Page 37 of Mister Hockey
It wasn’t by any means a deal breaker, but still... something to consider.
Not to mention his own private fears. The fact the game he loved might not be worth sacrificing his future health.
He had nothing more to prove in the sport, not to critics. Not even to his fucking father. He’d persevered until he’d won everything there was to win. But now he had a neurology appointment set for a few days from today.
And if and when he made a decision about next season, he didn’t want that moment to happen in the vicinity of the noisiest journalist in Denver.
Breezy switched gears. No more Madonna. Now she was belting out the chorus from a vaguely familiar musical.
His phone buzzed with a text. Coach.
Tor Gunnar:Beers and air hockey this afternoon?
He and Tor had been getting friendlier over the past season. They had enough in common. Two single guys. Didn’t poke into each other’s private lives. Talked strategy. Kept it easy.
It was cool, except he didn’t want easy right now.
Jed West:Busy
Tor Gunnar:Too bad. Angel’s got hold of my number and calling me on speed dial. Wants a fucking quote on the contract negotiations.
Jed West:Why not give her something?
Tor Gunnar:I need to feed a jackal like I need a third nut.
Jed smirked, turning off his phone. He didn’t want to think about a lockout. Or what Tor would say if he knew he had Neve’s sister sprawled naked in his bed.
He plated their breakfasts. The sun beamed through the kitchen window, warming the back of his neck. His shoulders relaxed. He liked this, being normal, fixing waffles for a woman, listening to her terrible singing, knowing that once they finished the meal he’d coat her luscious body with whipped cream and devour second breakfast.
This wasn’t just a bit of fun on the side. She’d slipped by his defenses and gotten under his skin in a way no woman ever had. It was a problem, but maybe a good one. To be with Breezy was to take a chance, but if he wanted something new in his life, he had to be willing to do what he’d never done.
This was the best weekend of her life. Breezy never believed the idea that hurting could also feel good, but the soreness between her legs was nothing short of delicious.
Turned out Jed had a bit of a kinky side, loved watching them in his big mirror. He’d bent her over his dresser, driving hard and fast from behind, palming her breasts with one hand while working over her slick clit with the other. It was like having an out-of-body experience, watching the scene unfold. And as she gazed at her reflection—she didn’t look pathetically grateful, or insecure. She looked... hot, sexy even. Mouth swollen. Eyes bright with lust.
Was that line of thinking even allowed? Could she talk that way about herself without sounding conceited? She never tried before. With a deep breath, she had let the word creep into her psyche.
Hey, I look hot. Whoa. I look fucking hot.
Her lips were swollen from kissing, skin flushed from Jed’s beard. Her hair had gone absolutely hog wild, but the look was less finger-in-a-light-socket-meets-hurricane and more bow-chica-wow-wow-honey-dip-chocolate-chip-shoop-shoop-de-doop.
God, yes. She gathered the sheets to her chest and giggled. This was as close to perfect as life could be.
“Tell me a secret.” He paused in rubbing almond oil into the soles of her feet.
“A secret?” She frowned, considering. “What kind?”
“One no one else knows.” He tickled the arch of her foot.
“Hmm.” There was one. She hadn’t even spilled the beans to Neve or Margot. Or barely even admitted it to herself. But every Sunday night, as she cleaned her cottage for the coming week, bracing herself for the tedious onslaught from Tater Tots and the fear that at last would come the announcement that funding was dried up and she was out of a job, therewasa dream.
She traced her tongue along the back of her front teeth. It was hard to get the words out. But come on, here she was, curled up in bed beside Jed West and even though she had started thinking about him less and less as Jed West, hockey god and more and more as just Jed, the expert Belgian waffle-making cuddler. This very act was proof positive evidence that dreams could come true.
And all those stars she’d wished upon when she was younger, the wordless pleas to be able to skate, to make her mom proud, that had all fallen on deaf cosmic ears finally made sense. The universe had been saving up its blessings to rain them down over her in one glorious torrent.
“Open a bookshop.” There. The words were out now, no take backs. “A children’s bookshop. Stock everything from picture books to young adult.”
Jed paused, considering. Nothing in his face suggested that he thought her idea was funny. “Makes sense.” He went back to rubbing her feet.
