Fuck. Inviting Deanna over again royally fucks with my plan to stay away from her after one last night. But damn. Last night was so good, to use Deanna’s weak adjective. Her body must be full of an addictive drug so that every time you fuck her, you want to fuck her again. And again. And again. I need to ask her if she still wants to be fed, too.
That particular request seems odd to me. People talk over meals, and we only have each other to talk about unless she surprises me by being able to avoid talk of ourselves for that long. Last night was the chattiest and the most personal she’s been. I’m curious to see what will happen tonight.
First, I must get through my day. I mail my mother’s present. Practice is smooth. For the first time, my karaoke girl isn’t mentioned. Maybe they are finally getting over that. My hope crashes and burns when I get to my truck. A red flag should’ve popped up when I saw a few guys hanging around. Sitting in the bed with a big red bow is a karaoke machine.
“When are you hosting karaoke night at your house, Hook?” Scotty says as he tries to muffle his laugh.
I send a death glare his way.
“My brother and I can do some killer duets,” one of the Kessy twins adds.
“No suggestive songs for us, though,” Marco adds.
“I hate all of you,” I repeat what I’ve been saying since that dreadful video was posted by some fan online. After glaring at each of my grinning teammates, I get into my truck and leave, half-hoping I’ll accidentally run over one of them. No wonder they didn’t say anything today. They had the karaoke machine waiting for me.
I stop by the grocery store to stock up on all my favorite healthy foods, get confirmation from Deanna that I’m cooking dinner for her tonight, and once I get home and drop that atrocious karaoke machine in my living room, I head for my home gym. Stress or annoying teammates or anything really sends me straight to the gym. I don’t overdo it as that wouldn’t turn out well for me.
Being a pro hockey player means working out with the team, with trainers, and here at home when I need to clear my head. Pushing myself too hard can lead to injury or overworking my body, and neither are ideal. Not to say that I don’t work as hard as I need to, but I don’t try to kill myself either when I’m here at home.
For the billionth time, I wish I had a dog. I could burn off some of this energy by playing with a dog. I’ve always wanted one. As a kid, it wasn’t happening. Mom didn’t want something else to take care of and with me playing hockey as much as I was, she didn’t trust my word that I would care for one. And now, I travel so much and work so much, it doesn’t feel right to have dog when I live alone. I’d have to hire someone to watch him and walk him when I leave on trips. That’s no life for a dog. Not the one I want for mine, at least. Not while I’m still single.
After a good hour in the gym, I shower and waste more time until I start dinner. This’ll be it. One last night with Deanna. Sex be damned. Between that and what little I’ve seen of her personality so far, she’ll prove too much of a distraction sooner or later. I’d rather not get that far at all. Even a no-strings-attached relationship is a distraction, especially when it comes to Deanna.
“Knock, knock,” she calls as she steps into the house. “I would’ve waited, but I couldn’t.” She jogs into the room. “Bathroom?”
I give her directions for the downstairs bathroom and she disappears. She soon reappears and it’s with an uneasy look.
“Grab a plate and a glass of water,” I order. She arrived just as I finished plating our dinner. We each grab a plate and a glass. She follows me into the living room where TV trays are waiting. Once we’re situated, I hand her the remote for Netflix. “Find us a movie.” The surprise is clear on her face. “What? You don’t think we’re going to talk over dinner, do you?”
“Well, yes.”
“You’d rather we not,” I point out.
Her cheeks turn pink as she nods. “I did not think this through when I initially mentioned it.”
“I know. Find us something to watch.”
It doesn’t take her long to pick some romantic comedy that I hope we won’t watch all the way through. A few minutes in, EJ sends me a text with a cute picture of Bree. He can’t help himself sometimes; he has to share pictures of how cute she is.
“Hey, what is that?” Deanna points to that damn karaoke machine.
I come up with a quick lie that is dosed with a bit of the truth. “Apparently, one of my friends was there that night and saw me. He showed a video to the rest of my friends. That’s their gift to me. Want it?”
She laughs. “What? No way. You need to keep that so you can do more shows for me.”
“That was a one-time deal, darlin’.” No way in hell am I doing that again. Not after the hell I’m paying for the first time.
“You’re no fun.”
“You’re missing the movie by talking to me.”
That ends the talking, but not for long. “Was it worth it?” Her voice is softer now than it was a moment ago.
“Was what worth it?”
“Having to hear so much shit from your friends?” She leans forward, anxious to hear the answer.
“Worth every word.”
Her smile is nearly blinding. We finish eating in silence. I pull the trays off to the side and Deanna stretches out to rest her head in my lap. We aren’t actually finishing this movie, are we?
“You know, Brayden,” she starts, “that was a good dinner.”
I laugh. “I know; I cooked it.”
“I actually thought we’d go somewhere.”
“I’d rather cook. It’s easier.”
“How so?”
“I’m picky about what I eat because it has to be healthy.”
“So, you’re a health nut.”
“I care about what I eat,” I correct. She’s surprising me by talking. Hell, she’s surprising me because we haven’t had sex yet. Why are we watching a movie or talking when we’re supposed to be having sex? Isn’t that the point of no strings attached? Not that I mind, well, I kind of do because I’ve been thinking about sex all day, but I’m confused.
She rubs my leg from mid-thigh down to my ankle, but I can’t tell if it’s an absent-minded gesture or an intentional one. All I know is a hand is touching my skin and I want sex. Deanna rambles something about the movie, but obviously I’m not listening.
“Deanna.” My patience has run out.
She rolls over and glances up at me with innocent green eyes, her curly blond hair splayed over my lap. “Yes?”
“What the fuck are you doing? What the fuck are we doing?”
A slow grin pulls the corners of her mouth up. I’m immediately suspicious. “What? You only want to have sex with me, Brayden?” She tsks as if she’s disappointed.
I shove her shoulder. “You and your fucking games. Get up.”
“That was hardly a game,” she replies as she sits up and then stands.
I reach out, grab her wrist, and yank her back down to straddle my lap. “It’s a game when I’d prefer for you to be straightforward.”
“There’s no fun in that.” Her lips make a small pout while her hands slip underneath my shirt.
“For god’s sake, will you shut the fuck up and fuck me already?”
That evil grin returns. “I thought you’d never ask.”
Her mouth crashes into mine. Time speeds up as we shed our clothes and throw them haphazardly away from us, letting them fall where they may. This is what I love about being with Deanna. When she’s around, everything else on my mind falls silent. The world disappears and there’s only one person before me. One fantastically hot person who gives me one of the world’s best highs.
It’s a lot like being on the ice. Instead of the roar of the crowd fueling me, it’s her moans and sexy little sighs. Instead of a hit or needing to chase after the puck spurring me into action, it’s her biting and nipping my lips and shoulders, her nails dragging down my skin, and her hips grinding over mine. She brings the same kind of high as winning the most important game of the season.
Maybe that’s why I haven’t been able to walk away. I can’t walk away from hockey and now, I’ve found another addiction.
“I swear you’re the best fuck,” Deanna sighs afterward, resting her forehead on my shoulder. “It’s ridiculous.”
At that, I smile. “Why?”
“No one should be that good.”
“Wish I could say I was sorry.”
“No you don’t. How old are you?” she asks.
“Thirty-one. How old are you?”
“Twenty-four.” She sighs and lifts her head. “If I get up, will there be a spot here when I come back? Be warned that if you say no, then I’m not getting up at all.”
“Get up and we’ll move to my bed.”
She smiles, happy with my answer. Once we’re all cleaned up and lying in bed, she asks another question, “Do you ever see yourself getting married?”
“Maybe. You?”
“That’s the ultimate goal, but my best friend says I’m too high maintenance.” That last part ends with a grumble.
“Are you high maintenance?” She doesn’t seem so, but what do I know?
“No.” Deanna props herself up on one elbow to look at me. “She says my standard is ridiculous, but it’s not. All I want is to not feel like I’m settling for someone, that’s all. How is it my fault that I can’t find someone I don’t want to live without?”
I chuckle, which makes her frown.
“What?”
“You pick up guys in bars, openly admit that you have multiple fuck buddies, and you wonder why you can’t find a guy that won’t feel like settling?”
Her frown deepens. “Are you calling me a slut?”
What little bit of a smile I had fades quickly. “No, Deanna. I’m saying that if you want a good man, the likelihood of finding him in a bar and you keeping him while you’re sleeping with more than one guy is slim. There’s nothing wrong with your standard; it’s your method.”
Deanna sighs. “I guess you have a point.” She lies back down.
“Why do you sleep around if you want a relationship?”
“Because I’m at odds with it. I want it, but I don’t.” Her hand slides down my stomach and down to wrap around my cock. “Enough talking.”
I’m definitely okay with that, especially as she places open-mouthed kisses on my chest and begins to head south.
Friday, I get a text from Deanna. I haven’t seen her in a few days. I’m at the arena because there’s a game tonight, but her text surprises me.
Deanna: So, do you want to spend Halloween with me? My employee/best friend bailed and we hand out candy at work. You’d have to dress up. If not, no worries. I’ll get someone to work in her place instead, but thought I’d ask.
Is she asking me out? That’s basically a date for my no-strings-attached karaoke girl. My instinct is to say no, but these past few days without her have not been fun. I’m still thinking about her too damn much. I thought about her less when I was fucking her regularly.
Me: Make it worth my while?
Deanna: Don’t I always?
I toss my phone into my locker. Shit, now I’m in a dilemma. How can I be with Deanna on Halloween and not attend my yearly Halloween party? I can’t cancel; too many of the guys look forward to it. I know Ian, in particular, is. His son, Andrew, was born just a couple of weeks ago right before the season started; my Halloween party is his and Sydney’s first night out together since he was born.
“What’s wrong?” EJ asks as he takes a seat next to me.
“Ah, would it be a big deal if I don’t come to my own party?”
His eyes widen. “Why wouldn’t you be there?”
“I have other plans.”
EJ grins. “Are you still seeing karaoke girl?”
“How big of a deal is it going to be?” I ask, ignoring his question.
He shrugs. “I don’t know. Maybe get Rams or Marco to keep an eye on things and take over as hosts.”
That’s a good idea. I thank him before getting up to find those two knuckleheads. Noah isn’t too bad, but Marc likes to push my buttons. He likes to push everyone’s buttons; I’m not special. I find them sitting on a leather couch, talking.
“What’s up, Captain Hooker?” Marco asks, and I glare at him.
“I need a favor.”
That makes both of them sit up straighter. For a moment, I feel awkward and wish I was closer to my teammates than I am.
“What do you need?” Noah asks.
“I’m not going to be at the Halloween party.”
“But it’s your party,” Marc points out.
“No shit. You two want to play host and make sure nothing gets out of hand?”
“Why aren’t you going to be there?” Marc asks. “Is there a girl? Is it karaoke girl? Why don’t you bring her?”
I firmly ignore him and focus on Noah. “Will you?”
“Yeah, sure. No problem.”
“Thanks.” I turn and walk away with Marco yelling after me about how I need to quit hiding my woman and keeping her a secret. If he only knew I don’t have a woman, not really. She also doesn’t know I play hockey. No way am I introducing her to my teammates and therefore, telling her I play. Things aren’t serious and likely won’t get serious. There’s no reason for her to know about my little white lie now.