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“You fuck me until I pass out this time.”
Reese grins. “Deal.”
22
REESE
The next morning, I’m sore from head to toe.
The lack of sleep is a factor, but most of the blame goes to the three-hour sex marathon-slash-full-body-workout that Olivia and I went through. Hockey never prepared me for this.
But honestly, it was worth it to have her spread out beneath me. The memory of her flushed skin and cum-drenched thighs keeps me smiling ear-to-ear throughout practice later that day. Considering the bench still looms over me as my upcoming season reality, Olivia is one of two things keeping me going.
The second, of course, being Violet.
There’s also the matter of the possible pregnancy, but I don’t worry about that too much, because I’ve already decided what I’m going to do. If there’s a baby on its way, I’m stepping up just like I did with Violet. And even if there’s not…
I’m putting a ring on Olivia’s finger.
“You look like a fucking goon, grinning over there.”
Bastian’s voice cuts through the fantasy playing through my head—the fantasy I’m going to make into reality. Not even this smug prick can ruin that.
I smirk and shrug. “That’s what happens when you have a woman who’s with you because she likes you and not because she thinks she can get something out of you.”
Bastian scoffs and rolls his eyes. “If you’re gonna be soft and pathetic, at least have the respect to do it off the ice. You’re an embarrassment to this franchise.”
Maybe so. But I’m the one with the girl of my dreams and he’s the one with the Bitter Betty, isn’t he? He can try to knock me down all he wants; I’m way too comfy up here on Cloud Nine to be bothered.
Despite Bastian’s comments, practice runs smoothly. It’s not until the end where I start to feel… weird. A prickling at the back of my neck that makes my back stiffen uncomfortably.
Growing up the way I did, with the father I had, there was always the chance that something could—and would—pop off. Keeping out of trouble was sometimes as simple as feeling that change in the air that said there’s a big storm coming. Sometimes, that storm was just that: a big storm. Other times, it was someone watching you a little too closely, waiting for their moment to fuck you up for the change in your pockets or the half-decent shoes on your feet.
My eyes scan the stadium seats. Ever since Olivia and I got together, there have been fewer puck bunnies showing up to bother me. They pop up every now and then—and I ignore them. Dante and Marcus clown the shit out of me that I’m now dodging titties like the one percent dodge taxes.
But this is a different feeling than being low-key harassed by rabid horny strangers. And soon, I realize why.
Holly is sitting in the stands.
As soon as our eyes meet, her face splits into a wide grin. With her red lipstick, it makes her look like some twisted, femme fatale version of the Joker.
I sneer in her direction, damn near snarling. What the fuck is she doing here?
When I get to the bench, I see my phone vibrating on top of my bag with a text.
?: Aw, you don’t look happy to see me. Why’s that?
Furious, I snatch it up and text back. REESE: I dunno, people don’t usually like when the crazy whores in their lives keep trying to hound them.
?: That’s not very nice. I just wanted to talk.
REESE: Talk to a therapist.
?: Come on Reese. You don’t want me making a scene do you? What would your teammates or your coach have to say about you ducking and dodging the mother of your child?
I growl. The last thing I need is her coming down here spilling all her lies. Bastian would run to the press without a second thought.
And if Coach found out… Well, that cushy little place on the bench would probably become my second vacation home.
