Instead of interrogating him on how he knew my drink order, I question, “What are your other favorite stops on the NHL schedule?”
“Fort Lauderdale is always a good stop because, after about twenty cities of bitter cold, South Florida is a perfect seventy degrees in the middle of winter. You’ve been there before with other teams you worked for, I’m sure.”
I shake my head to tell him no. “Miami, yes. But I’ve never worked for a hockey team before.”
“Well, we all stay right on the beach when we’re there, so it feels like a mini-vacation during those trips. And New York City is a good stop, too. But I’d have to say that Columbus is my favorite on the schedule.”
“Columbus?” I ask in surprise. “Like Ohio?”
“Ohio State is in Columbus. I went to school there, so my old college teammates usually come out for the game. It’s the closest thing to home besides Chicago.”
“So, you grew up in Ohio? You have family there?”
“Indiana, actually. My dad is still there, and my sister is in Atlanta, but Maddison’s family is more so my family at his point, so I guess Chicago is home because that’s where they are.”
The bartender interrupts, putting our beers on the counter in front of us. But I’m thankful for the pause because this conversation is starting to get a little too personal to have with someone who is supposed to be just a one-night stand.
“Where are you looking forward to stopping this season?” Zanders asks before pulling his beer up to his lips.
Before I can keep the conversation going, the obnoxious house music cuts out, and a group of guys takes the stage, setting up their instruments.
“Let’s go.” Zanders laces his fingers with mine. When I look down at our intertwined hands, I almost can’t even see my own because of the size difference. But I do notice his veiny forearms that are corded with muscles, though the grip he has on me is vastly contradictory to that. He’s gentle as he guides me out of the VIP section and in front of the stage.
“Big EZ.” The lead singer bends down, connecting his fist to Zanders’.
The space around us quickly fills, bodies pushing into one another and crowding the stage.
Zanders pulls me in front of him, my back to his chest as he puts both hands on the edge of the platform just in front of us, creating a safe barrier where no one can touch me, regardless of how many people are thrashing around, trying to get a good spot for the show.
As the first tune fills the lounge, I completely understand why this is one of Zanders’ favorite places to stop. This band’s sound is a unique blend of R&B and soul, and the lead singer’s voice is deep but soft, blending perfectly with the instruments behind him.
Two songs in, and the crowd has relaxed, the melodic harmonies flowing through the room and chilling everyone out. So much so that Zanders no longer has to use his giant arms to block me in, protecting me from the mass of people.
He picks up his beer from the edge of the stage, leisurely bringing it to his lips as my body involuntarily sways to the beat of the music. Zanders’ other hand releases the platform in front of us before ever so slightly finding my hip bone and holding me to him. His large hand splays over the top of my jeans, his palm grazes the lowest part of my stomach, and his fingers rest dangerously close to the spot between my legs.
I inhale a shaky breath. This is the first time Zanders has ever really touched me, and after fantasizing about it for weeks now, the nerves are starting to take over.
It doesn’t startle me, though. We both know why I came here tonight, so instead of staying frozen in place, the way I am now, I lean back against him, continuing to sway to the music lightly.
I refuse to worry about the consequences that tonight is going to bring. Instead, I focus on the sexy as sin man behind me whose body is going to absolutely wreck mine tonight.
At least one can hope.
By songs eight and nine, our beers are gone, glasses discarded, and nerves wholly abandoned. Zanders rests both his hands on my hips. His thumbs have found their way under the hem of my shirt and against my flesh. The cold metal of his rings ignites my skin, and just for tonight, I try my hardest not to worry about a man touching my stomach. Though, I can feel myself holding my breath and slightly sucking in every once in a while.
Play it cool. Wear your mask of confidence.
On song ten, I’ve completely forgotten I’m at a private concert in a club. All I can focus on is the giant man behind me, whose minor touches are driving me absolutely insane.
Zanders’ hands glide to my hipbones, pushing my ass into him. His fingers trace upward, slightly brushing my rib cage before sliding down my forearms and interlacing with mine. His nose nudges against me as his lips graze against the soft skin under my ear, but they don’t connect, and I’m not going to lie, this little teasing session is doing me in.
“Kiss me,” I quietly request, far too out of breath.
He doesn’t respond with words but slightly shakes his head against me.
“Touch me,” I plead.
“Not yet, sweetheart. You know the rules.” He releases me, refusing to touch me, but I continue to lean back against him.
Of course, I remember his little rule he made outside of the bar in Nashville, telling me that when I changed my mind, I would have to beg him to fuck me...on my knees. But I’m not going to lie, I kind of thought he was all talk.
Clearly, he’s not.
“Asshole.” I roll my eyes, even though he can’t see me.
Zanders’ chest rumbles behind me. “Such dirty words come out of that pretty mouth of yours.”
He moves my hair out of the way as his lips ghost my ear, igniting my whole body. “Are you ready to show me what else that mouth can do?”
Our bodies couldn’t be closer. I arch my back, grinding my ass into him as the music continues to fill the lounge, but I can hear the low groan he releases perfectly clear. For the first time since I’ve known Zanders, the hoard of people that surround him, constantly wanting his attention, doesn’t bother me. Because just for tonight, his attention is solely on me.
“Stevie, sweetheart,” Zanders whispers again. “If we don’t go now, I’m going to end up fucking you in a dark corner of this bar, and I need you in my bed. So, once again, are you ready to beg for it?”
I confidently nod my head, my eyes still glued to the band in front of me.
“Then let’s go.” He urgently takes my hand in his and leads us out of the crowded room, back to his hotel.
16
STEVIE
Zanders keeps my hand in his, essentially pulling me into the hotel lobby. His strides are long and quick, equally as ready as I am to get to his room.
“Oh shit,” he quietly curses under his breath, pulling me to stand behind a pillar with him, shielding our bodies from anyone else to see. “One of my coaches is down here.”