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It was getting harder and harder to even be away from him for a second.
Mama’s limp body on the floor, tears streaking down her face, a needle in her arm she hadn’t even bothered to remove…
Stop it, I screamed. Because my brain just wouldn’t quit.
“I missed you,” he murmured, an ache in his voice like he’d been suffering.
And I only nodded and thought…
Me too.
* * *
As we got into the limo, I was instantly struck by the strong stench of perfume and the loud, high-pitched giggles of the five scantily clad women draped over Lincoln's teammates—puck bunnies, I’d learned they were called. Women that were desperate for hockey dick, no matter what it cost them.
They were all over them, stroking their arms, their shoulders, their thighs. Desperate to keep their attention.
Lincoln was unfazed by it all, not even batting an eye as the girls fawned over him and his friends. He was chatting with Ari, completely ignoring everyone else except for me. It was amazing how he could seem so involved in his conversation with Ari, and yet I knew he was aware of every movement…every breath I took. He had me in his lap, one arm around my waist, the other hand softly slipping up and down my leg—sending goosebumps everywhere.
The other girls' jealousy radiated off of them like heat from a raging fire. Lincoln and Ari were the trophies, after all; the two players they all desperately craved.
And they didn’t even have a clue how hot Lincoln really was…like he’d been just an hour ago.
His mouth closed hungrily over my nipple as he fucked my core with two fingers, his thumb toying with my ass…my back pressed against the glass…
The ride to the restaurant was relatively short, but it felt like an eternity with the inane noise of the girls giggling and actually cooing over the guys. I was honestly surprised they hadn’t mounted them right in front of us.
When we finally arrived, I lifted off Lincoln’s lap, and he patted my ass as I ducked to get out of the limo. One of the bunnies was already out, a wide grin on her face, like we were long lost best friends or something.
“This is the most expensive restaurant in the city,” she whispered in my ear, linking her arm through mine. Because of course she’d be keeping tabs on that.
I was saved by Lincoln suddenly pulling me away. Evidently, girls were also on the list of people who weren’t allowed to touch me.
So that list basically included everyone on the planet.
We were seated at a large table in a private room, Lincoln plastered against me in the bench seating.
An arm wrapped around my shoulders from the other side.
“So, how’s my girl?” a grinning Ari asked as he pulled me towards him and rubbed his face on my head like we were wolves and he was scent marking me.
“I seriously think you want to die, Lancaster,” drawled Lincoln, yanking me back towards him and smoothing down my hair like Ari had hurt it.
“You’re looking stunning, but you’d look even better in a jersey with my name on it.” His eyebrows rose and fell lecherously—referencing his little prank from that first game. Unlike the scraps of clothes the other girls were wearing, Lincoln had insisted I wear a jersey with his name on it tonight. He seemed to be obsessed with me wearing clothes with his last name.
Lincoln sighed, grabbed his water, and then tossed the contents right in Ari’s face. My mouth dropped as Ari sputtered and the whole group roared with laughter.
Ari shook his head, wiping the water off his face, a smug grin on his lips.
“Love you too, Linc,” he grinned as the waitress came by to get our orders.
The food was the best I’d ever had, and I had fun watching Lincoln interact with his teammates. It was clear they had a strong bond, and it was also clear they all thought he hung the moon. Lincoln was so relaxed, his walls down and the intense energy he usually had around me nowhere to be seen. The guys completely ignored their dates as they talked, but I guess the girls were at least getting a ridiculously expensive meal out of the night—so none of them seemed to mind.
Or at least they were too busy giving me dirty looks to realize no one had said a word to them.
I was completely relaxed as we got up from the table to leave—at least until we stepped outside the restaurant and were accosted by flashes of cameras so blinding I’d be seeing spots for weeks.
“Fuck, which one of you called them?” Ari spat, glaring at the girls who were all primping and trying to get the attention of the cameras. My eyes darted around in confusion and anxiety. Lincoln threw his arm around me, trying to shield me from the paparazzi.
