In My Jersey
EASTON
Wheels down in Chicago on Thursday at four-forty. Bus at five. Hotel by six.
I’ve done this trip nine times. My body knows every part of it. That’s the point of the road—you don’t have to think, you just get moved from one place to the next, and you focus on the game.
But all I see is her. The look she gave me before I got on the bus.
For the first time in almost three months, I’ll be sleeping in bed all alone. Without her soft body pressed against mine, and her little intake of air when I pull her close to me.
It’ll be a long night.
Maybe I should have convinced her to come with me. One weekend getaway before it all falls apart.
No. Her job. Fuck! I wouldn’t be that man. I wouldn’t be a Preston or a Donovan to her.
The night drags on after settling into my hotel room, and when the next morning arrives, I know it’s going to be a shitty day.
Not a wink of sleep all night. Barely rested, yet I have to show up on the ice and put on a stellar performance for everyone. Without my woman.
The game starts. It’s the first shift, and my feet are a half step behind where my brain is sending them, and in this game, I need all the focus I can get.
Wyatt covers for me twice in the first period without making it obvious, which means he’s noticed and decided not to say anything.
Hell… if Wyatt sees it, then the rest of them do.
Wyatt is the loud-mouthed one. If he’s keeping shut, then I must be doing a terrible job of keeping things off the ice.
Kai’s eyes find mine across the ice, but he says nothing.
Between periods, Theo sits down beside me.
“You good?”
“I’m fine.”
He gives me a once-over.
“You’re slow today…”
He wants to say more, but when I give him nothing, he doesn’t push. He just sits there and stares around. Then, he gets up, pats my shoulder, and goes back to his stall, and somehow that’s worse than a lecture.
Coach catches me in the corridor before the second.
He gives me the look. The one that says to be on my A game.
He puts a hand on my shoulder and squeezes hard.
“Whatever it is, it stays out here.”
I nod.
“The ice is the one place it can’t follow you, son. Chin up, go for the win.”
“Yes, Coach,” I manage.
He walks back in.
I stand there for thirty seconds with the noise of the building over my head, and I think about her.
I think about the last time she was at the game.
The joy on her face. The way my heart had skipped when I saw her at the stands, camera in hand, taking multiple photographs of me, of the team, of everyone. And when I pointed at her…
My vision blurs with the image, but I quickly blink it away, realizing I’m falling behind again. The game is about to resume.
Somehow, I find my way back to the ice and remember what I’d told her.
To put on my jersey while she watches from home.
Is she doing that right now?
That possibility has warmth flooding me, and I suddenly find the motivation to focus and get this game over with.
The second starts ugly.
Chicago comes at us hard off the drop, and we spend the first ninety seconds hemmed in our own end, chasing.
I’m on for forty of it. I block a point shot with my shin and feel nothing, which is either adrenaline or a bruise I’ll find in the shower, and Kai finally chips it out along the boards, and we get a change.
I come back over the boards, and something’s different.
My first touch is clean.
Theo makes a read at our blue line and steps into a winger cutting across the middle, and the puck comes loose into the neutral zone. I’m there first. Ahead of the play, instead of chasing it, for the first time all night.
I take it in with speed. Wyatt is flying up the left wing.
I hold it a half second longer, drag the D-man one step wider than he wants to go, and then put it on Wyatt’s tape.
He walks in alone and rings it off the crossbar.
The sound is like a gunshot. Eleven thousand people gasp. Wyatt throws his head back at the ceiling and says something at the roof I can read from thirty feet away, and I’m laughing behind my visor, actually laughing, for the first time since the airport.
“That’s more like it!” Kai fist bumps on the bench.
They score four minutes later on a deflection nobody could have stopped, and we tie it back up ninety seconds after that when Theo puts a point shot through traffic, and it goes in off somebody’s skate. Nobody knows whose.
I don’t know when I start scanning the stands.
I’m on the bench between shifts, and my eyes start going up and left, section by section, row by row, looking for a woman who is two thousand miles away moving a lamp in a rented event space.
I do it anyway. I do it the whole period.
I don’t find her.
I find Chicago jerseys and a man in the upper bowl who’s been standing since the first puck drop.
A wave of disappointment settles within me. But I don’t look away.
It’s the stupidest thing I’ve done all season, and I keep doing it.
I score in the third.
It isn't pretty. Kai drives the net and takes the goalie with him. The puck squirts to the back door, and I’m there. I put it on the net, and it goes in off the post. The building goes silent for half a second, and then our bench erupts, and I put my fist up and turn back toward the center.
And I look at the glass.
Second row. Behind our bench.
My eyes land on her.
She’s on her feet with her camera at her hip and her mouth open. She’s wearing my jersey.
Seventeen. My number across her chest.
I stop skating.
I actually stop, in the middle of a professional hockey game, dead in the neutral zone, and Wyatt skates into me from behind and nearly puts us both down and says, ‘What the hell, man’, then follows my eyeline and says, ‘Oh.’ And then, with more grace than I’ve ever credited him with, skates away without another word.
She came.
She got on a plane. She came for me.
A smile spreads across my face, and I point at her, ignoring the rest of the rink.
She lifts the camera. She takes the shot. She’s laughing and shooting at the same time, which is the most Riley Brooks thing that I’ve ever seen. Carefree.
I go back to playing hockey. Badly. Happily.
We win three to one.
She’s in the corridor after.
I don’t think. I close the distance, pull her in and hold her, her face in my neck, both arms all the way around her, and she laughs against my throat.
“Hi,” she says.
“You came…”
“Surprise, surprise…”
God, I fucking love her.
I lift her and spin her around. Giggles erupt from her lips, and when I finally set her down, I kiss her deeply, not caring who will see.
I hear wolf whistles from the guys, but I ignore them, and when I finally pull away, she’s still smiling. She leans in and says, “You asked for a picture of me in it. I figured this was better.”
“God, baby…” I damn near say the words, but I don’t. “The gig—”
“Shot it. Edited it on the plane. Sent it from a gate at O'Hare,” she says, and her eyes are shining. She’s so proud of herself, she can barely stand it. “I’m a professional, Easton. Professionals travel.”
“Damn right they do, baby,” I smile.
Wyatt goes past and yells something obscene.
I don’t hear it, and I don’t care.
“Come with me. Taking you home.”
She doesn’t argue.
I take her hand, and together, we leave.
The hotel room is dark and too warm when we arrive, but I don’t care.
My lips immediately find hers, and her arms wrap around me.
“Lord… I’ve missed this, sweetheart. Missed you so fucking much.”
I pull her tightly against me, and she giggles. “Shower first…”
I don’t wait for her response. I lift her off the ground, and her legs instantly wrap around my waist. I walk us into the bathroom and gently place her down. I make sure to take off her clothes and neatly fold them away before tossing out mine, and then I carry her into the warm shower.
The water sprays over us, with our lips connected in another heated kiss.
Her hand travels down, past my torso, to my aching cock, but I instantly grab her hand.
“Not yet, baby. Shower first. I’m still dirty from the game.”
That works. We pull apart, long enough to get cleaned. She gently washes my entire body, and I repeat the process for her, my cock hardening with each passing minute, until it's leaking precum, but I don’t mind.
I’ll wait for her. I know when I finally get her, it’ll be worth the wait. I’ll spend every minute worshiping her body.
Soon, I have her clinging to me, legs wrapped around my waist, as I carry her into the bedroom. I gently place her on the bed, lying between her legs, arms holding me up, while I stare into her eyes. She stares back at me.
My heart aches.
I’m going to savor this moment, because it might be the last.
Lord. I need her. Need her so badly that I may never be able to function properly when she’s gone. But for tonight, I’ll live in the moment.
My lips find hers again, and I kiss her. It’s hot and needy, and she returns it with the same intensity. My hands move to her legs, holding them in place, spread wide open for me, and I know exactly what I want.
To taste her.
I kiss my way down to her chest, across to the hard, rosy bud of her nipple. I circle my tongue around it and suck gently at first. Then hard, and nibble it with my teeth. A whimper slips from her lips, and her fingers tangle in my hair.
I smile against her skin. I cross to the other breast, and do the same while my free hand travels down her body to cup her core. A shiver wracks her entire being, and I love it.
I love how she writhes underneath me.
The small sounds of pleasure slipping past her lips are like music to my ears.
I continue down, licking and sucking until my lips close around her clit. Her body jerks in response.
“E-Easton… Oh fuck…”
“Mmm…”
I flick my tongue against the sensitive nub, sucking at intervals. I pull away, just long enough to slip two fingers into my lips and get them wet, then I stare into her needy eyes, with pupils blown wide with arousal, and press my wet fingers against her dripping entrance.
“Oh god… Please…”
“This what you want, baby?”
She nods. I smirk, toying with her as I circle her slit with my fingers.
“Say the words, love. Tell me how needy you are for my fingers. Tell me how badly you want to get fucked, baby…”
Her body trembles at the words. My dirty, dirty girl.
She wants all of it.
She’s just perfect for me.
Fuck! I can’t let her go. Not today, not ever.
I’ll fix this. I’ll find a way. But Riley Brooks is mine, and always will be.
Mine.
I lean down and suck her clit into my lips, with eyes still on hers, while toying with her entrance.
“P-please…” She shudders, and I smile, pulling away.
“Say the words, my love.”
I slide the deft tips of my fingers in, and her eyes flutter.
“Ohh… P-please, I want you to fuck me, Easton. I want all of you. I want your cock in my pussy. I want you, please…”
Fuck.
“How can I say no to you, sweetheart?”
I thrust my fingers in and curl them to hit her sweet spot. “You look so pretty when you beg for it. Just like this?” I rub the sensitive bundle of nerves into her, and she convulses, her hole tightening around my fingers.
“Y-yes…” She lets out a string of incoherent words.
“Good girl…” I slide my fingers out and raise them to my lips, licking them clean.
Her taste explodes on my tongue, and I know I’ll never get tired of this woman. With her legs still spread wide, I line my cock to her entrance. With one smooth thrust, I bury myself to the hilt, and a deep moan escapes her lips.
I seal my lips to hers, needing to swallow her moans, and I begin to move. Her legs automatically wrap around my waist. Each thrust comes with a moan I enjoy.
I don’t rush it. I continuously torture her, thrusting slowly, dragging it out until my cock swells and I know I’m about to come.
“Baby…” I whisper, and her eyes open, staring into my soul. “Tell me you’ll stay. Tell me you’re mine…” I whisper the words, unsure of what I’m asking. But she says them.
“I’m yours, Easton. I’ll stay. I-I p-promise…” The words shatter the moment her orgasm crashes into her, leaving her a shivering, whimpering mess.
My mess. And God, I love her. I love her so much it hurts.
My orgasm hits me, and I fall into her, making sure to put my weight on my arms so I don’t crush her.
I leave my cock buried in her, allowing her to milk me dry, and we stay in this position for a few minutes before I roll over, taking her with me.
She’s boneless in my arms, and I love it.
“Can I stay the night? My flight is for tomorrow morning,” she whispers.
I kiss her head.
“You can stay for however long you desire, baby.”
She smiles. It’s only a few minutes later when she drifts into sleep. And that further solidifies the conviction in my heart.
I can’t let her go. Mason’s going to have to see it. I’d cut my own heart out before I hurt her.
I drift into sleep an hour later, after carefully plotting my mission as soon as I return to LA.
Morning comes faster than I like.
By the time I’m awake, Riley is fully dressed and ready to catch her flight.
She leans over me on the bed and plants a soft, chaste kiss on my lips.
“I gotta run, baby. I’ll see you at home?”
Home. Our home. Our house.
“I’ll see you at home, my love.”
I watch her walk out the door and sit up in bed.
The next match is in Detroit. Flight is later that evening. Game’s the next evening. I’ll need all of my focus. The faster I get this over with, the faster I can have that talk with Mason and claim my woman forever.