by Lynda Aicher
He was hunting through his movie files when his phone pinged.
I’m in a practice room. What’s up?
Computer on?
Yes.
Excellent. He had the video messaging app opened, her number dialed a second later. The call rang through, and Jacqui’s face appeared on the screen. Damn, she was beautiful. Hair down like always, it framed her face in glossy waves that highlighted her rosy cheeks and dark eyes.
“Hi, Henrik.”
Her broad smile had a way of making everything okay. “Hi, Jacqui.”
“How’s it going?”
“Good. The same. You?”
Her image jostled around, flashes of the room zipping across the screen before her face was back. “Sorry.” She brushed her hair over her shoulder. “Lull time?”
He nodded. “Yeah.” They’d done this enough now that she was understanding his schedule too. Their haphazard relationship had evolved through calls, texts and video chats like this. “Practicing?” He recognized the practice room at the school behind her. She’d been in that one before.
“My sport of choice.” Her cheekiness was refreshing. Like everything about her. “You ready for the game tonight?”
“Sure.” It wasn’t that different each night. “Rylie and I are working well together.” Coach had made the switch four games back.
“Yeah? How’s Sparks dealing?”
“Okay.” Damn, it was nice to be able to talk to her about the game and have her actually care. Her professed neutrality for the sport had changed, at least where it concerned him. He took that as a positive sign while reveling in the unexpected confidant. “It’s the game. He’s still firm on the roster.”
“How’s your thigh?”
He rubbed the bruise, the lingering pain muffled under the warmth of her concern. “Nothing bad.”
She snorted. “Right. Nothing hurts a hockey player.”
“Not if you want to play.” Hockey was a tough sport. Playing through pain was bullied into their heads from the time they’d first picked up a stick. “It’s just a bruise. I’ve had worse. What are you working on?” he asked to change the subject.
She wrinkled her nose in the cute way she had. “My senior recital.”
“How’s it going?” He’d gotten her to play more of it since they’d jammed together.
“Getting closer to the end.”
“Want to play some for me?” He could listen to her play all day.
A loud pounding on the door blasted through the room. “Roller! Get your ass out here. We’re heading down.” Feeney’s bellow came through with no problem.
Henrik groaned, head dropping back to bang on the wall. Christ.
“Who’s that?” Jacqui asked.
“Come on. I know you’re in there.” Another harder battering on the door cut off any response he might’ve had.
“Hang on a second,” he told Jacqui, setting his tablet on the bed before he made a beeline for the door. He whipped it open to Feeney’s ugly mug. “What the fuck?”
“Dude?” Feeney spread his arms wide. “I’m trying to help you out.”
“How?”
“Getting you laid.”
Henrik had no doubt Jacqui had heard that. “Fuck off.” He tried to shut the door, but Feeney slammed a palm on it, holding it open.
“Seriously?” Doubt furrowed over the lump on his forehead. With his crooked nose and scarred cheek, Feeney wasn’t exactly handsome, but it didn’t hinder his lay-rate at all.
“Yes.”
“What’s her name?”
“Whose name?”
“The girl who owns your balls again?”
Henrik stepped up to the enforcer, hand fisted. He was fucking sick of the digs and constant jokes about his girlfriends. “What is so goddamn wrong with being faithful to a woman? About being nice to them or treating them better than a one-time fuck?”
“Nothing.” Feeney met his glare, not flinching. “If they give you the same respect.” Bam. The man scores. Maybe he hadn’t had all his smarts knocked out of his head.
Henrik gritted his teeth and stepped back, deliberately closing the door in Feeney’s face. Feeney didn’t stop him this time.
Shit.
Henrik took a deep breath and went back to the bed, hoping Jacqui was still there while equally hoping she’d hung up so he could avoid discussing Feeney’s comments. Their busy schedules meant their relationship was still floating on an easy cloud of fun with occasional dips into deeper territory. He didn’t want to explain his past habits regarding women to her. Not when he couldn’t hold her and get her to understand.
The soft notes of the piano filtered up from his tablet, and he stopped out of sight, listening. She was still there. He almost hated to pick up the tablet, but he didn’t want to lose the time with her either.
He was settling against the headboard when she stopped playing. Her smile wasn’t as bright now. Probably like his.
His stomach clenched, chest tightening. “You heard that?”
“Hard not to.”
“Sorry.”
Her shrug was only half done. “You could go down if you wanted.” She made a show of checking the time. “I have class soon.”
The words were little stabs to his growing hope. “I don’t want to.” Didn’t she know that by now?
“No?”
“No.” He took a chance and added, “You’re the only girl I’m sleeping with.” They’d never talked about exclusivity, and he hoped that nudge wouldn’t have her running.
Her quick smile held a shy warmth before she tilted her head, studying him through the distance of technology. “Are you still in Raleigh?”
He had to think on that for a second. “I’m in D.C.”
“Then why is the exact same picture hanging on the wall behind you?”
He swung around to look at the mass-produced painting behind his head. “Is it?”
“You didn’t notice?”
“I guess not.” Was it really the same picture? He’d been in so many different hotel rooms, they all blended together.
“That must suck.”
“More than you know.” There’d been many women who’d thought the traveling was exotic and fun. There was nothing glamorous about the underbelly of a stadium or the inside of a hotel room no matter how many stars it had, which was about all he saw in every city. That and the bus that took them to both places. He rubbed his eyes. “But we get home tonight.”
“Late, right?”
“Around two, usually. If things go smoothly.”
She tapped out a few notes on the piano, glancing at him from the corner of her eye. “What time did you get in there last night?”
“Around the same.”
“Sounds exhausting.”
His grunt of agreement was more motion than sound. The music flowed into a soft melody that sounded a lot like one of the songs they’d played together, but not quite.
“You should nap while you can.”
He adjusted the pillows and slumped down until the back of his head caught on the headboard. “I’m usually too wound up.”
“That’s right.” Her profile showed in a dip of light and shadows as she swayed slightly with the music. “Need some help with that?”
The question surprised him enough to jerk out a bark of laughter. “Too bad you’re not here.” She’d done an excellent job of helping him before his last three home games. He’d played some of his best games after sex with her.
“Undo your pants.” She spoke without looking up, her voice unchanging, yet there was an order to the tone that snapped the humor away.
“Yeah?” He was already reaching to shove his track pants down, curious where she was going.
“Are you hard?”
“Getting there.” Fast. His dick lengthened and hardened in his hand in time with the rumbled groan in his chest.
That sultry smile he loved was on her lips when she looked at the screen. “Stroke it.”
H
e did, following her command easily. This was kinky and as close to perfect as he could get without her actually being there. He shifted his hold so his calluses caught on the head on every stroke.
“Keep your eyes open.”
His eyelids flew up to meet her heated gaze in the screen. He hadn’t realized he’d closed them, but this was a much better view. “Are you going to join me?” he asked around a grunt, spreading the precome to slicken his shaft.
She shook her head, just a little, smile growing. “This is all for you.”
Fuck. His hips bucked, thrusting into his tight grip. He panted, held his breath then let it out in a slow moan.
“You’re so hot.” There was awe in her voice, along with desire. Christ. Hearing that was such a fucking turn-on. He quickened his pace, hips jerking. Her eyes were a rich brown even through the glare of the screen. She bit her lower lip and let it slide out. “Slow down.”
His groan of frustration tore into the room to drown out the song she still played. That tune he had to identify but not now. Not with his orgasm simmering in his groin. He slowed his pace though, took it back to teasing glides that wouldn’t put him over.
“How long can you last?”
Oh, shit. “As long as you want me to.” He wasn’t sure about that, but he’d jam his nails into his dick if he needed to keep from coming.
Her eyes dropped closed, mouth parting before her grin showed. “Why does that turn me on so much?”
“I don’t know,” he panted out, voice two octaves lower than norm. “But it works for me too.”
The power dynamic wasn’t that different than he’d had with other women, only it was reversed. Jacqui liked to show her control in the bedroom instead of out of it. And that was way better.
“Stop.”
“Damn,” he mumbled, pitching forward as he forced his hand to still.
“This is fun.” Her throaty chuckle tumbled out to shiver over his skin. She was going to kill him. Torture and kill him. And he didn’t mind.
He fell back against the pillows, tablet wobbling in his hand. Holding it steady was becoming a serious challenge.
“Your eyes are so green right now.” She wet her lips. “They only get this color when you’re turned on.”
While hers went all coffee and chocolate.
“Rub your thumb over the head, imagine me sucking it down, teasing the hole with my tongue.”
Goddamn. He had to squeeze his eyes closed at that. The visual along with the memory was almost too much to keep his orgasm in check. His balls were heavy, dick so hard he could nail a slap shot from thirty feet away with it.
But the power was hers, and that was what made it so damn good.
“Open your eyes, Henrik.”
The slow roll of his name was another trigger. One he’d only just realized. He obeyed, gripped the tablet tighter and swiped his thumb around the crown of his dick. Yeah. Damn. He prodded the hole, a spear of desire racing down his shaft to ignite in his balls. His grunt of pleasure was automatic and uncontrollable.
“How did you know I like that so much?” he managed to ask.
“I paid attention,” she said, smile knowing. “Stroke it. Harder.”
“Finally,” he muttered, his grip almost punishing and exactly what he liked. Again. He rocked his hips, meeting the stroke. The tablet moved with each lunge and fall of his chest as he sucked in air. “So close.” He barely got the words out.
“Not yet.”
“Soon,” he insisted, but loosened his hold on his dick. He gasped, eased a sigh out, other hand trembling. He tried to hold the tablet still, but it was pointless.
“God. I’m going to come just watching your expression.”
“Not helping,” he gritted out, hand freezing.
“Keep stroking.”
Oh, hell. He clamped his lip between his teeth, sucked air through his nose and fought to hold back the impossible rush waiting to explode from his balls.
There was passion on her face too. Cheeks and lips red, mouth parted with short breaths. “Come, Henrik.”
That was it. He stroked faster, let go of his restraint and roared into his climax. Muscles constricted, abs curled, forearm straining as warm seed splattered over his T-shirt and hand. Shit. Shit. “Holy shit.” He groaned out the last, straining for the final rush before it dropped out from under him.
He sagged back, eyes falling shut despite her earlier command to keep them open. His heart thundered a frantic rhythm that pounded through his blood. Euphoric, he floated, drifted on the rush of endorphins that’d shattered him.
Eventually, the piano music logged into his slow-functioning brain, louder than it’d been before. Had she been playing the whole time? He couldn’t remember.
The wall behind him shook with a hard pounding, a muffled “Roller scores!” coming through the wall. Fucking teammates.
“That was…” She cleared her throat, and he forced his eyes open. Somehow he’d managed to keep the tablet upright. She was panting almost as heavily as him. Flushed and beautiful, she blew out a breath, music halting. “We should do that again.”
His laugh was immediate and rough. “I’m game.”
“Set your alarm,” she instructed, that soft smile of hers smoothing out the remaining passion from her expression.
“Right.”
“Good luck tonight.”
He stared at her, mind still soft and mellow. “I miss you.” The truth was out, floating through cyberspace. He’d never said that to a girlfriend. And Jacqui was his girlfriend, at least in his mind. Would she run if he said it to her?
She sniffed. Closed her eyes. His sated happiness fell away with the hard dose of silent feedback. He squashed the warm glow of hope, damning himself for speaking freely. For trying to make her happy when she so obviously didn’t need or want him to.
“I’ll let you go.” He got the words out on a sharp exhale. “You’re missing your practice time.” “Sad Song”—that was what she’d been playing. It’d been on her playlist that first time they’d had sex.
“I paid for an extra hour.” She opened her eyes, emotions spilling from her gaze that he couldn’t read through the screen. “I miss you too.”
The feed ended before he could respond, her image cutting out to leave him grasping to see more. Had he heard right?
He set his tablet the bed, his smile growing with the glow that expanded with his deep inhalation. She didn’t have class like she’d said, and she’d used her hard-earned money so they’d have time to talk in private. And she missed him.
Was there hope after all? It was just a glimmer, but it was still there. Short-lived as it might be, he’d take it and keep trying for more.
Chapter Fourteen
A chilly breeze hit Jacqui’s face when she shoved out of the building. It whipped her hair around her head and snapped at the bare branches of the tree-lined path.
“Why are you still holding out on me?” Aiden asked. He’d called when she’d been leaving the practice room. She’d only answered because she’d still been distracted by her video chat with Henrik, her emotions caught between disturbed and amused. Where was that control thing of hers coming from?
“I’m not avoiding you.” Her insistence was lame, given that was exactly what she’d been doing for a month now.
She tucked her earbuds tighter into her ears, hoisted her backpack higher and started down the path toward her car. Getting Aiden off her back was priority number one right now. Especially when she had no idea what was going on with Henrik.
“You’re an awful liar.”
If only he knew how wrong he was about that. She’d been hiding her fears from her family for so long, none of them had any clue how worried she was about her coming anniversary. “What if it’s none of your business?”
“That doesn’t keep you out of mine.”
“Really?” She blocked the wind from humming over the cord mic and weaved through the crowded path. “How’s Sheila?”
His
scoff was muffled but clear. “We wanted different things.”
“Have you moved out?”
“Last weekend.”
“Does anyone in the family know that?”
There was a pause. “It’s only been a few days.”
She tossed her bag into the backseat of her car and ducked into the driver’s seat with a shiver. The winter wind had shifted in fast after Halloween. It probably wouldn’t be long before snow fell. “So where are you staying?”
“I’m at a friend’s for now.” The evasiveness was familiar, the expert couch-surfer at play again.
“Do you need anything?”
“No.” The clipped insistence was also familiar. He was so determined to go his way by himself.
“It’s not a crime to ask for help,” she told him, cringing at what she knew was coming back.
“Ditto, Kettle.”
Right on cue. She laughed, dropping her head against the headrest. “Damn independent streaks,” she joked. “Damn our parents for raising us to be strong.”
His chuckle wavered through the line. There was a pause. “So you’re okay?”
“Always.” Her canned answer came out reinforced with belief.
“And Henrik?”
Her laugh filled the car. “This persistence would be better directed at a different female.”
“But I don’t worry about another female.”
Oh, Aiden. Her heart pinched for the pain he hid so well. “I’m fine.” Her voice had lowered with her own fears that were edging forward. December was only a month away. October had flown by while she’d been distracted by Henrik, who’d slowly and patiently wormed his way into her life.
The silence said what neither of them could voice. For now.
Eight years they’d all been living with that over them. Eight years of waiting for the next anniversary and possible news of yet another battle with the stupid disease called cancer.
“So.” He coughed. “Are you happy? I can ask that, right?”
She squeezed her eyes tight, holding back the guilt and anger and sorrow that burned her throat. Happy. She tried to live in that state as much as possible. Stay in the moment and not stress about what she couldn’t change. Yet lately she’d been wondering how true that was. Henrik was changing everything when she’d been content with the same for years. Now though, now she was seeing exactly how empty the same was.
