Hard Feelings
SLADE
We have a private dinner beneath the stars. Tomahawk steaks and truffled mashed potatoes, dark chocolate souffle with vanilla bourbon ice cream. Big glasses of red wine that take the edge off the pain in my shoulder, but not completely. I should have packed some ibuprofen.
Afterwards, Lila disappears into the bathroom. She re-emerges clad in one of the fluffy robes provided by the resort, holding a couple of towels. “Hot tub time?”
I nod, grimly bracing myself for the exercise in self-restraint that’s about to come. After changing into swim trunks, I grab another bottle of red wine, along with a corkscrew and two glasses. I’m normally a bourbon guy, but my self-control where Lila is concerned is already hanging by a thread. Pouring straight whiskey on top of it is not gonna help matters.
She’s waiting by the steaming tub for me. Her pink hair ispiled atop her head in a bun. Her eyebrows raise at the wine in my hands.
“Good idea,” she says.
And then she sheds the robe.
She’s… Christ. I don’t have words for what she is. All I know is there’s a tiny lavender bikini stretched over curves that belong to a fucking goddess. Little ties at her hips, another bow between her breasts. Like a present.
I haven’t even gotten in the hot water and it already feels like my entire body is on fire.
She sinks into the hot water with a sharp inhale. “Oh, that’s hot.”
The water plasters the fabric of her bikini to her instantly. Her nipples are visible beneath it. My wife is the sexiest fucking thing I’ve ever seen and I have to keep my hands off her.
My cocks swells and I follow her in quickly before she can see what she does to me.
I have to focus on something else. Anything else.
The heat of the water. The pain in my shoulder. As I lean against the edge of the soaking tub, the ache starts to dull. My eyes close briefly. In a way, it was better when it hurt. At least that gave me something to concentrate on besides how badly I want to hold Lila.
When I open my eyes, she’s reaching for the wine to open it.
“I’ll do that,” I offer. As I reach past her, my forearm accidentally brushes against her tits.
Fuck.
I give a moment of silent thanks for the dark steaming water that conceals how hard I am. Then I pour the wine with hands that aren’t entirely steady and hand her glass over without looking at her face.
Both of us are still wearing our wedding rings. I haven’t taken mine off since she slid it on my finger, and I have no desire to remove it. Possibly ever. At least for the next year.
I go back to the opposite side of the hot tub and sit again. Lila does the same on her side, lifting the wine glass to her lips for a sip.
“How’d you injure your shoulder?” she asks, eyes resting on my surgical scar. Her tongue darts out to lick a ruby droplet and I would giveanythingto be the one kissing it off her lips.
“Happened two seasons ago,” I say roughly. “Took a hit wrong. Played through it longer than I should have because…” I sigh.Because I’m a stubborn, hard-headed bastard.“Because that’s what you do. You don’t want to give the coaching staff a reason to bench you. You don’t want to give anyone a reason to think you’re done.”
“Are you? Done?”
The question sits in the steam between us.
“My family wishes I was.” I look at the water. “I’m thirty five. That’s old for a hockey player.”
“Young for a cowboy, though,” she smiles.
The corner of my mouth lifts. “Maybe. But hockey is what I do. Other than the shoulder injury, I’ve been lucky. Everything else is in pretty good shape. No reason to retire.”
No reason to rattle around a cold, empty house. No reason to put myself out to pasture, alone and directionless.
I look at Lila across the steam. At least, that used to be true.
