Chapter Twenty

 

Caleb yanked the tie from around his neck and threw it across the room. It hit the bed, slid off and landed in a wrinkled heap on the floor. He thought about kicking it but what the fuck good would that do?

It sure as hell wouldn't do anything to relieve the anger and frustration boiling inside him.

Tonight's game had been a fucking fiasco. The Banners had been annihilated by Vegas, to the point where he wondered why the fuck they had even bothered playing. Eight to one? Seriously? That wasn't a fucking hockey game. Not even close. It had been so damn bad, he had honestly thought Coach Donovan was going to have a fucking heart attack right there on the bench.

Neither of their goalies had performed worth a shit. Then again, neither had any of the players—including himself. Their single goal had been nothing more than a fluke, a crazy-ass loose puck tipped in by Lucas Sacco. And the only reason he had scored was because Vegas's goalie had thought he had stopped the play and was waiting for the fucking whistle to blow.

And now, to make things even worse, Shannon was telling him she probably wouldn't be able to see him on Thursday night.

Caleb dropped to the bed and swallowed back his frustrated sigh. "Just a few hours. I can meet you at your place right after we land."

He heard noise in the background, the sound of running water and something banging, a low voice followed by a muffled grunt. From the television? Probably. It was already past eleven, Shannon was usually asleep by now.

"I have practice Thursday night, you know that."

"It'll be after practice. We probably won't be getting in until close to midnight anyway."

"Which means you won't get here until at least one. That's not going to work, not when I have to get up at six for work."

"Then call in sick." He winced as soon as the words left his mouth. Fuck. Did he have to sound so desperate?

Yeah, because he was desperate. He hadn't seen her since Sunday evening, when he finally took her home after spending all day with her. They'd had lunch after leaving the hotel, went back to his place to watch movies—and barely made it through the door before falling all over each other with a hunger that still left him breathless. He was addicted to her, pure and simple. Couldn't get her out of his system. Didn't want to get her out of his system.

It was only Tuesday, just over forty-eight hours since he had seen her, and he was already going through withdrawal. The team had flown out early this morning for tonight's game and would fly out early tomorrow for Thursday's game in New York. Then they were back home for a few off days, an unusual weekend with no games before an extended home stretch next week.

Unless you counted the exhibition game on Saturday afternoon.

Caleb didn't want to wait that long to see her. Didn't know if he could wait that long.

He blew out another frustrated sigh and readjusted his grip on the phone. "No comment to that, huh?"

"No, because I'm pretending I didn't hear you say that. You know I can't call out sick."

He opened his mouth to ask her why, snapped it closed before the words left his mouth. He knew why, knew she had bills to pay, knew that she didn't make shit playing for the Blades.

"How about if you leave your door unlocked and I'll just sneak into bed with you? I won't even wake you up." And yeah, that sounded as pathetic as he thought it did because Shannon actually snorted her laughter.

"Yeah, right. Like that's realistic."

"I've seen you sleep, remember? I think a bomb could go off next to you and you wouldn't notice it."

"Probably not, but somehow I think I'd notice you in my bed. Which means neither one of us would get any sleep."

"Then how about Friday?"

"Hang on." He heard some more muttering, a small click, then Shannon's voice again, the sound just a little different. "That's not going to work, either. Inventory is Friday so I'm working late, picking up some extra hours."

"Is it mandatory?"

"No but I already committed to it."

"Can't you tell them you changed your mind?"

"Yeah, I could." She paused and Caleb could hear her stifling a yawn. "Except it's overtime and I need the money."

"You could always move in with me." And whoa. What the fuck? Had he just said that? What the hell was wrong with him? His mouth opened and closed, like a fish drowning on air, as he struggled to say something—anything—in an effort to brush the words off. To turn them into a joke. To—

Shannon snorted, her laughter bright and maybe just a little forced as it came through the phone. "Did you get hit in the head tonight? Get boarded or something?"

"What? No, of course not."

"Really? Because I know I didn't hear what I just thought I heard. Don't be an ass."

Caleb pulled the phone away from his ear, frowned at it, then moved it back. "An ass? Why does that make me an ass?"

"You're kidding, right? You just asked me to move in with you."

Yeah, he had. It was just a slip of the tongue, words leaving his mouth before his brain could engage. He hadn't meant it. At least, he didn't think he'd meant it. But did she have to sound so cynical about it? Did she have to make it sound like the world's worst idea?

It was, but that didn't matter.

"It, uh, it was just an idea."

"A stupid one. Moving in." She laughed, the sound breathy, still a little forced, filled with disbelief. "Not happening, Caleb."

He ground his teeth together and drew in a quick breath through his nose. Time to change the subject. "So how about Friday night when you get home from inventory?"

"That's not happening, either."

"You're killing me, Shannon." He fell back onto the bed, his gaze studying the rough surface of the ceiling. "I need to see you."

"Yeah. Me, too." Her voice lowered, turned a little husky. Was she in bed, pretending he was with her? Touching herself, pretending it was his hands on her, pretending it was his finger sliding in and out of her wet heat?

He squeezed his eyes closed, pressed the palm of his hand against the aching length of his cock. Fuck, he had to stop thinking like that, had to stop picturing her that way. Not when he was here, hundreds of miles away and unable to do anything about it.

Especially when Logan could decide he'd had enough down in the bar and come back to the room at any minute.

Fuck it. The door was locked, the security latch in place. Nobody was coming inside.

He fumbled with the button of his pants, yanked down the zipper and freed his aching cock with a sharp sigh. Long strokes, up and down, his thumb grazing the tip, spreading the bead of moisture over soft skin stretched tight. Picturing Shannon on her knees between his spread legs, her long hair tickling the skin of his inner thigh. Her mouth, hot and wet, closing over him.

Christ, he wanted her, needed her. With a fever he didn't understand, a fever that threatened to fry the last molecule in his brain. "What, um, what are you doing?"

"Right now?"

"Yeah. Tell me." He stroked harder, a little faster, imagining Shannon in her bed, her legs spread wide, her fingers sliding over her slick clit.

"Trying to unclog this damn garbage disposal. Why?"

Caleb's eyes shot open as disappointment shot through him. He released his cock with a growl. "Just, um, just wondering."

"Everything okay? You sound...I don't know. Weird."

"Yeah, fine. Good to go."

"You sure about that?"

"Yeah. I was just hoping—never mind."

"Hoping, what?"

"Nothing."

"Caleb, out with it."

"I was just sitting here, picturing you next to me. Naked. Hot. Wet. Fingering that sweet wet pussy—"

Something like a crash echoed in his ear, followed by a muttered curse. The sound grew muffled, dull and distant. More noises, like hurried footsteps, followed by what sounded like a door slamming shut.

He pushed up on his elbow, frowning. "Shannon? You there?"

"Uh, yeah. I'm here."

"Everything okay?"

"Uh, yeah."

"What was that noise?"

"Um...that would have been the phone flying off the counter."

Caleb smiled, a spurt of male pride shooting through him. "Got you a little worked up, huh?"

"Um, no."

No? Really? So much for the male pride. He reached down, readjusted his pants, then pushed himself to a sitting position. "Then why was your phone flying off the counter?"

"Because I was trying to get it off speaker phone."

Caleb leaned forward and pinched the bridge of his nose then pulled in a deep breath. He didn't want to know, didn't want to ask. Couldn't ask.

He didn't need to, because Shannon kept talking, her voice just a little choked. From embarrassment? Laughter? Something else?

"My, um, my brother's here."

"Your brother?"

"Yeah. You know, the one who's letting me live in the studio above his garage?"

"He's there now."

"Yeah."

"Did he, uh, did he hear?"

"Um, yeah. Pretty much."

Fuck. "I'm sorry, I didn't think—"

"Yeah, neither did I."

"Did he, um, did he say anything?"

"Not really but I'm pretty sure he wants to meet you now."

Great, just fucking great. What the fuck had he been thinking? He hadn't been, not with his brain, at any rate. "I didn't mean—"

"I know you didn't. I should have warned you."

How could she have warned him? It wasn't like she knew what he was thinking, what he was doing...what he was hoping she would do. Hell, even he hadn't known, hadn't planned on it.

He ran a hand over his face, released a deep sigh. "So, how about Friday night? When you get off work?"

"Caleb, I can't." He heard the regret in her voice, but he also heard the determination and knew nothing he said would change her mind.

"Then how about Saturday?"

"We're already seeing each other Saturday. You know—when we kick your ass on the ice."

Caleb didn't even laugh. How could he, after tonight's slaughter? "I was thinking more along the lines of after the game."

"After the game, I'm all yours."

"I'm going to hold you to that."

"After the game, you can hold whatever you want."

"Is that a promise?"

"That's a promise."

Caleb smiled, some of the tension easing from his shoulders. He apologized again, finally said goodbye, and disconnected the call.

Four days. He could last four days.

Couldn't he?