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“Yeah, the shithead got wasted at some party last night and fell off a balcony…with some puck bunny still attached to his dick.”
Hopefully, there was video…because that shit sounded hilarious. But it also meant we were one man down, with a home game and two road games left before the playoffs even started. Not a great time for me to be distracted out of my fucking mind.
She’d have to come to every game. I’d been thinking about it, and I didn’t know how I was going to convince her to miss three days of life to come out on the road with me. But it was necessary. I wouldn’t be able to do anything but think about what she was doing and worry about her if she wasn’t in the stands.
“Linc?” Ari asked, his tone annoyed.
“Yep. I’m listening.”
“I really want the Cup this year.”
Fuck. So did I. Losing in the Finals last year had killed me.
“Dalton sucked anyway. Not a big loss.”
“It means it’s all on your shoulders to pick up the slack,” he reminded me.
A text came in from Monroe then, reminding me just how much of a distraction she was.
“I’ve got it. It’s our year,” I promised him. But it was a weird thing…hockey had been my whole life since I was a kid…and now, it was feeling more like a side piece. My world revolved around something else now.
Fuck.
“See you tomorrow for weights,” he reminded me before hanging up.
I hurriedly pulled up Monroe’s text, Ari’s phone call already sliding out of my mind.
Dream Girl: Class was canceled tonight. Professor’s sick. See you at 5.
I glanced at the clock. It was 4:30.
Holy fuck, it was on.
CHAPTER 25
MONROE
Iwas going to die. It was official.
Lincoln had picked me up, appearing in the lobby at 4:55 like he really had been counting down the minutes. I’d thought he would rush home, throw me on the bed, and fuck my brains out.
But the hot asshole must not have been on the same wavelength, because we were at the longest dinner of my life, and Lincoln didn’t seem to be in any hurry to leave. We were at some fancy place where there were seven courses. And while I’d never even dreamed of eating at a place so nice…I was ready for dessert.
The kind that came from Lincoln’s dick.
I’d been pumping myself up all day about it. Pushing aside all the “what the fuck are you doing” comments my brain was sending me…and just concentrating on the good stuff. The part of me that knew losing my virginity to Lincoln would be a life-altering experience.
I fidgeted in my seat. I couldn't stop looking at his lips, imagining them on me. He was cutting into some prime rib, and every time he opened his mouth…I got wet.
It was a little ridiculous at this point.
But honestly, did he usually savor every bite of his food? I couldn’t even taste what we’d eaten so far. I was too anxious.
I finally couldn't stand it any longer. I leaned in close and brushed my lips against his ear. "Please fuck me," I whispered.
He glanced over at me with a sly smile and leaned back in his seat. "Is my baby feeling impatient? Are you getting wet over there in your hot as fuck dress? Are you soaking the leather seat?"
I whimpered softly. The bastard was messing with me!
