Page 82 of Hockey Player Seeking Fan

“But what about your piece? What about the Brooklyn Bridge?”

“What? We can check that out later,” I say. “Right now, there are other things I would much rather indulge myself in.”

“Oh, yeah? Like what?”

She lets out a low, breathy sigh, and her face turns pink. “This is absolutely crazy. You know that, right?”

“No. What’s crazy is the fact that you and I couldn’t stand each other a couple of weeks ago and?—”

“No, that’s not quite true. I liked you. It’s you who couldn’t stand me.”

“Well, the fact that I couldn’t stand you, and now here we are in a museum together, on a ‘date.’”

“Why are you saying quote-unquote? It is a date.”

“Well, fine. Here we are on a date, and you took my virginity, and now we’re about to do who knows what in a public space.”

“Are you scared that we might get caught?” She giggles and looks at me. “No. I think that actually turns me on.”

I growl and bring her towards me. I press my lips against hers. I don’t care who sees. I don’t care who knows.

I want this woman. Badly. “I’m fucking hard right now.”

“Yeah,” she says, looking down. “I kind of had a feeling.”

“So what are we going to do when we find a room?” I ask her.

“What do you want to do?”

“Well, you said you want to see my cock.”

“I kind of want to taste it,” she says.

“You can taste it. As long as I can taste you.”

“Oh, honey, you don’t have to ask me twice,” she says. “I like being tasted.”

“Good. Because after I taste you, I’m going to fuck you so hard and fast that every single person in this museum is going to be jealous of what we are doing.”

“You promise?” she says softly.

“Oh yeah. I promise. Now come on. Because if we keep talking like this, I’m going to blow my load before we even make it to the room.”

She hits me in the shoulder and bursts out laughing. “You’re too much.”

“Hey, as long as I can make you smile, that’s all I care about.”

Chapter Twenty-One

Erica

I find myself singing songs about love. Songs about freedom. Songs about flying like a bird.

There’s a lightness in my heart that I don’t know I’ve ever experienced before, and I can tell by the way Sabrina is looking at me that she can sense it.

“Good evening,” she says, munching on her sandwich.

I nod as I take a couple of potato chips. I want to share everything with her, and yet... It’s not like in the past. There are some things I want to keep secret, sacred, just between Tyler and me—not because I’m embarrassed or ashamed, but because they feel special. They feel intimate. They make me feel closer to him. I feel like he knows a part of me that no one else has ever seen, and even though I’m not his first, I feel like I know a part of him that other women haven’t seen.