Chapter 4 – Drew
four
. . .
“Game. Set. Match.”
Drew
“I demand a re-draw.”
I roll my eyes at Tristan. “It’s a game of mixed doubles and trust me when I tell you that June is the best tennis player here.”
He drops his name back into the upturned baseball cap I’m holding. “This whole thing is fixed.”
“Oh, don’t be such a baby!” June grabs his name back out and shoves the piece of paper into his hand. “As long as you’re not as terrible at tennis as you are at hockey then we will walk this.”
“I want no cheating, Jones!” Marley points a stern finger at June. “I know what you get like when the competition heats up.”
She winks and tucks her racket under one arm, sauntering to the baseline in white shorts so small and tight, even I’m blushing. And jealous. An ass like that should be illegal.
Vesper—who isn’t taking part for obvious reasons—takes Tristan by surprise as she rises onto her tiptoes and whispers in his ear. “You know you aren’t fooling anyone, right?”
Caught red-headed, Tritan’s eyes snap away from June’s butt, heat blazing in them as he looks around our group.
Will cocks a brow at his teammate. “Were you just checking out my sister?”
In the background, June begins warming up her serve and damn, is there anything the Jones family can’t do?
Tristan scoffs, black curls falling over his forehead as he crosses his arms over his chest. He’d be an attractive guy if he wore something other than a scowl on his face. “Why? Does the thought of me as a brother-in-law appeal to you?”
“And here I was, trying to wipe the image of frosting from my mind. I didn’t think my imagination could be anymore twisted and then you had to go and plant that thought in my head,” Will retorts, feigning to puke.
Tristan looks confused. “I’m sorry, but can you speak English? Frosting what?”
“Are we going to play this game, or not?” June props one hand on her hip and points to the sun with her racket. “I guess we have an hour before it gets too hot and we need to play three sets in that time.”
“Ready to put my sister back in her box?” Will ignores Tristan’s question and wraps his arm around my shoulders.
Marley holds up a hand. “I think we’re all missing an important detail here—where’s Mason?”
Silas scratches at the back of his neck, wincing. “Yeah, so I’m sorry to break this to you, Marl, but you’re partnered with me and I’ve never actually played tennis before. Actually, no, that’s a lie. I played one semester in high school.”
I feel Will’s arm tense around me. “Where is Mason?” he asks.
Silas shrugs, clearing his throat. “I assume still in bed like the rest of us should be. It’s 8 a.m. on a goddamn Sunday.”
Marley seems to buy Silas’s explanation; however, Will doesn’t look convinced as I peer up at him. Vesper’s expression looks similarly concerned. Mason disappeared without saying goodbye to anyone last night and didn’t show at breakfast either.
Vesper thumbs behind her toward the main hotel building. “Let me go and check on him. He might’ve forgotten about playing tennis this morning.”
With that, she spins on her heel, leaving an uneasy silence resting between us.
At one time, Mason was the life of our group, but over the past twelve months he’s gradually distanced himself from his teammates and life in general.
He only agreed to come to Banff because Will’s teammates were invited by Kate and Jensen and he didn’t want to come off as rude.
But open bars and Mason don’t mix well these days, and I don’t think Vesper will find him down at breakfast.
My sister looks between me and Will as Tristan peels off to join June at the baseline, both of them already bickering over who serves first.
“All right”—Will slaps his thigh, breaking the tension-filled silence—“Jones versus Vaughn. Let’s do this.”
“Excuse me.” June points to her chest. “I’m no freaking Vaughn!”
The smile as it creeps onto Tristan’s face is unmistakable, even from across the other side of the net.
His grin makes a change from the usual frown plastered to his face.
“June Monroe Vaughn.” He rolls the name around in his mouth, dismissing the prospect with a headshake. “Yeah, you’re right, Princess. That name sounds fucking horrendous on you.”
“Game…” June holds her hand over the net for her brother. “Set.” She taunts when he takes her hand and shakes it. “Match.” She tacks on a wink.
“You’re actually intolerable,” Will groans.
She releases his hand and pinches his cheek. “Yeah, but you love me.”
Wiping the sweat from his brow, Tristan has been officially played off the court—and I’m not referring to me and Will. June ran the show out there with Marley ending up umpiring after Mason remained a no-show and Silas ducked out to catch up with Vesper. They never did make it back to the court.
“I want to know what we win for kicking your asses,” Tristan says as I take his and June’s rackets, ready to return them to the clubhouse.
June—who organized the mini competition—clicks her tongue, smiling sweetly at the brooding Rogues forward. “I’d say the look on your face right now is reward enough for me.”
He scowls at her. “The win was a team effort, and you know it.”
As they both engage in another game of back-and-forth—only this time with their words instead of a ball—I reach up and plant a kiss on Will’s cheek.
“I’m proud of you for being gracious in defeat.”
He grumbles and I can’t help but laugh, interlacing our fingers and pulling him toward the clubhouse which is around a hundred yards from the tennis courts.
June wasn’t wrong, the July sun is intense. Relief is palpable as we step into the cool clubhouse and I hand the guy working the equipment rentals our rackets and tennis balls.
“Do you have a bathroom on site?” Will asks.
The attendant points to a door straight ahead and I follow Will, wondering why he can’t wait until we’re back in our hotel room. Our flight home to Seattle leaves in four hours and we need to pack, head to the airport, and get through security.
But as soon as the door closes behind us, Will is on me, pinning me against the wall.
His mouth slants over mine, tongue sweeping along the seam of my lips, and I crumble in his arms like the banks of a river being eroded away.
“It’s been way too fucking long”—his lips find the curve of my neck—“since I was inside you.”
I giggle and he grins into the kiss, unleashing shockwaves of pleasure throughout my body. When a man can make you feel like this no matter how many times he puts his hands on you, then he’s definitely the one.
“It’s been less than forty-eight hours.”
“That’s what I’m saying, Baby—too fucking long.”
Wrapping his hands under my ass, he picks me up and I loop my arms around his waist.
“Where are you taking me this time? And whatever happened to having sex in a bed?”
He quirks a brow, pushing through another door which leads to the shower room.
Will didn’t need the bathroom. He just wanted to get me alone.
He sets me down on a wooden bench and flicks the lock on the door.
“You think I can wait to get you in bed when you’ve been parading around in that cute little tennis dress all morning?” He reaches behind his head and pulls his white polo shirt off in one, easy motion.
His chiseled chest glistens with perspiration and my mouth waters at the sight.
“Spread your legs for me, Drew.”
Ugh, I love it when he turns demanding.
Dropping to his knees in front of me, he pushes up my dress and exposes tiny white shorts underneath. “Tell me these aren’t sewn into the dress.”
A bubble of girlie laughter rises up my chest. “They’re separate.”
He growls like a caveman, hands immediately yanking them down my thighs as I lift my hips and let him have his way with me. My panties are next to go.
My skin buzzes with excitement. Will’s fun-loving, sometimes unpredictable, personality is the reason why I fell for him.
“Don’t ever change.”
My raspy request causes him to halt just before his mouth covers my pussy.
Darkened eyes fueled by desire soften as he gazes up from between my thighs.
“Promise me that it will always be like this,” I continue, “wild sex in locker rooms and the kind of stage frights only you could get us into.”
Will blinks once, and then twice, a quick hand swiping beneath his left eye before he picks me up and carries me into the open showers. Setting the water running, he holds us both beneath the stream once steam begins filling the room.
We don’t say anything more, his full lips resting over mine coupled with the soft pitter-patter of water hitting the tiles renders me putty in his hands.
He looks glorious like this. His dark blue athletic shorts clinging to every muscle in his thighs along with other parts of him that I’m desperate to feel.
My back finds the tiled wall, water soaking into my tennis dress. Unfortunately for my husband, this material is designed not to turn transparent when wet. He soon remedies the issue, though, pulling one of the straps over my shoulder until a breast spills free.
He still doesn’t breathe a word, the rapid rise and fall of his chest conveying every thought in his mind as he takes in my body, pinned against the wall and suspended in his arms.
Every part of me belongs to William Jones.
“Sometimes I wonder if I’m too much for you.” He sounds a little flat.
I didn’t mean to change the mood between us, or the inflection in his voice.
Cupping his face in my palms, I stare into his deep brown eyes, begging him to find the true meaning behind my words.
The scruff lining his jaw feels as soothing as the warm water trickling down our bodies.
I press my forehead to his, an array of emotions overwhelming me.
“You bring the best out in me, Will. Every day is new and exciting with you. Sometimes you drive me crazy with pranks about losing rings, and other times you hold me against shower room walls and make me scream. I wouldn’t have it any other way.
I wouldn’t want you to be anything other than you are.
You’re my good boy one day, and my beautiful bad influence the next. ”
He braces me in one arm so he can push his shorts and boxers to the floor.
I can feel his cock nudging my wet entrance, and the desperate ache to take him inside me pulls a needy whimper from my throat.
“I haven’t made you scream yet, Baby.”
I writhe in his arms. “Give me your cock.”
His laugh is almost evil as he drops his head into the crook of my neck. “Beg me to fuck you.”
I wriggle around and push my hips down, but Will holds me still in both hands. This is a battle I won’t win.
“I take it all back. I actually hate you,” I grumble, my body still searching for his dick.
I’m so wet I must be leaking all over him.
The anticipation is both amazing and torturous, akin to that feeling of dangling over a drop on a roller coaster.
The rush of adrenaline is right within my grasp, as is the high that shortly follows.
He gives me an inch of his cock and stops. “Say, give me your cock, William.”
I glare at him, every sense alive and on edge.
“I-I want it.”
He shakes his head and withdraws a small amount. “I need to hear you beg, Baby.”
The chain I’ve worn every day since Will gave it to me hangs around my neck and I take it between my fingers.
His eyes drop to the pendant compass that carries so much meaning for us both.
“Where’s my kind, sweet William gone?” I goad, hoping I can guilt him into getting what I want. “The one who gave me his chain and told me—”
My sentence breaks off with one thrust of his hips and a hand around the back of my head.
Will powers into me, snapping his body forward at a punishing pace.
I try to muffle my moans, burying my face in his shoulder, but this shower room is echoey as hell and there’s only so much pleasure a girl’s body can take.
I’m right there on that precipice, ready to tumble over the edge and let adrenaline take over.
Will captures my mouth, swallowing down my uncontrollable cries. Despite the circumstances, this isn’t the wildest sex we’ve had but it does mark the start of a new chapter in our lives.
A couple of days ago, we pulled the goalie and I stopped taking birth control.
It could take us a day, a week, a month, or even years, but we’re both ready to start trying and a family is what I want more than anything in the world. I hope we will be fortunate enough to get pregnant.
“Are you close, Drew?” he pants.
I nod once, jaw slackened from the pulsating pleasure rocking through my core.
“I want us to come at the same time,” he groans out. “I want your pussy strangling my cock when I give you my baby. Can you do that for me?”
“I’m right there, Will. I’m right th—”
I crest, words abandoning me as my brain tries to process the strength of my orgasm, along with the look in my husband’s eyes as he empties himself inside me.
We both shake and shudder and not because we’re cold. The water raining down on us is still warm and the heat from his release radiates inside me.
“That was…” He trails off, his voice awe-struck and gravelly. “Do you think I got you pregnant?”
I roll my lips together, amused at his desperation to give me his baby—like a typical Jones boy—and excited at the prospect of being pregnant.
“I don’t know. Hopefully.”
“I know so.” He sounds so certain, buried inside me when his lips find the underside of my jaw, peppering delicate kisses between words. “I.” Kiss. “Just.” Kiss. “Made you.” Kiss. “A mommy.”