Chapter 27
TWENTY-SEVEN
Whitney steps into my apartment with her arms full. “Hi. Hi. I’m so sorry. Practice ran late. I need to change, but I’ll be ready in fifteen minutes. Twenty, tops.”
She gives me an apologetic smile and leans up on her toes to give me a quick kiss.
As she pulls back, I loop an arm around her waist to keep her in place and kiss her again.
Since we got back from Washington on Sunday evening, I’ve barely seen her.
Stupid hockey and everything else that’s kept us occupied.
“We don’t have time,” she protests, but only with her words because her mouth slants, and she lets out a little hum of approval as my tongue sweeps in to tangle with hers.
After a few more seconds, she pulls back. “I’m sweaty and still in my practice clothes.”
I let her go, then take her in. Leggings, sweatshirt, hair pulled up into a ponytail. I reach out a hand and hook it around the whistle hanging from her neck, giving it a little tug.
Whitney groans, like, “See? I’m a mess.”
“You look gorgeous. I like the whistle. It’s very sexy.”
She raises both brows. “Yeah?”
“Mm-hmm.”
With a small laugh, she shifts the stuff in her arms to keep from dropping it.
“Here.” I take all of it from her. “I got it.”
She heads for the stairs, and I follow behind her.
“Where are Danny and Erin?” she asks once we’re in my bedroom. “I thought you’d all be waiting on me.”
“They’re both running late too.”
“You let me rush up here for nothing?”
“Not for nothing.” I set her stuff down and then scoop her up in my arms. She giggles as I fall onto the bed with her.
“How much time do we have?” Her hands slide under my T-shirt.
“As much time as you want,” I assure her.
She pushes me onto my back and straddles me. Fuck, I can’t get enough of this girl.
Whitney pulls me up and takes my shirt off, tossing it to the floor. Then she goes straight to work on unbuttoning my jeans. We may not need to hurry, but we’re both too eager to slow down.
I help her get my jeans and boxers off and those go on the floor as well. She kisses me before I can do anything about hers.
She pushes me onto my back again, that damn whistle knocking me in the face in the process. I grab ahold of it, then put it in my mouth and blow lightly.
Whitney gasps and pulls back, taking her whistle with her. She holds a hand over it protectively, pressing it into the valley between her breasts. “Did you just blow my whistle?”
“Sure did, baby.”
Her eyes light up and she lets her hand fall away. “Say that again.”
“Baby?”
Whitney nods rapidly as she sits back and pulls her shirt over her head, then takes off her bra too. Once she’s topless, she picks up the whistle again. Her lips wrap around the end. Fuck, that’s sexy.
I sit up to kiss her, but she blows it lightly, then speaks around it. “On your back, Charming.”
Okay. I can get on board with this game.
“Whatever you say, Coach.”
She moves off the side of the bed. Her stare doesn’t leave me as she slowly pushes her leggings and panties down her hips past her thighs and knees and then to her ankles. She pulls them the rest of the way off and then stands tall, naked and stunning. My dick throbs with the need to be inside her.
I crook one hand behind my head. I’m here for the show. I could watch her all day.
Whitney pulls her hair free from her ponytail and the dark brown strands fall over her shoulders.
“Condoms in the nightstand?” she asks.
“Yeah.” I move to get one, but she blows the whistle again.
I chuckle as I freeze and then lean back in position while she goes to the side of the bed and pulls open the drawer and grabs a foil wrapper. I’m not sure if her movements are intentionally slow or if I’m just so excited that it feels that way.
She tears open the wrapper and pulls out the condom, then finally climbs back on top of me. She wraps her hand around my base and strokes me slow and firm.
I start to reach out for her hips, but she puts that damn whistle to her mouth again. Her lips twist with a smirk like she knows exactly how frustratingly sexy she is.
“If you’re trying to make me come before I’m inside you, you’re doing a fantastic job,” I grit out as she leans down and kisses the head of my cock. Her lips are warm and soft and all I can think about is driving down her throat.
“Inside me like this?” she asks as she pulls back a bit. She’s still close enough that her words blow against my skin. Then she glides down over the length of me, taking me into her hot, wet mouth.
I take a chance that she’s too preoccupied to whistle me off and thread my fingers through her hair. I push it away from her face so I can watch as she continues to suck my cock.
I’m so far gone for this girl.
“Fuck, fuck,” I mutter as she swirls her tongue along my shaft. I don’t want her to stop, but if she keeps going much longer, I’m not going to be able to hold off. “So damn good, baby.”
She hums her appreciation for the nickname.
“Baby,” I say again.
The groan she lets out this time vibrates against my balls and a shudder travels through me.
Whitney pops off my dick and covers me with the condom. Her lips shine with wetness, and her cheeks are flushed with desire. Carefully, she lines my cock up exactly where she wants me. As I push into her cunt, I don’t know if I’ve ever felt this kind of bliss.
My chest is tight like someone filled it with too much air, and my skin crackles with electricity from head to toe.
Maybe I haven’t had enough sex to know all the ways it can be different with different people, but I’m certain this isn’t typical.
It’s so much more than pleasure. I feel attached to her in ways I never dreamed I could connect to another person.
I’m in love with her. It can’t possibly be anything else.
Once I’m deep inside her, she pauses like she’s letting her body adjust. The way she squeezes around me is the best kind of torture. I hover between wanting her to move to ease the ache and hoping she stays just like this, so it never has to end.
My body is coiled so tightly that when she finally lifts her hips, my head falls back and I let out a deep, guttural growl. It’s too good. I’m so close already.
It’s only when the whistle blows again that I meet her stare through heavy lids. I start to make some quip about taking that thing away from her, but she beats me to it.
“Eyes on me, handsome.”
Fuck me. Like I could deny that.
She lets the whistle fall from those perfect lips. It jumps between her breasts with every bounce. I let her set the pace, holding back through gritted teeth and tightly clenched muscles.
When she’s close, her lashes fall. She fights to keep watching me as her orgasm hits. Then her movements turn jerky and she rides me faster, no longer able to keep her eyes open. Her mouth falls open. “Conrad.”
“I got you, baby.” I hold onto her hips and drive up into her, giving us both exactly what we need.
I come the same way she did, with her name on my lips. Whitney falls on top of my chest, breaths ragged and heart pounding against her chest. And that whistle knocking me in the face one last time.
I smile as I bring it to my lips and give it one last blow.
Whitney and I finally emerge from my room thirty minutes later. She’s dressed in jeans and a yellow sweater, and she used some sort of hot curling iron to put big waves into her hair. She also had on lip gloss at one point, but that’s mostly gone now. My bad.
D-Low is in the living room, scrolling on his phone.
“Hey,” I say when he looks up. “Is Erin here?”
“No.” He shakes his head, then asks, “Were you guys watching a movie or something?”
“Nah.” I sit on the couch and pull Whitney down to sit in front of me and wrap my arms around her from behind.
My buddy’s brows furrow slightly. “I thought I heard a whistle.”
Whitney tenses, and I bury my face in her shoulder to keep from laughing.
“Must be hearing things,” I manage to say with a serious expression. “What time is Erin going to be here?”
“She’s not. We called things off.”
“Like for tonight?” I ask cautiously.
“For good.”
“Oh shit.” My grip on Whitney loosens. “I’m sorry.”
I barely manage to get the words out before D-Low dismisses it with a shake of his head. “Don’t be. It’s for the best.”
“What happened?” Whitney asks him.
“She wanted to be exclusive, and I wasn’t feeling it.” He frowns. “Maybe I’m an idiot. She was great.”
She did seem like a cool chick, but I never would have said the two of them together were great.
I’ve known D-Low for two years now. He’s dated a lot, but I’ve never seen him with someone who I felt like he was really into.
I never had a barometer for it until now, but he doesn’t seem as consumed by the women he’s with as Trav is with Hannah or Galaxy with Ruby.
Or me with Whitney. Fuck. I’m one of them.
But regardless of how I felt about the two of them, it’s the longest relationship he’s had. That has to sting.
“Do you still want to go out?” I ask him.
“Nah. You two have fun.”
Whitney glances back at me as if trying to gauge if we’re on the same page. She gives me a small smile, then says, “Why don’t we just hang here?”
“That’s a good idea. I could invite the rest of the guys over.” That way he doesn’t feel like he’s a third wheel. Been there. Done that.
“It’s okay. I don’t need a pity party,” he says, but he perks up just a little.
“It’ll be fun,” I insist. “No pity involved.”
“Okay. Fuck it. Party at our place.” D-Low lets a smile loose.
After I text all the guys, I grab beers from the fridge.
“Galaxy and Penn haven’t responded yet, but Trav said he’s waiting for Hannah to get home, and they’ll be over if she isn’t too tired from training.” I hand Whitney a beer, then one to D-Low.
D-Low twists off the cap. “Sounds like we’re on our own.”
“They’ll be here,” I say with a high level of confidence. I told them just enough that they know it’s important. “What should we do in the meantime?”
Whitney gasps, then looks from me to D-Low and back as she grins wide. “We can finally watch Dirty Dancing!”
Two hours and a twelve-pack of beer shared among the three of us later; the rest of the guys still haven’t shown, but I’ve mostly forgotten about them.
Whitney sits on the floor in front of the TV and D-Low and I are a few feet away, holding onto each other in some sort of dancer’s pose.
“This is dumb,” I mutter. “I should be leading.”
“I’m teaching you how to lead.” D-Low holds my right hand at eye level and his other rests firmly on my left shoulder blade. “Notice where my hands are and how my shoulders are back and down?”
He’s enjoying this a little too much.
“Now you try.” He drops his hands and then I do my best to mimic what he did.
“Nice,” Whitney says encouragingly from the floor. “Are we ready to try it with music?”
She presses Play on the movie and D-Low and I dance in step with Johnny and Baby. D-Low took lessons as a kid, so he’s a natural. Meanwhile, I’m trying to move my feet, not step on his, remember my frame, the choreography, oh and my girlfriend is watching.
When we get to the end of the sequence, Whitney jumps up and cheers.
“That was amazing. You should really let me record it so you can see.”
“No,” D-Low and I say in unison.
She chuckles.
“Okay, one more time and then my turn.” The whole point in D-Low teaching me is so I can do the dance with Whitney—something she’s wanted to do for a very long time, apparently.
We start at the beginning of the song again. I don’t even need to look at the TV anymore to know the steps. D-Low and I move in sync, grinning like fools—and probably looking like it too but I don’t care.
I’m feeling super proud of myself when Whitney hits Pause on the movie.
“We had it that time,” I say, looking for some explanation to why she cut us off early. Her smile goes sheepish.
Before I can ask what’s wrong, movement at the front door catches my eye. Galaxy, Ruby, Trav, Hannah, and Penn stare at us with surprise and amusement in their expressions.
“What the fuck is happening?” Penn asks.
“Dance lessons,” Whitney says.
“We’re just messing around,” D-Low adds, then clears his throat.
“Was that Dirty Dancing?” Ruby asks.
Whitney nods. “I forced them to watch it.”
“Oh my god, I love that movie.” Hannah is the first to step forward.
“Me too,” Ruby says dreamily.
Before I can introduce them, they’re already pulling Whitney into the living room. The guys follow me into the kitchen to grab more beers.
“Is this the kind of shit you two do on the regular?” Trav asks, grinning at me.
“If we did, I’d be a much better dancer.” I hand each of them a beer.
“Sorry to hear about Erin,” Galaxy says to D-Low as he tips his bottle to him.
He waves him off the same way he did me earlier. “I’m feeling better already. Who wants to help me swipe girls?”
“Not it,” Galaxy says, and takes a drink. Trav chuckles.
Penn shakes his head. “I don’t even like to do that for myself.”
“Hence your lack of dates,” D-Low tells him.
The big goalie just shrugs.
“Did you catch the Houston game?” Galaxy asks, voice quiet like he doesn’t want to be overheard.
“Obviously not.” D-Low laughs. “We were busy.”
“What happened?” I ask. There’s something in the way Galaxy glances around and shifts on his feet that tells me it isn’t good.
“Aven got another game misconduct,” he says.
“And rumor has it that Houston is fed up,” Trav adds.
“Only now?” D-Low asks with a huff of disbelief. “The guy has been trouble for years.”
Penn holds out his phone, and the five of us gather around to watch the replay. Victor knocks down Kelly from Minnesota, then cross-checks him once he’s down on the ice.
“Fuck, that’s right over his throat too.” D-Low’s eyes are wide as he looks to me, then in the living room to where Whitney is still corralled with Ruby and Hannah.
“That shit’s dangerous,” Galaxy says.
Penn pockets his phone.
A sense of dread fills my stomach. Whitney looks up and meets my gaze. She’s beaming, but whatever she sees on my face makes her smile dim.
“Are you going to tell her?” Trav asks me.
She’s already walking toward me.
“I don’t think I have a choice.”