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This lightness Lola put inside me is still moving, reaching every corner—and it’s making me desperate to be a better man for her. She suggested I make a public apology to the opponent who I mixed it up with on the ice. That idea would have been laughable to me this morning, before I met the girl of my dreams, but now? I only hesitate a few seconds before opening my rarely used Twitter account and making the statement. The kind a man would make if he were worthy of the gorgeous redhead waiting for me back in bed.
Eager to return to her, I toss aside my cell phone on the couch and stride for the bedroom, my knees weakening at the beautiful picture she makes nestled in the sheets.
“You cured me,” I rasp, moving to the end of the bed and kneeling, walking forward until I’m between her splayed thighs. “Now let me cure you.”
I dip my mouth to her pussy and lick her clit until she forgets the meaning of the word pain, her voice chanting my name into the wee hours of the morning.
6
Lola
I wake up with a start, just as dawn is breaking the sky.
Aiden is behind me, snoring like a bear, and I smile into the pillow. Of course he snores like a hibernating creature. If anything, the trait makes my heart expand for him more.
I’m in love with this man.
After last night, there isn’t a single doubt.
He’s fierce in all things. His care of me, how much passion he possesses for his profession, his sexual energy. Aiden Tulane is huge and consuming and…I want to be overwhelmed by him. I think I even need it.
Last night, when I finally convinced him I didn’t need any more orgasms, he kissed my womanhood a final time, then snuggled me close in bed. There in the dark, he told me stories about growing up with his brothers, tales from the rowdy hockey locker room and he asked about me, too. Asked for my favorite food, movie, color, song. I could feel him memorizing and cataloguing every answer I gave him, for future use. A warm appreciation spread and spread in my chest until I realized what it was. I felt treasured.
In the interest of making Aiden feel the same way, I decide to get up and order some breakfast. It’s barely six o’clock in the morning. I’m an early riser, but I don’t want to wake up Aiden if he needs sleep—and Lord, did he ever earn some rest last night.
As quietly as possible, I slide out of bed. Finding Aiden’s shirt on the floor, I pick it up and drop it over my head, chuckling under my breath when the hem reaches the middle of my shins. On the way out of the bedroom, I pause, looking down at my dress where it lies in a heap on the floor. Hesitant to let reality intrude, I nonetheless stoop down and root my cell out of the side pocket, color draining from my face when I see the missed calls.
Forty-seven of them.
Nineteen voicemails.
My heart picks up speed and I propel myself out into the living room, biting down hard on my lower lip and pacing a moment, before pressing the button to play my messages. With the device pressed to my ear, my euphoric feeling from the night with Aiden dissipates.
It’s my boss and he’s more pissed than I’ve ever heard him, which is saying something.
You ungrateful bitch. I don’t know what you think you’re doing running off like this. You need me. You don’t have a dime to your fucking name and I can blacklist you with a few phone calls. Understand? You’ll never work again. You get your ass back to the hotel where you belong, or I’ll book the next flight to New York from Vegas and drag you back myself.
Nausea rolls into my stomach. The time stamp on that message is eight o’clock p.m.
Last night.
He could be in New York right now.
My shaking legs force me to sit cross-legged in the middle of the living room floor, the voicemails playing back to back in my ear. There are a few more ranting ones from my boss, followed by some from my fellow dancers.
Lola, where the hell are you? Denny is flying out here. As in, now. He’s blaming us for not keeping a close enough eye on you—thanks a lot. You know how he gets when he’s angry. You better shake the hockey player and get back here before Denny shows up and takes his anger out on us. How dare you.
The hits keep on coming.
I listen to several more screeching messages from the dancers before the final one from my boss invades my ear, sending acid shooting up my throat.
The girls told me you left with Aiden Tulane. You should know I did a little research on my flight and I know they’re thinking of booting him from the league for being a freaking animal. I wonder how the league would feel about him dating a runaway who lied about her age to book her first gig? A dancer who shakes her tits for money? You think that would help his cause? If you actually care about this guy, you’ll come right back where you belong. Understand? Don’t forget, I know where your parents live…
