7. Sienna
SIENNA
Isay that I don’t want hot hockey players hitting on me, but I’d be lying if I said it didn’t do good things for my confidence when they do. Even if it is a cover for letting slip some of their darker thoughts.
It’s no secret that Killer is struggling.
I’ve heard the others talking about being concerned over how he’s dealing with this injury and the forced time off the ice.
Hearing him confess just a hint of where his head is at was hard, but as much as I might have wanted to dive deeper into these thoughts and feelings, it wasn’t the time or the place.
Calvin and I aren’t friends. We don’t talk or share shit, and I don’t know why I suddenly felt so compelled to do exactly that.
After his conversational U-turn, he was dragged off by Hayden and taken back to the players’ booth to shoot the shit with the guys while the girls dragged me onto the dance floor.
We weren’t the only ones throwing some moves, because we just so happened to find Garrett and Darcy out there as well, getting up close and personal.
It wasn’t long after that that Killer made his excuses and left—although not before a woman sidled up to him and followed him out the door.
I guess when you have a sex life as healthy as his, old habits die hard.
A busted knee might hold him back at work, but it’s no excuse to stop you from getting your kicks with the bunnies.
We dance, we laugh, and we drink—or at least, all of us but Bea. And before we know it, the bar is getting ready to call it a night.
“Hey, I’m gonna head home,” I shout into Garrett’s ear, where he’s huddling in a dark corner with Darcy. “You coming, or did you have other plans?”
The two guys look at each other, and I don’t miss the way that Darcy’s cheeks heat.
“I’ve got a session with Killer first thing. I shouldn’t be out too late,” he says, glancing at the time. “But we could probably keep the party going for a little while.”
I raise my brows at my brother.
“You’ve got your key. I’ll see you when I see you,” I say before smacking a kiss on his cheek. “Enjoy the rest of your night, boys.”
“Love you, Sisi,” Garrett slurs after me as I rejoin Bea and Rett, who are waiting at the entrance.
“Is our trainer getting lucky tonight?” Rett asks as we step out into the night.
“Sure looks that way.”
“Wonder if that’ll make him go softer on us tomorrow.”
“Nah,” Bea teases. “I bet it’ll make him go harder.”
Rett groans. “To be fair, anything is better than my sister. She takes torture to the next level.”
“I think that’s called karma for all the shit you’ve pulled over the years,” I point out.
“How would you know about that? Maybe I’ve been the perfect big brother,” he argues.
I raise a brow. “Does that even exist?”
“Yes, and I am it,” Rett states proudly, making Bea snort.
“Funny, because from what I’ve heard from Parker—”
“Whoa,” he cries, reaching out to cover Bea’s mouth before she can say anything else.
I chuckle along with them as they bicker, and just like always, jealousy rises within me. I want that. That connection with your person. I’ve never experienced it, and I’m dying to know how it feels.
I follow them to Rett’s car and climb into the back once he unlocks it.
“So, safe to say that Garrett enjoyed his night, then?” Rett asks as he pulls out of the parking lot and heads across town.
“Yeah, and depending on how it ends for him, it could be the best night of his life. I think the only thing that would top it would be if he discovered which player on the team is gay and getting the night with him.”
“What?” Rett splutters, glancing back at me when he pulls to a stop at a stop sign.
“Oh, Garrett’s got a theory that every team has at least one gay player. He’s yet to tell me who he thinks it is on the Vipers, though.”
“Huh,” Rett says thoughtfully, I assume as he runs through the roster. “There aren’t many that aren’t active with either their girls or the bunnies.”
“Maybe the girls are a cover,” I point out.
“Shit. I need to figure this out.”
“I never said he was right. Interesting theory though.”
“It fucking sucks that guys in professional sports are too scared to come out and be who they really are. If I were gay, I’d be shouting it from the rooftops and still getting my rocks off.”
The lack of response from Bea confirms what I suspected: she’s asleep.
“Of course you would.”
“Hell yeah. I couldn’t give a fuck if people don’t like me. And if they judge me for who I enjoy spending time with, then fuck them.”
“If only it were that easy,” I muse, aware of how hard Garrett worked when he was a teenager to embrace who he was. And that was without the entire world watching his every step.
“Well, whoever it is, they’ve got my full support if they ever decide to come out. I know the others will have his back, too.”
“You’re a good man, Rett,” I say, turning my eyes out of the window.
“I have my moments,” he mutters.
“I do love a modest hockey player.”
He snorts. “Our egos are the second-best thing about us.”
“What’s the fir—” At seeing his smirk in the rearview mirror, I instantly backtrack. “No, don’t tell me. I can guess.”
“As if Bea hasn’t told you all about it.”
“I know she’s happier than she’s ever been, and that’s all I need,” I say, lying through my back teeth. Of course Bea and I have discussed in detail what Everett Donnelly is like in bed and if all the hype around him over the years is valid.
One hundred percent is, just in case there was any doubt.
My girl is one lucky, lucky bitch.
A sigh rips past my lips as Rett pulls toward my new building.
“Oh shit, I didn’t think to mention that I moved.”
“Don’t worry, I’m not about to forget that you’re here now.”
I’m about to ask him what he means, but Bea lets out the most unladylike snore, and we both fall apart laughing as he pulls into the parking lot.
“Thanks for the ride.”
“Anytime. Call us if you need anything,” Rett says as I release the seat belt and push the door open. “And if I find anything out about the sexual preferences of my teammates, you’ll be the first to know.”
“Appreciate that. Have a good night.”
“You, too.”
I stand on the sidewalk, ready to wave them off, but it soon becomes clear that Rett isn’t leaving until he’s seen me inside.
Ugh, who’d have thought Everett Donnelly was such a gentleman?
With a little wave, I concede and walk toward the building and let myself in.
The second I meet the fresh scent in the lobby, my smile widens.
“Good evening, Miss Wentworth,” the concierge greets. I haven’t had the pleasure of meeting this one yet.
“Hi, please call me Sienna,” I say, introducing myself.
“Sienna,” he says with a nod. “I’m Clint.”
“Nice to meet you, Clint.”
“Vipers fan, I see. Did you go to the game?”
And that’s how I manage not to walk into my apartment for another forty-five minutes.
It’s not until the door closes behind me that I realize just how tired I am. I kick my sneakers off at the door, drop my purse on the kitchen counter, and then march straight through to my bedroom. It isn’t until I’m standing in my bathroom in just my underwear that the noise hits me.
Music.
Loud, bass-pounding music.
I listen for a moment, trying to figure out where exactly it’s coming from before I tip my head back and look up at the ceiling.
I narrow my eyes in warning, as if that’ll be enough for whoever is up there to turn the volume down. Obviously, it doesn’t work, and I force myself to ignore it as I go through my skincare routine, braid my hair, and then climb into bed once I’ve got my pajamas on.
The noise might be annoying, even more so considering how much I’m going to be paying for this place, but it’s quieter than my old apartment. I just have to hope whoever it is doesn’t party into the early hours every day.
Despite the exhaustion pulling at my muscles, as I lie there with the beat of my neighbor’s music as a backing track, my mind refuses to shut off.
The adrenaline of the game and the fun of the evening are still buzzing through me.
I think of everything that happened, but no matter where my head goes, I always end up back at the bar, talking to Killer.
There was something in the way he looked at me, something in the beaten-down tone he spoke with.
And then there was the way he blatantly hit on me.
It wasn’t the first time, and I’m sure it won’t be the last—that’s the kind of guy he is.
But it hit a little differently tonight.
Maybe it’s just because I spent the day listening to Garrett talk about his conquest last night and how much fun easy sex is.
It’s reminded me of just how long it’s been.
Wait…no. I’ve never had the kind of sex that Garrett was talking about.
The kind where you leave your inhibitions at the door and just let yourself enjoy the ride.
But as much as I might need it, I know I’m not going to find it.
The thought of hooking up with a random guy, getting naked with him, and letting him see all of me…
Ugh. It sends shivers of fear racing down my spine.
I allow my mind to wander, imagining where Killer ended up with the girl he left with. He’s probably giving her that kind of all-consuming sex right now. She’s probably clawing at his back with her nails, screaming at him to take her harder.
Shit. Now I’m imagining what he might look like while he fucks her. His hair falling over his forehead, his skin glistening with sweat, his abs pulling tight as he drives into her.
Before I know what I’m doing, I have my nightstand drawer open, and I'm pulling my vibrator out.
My sleep shorts get shoved down my legs, and the second I press my buzzing toy to my clit, I gasp.
Oh yeah, this is what I needed.
I groan, filthy thoughts of a hockey player I don’t want filling my head. Only now, the girl in question isn’t the brunette he left with, it’s me. I’m the one clawing at his back, screaming out my demands for more.
And with myself lost in that little fantasy, I come faster than I thought possible.
Pressing the button to stop the vibration, my room falls silent, apart from my heavy breathing. Or at least, it does for three seconds. Then, the music starts again.