Yeah. Scored the other night against Philly. Felt good. Need more though.
I nodded my agreement even though he couldn’t see me.
It’s depressing AF.
One corner of my mouth lifted. Tell me about it. I came home to Chicago to recuperate but I’m sitting here getting depressed too. Can’t sing for at least 3 months.
Shit. We’re a pair.
Yep.
Are you really here in Chicago?
Yes.
Nothing more came through, and I thought maybe the conversation was over. Then he messaged, Can you talk?
Yes, I can talk now. I couldn’t for a while.
And then my phone rang.
I sucked briefly on my bottom lip as my phone told me it was Chase, my heart doing funny things in my chest. Then I answered the call. “Hey.”
“Hey you.” His deep voice was a low rasp. “It’s really good to hear your voice.”
“Yeah. You too.”
“Thanks for texting me.”
“You should be pissed at me.”
“Oh, I am.”
I huffed out an amused breath. “Okay.”
“Look, here’s a crazy idea. You’re getting depressed. I’m getting depressed. Maybe we could get together and cheer each other up.”
Excitement wiggled through me. “Why does that sound dirty?”
He laughed. “Because you have a dirty mind and you’ve been reading dirty hockey tweets?”
“Ha.”
“I didn’t mean ‘cheer each other up’ as a euphemism for ‘fuck each other’s lights out.’?” He paused. “Although that might not be a bad idea.”
“I hear sex is good for improving your mood. Something to do with hormones.”
He let out a low groan. “I seriously didn’t mean it that way, but hearing you talk about sex is making me hard.”
Damn. I bit my lip, my inner muscles squeezing. “You talking about being hard is making me…wet.”
Dense silence met my ear. Then he growled, “So? Do we have another date?”
Chapter 10
Chase
I rubbed my hands together, as nervous as a rookie goalie facing Crosby on a breakaway.
She was here.
I walked to the door of my condo to let Jordyn in for our second date.
This one was going to be a lot less public. She’d agreed to come to my place Saturday night for dinner and Netflix. And no, that wasn’t another euphemism. Although if a movie led to her in my bed, underneath me, I was down for that. Or rather, up for that. Heh.
I opened the door just as she walked down the hall toward me, the doorman having already announced her and sent her up.
My body became electrified when I saw her. I felt such a jumble of emotions, it was hard to sort them all out. There was a lot of relief at seeing her, seeing that she was okay. I’d been worried about her. I’d been pissed because she hadn’t answered any of my messages. But then I’d seen her posts about what was going on, and I was back to being worried out of my mind, because…damn, her voice.
I mean, we barely knew each other. But it didn’t feel like that. We’d only had one date, but I felt like at the very least we’d become friends.
But humming along with all of that was pure, hot lust. And amazement that this beautiful woman was walking toward me. That I was getting to see her again. It was a wonder I didn’t drop to my knees in front of her to worship at the altar of Jordyn Banks.
Her mouth curved into a smile, but her eyes held hints of uncertainty. And that amazed me even more, my heart turning over in my chest. This beautiful, talented woman who had the world at her feet was unsure of herself…when it came to me?
I stood aside to let her enter my condo and shut the door. Then I reached for her and pulled her into my arms. I was gentle even though I didn’t want to be, because she was fragile. What I really wanted to do was grab her, squeeze her, pick her up, and carry her into my bedroom and…“I should spank your cute little ass,” I growled at her just before I laid my mouth on hers.
I was careful with that too. I wanted to slam my mouth onto hers, plunge my tongue inside, bite her lips, and pull her hair. But she was recovering from a delicate surgery and I wasn’t an animal. Okay, I sort of was, but I managed to control my base instincts, for now anyway.
So I slid my hands up to cup her face, tilted her head so gently, and opened my mouth over hers in a slow, lingering kiss, touching my tongue to hers.
She moaned and leaned into me, kissing me back.
I lifted my head and smiled down at her. “Hi.”
“Hi.” The word was breathless, almost shy.
Again, the juxtaposition of her now, shy and uncertain, compared to onstage, confidently belting out a song and shaking her ass in front of millions of people wearing little more than a sequined bikini, struck me like a punch to the gut. And I felt…lucky. That I got to see this side of her.
So damn lucky.
“You’re still mad?” Her voice was faintly husky which I guessed was from the surgery.
“Yeah. But I’ll get over it.” I kissed her forehead and dropped my hands to her shoulders. I turned her. “Come in. Let me take your jacket, and I’ll show you around.”
She unwound the scarf around her neck and shrugged out of the puffy jacket she wore, handing them to me. I hung them in the closet, checking her out as I did so. She sat on the bench near my door to pull off her fur-lined suede boots. She wore black skinny jeans that were ripped and frayed in that cool designer way, and an oversized pink loose-knit sweater.
“Want something to drink?”
“I can’t drink alcohol yet.” She wrinkled her nose and stood. Once again, I was struck by her petite stature. “Or anything acidic—orange juice. Or soda pop that’s fizzy.”
“Uh…” My mind went blank. “I have water…”
“I’m actually okay at the moment.”
“Are you able to eat?” Alarm seized me that the meal I’d prepared—okay, the meal I’d picked up at Whole Foods—wasn’t going to work for her.
“Yes. I can eat pretty much anything now. At first, just soft stuff like ice cream and pudding.”
“Like when I had my tonsils out.”
“It probably feels the same.” She lifted her shoulders. “I never had my tonsils out. Actually that’s probably worse. The surgery I had was done with a laser, so it’s not as invasive as actually cutting something open.”
I winced. “I had my tonsils out when I was ten. I barely remember it, other than the Jell-O and Popsicles. But any kind of surgery freaks me out.”
Her eyes widened. “You’re kidding me. You’re a hockey player. Haven’t you broken bones and had stitches?”
“Well, yeah. Last year I broke my thumb, but it wasn’t that bad. And I’ve had a few stitches. Took a puck in the face.” I touched my eyebrow. “Right here. And my mouth.”
She peered at my face. “I can barely see the scars.” She eyed me, her eyebrows pulled down. “Did you pass out?”
“Hell no! I’m tough.”
Her lips twitched. “But surgery freaks you out.”
I rolled my eyes. “Shit happens during hockey. It’s an accident. You get stitched up, you keep playing. But surgery is…deliberate. Someone’s cutting you open on purpose.”
She giggled softly. “Well, yeah.” Then her smile faded.
“Sorry.” I cringed inwardly at my lack of sensitivity. “You don’t want to talk about that.”
“No, no, it’s fine. Actually…talking about it would be good.”
“Come in the kitchen while I get dinner ready.” I headed to my kitchen, and she followed.
“I thought you couldn’t cook.”
“I’m a terrible cook. Luckily Whole Foods is nearby, and they have a huge selection of prepared dishes to choose from. Honestly, almost everything I eat away from the arena is from there.”
She laughed softly and climbed onto a stool at the island. “I’m glad to hear that. Now I don’t have to feel intimidated, since I can’t cook either.”
I extended my arm with my hand in a fist and she bumped hers against it.
“So what are we having?” She lifted up off the stool to peer over.
The neckline of her sweater drooped, giving me a glimpse of pink satin and lace cupping inviting cleavage.
Christ on a crouton. My dick stirred and sweat broke out on my forehead. “Uh. Cashew chicken. Lettuce wraps. Beef goulash on buttered noodles. And cranberry spinach salad.”