Chapter 17
Nadia
“Sorry I’m late.”I shove my bag under the front counter. “I stopped to grab a coffee and the line took forever.”
“It’s fine,” Abby says. She’s sitting in front of the main computer, entering data. “It took me twenty minutes to find a parking spot this morning. They keep closing lots for all the construction.”
I remove my coat and stuff it next to the bag. “I swear this campus gets more crowded every year.”
“That’s what happens when you have multiple championship teams. It happens every time we have an impressive season, like the football and hockey team have had over the last few years.”
“Are you saying people pick a college based on sports and not academics?”
She laughs. “I’m definitely saying that. Why do you think the school spends more on the athletic programs than anything else?” She nods toward the back of the gym. “It also doesn’t hurt to have guys like that walking around campus.”
I follow her gesture and see a couple of guys lifting weights in the back corner. I don’t know what or who I expected, but the flip flop of my gut is instantaneous when I realize it’s Axel. He’s in one of those T-shirts the guys at the gym wear with the arms and neck cut out for more room. His arm muscles flex as he goes through a set of bicep curls.
I haven’t seen him since the night before, when we “went official” at the bar to Twyler and everyone else. After her initial freak-out, she’d handled it pretty well, but I thought it may be best for Axel and I to stay at our own places that night. Give everyone a minute to acclimate to us as a couple.
Give myself a minute to acclimate to having Axel Rakestraw as a boyfriend.
“You know him right?” Abby asks.
“Yeah, I do. We’re uh…” I don’t have to look to know he’s staring at me. I feel it and my skin gets warm and hot, “friends.”
Okay, I guess maybe I haven’t fully acclimated.
“I need more friends like that,” she says, then catches herself, “you know, if they were four years older.” Her eyebrow raises. “Does he have an older brother?”
I grab the bottle of antibacterial spray and a clean rag. “Just a sister–younger.” A sister he seems to care a lot about. I’m curious about Axel’s family–the dynamic seems intense. My family isn’t religious, no more than hitting the big holidays at our local methodist church. Although he and his father seem miles apart, it’s also not completely impossible to reconcile Axel with the charismatic man I’ve seen clips of online.
Twyler had asked me where this relationship was going–was it long term. I told her that we were dating for now. Axel was honest with me about his future plans–how he’ll go home to Texas to minister with his father. But I can tell it weighs on him, a conflict he’s carrying if he doesn’t want to fully admit it. I know athletes, and Axel is good. He has what it takes to go pro, but only if he wants it. That’s what I can’t discern about him. Does he want it? Because what I’ve learned about him is that he’s a man that goes after what he wants.
He pursued the hell out of me.
I struggle to reconcile that with the man covered in tattoos–including the letters YOLO on his fingers. He doesn’t seem like the type to compromise.
“I’m going to go wipe down the machines.”
“Thanks but first, can you do me a favor?”
“He really doesn’t have a brother, Abs, I promise.”
She rolls her eyes. “I know, that’s not the favor.”
“What’s up?”
“There’s a prospective student tour coming through in about fifteen minutes. They’d be thrilled to see a star Badger in action,” she explains. “Will you ask if he’ll stick around? Maybe even talk to the group? If I can get a picture I can submit it to the social media page.”
The campus tours make a stop at the gym every day–it’s a big selling feature for the university. “Yeah, sure, I can ask him.”
With my bottle of cleaner and rag, I cross the gym over to where he’s moved away from the other guys and is sitting under the leg press machine–mid press. His shorts slide down, revealing his thighs and god, they’re thick and muscular from all that hockey.
“Hey,” he says, grunting as he lowers the weight. Sweat beads on his forehead and he lifts the hem of his shirt, wiping his forehead, showing his slick abs. “I was hoping you’d come by.”
I drag my eyes away from his muscles. “Huh?”
“T, you can see me shirtless anytime you want–no need to drool over me while I’m working out.”
I swat him with the cleaning rag. “I’m not drooling.”
He lifts a shoulder. “You want me, it’s okay to admit it”
I do want him, but like hell I’m going to feed his ego.
“Stop being so vain.” I roll my eyes, trying to pretend like just seeing him like this isn’t making me crazy. “My manager asked me for a favor.”
“What’s that?” He climbs off the machine and grabs his water bottle, taking a big swallow.
“Will you stick around for the next student tour? She wants to wow the admissions department with a couple photos of a star athlete working out.”
“Star athlete, huh?”
“Her words, not mine.”
He smirks, but then says, “You know I’m not really approved to workout without Coach’s approval.”
“Oh shit, right.”
“I mostly just come in here to see you.” His tongue darts out, licking the ring in his lip. “I missed waking up with you.”
“I missed it too,” I admit. “I just felt like it was better to take it slow. For the sake of everyone.”
He nods, leaning a sweaty arm on the machine. “How about this? I stick around, take a few pictures for the gym and you come to my game tonight.”
“You won’t get in trouble?”
“I’ll smooth it over,” he says, running his fingers over his mustache. “It looks good for the team too when we do a little extra PR.”
“I was already coming to the game, but if that’s the deal you want to strike, sure.”
Across the gym, the tour guide enters the front door, followed by a small group of high school students and their parents. Abby walks over to greet them and I say, “I better go put this stuff up and see if she needs any help.”
I duck into the back hall and have my hand on the supply closet door knob when I hear, “T, wait up.”
I turn and Axel is behind me, crowding me in against the door.
“I wasn’t finished with my demands.”
I tilt my head. “Okay, what else?”
“You wear my jersey to the game.”
Again, not a hardship. “Done.”
His eyebrow arches. “With nothing on underneath.”
Heat spreads through my belly. “I can do that.”
“And after the game, you come home with me–spend the night in my bed.”
The way he’s looking at me–oh boy–yeah this is a man that knows what he wants.
“Fine, but…” I start, already knowing I’m going to agree no matter what. I’m just trying to have some dignity here. “You have to wear a Wittmore gym T-shirt.”
“Deal,” he says, holds out his hand.
I clasp it with my own, feeling the jolt of electricity running between our fingertips. Each touch is a commitment to something bigger than myself. Something I’m not sure I can control. Something I’m ready to run head first into. “Deal.”
Apparently a handshake isn’t enough for Axel Rakestraw. With our hands linked he pulls me against his chest and bends, his mouth covering mine, in a strong, sexy, kiss. When he pulls back he grins and says, “So where’s that T-shirt?”
Wittmore is downby one as the timer ticks down to the second intermission and I’m in my seat ignoring how hard my nipples feel in the cold arena without the added layer of a padded bra.
“It’ll be okay,” Twyler says, although I think she’s talking more to herself than to me. “They’ll pull it together.”
They guys are playing awful. Even with my limited understanding of the game, it’s pretty obvious something’s off. “I’m sure Coach Bryant will light a fire under their asses during the break.”
“You see that?” she says, pointing down to Reese on the ice. He’s skating around the goal, just having missed another shot.
I narrow my eyes at the number fifteen jersey. “See what?”
“His shoulder. See how he’s rolling it back?”
All I see is a blur of black and gold badger uniforms smacking a puck around the ice.
“I think Reese’s shoulder is bothering him. He keeps stopping short when he takes a shot.” She worries her bottom lip. “I should go down there and check.”
“Twy, you’re not his trainer any more. I’m sure Coach Green can handle it.”
“I may not be his official trainer, but I know his body better than anyone.”
I snort. “I don’t think having an intimate knowledge of his penis counts.”
“That’s not what I mean.” She glares at me. “Reese is stubborn. He probably won’t even say anything and just suffer through it–which will only make it worse.” She swears quietly. “God, he’s an idiot. I never should have switched internships.”
Down on the ice Axel and the forward from the opposing team start shouting. A stick clatters against the ice and Axel lunges out of the crease.
“Oh fuck,” I mutter, watching with wide eyes. Whistles screech, and a referee darts between the two players, pushing them apart.
Thank god the buzzer sounds, ending the period.
“Axel seems pretty agitated,” I say, as Reid corrals him, urging him off the ice. He yanks off his helmet, revealing sweat soaked hair. “I know he’s pissed he let in that goal.”
“Well, Rodgers needs to stop buzzing around the crease.” Rodgers, the power forward for Eastern, seems to be particularly focused on messing with him. “It’s not illegal, but it’s obnoxious as hell, and he’s obviously trying to get Ax to do something stupid.”
I don’t know what Axel is like after a loss. Being undefeated is an amazing accomplishment, but it also adds another layer of pressure for these guys and everyone around them. Although I’ve never had this level of investment before–publicly dating a player– I do know what it’s like to be around an athlete after a bad game. That’s part of the role of a jersey chaser. You’re there for the wins and losses. Some guys are angry. Others depressed. Most get wasted, drowning their sorrows, or getting high. Others like Brent and CJ put on a brave face for the crowds and then come back home and release their tensions in private. I learned quick how to navigate their emotions–how best to support them–which in hindsight, was just me putting myself in another risky situation.
I have no idea how Axel will act after losing and I’m a little scared to find out.
“I’m going down there.” Twyler stands abruptly, grabbing her bag.
“What?” I ask, standing with her. “You can’t do that.”
“You think they won’t let me in?” she’s already working her way down the aisle. I follow, trying not to step on anyone’s feet. “To fix their star player? They’re not that stupid.”
I’m not sure why I keep following her, probably because I assume this is going to end up a disaster. While she walks she unzips her bag, digging out a lanyard and slinging the ID badge over her neck. She starts toward the stairs that lead down to the locker rooms and I grab her arm. “Wait.”
“I’ve only got a few minutes before intermission is over, Nad.”
“What if it’s me,” I blurt.
She frowns.
“What if I’m the reason they’re losing? I’m the new thing. The variation. My presence, my relationship with Axel could be what’s fucking up everyone’s mojo.” I swallow. “What if he regrets asking me to come.”
My best friend stares at me with her big blue eyes. “Don’t be ridiculous.”
“You know how they are about superstitions. Look at Axel’s stupid mustache!” I struggle to take a deep breath. “What if he blames me?”
Twyler takes my hand and leads me down the stairs. “I’m still not sure what’s going on with you two, how serious this is, or what’s going to happen long term, but I know that Axel is more together now than he’s been since I’ve met him. He’s steady. Sober. Focused. Reese never thought he’d see him get his shit together.” She stops in front of a door with a security box. “Don’t think we aren’t aware that this change in him happened around the time he stopped chasing puck bunnies and you two started hanging out.”
“He was on probation.”
“And reeling.” She waves the badge in front of the sensor and the door unlocks. “Something got his head on straight, and we both think it was you.”
We enter the locker room. My senses are assaulted by the worst smell I’ve encountered in my life. “Oh my god,” I gag, holding my shirt over my nose.
“Holy shit,” she coughs, “they stink, right? I swear I got desensitized.”
“It’s terrible.”
“Wait here,” she says and gestures for me to the equipment room off the hallway. She strides off before I can argue, and I hear her shout, “Cain!”
“Twyler?” Reese’s voice rises over the other guys. “What the fuck–”
“Get in the training room. Let’s check your shoulder.”
“It’s fine, Sunshine,” he grumbles. I don’t miss the laughter and cat-calls that follow from his teammates.
“Yeah, we’ll see about that.”
Satisfied she’s not being tossed out immediately, I step into the equipment room. The room is painted yellow and black, a badger logo on the wall. There are cubbies filled with skates and helmets hanging on hooks attached to the wall. Bins are piled high with pads and slotted racks holding dozens of beat-up sticks.
A rustle sounds behind me and I turn. Axel stands in the doorway, wearing full goalie pads. “Well, isn’t this a surprise?”
“Hi.” I swallow, taking him in. He looks massive suited up. “I know I shouldn’t be in here. I’m just waiting on Twyler.”
“She told me to come down here and get a new strap for my helmet.” He snorts. “Like that’s going to help the shit show going on out there.”
Irrational panic, mixed with a heavy dose of insecurity, rises in the back of my throat. “I should go.” I push past him. “You need to stay focused.”
He grabs my arm, keeping me in place. “You don’t distract me.”
I don’t miss how his eyes dart down to my chest. I roll my eyes and say, “There’s only one difference tonight, Ax. Me. I’m throwing things off balance. You guys have all your superstitions and rituals. I can’t just come in here and not screw that up.”
“Bullshit.”
“What?”
“I’m calling bullshit. Rodgers being a dick is throwing me off balance. Getting in the goalie’s head is his speciality. You, on the other hand, have been coming to the games for a while.” He tugs at the hem of the jersey. “Wearing my name and number. The only difference is we’re fucking now.”
God, his mouth. “That’s a big difference.”
“Not to me.”
I roll my eyes. “Us… doing that… is huge. It takes things to a new level.”
“Sorry, darlin’ you and I took things to the next level the day you wore that jersey the first time. That was the day I claimed you.” He pushes the hair off my neck. “And we won. Ritual locked in.”
He means what he’s saying, and if there’s one thing I know about the role of being an athlete’s girl, is that it’s my job to make him think he can get the job done. Axel doesn’t need confidence. He has that in spades. My man needs a challenge. “If that’s what you believe, then you need to go out there and prove it.”
“Yeah?” His grin is cocky. Infectious. “How so?”
“If you want me to keep coming to your games, wearing nothing underneath this jersey,” I lean forward, tilting my face to his, “then you better go out there and win this thing.”
Wittmore wins.
After the game, Axel strolls out in one of those sexy suits wearing the confident grin of a winner. Fans clamor around him, the crowd bigger and bigger every week, and he and the other guys stop to sign autographs. I feel the heat of his eyes keeping track of me while I wait by the edge of the parking lot.
He deserves the attention. He managed a rebound in the second half, shutting out Eastern’s offense. Bonus points for not throttling Rodgers in the process. In fact, the forward took a swing at Kirby and ended up in the box for the final minutes of the game.
“Hey,” he says making a beeline toward me. This is the stuff I’m not used to. Being the girl waiting out in the parking lot, not deep in a cell phone or waiting at home. He grabs me before I can overthink it and lifts me up, kissing me hard on the mouth. “Believe me now that you’re not bad luck?”
I smirk. “I believe you were sufficiently motivated to win that game.”
“Darlin’ it’s time you understand that you’re not shaking me. You’re my girl, and if we lose we lose, that’s got nothing to do with you and me.”
“What about all your superstitions? You’re telling me you believe in them?”
“To an extent,” he says, grinning and running his fingers over his mustache. “But that kind of thing can fuck with your head as much as anything else.” He tosses his bag in the bed of his truck and grabs me, pinning me against the side of the cab. “I want to see if you really were a good girl and followed directions, or if you were just fucking with me.”
He doesn’t wait for an answer, shoving his hands under my shirt to fondle my breasts. “Fuck,” he groans, thumbs rolling over my nipples and sending a shiver down my spine. “Forget everything I just said. Now you’re going to have to show up to every game like this.”
My limbs turn to jelly, loosened by his greedy touch. I’m thankful that he opens the door for me, helping me inside the cab, even though his hand lingers on my ass a minute longer than necessary, making it worse.
“You’re too far away,” he says when he gets in the truck. Leaning over, he grabs me by the waist and pulls me down the bench. He smells clean, fresh, a far cry from the stink of the locker room. He plants a kiss against my neck. “That’s better.”
Tucked against his side, he makes the short drive to Shotgun. His fingers inch under the jersey, knuckles grazing the underside of my breast. It’s good. Teasing. The air crackles between us. It’s not all one-sided, I can’t stop touching him either, running my hand down his thigh, feeling the hard length of his erection grow thicker with every pass.
By the time we reach the Manor, we’re both squirming in our seats. The windows at the house are bright with light and people spill off the front porch. All the parking spots in front of the house are taken, so he drives around the back alley behind the house. It’s dark back here. Discrete, although the music blaring from the house as the post-game party gets started is loud enough to rattle the windows.
I shift, preparing to slide out the passenger side door, when he holds onto me. “Listen,” he says, peppering my throat with kisses. “We can go inside, talk to everyone, play a few games, listen to Reid’s shitty DJ’ing, and then go upstairs and fuck, or, and hear me out,” his fingers are back on my tits, toying with the nipple, “we fuck right now.”
There’s really no choice.
“Now,” I tell him, my body completely on the edge. “Fuck me now.”
He adjusts the seat and reaches over, dragging me onto his lap. His hands are hard and strong, greedy, and everything about this feels so fucking right. This whole day has been tinged with emotions. The highs and lows of the game. The weight of dating Axel and not just being some puck bunny waiting in the wings. I’m flush with energy, nerves, and adrenaline. All of it has combined into something combustible that needs a release.
I kiss him under the hard line of his jaw and loosen his tie and button down, while his strong hands push down my leggings.
“Christ,” he grunts, realizing I’m not wearing panties. “Okay, maybe it’s a good thing I didn’t know you were up there like this or I would’ve let in more goals.”
“You’re the one that said bare,” I remind him, rising up. It spurs him into action, unfastening his pants and pushing them down. He brings us together, two bodies aligned and I feel him swell between my legs. “We made a deal, I’m just holding up my end of it.”
“Such a good girl.” He pinches my ass and I rock into him, letting our sticky heat build. The car is dark, but there’s enough light coming off the back porch that I can see him watching me. I still have the jersey on, and something tells me he wants me to keep it that way. Even so, I feel wildly exposed, but I also can’t seem to care. Axel’s body is a masterpiece, the hard cut muscle and all the tattoos. There’s a post-game, frenetic energy running through him. It’s addictive. He’s addictive and I can’t seem to get enough.
Kissing me, his arm shoots out behind him, grappling to open the glove compartment door. Yanking out a string of condoms, he tears one off while I stroke his length. He hums, when I rub my thumb over the slippery tip. “Darlin’ slow down unless you want me to blow before I get inside.”
I pull back, watching him roll the rubber down and he lifts me up, slotting us together. “Ready?” he asks, his green eyes holding mine. I nod, bracing myself for the feel of him. His cock is an invasion, thick and hard. I exhale, letting myself adjust to his size. “You good?” he asks, kissing my mouth, my neck. “Talk to me, T.”
“I’m good,” I tell him. So good. Better than ever before. The car is hot, sweaty, our breath taking up all the air. He fills me up, meeting me thrust for thrust, letting our bodies provide the friction needed to set me loose. His head dips, and he pushes the shirt up, taking my nipple into his mouth. He sucks hard, tongue lathing over the tip, and my head falls back as the jolt of ecstasy slams into me.
I ride him hard, spiraling out, until his movements grow erratic, his breath shifting to a groan. Axel’s arms wrap around my body, holding me tight, and he whispers, “I’ve never felt so close to someone before,” seconds before every muscle in his body constricts, and he comes in hard, unrelenting thrusts. My pussy milks him, clenching against his length, wanting every last drop.
His face drops into the curve of my neck, chest to chest, our hearts pound hard against one another. The way he holds me, the way he doesn’t rush to move, to pull out and leave, makes me understand what it’s like to be in his line of vision. The thing Axel Rakestraw wants.
This feeling? I’ll take it as long as he’s willing to give it to me.