Chapter 15
Alexander
Usually, I hate these things.
With Sarah watching me? I don’t mind at all.
Nothing boosts a man’s ego more than a stunning woman admiring him.
She’s doing her best not to stare too hard or too long, but I catch her eye more times than I can count during our photoshoot.
She’s also hesitant to shoot any content of me, even though she’s taking lots of pictures and videos of the other guys.
Maybe I’d get jealous if it weren’t for her lustful gaze meeting mine and our little exchange earlier.
When the photographer signals that I’m finished, I head over to her.
“Not planning on making anything for my social media?” I ask, still in just my boxer briefs. I could put on a robe, but I enjoy seeing her reactions to my body on full display. I don’t mind.
As a professional athlete sharing a locker room with many other guys, I’ve gotten used to showing my body.
“We haven’t had our meeting yet to discuss what you actually want on your social media.”
Ah, our meeting, which will be later today.
The photoshoot was scheduled so early because of our game, and I’ll meet with Sarah afterward.
“Well, we’ll get to that later today, but as of right now, I want you to take some pictures of me, whatever you think looks best,” I tell her, and she lets out a small breath before grabbing my phone and getting ready.
“Just tell me what to do, angel,” she drags me toward some gym equipment.
We didn’t use much of it in the shoot, but Sarah seems determined.
“Sit down on the end of the bench, grab those manuals, and do some biceps curls, make it look like you’re struggling,” she tells me confidently, and now I’m the one getting hot.
Seeing her in her element, bossing me around, it’s incredibly sexy.
I do as she says, and she starts clicking away, taking pictures and videos of me working out.
When she’s satisfied, she tells me to put on a pair of jeans I wore during the shoot. I do as she instructs before she asks me to lie down and do a few bench press repetitions. Sarah keeps taking pictures and videos while I finish the exercise.
When I sit up on the bench, I notice her looking at the weights I just lifted.
“What’s on your mind, angel?” I ask, catching her questioning gaze. She quickly looks away from the weights.
“Nothing, just wondering how much you were lifting,” she says easily, but I can tell there is more to her question.
“110 kilos,” I say as she averts her eyes. When she looks back at me, there’s no mistaking the desire.
“Interesting,” is the only thing she says.
“I could show you just how interesting I can be when lifting things.”
Right now, I’m grateful she told me to grab those jeans because the way she’s looking at me is making my cock painfully hard.
If I were still in just my boxers, she would see the evidence of our desire, and even though I wouldn’t mind her knowing, I don’t really want my teammates to see just how hot Sarah is making me feel.
I want nothing more than to lie her down on the bench and kiss her, but something tells me she wouldn’t appreciate an audience.
When I do kiss her, I need us to be alone, so no one can interrupt like my teammates did last time.
The producer announces the shot is over, and Sarah quickly moves to find Samantha. I bet Liam has had a good time with her around as well.
The girls leave, and we go back to the locker room for a quick shower and to rinse off all the baby oil from our bodies before the chaos of game day awaits.
“Nice having Sarah around?” Noah sniggers beside me as we get dressed. He uses every opportunity to tease me about Sarah, but I don’t mind.
“Of course. It was nice reminding her just how good my body looks.”
～
Our game is a total disaster. Nothing is working, and we’re heading toward a significant loss against a team we should easily beat.
What the hell is going on?
And how can I fix it?
Our meeting on Monday didn’t fix shit.
The minutes feel endless, and luckily, we manage to score at least two goals, bringing the final score to 2-4. It’s still bad, but at least better than 0-4, which was where we were halfway through the second period.
After the game, the media is brutal.
All they focus on is our loss today and the tie last week. The fact that we had a win in between doesn’t seem to matter.
It’s frustrating.
We all know we should do better, but hearing people point out all the so-called mistakes is infuriating.
Many so-called experts don’t really know shit.
They try to seem important and confident in their analysis, even though they don’t understand half of what goes into this game.
Even the coach is frustrated with the media, and our usual post-game meeting is postponed until tomorrow.
We’re all in such a sour mood that nothing productive would come out of it either way.
I say goodbye to the guys and head to my car. When I get to my apartment, I decide that I really need to work on getting us out of this funk.
I don’t know how.
Where do I start?
What exactly needs to change?
I’m lost in thought when the receptionist at my building calls my cell phone.
“Hello?”
“Hello, Mr. McGregor. I have a Sarah Parker here, who says she has an appointment with you,” he says, and I instantly feel lighter.
In the midst of our bad game, I’ve almost forgotten about our meeting.
“Send her up,” I say, quickly glancing around the apartment before checking the fridge.
Should I put out water?
Wine?
Since this is a business meeting, alcohol probably isn’t appropriate.
I decide on some sparkling water and bring it into the living room.
Just as I straighten up, the elevator doors open, revealing a stunning Sarah. Having the penthouse comes with perks, like a private elevator.
I step forward to greet her, admiring her outfit. She’s wearing washed-out jeans with a tight, white top, paired with sleek brown heels. Her hair is in a ponytail, and her bag hangs across her arm.
“Nice place you got here, captain,” she says as she steps inside the apartment and looks around.
The way she confidently walks around my space, taking in the sleek yet cozy apartment, leaves me watching her.
I don’t bring women here; they shouldn’t know where I live. I learned that the hard way.
Sarah is different in every way. Whenever I get a girl to a hotel suite, they expect me to show them around, following me like a lost puppy.
Sarah, on the other hand, takes charge.
Another reason why I feel like the lost puppy in this relationship, if I can even call it that.
“Thank you. Ready to start our meeting?” I ask her as I sit down on the couch.
She looks a little sceptical, probably wanting to do this with more space between us, but I’m exhausted from the game and in need of some rest.
“Come here, I won’t bite, unless you ask me to,” I tell her with a smile as she walks over to me.
She sits as far back as the couch will allow and brings out her notebook. She opens it to a page labelled “Captain’s strategy.”
“This whole name thing, do you not even let yourself write my name?” I tease her, noticing my nickname at the top of the page.
“Oh, I actually use your name, just not to your face,” she says with her signature smirk as well.
“You talk a lot about me, angel?”
The small intake of breath and the way she pauses briefly make me wonder just how she uses my name. I plan on finding out, but maybe not right now.
First, we have business to attend to.
“We should get started,” I tell her, letting her out of her misery.
As always, Sarah arrived prepared with plenty of ideas for my social media. After some back-and-forth, we agreed I should post more than just hockey content, with her there to capture the moments.
I had to push back, but once she realized I wouldn’t give in, she agreed to help me out sometimes by shooting some “normal” content for my profile. As our conversation shifts from social media to our game, she gives me a reassuring look.
“You’ll bounce back, you just need to figure out what the team needs,” she tells me with sincerity in her eyes.
I consider mentioning my conversation with the coach and decide that talking with Sarah is a good option.
“Coach actually told me that he thinks I need to do something different as captain for the team,” I say, and see her intrigue.
It’s refreshing to talk with her; she understands the dynamics of hockey, and I consider her a friend who will be honest with me.
“Different how?” I tell her what the coach told me—that he thinks the newer guys are struggling to find their place and that we all should do more social things together.
I also tell her about the extra practice with Caleb. He seemed more confident on the ice today, still some struggles, but at least he didn’t seem scared to mess up.
It’s been fun to skate with him and the guys, bringing some joy back into it.
Sometimes it can become too serious. Taking the joy out of the game. Our sessions have been focused, but we’ve had a laid-back vibe, which I think we all can appreciate.
She thinks over what I just told her.
“I have an idea: what if you started inviting the team over for game nights? Here in your apartment?” I groan out loud.
“Hell no, this is my space. I’m not inviting a bunch of hockey players into my home,” I say.
The thought alone makes me shudder.
What if they trashed my place? Just when I’ve had it renovated, at least the bathrooms.
“You invited me,” she says and shrugs her shoulders.
“You’re different.”
The words are out before I have the chance to stop them.
The intensity in her gaze makes me want to reach out and draw her closer.
“Anyways, I think you should consider it. It would be a way for the team to bond and see you in a light beyond just being their captain. I think you would benefit from it,” she tells me, and even though I’m not too keen on the idea, she makes a good point.
“And you? Would you come too? You could use the time wisely and create some content for social media.”
I can almost hear the wheels in her head turning, wondering how she can come up with an excuse out of this.
It would be a good place to create some content and show the world that we’re more than a hockey team that meets strictly to do our job.
“I don’t know, captain. I wouldn’t want to intrude on your fun if you decided to call some high-end escorts or something.”
The glimmer in her eyes widens my smile.
She stands up from the couch to stretch her legs.
“You know, I could still report you for physical assault. Hitting an NHL captain the first time we meet isn’t really a good look for you,” I taunt her as I stand up as well.
Even with her high heels, I still hover above her, making her tilt her head up towards me.
The business meeting is definitely over.
“Well then, I’d just report you for sexual misconduct, considering you called me a hooker the first time we met.”
She’s so pleased with herself, probably happy to have something to hold over my head.
“If you’re going to report me for sexual misconduct, then I’ll at least make the most of it.”
I close the gap between us, dragging her body into mine before pressing my lips against hers.
When she kisses me back with the same passion, it feels like paradise and heaven all at once.
I slip my tongue inside her mouth as she grabs a handful of my hair, tugging roughly.
One of my hands holds the back of her head, whilst the other travels down her body, feeling every curve and swell of her.
We keep kissing as if our lives depend on it, and I decide right then and there that nothing has ever felt this good, this right.
“Fuck, Sarah, you’re perfect,” I tell her between kisses.
She slides one of her hands down my stomach, feeling my muscles, and something tells me she might be an abs girl after all.
I grasp her ass, lifting her effortlessly while still keeping my lips on hers.
When her phone rings, I curse but continue kissing her.
“Ignore it,” I tell her, but she breaks apart from me, indicating that I should let her down.
Reluctantly, I do as she wants and let her down.
She doesn’t answer the phone, but her expression tells me that the passionate moment is over.
She shuts me out, her eyes cast downward.
I fucking hate it.
“Shit, I don’t know what came over me. That was a mistake. I have to go.” She rushes towards the elevator, leaving me confused, and dare I say, hurt.
She presses the button several times, clearly eager to get out of here as she fixes her top that’s a mess after I’ve had my hands roaming all over her.
I step closer to her, desperate for her to stay, to not run from this, from us.
“Sarah, hold on, we should talk about this,” I plead with her, but she shakes her head.
“I’m sorry, I just can’t,” she mumbles, and even though her eyes hold the same devastation as my own, I can tell she has a war going on inside that beautiful head of hers.
I want to reach out to her and show her we can do this.
I got her; she doesn’t have to run and hide.
But I also want to respect her needs, and if she thinks this was a mistake, I can’t force her to believe something different, even though it makes my heart heavy.
When the elevator doors close, I’m still standing in the same spot, wondering what the hell went wrong and if I imagined the kiss.
How can she run from something so good?
How could she call that kiss a mistake?
It was perfection, our mouths moving so sensuously together, our hands travelling across each other’s bodies like we’ve been made for each other.
I feel my chest tightening, wondering where I went wrong.
I’ve been patient with her; I thought she was ready. She kissed me back like she’s never been more prepared for anything in her life.
Then, it all came to a stop.
Did I misread this whole thing?
All week, hell weeks, I’ve felt like we’ve tiptoed around each other, waiting for this moment.
She urged me on in that hallway before my teammates interrupted us.
I know she wanted this just as badly as me.
Having her lips on mine, sliding so perfectly together. Her hands were gripping my hair, my chest, and my shoulders, trying to get as close as possible.
It felt even more incredible than I could ever imagine.
Maybe she needs some time to process this.
The feelings she evokes in me can feel overwhelming, but I welcome them, confident in us.
I’m sure as hell not letting her brush us off that easily, but I’ll give her time.