old thing.
I’m also wearing the gold necklace that Ethan gave me.
Ethan arrived separately with Theo and Cole. I spot him across the room, looking huge and handsome in a charcoal suit that fits him perfectly. His cane is nowhere in sight, and I make a mental note to scold him later about overdoing it.
Our eyes meet across the crowded room, and the corner of his mouth lifts in a smile. Heat curls through my belly, and I have to look away before my face gives everything away.
“Earth to Natalie.” Harper waves a hand in front of my face. “You okay? You look flushed.”
“It's warm in here,” I lie. “Where are those drinks?”
The bartender makes us a sweet cocktail. I take a long sip and try to focus on the conversation around me instead of the man across the room who's consuming all my attention.
Olivia joins us with baby Maya on her hip, the little one dressed in a tiny Renegades onesie with a matching headband. She's the hit of the party, passed from player to player like a tiny mascot. Even the grumpiest veterans turn to mush when she grabs their fingers with her chubby hands.
“Theo's been dying to show her off,” Olivia says, rolling her eyes fondly. “He's convinced she's going to play in the NHL.”
“She's got his competitive streak,” Harper agrees. “I saw her fighting Cole for a cracker earlier. She won.”
We laugh and chat, and I try to be present in the moment. But no matter where I am in the room or who I'm talking to, I'm acutely aware of Ethan's presence. He's at the bar with Logan and some of the other guys, nursing what looks like a whiskey and nodding along to whatever story is being told.
And his eyes keep finding me.
Every time I glance in his direction, he's already looking. His gaze tracks me across the room like a heat-seeking missile, dark and possessive and hungry.
When I bend over to adjust my heel, his jaw tightens. When I laugh at something Cole's wife says, his eyes narrow slightly. When a sponsor's son approaches me with an obvious pickup line, Ethan frowns visibly.
The attention makes me feel powerful and desired.
The DJ switches to something upbeat, and people start migrating toward the makeshift dance floor on the deck. Avery grabs my hand and pulls me along, and soon I'm dancing with the girls.
Harper spins me around, and I catch Ethan's eye again. He's leaning against a pillar at the edge of the deck, watching me move with an intensity that makes my skin prickle. His gaze travels down my body slowly, lingering on my breasts, then back at my face.
When his eyes meet mine again, the promise in them is clear.
You're mine later.
I dance harder, putting on a show just for him. I run my hands through my hair and roll my body to the beat, knowing exactly what I'm doing to him. His nostrils flare, and he takes a long drink, his eyes never leaving me.
Two can play this game.
An hour later, I'm exhausted, overheated, and ready to go home. I find Avery at the dessert table and tell her I'm leaving.
“Already? It's barely midnight.”
“I have an early morning,” I lie. “Physical therapy stuff.”
“On a Sunday?”
“Athletes don't take weekends off.” I hug her goodbye. “I'll text you tomorrow.”
I make my rounds, saying goodnight to Olivia and Harper and a few other people I've met. Then I slip out the front door and find Ethan already waiting by the car, his driver holding the door open.
“Great minds,” I say.
“I couldn't take it anymore.” He gestures for me to get in first, then slides in beside me. “You in that dress and dancing like that. Do you have any idea what you were doing to me?”
“I have some idea.”
The partition rises, and he pulls me onto his lap, kissing me hard. His hands are everywhere, sliding up my thighs, gripping my ass, and tangling in my hair. I moan against his mouth and rock my hips against the growing bulge in his pants.
“Fuck,” he groans.
“We're in a car,” I point out when he slides his huge hand under my dress.
He pulls back with visible effort. “When we get home, you're in trouble.”
“I look forward to it.”
For the rest of the drive home, we manage to keep our hands to ourselves, though Ethan's fingers trace maddening patterns on my thigh the entire way.
By the time we reach the apartment building, I'm desperate for him. We barely make it through his front door before his mouth is on mine again, his hands tugging at the zipper of my dress.
“Wait,” I gasp, pushing him back slightly. “You didn't dance with me tonight.”
He frowns. “What?”
“You promised me a dance at the party.”
“Baby, my knee,” Ethan says, but it’s not about his knee.
It feels good to tease him, knowing how much he wants it. I want to torture him just a little bit longer. “One slow dance.”
I pull out my phone and scroll through my music until I find something slow and romantic. A piano ballad fills the apartment. “Dance with me.”
He pulls me into his arms, and we begin to sway. His good leg takes most of the weight, and we move in a small circle, barely more than rocking back and forth, but it's perfect.
“This is nice,” I murmur against his chest.
“It is.”
His hand spreads across my lower back, warm through the thin fabric of my dress. I tilt my head up, and our lips meet in a kiss that starts tender and turns hungry. His tongue slides against mine, and I press myself closer, needing to feel every inch of him.
“You're so beautiful,” Ethan says between kisses. “Do you know how hard it was to stand there and watch other men look at you and not be able to tell them that you’re my girl?”
“I only wanted you looking at me.”
“I couldn't look anywhere else.” He cups my face in his hands. “You were the most gorgeous woman in that room.”
We're still swaying to the music, but the dancing has become secondary to the kissing. His hands roam down my back and cup my ass, pulling me tight against his erection. I gasp into his mouth, and he swallows the sound.
My phone buzzes on the counter where I left it. Then it buzzes again.
“Ignore it,” Ethan says.
But the buzzing continues, insistent and annoying. I pull away with a groan and grab the phone.
The group chat that Avery formed is blowing up.
Harper: Did you leave with Ethan???
Olivia: I definitely saw them getting into the same car. Called it. Pay up ladies
Harper: We want DETAILS
Avery: Actually no. No details. I've known Ethan too long. Keep it vague
Olivia: Speak for yourself. I want ALL the details
I laugh and show Ethan the screen. He reads the messages with a smirk.
“Looks like we're busted.”
“Looks like it.” I type a quick response.
Me: We live in the same building. He gave me a ride. That's all.
Harper: Uh huh
Olivia: The sexual tension at that party could have powered a small city
Me: Goodnight ladies
I mute the chat and set my phone face down on the counter. “Now, where were we?”
“I believe I was about to take you to bed.”
“Actually,” I say, backing toward the kitchen, “I was going to make coffee.”
“Coffee?” He looks at me like I've lost my mind. “It's one in the morning.”
“Decaf.” I turn and walk toward the kitchen, putting extra sway in my hips. “You want some?”
He follows me, his footsteps uneven without his cane. I reach the counter and start opening cabinets, pretending to look for mugs while my heart pounds with anticipation.
“Natalie.”
I turn around, and he's right behind me, caging me against the counter with his arms.
“I don't want coffee,” he says, his voice low and rough.
“No? What do you want?”
“You.” He lifts me onto the counter in one smooth motion, stepping between my legs.
His mouth crashes into mine, and all pretense of making coffee disappears. His hands push my dress up around my waist, and he groans when he discovers I'm not wearing underwear.
“Fuck, baby. You were at that party with no panties?”
“Yeah.”
“You're going to kill me.” His fingers find my center and slide through the wetness already gathering there. “You're dripping. Is this all for me?”
“All for you.”
He pushes two fingers inside me, and I cry out, gripping his shoulders for balance. The counter is cold against my bare ass, but I don't care. All I care about is his fingers pumping in and out of me, his thumb circling my clit, and his mouth hot on my neck.
“I wanted to do this all night,” he growls against my skin. “Every time you laughed, I imagined bending you over and fucking you in front of everyone.”
“Ethan.” His name comes out as a moan.
“I wanted every man in that room to see who you belong to.”
He adds a third finger, and I nearly come off the counter. The stretch is delicious, and I rock my hips against his hand, chasing the pleasure building inside me.
“Please,” I beg. “I need you inside me.”
“Not yet.” He pulls his fingers out and brings them to his mouth, sucking them clean. “I need to taste you first.”
He pulls my hips to the edge of the counter. His mouth finds my center, and I throw my head back with a cry. His tongue laps at me in long, slow strokes.
“So sweet,” he murmurs against my pussy. “I'll never get tired of this taste.”
He sucks my clit into his mouth, and I grip the edge of the counter so hard my knuckles turn white. Two fingers push back inside me, curling against my sensitive spot. I'm trembling, my thighs shaking around his head, and my entire body is coiled tight with impending release.
Seconds later, I shatter. The orgasm rips through me with intensity and my voice echoes off the kitchen walls. Ethan doesn't stop and just keeps licking and sucking until I push him away because it's too much.
He stands, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, and unbuckles his belt.
He pulls me to the very edge of the counter and positions himself at my entrance. The height is perfect, allowing him to stand with his weight on his good leg while I wrap my arms around his neck.
He pushes into me slowly, letting me adjust to his size. Even after days of this, the stretch still takes my breath away. He's so big, filling me completely.
“God, you're perfect.”
“Move,” I beg. “Please, Ethan. I need you to move.”
He pulls out and thrusts back in. The counter gives him perfect leverage, and he uses it ruthlessly, driving into me with long strokes that hit every sensitive spot inside me.
I moan and dig my nails into his shoulders.
He reaches between us and finds my clit, rubbing it in tight circles while he fucks me. The dual sensation is overwhelming, and I'm climbing toward another peak embarrassingly fast.
“Don't stop. Please don't stop.” I'm almost sobbing with pleasure.
My second orgasm crashes over me even harder than the first, and my entire body convulses around him. He follows seconds later with a roar, his cock pulsing inside me as he spills himself in hot waves.
We stay there, panting, our bodies still joined.
“Still want that coffee?” Ethan asks eventually.
I laugh weakly. “I think I need something stronger now.”
He grins and kisses me softly. “How about a bath instead? My knee could use the hot water.”
“A bath sounds perfect.”
He pulls out of me slowly, and I wince at the sudden emptiness. He helps me down from the counter on shaky legs, and we make our way to his bathroom.
As I sink into the hot water with his arms around me, I think about how different my life is now compared to three months ago. Brody feels like a thing of the past now. Even the pain of being betrayed has become a distant memory, like it happened to someone else entirely.
My phone is probably still buzzing with questions from the girls. I'll have to face them tomorrow, and I'm not sure what to say.
Admitting the truth feels risky when I don't know where this is headed. If it ends badly, I won't just have a broken heart. I'll have a ruined reputation and a career marked by one huge lapse in judgment.