West

“Baby,” my wife, Tilly, says as she climbs onto my lap. She straddles my legs and digs her nails into my shoulders, knowing I like it when she grips me there. “How about I make a deal with you?”

My cock hardens as she grinds her pussy over the tip, her heat soaking through my sweatpants. Her hips swivel several times before I look at her.

“What kind of deal?”

Her eyes widen as I shift her over my crown, guiding it toward her ass.

“I’ll get on all fours and suck you off, but—”

“Done.”

She smiles. “But you haven’t heard the rest of the deal yet.”

I grab a handful of her blond hair and use it to pull her head back, exposing the whole line of her neck. “You had me at suck.”

I graze my nose up her throat. Damn, she smells good, like some berry lotion and perfume and whatever else she puts on that always takes her so long to get ready.

It’s been days since I really took in her scent. It’s not that she hasn’t been home. She just hasn’t come too close to me while she’s been here. Whenever I’m waiting on a call from my agent, I prefer it that way. No touching, no nagging, no asking me any questions. I just want to be surrounded by the noise of the TV and all the accomplishments that hang on the walls of my mancave. And I try not to let the thoughts overtake me.

I’m doing a shitty job at it.

This call will be one of the biggest of my career.

And my wife has broken our unspoken rule.

Maybe putting my cock in her mouth will bring me a little luck. I sure as fuck need some.

“My deal is a bit more involved than just sucking,” she says.

Her groan vibrates over my lips as I bite into her flesh. “You’re going to give me your ass?”

She laughs, which tells me her answer, the same one I usually get whenever I try to stick my dick in there.

“As long as I come,” I say, “your deal can be as involved as you want.”

“Then, you’ll follow me into the shower now?” She pulls her neck away from my mouth and locks her eyes with mine. “Because that’s where it’s going to take place. You know, after you’ve stood under the hottest water and I’ve scrubbed your body with a sponge full of soap.” She clenches her hand around the top of my T-shirt and smells the collar. “It’s time, baby. I don’t even want to guess how long you’ve been wearing this.”

I know how long.

Once I returned from the hospital, where I’d had my third MRI in less than a year, this was what I changed into. My team logo and number are on both the T-shirt and sweats—the same logo and number I’ve been wearing the whole six years I’ve been in the league. Both were given to me during training camp directly after I was drafted. I have a closet full of athletic gear just like this, but there’s something about the originals I can’t part with. These clothes have seen me through some long-ass stretches when the guys and I couldn’t find our rhythm on the ice, when the fans wanted to turn on us.

The clothes are going to see me through this, too.

They fucking have to.

I sink against the leather chair, my dick softening beneath her, the shifting of her hips not doing it for me anymore.

“Come on, West.” Her lips find my jaw, and she kisses down to my chest. “You know you want your cock in this hot, wet mouth. You love it when I slide my lips right around your tip and suck so hard just as you’re about to come.”

My wife gives some mean head.

But, right now, I don’t want her mouth anywhere near me.

“Tilly, listen—” The sound of the phone cuts me off. I check the screen, seeing my agent’s name and number, and say, “Get up.”

“Baby—”

“Get up, Tilly. It’s Jesse.”

She wiggles off me and moves a few paces away.

I take a deep breath and hold my cell up to my ear. “Jesse, what’s the news?”

“West, we really need to talk.”

I can tell by the tone of his voice.

He doesn’t have to go on about the chain of events—how the doctor sent the results to my coach, the owner of our team, and the NHL commission.

I don’t need the results either.

I already know.

From the second I was hit—when my helmet shifted up just enough that it exposed my head and it slammed into the boards—I knew I had a concussion, my third one this year. I immediately felt the wave of nausea. There was ringing in my ears. Blackness in front of my eyes.

And, now, it’s happening all over again but for a whole different reason.

“Jesse, I’ll call you back.”

“Not the news we were hoping, my friend. I know—”

I hang up.

He doesn’t know shit.

“Baby…” Tilly’s voice is so quiet, I barely hear her, but it’s enough to get my attention.

“What?”

She holds out her phone, her hand covering the speaker. “It’s Viktor. He tried your line when you were on the phone with Jesse, and when you didn’t pick up, he called me.” She walks over and sets her cell in my lap.

I lift the phone to my ear and say, “Viktor.”

“What the fuck, man? It’s been days, and Coach hasn’t told us anything. The guys are all waiting to get our captain back. You coming to practice this morning or what?”

My eyes close. I can’t handle all the spinning, the little shimmers of light, like I’ve been rubbing my lids for hours. My chest starts to rise and fall, as though I’d been skating sprints. “Nah, man. I’m not coming in today. Maybe tomorrow.”

It’s a lie.

I drop the phone and feel Tilly pick it up.

“Hey, Viktor. He’ll call you back, okay?”

I don’t know how long I sit in the chair with my eyes closed. I don’t know how I’m getting any air in with my chest this tight. I don’t know how long my wife waits silently for me to tell her the news.

But, when I finally open my lids, I bark the words, “Get the condo listed. Pack our shit. We’re getting the fuck out of here,” and I watch her sadly move out of my mancave.

Then, I strip my clothes, get into the shower, and don’t get out until the water feels as cold as the rink.