by Box Set
We join the table; it’s cramped and Alex has to put his arm around me so both of us can fit on the bench. The closeness is welcome, as are his whispered words of apology every time he leans in to kiss my cheek.
When the party starts to wind down, Alex makes a call for a car to pick us up. We say our good-byes and leave the bar. Once we’re in the car, Alex gives the driver his address but holds up a hand and turns to me. “I know it’s late and we have a lot to talk about, but I would really love for you to come home with me. I’ll understand if you’d rather I take you back to your apartment.”
The idea of going home holds no appeal, now that I’m here with him. I’d rather figure out how we move forward from this. “I’ll come back to your place.”
The tinted glass divider whirs up, separating us from the eyes and ears of the driver.
Alex takes my face in his hands. “It’s been so shitty without you.”
I put my hands on his chest when he goes in for a kiss. I’m aching for his touch, and my beave definitely wants to hug the monster cock. Unfortunately, if I allow the kissing to continue, I won’t be capable of coherent thought, let alone words. Plus, we’re not actually alone.
“I think we should talk.” I’m all breathy and clinging to his shoulders. It’s hardly convincing.
“You’re right.” His lips are still on mine. “We definitely need to talk.” He softens his kisses as though he’s preparing to stop. I fail to push away. Instead, I suck on his bottom lip, so he maintains a slow mouth fuck. I underestimated how much of an impact he has on me—physically and emotionally. After a couple minutes where I don’t make an effort to pull away, Alex shifts until I’m lying on the back seat.
“Wait!” I cry.
He releases me immediately, and I sit up and move back a few inches so we’re no longer touching anywhere. This helps with the whole perspective and control issue. While the interview explained a lot, it’s not a replacement for a real discussion.
“I can’t do this yet.” I adjust my shirt and try to get my breathing under control.
He runs a rough hand through his hair and scratches his beard. God, it’s sexy. “I know. You’re right. It’s just been so long since I’ve touched you. I’m sorry.”
My stomach drops into my toes. We’re doing this right now. I’ve never done the “we need to talk” without it ending in a breakup.
“What are you sorry for?” Beyond an apology, I want the explanation I never got. Or never let him give me.
“For saying you were just a friend when I should’ve said I’m in love with you. For listening to my stupid-ass agent, who I fired, by the way. For blindsiding you and not telling you how I felt about you sooner.”
It’s a decent list. I want so badly to forgive him and move on, but he ripped my heart out and high-sticked it into the dumpster. “Do you understand how much you hurt me?”
He turns, facing me, and takes my hands. “I know, and I’m sorry. As soon as I said it, I wanted to take it back, but I couldn’t. I didn’t know how to fix it once it was done. You wouldn’t talk to me.”
“Can you blame me?”
“No. What I did was awful.” His knee bounces nervously. “I know an apology is just words if it isn’t followed by action. I just want a chance to show you that I love you. There’s a huge void in my life, and you’re the only person who can fill it.”
“How do I know you mean any of this? How do I know this isn’t part of some publicity stunt to help boost your reputation?” It’s a reasonable, if not slightly neurotic, question.
“Come on, Violet. You know me better than that.”
“Do I? I’m not sure if that’s true. One minute you were asking me to move in with you, and the next you tell the media we’re just friends. How does that even work, Alex?”
There’s no denying how I felt about him before he did what he did, and those feelings are definitely still there. However there are so many sticky webs to weave through, and I don’t want to end up tangled in them.
“I should’ve been upfront with you about Dick and the endorsements. None of it felt right, but I was under so much pressure. It’s a terrible excuse. I know that. I’m not justifying why I said what I said. I’m just trying to explain so you’ll understand and maybe find a way to forgive me.” He sighs. “You’re here right now, so I hope you want to work this out, too. Unless you’re just here for . . .”
“Here for what?”
“This.” He motions below his waist.
It’s the first time I’ve ever seen Alex look truly insecure. As a famous hockey player, women must want to use him for sex all the time. Meaningless sex could make a person feel lonely and resentful after a while.
I give him a small, sad smile, gesturing to the front of his pants. “That may have been how we ended up together in the first place. But it’s not why I came home with you.”
He looks relieved. “Do you think you can forgive me?”
Avoidance was so much easier in some ways. “I think so.”
“Then talk to me, please. Tell me what you need.”
What he did was hurtful, but at the same time, I’ve made this harder on myself by postponing a conversation. Instead of confronting him, I shut him out. If I want to be with Alex, I have to let him in, at least a little.
“There’s a big difference between being evasive with the media and flat out denying anything was going on between us. I need to know you’re never going to do something like this to me again.” I can’t stop the tears from leaking out of the corners of my eyes. Sometimes being an emotional girl sucks.
“I made some bad decisions, Violet. I compromised your integrity with the locker room sex, and I created a lot of issues for my team because I kept my relationship with you from Butterson. I did a piss-poor job of managing the situation.” Alex cups my face in his palms and brushes away my tears. I’m shocked to find his hands are shaking. “I’ll do whatever I have to do to make it up to you. Please don’t cut me out of your life again.”
He’s so earnest in his plea. I have two options here. I can take a leap of faith and put my heart back on the line for this man, or I can walk. As terrifying as it is, I’d rather take a chance on him than wonder if we could’ve made it work if I’d been a little braver.
I take a deep, steadying breath. “Just don’t do something like that ever again and I won’t have to.”
“I won’t. I promise.” The car comes to a stop as he moves to kiss me, and the intercom in the ceiling crackles.
“We’ve arrived, Mr. Waters.”
Alex closes his eyes and exhales on an annoyed sigh. Releasing his hold on me, he reaches over and opens the door and Jeeves offers me his hand. I accept it, feeling a little unsteady after such an intense conversation. Alex thanks him, and guides me up the steps to his house.
Once we’re inside, things become awkward again. He shoves his hands in his pockets and offers me a drink.
“I’m not thirsty right now.”
“Neither am I.”
He scratches his beard. “Do you want to talk some more?”
I shake my head. “I don’t think so.”
“We could play Scrabble.”
Right. Because that’s what I want to do right now.
“Maybe another time.” I step closer, and my chest almost grazes his stomach through the inconvenient layers of his suit. His eyes drop to my cleavage. I wore a V-neck tonight for a reason. “Are you going to kiss me?”
He swallows. “Do you want me to?”
“I think it would be a good idea.”
“Me, too.”
He’s tentative until I press into him, bringing us together. Then he cups the back of my head with his palm and lays one on me. It’s all tongue and teeth and aggression.
We stand in his foyer for a good ten minutes, mouth fucking with abandon. It’s the same, but it’s different. So much has changed between us since the last time we were together.
But he’s still Alex, and I’m still Vio
let. He’s already got his hand inside my shirt. At the same time, he’s trying to shed his suit jacket and carry me to the stairs. In a rare moment of ungracefulness, he trips on the first step and we land in a heap. The intensity of the moment broken, I laugh against his lips.
He pushes up on his arms, his eyes are wild, chest heaving. “Do you want me to stop? Should I stop? Am I moving too fast?”
I shake my head and pull him back down by his tie. “Don’t stop kissing me.”
“Fucking hell, I’ve missed you so much.”
With an arm around my waist, Alex drags me up the stairs while keeping his mouth fused to mine. The coordination to do this is astounding. I keep bumping my elbows on the stairs along the way. The only reason my head is safe is because Alex is cupping the back of it. He pauses at the top of the landing, apparently unable to wait until we’re in the privacy and comfort of his bedroom.
His tie is tossed aside, followed by my shirt. Alex moves on to his shirt, flicking the buttons open. In the meantime, I struggle uselessly with the clasp of my bra, incapable of getting it open despite having done this every damn day for the past ten plus years.
My chest is in Alex’s face, so he slides two fingers into the front of my bra between my boobs. Then he yanks, hard. One strap ricochets off the railing.
“What the hell?” I ask because, well, what the hell? This is a brand new bra.
“I’ll buy you another one. I wanted it off.” His mouth descends over one glass-cuttingly hard nipple, and his palm covers the free one.
He groans, and squeezes, and gropes, and sucks, and groans some more. I throw my head back and bang it on the railing when he uses his teeth.
Alex looks up. “You okay?”
I moan in response.
“God, you’re sexy,” he says around my nipple, hard-pressed to give up making out with it, I suppose.
“You know what’s sexy?” My voice comes out raspy and low. I’m working on sounding sexified, not like I have emphysema.
“Mmm?”
“You, half-naked.”
“You think?” He stands and pulls me up with him.
“You know what’s even sexier?” I ask as he picks me up and carries me down the hall.
“You naked?”
“No. You naked.”
As soon as he sets me down on the bed, I frantically unbuckle his belt and yank his pants off.
The monster cock springs free, nearly taking out my eye. I sigh as I touch the hot skin. “I missed you so much.”
“Are you talking to me or my dick?” He looks mildly offended but mostly entertained.
“Both.” I lift my gaze. “But mostly you above the waist.”
Cocky smile aside, his relief is obvious. He traces the curve of my bottom lip. “I should hope so.”
I slide my hand up his chest, hook my palm around the back of his neck, and crane to reach his lips. “I missed every part of you.”
Alex’s body is suddenly pressed flush against me, his lips on my neck. I turn my head to give him better access and am distracted by one of his jerseys hanging on the footboard. I shouldn’t notice things like this while Alex and I are busy getting our freak on, but it’s red.
“You won the Stanley Cup tonight,” I murmur.
“Mmm, we did,” Alex says. He doesn’t take credit for the win. He’s such a team player.
“You scored the winning goal.” I run my hands over his shoulders and down his back, as I circle my hips. My damn pants need to come off.
“Does that make you hot?” His eyes light up in the most devilish way.
“Everything about you makes me hot. Watching you play makes me so wet I brought extra panties so I could change between innings,” I whisper-lie.
“They’re called periods in hockey. Innings are for baseball.” Alex sits back on his knees and pops the button on my pants.
I know that. I said it to see if he’s paying attention. Alex dips his fingers inside my panties, and I can no longer think straight. This means I start asking dumb questions. “Why do guys use sports metaphors for sex?”
He pauses, likely to see if I’m serious. “Because we can relate to them, I guess.”
Alex drops my pants off the edge of the bed and runs his rough hands up the outside of my thighs. He starts at my knee and kisses a path north. “I’m about to round third base.” He grins, closing in on the land of Beave.
I’m all out of snarky commentary. I grace him with a wanton sound as he dives between my legs.
His tongue glides along my slit. We both moan like crazy. Well, I moan, and Alex makes this tremendously sexy sound halfway between a growl and groan. He mumbles things I can’t understand, but the sensation it creates is unparalleled, so I’m not about to stop him to find out what I’m missing.
He sits back on his knees, lifting my hips so only my shoulders and my head rest on the bed. It gives me an incredible view of what he’s doing to me. He grazes my clit with his teeth at the same time as he rolls my nipples between his fingers.
It’s at this moment I explode into orgasm. My entire body feels like it’s being sucked into a vortex of sensation. I have no idea what sounds I’m making, if any at all, because my whole world seems to have gone black.
Alex sets me gently on the mattress, his head no longer between my thighs. “Did I do good?” He hovers above me, his face an inch from mine, and I can feel the monster cock twitching on my stomach.
“Ahmehgaw.”
“Is that a yes?” He looks awfully pleased. I can’t blame him. If I’d made him momentarily black out, I’d be smirky, too.
I nod in lieu of a verbal response. The monster cock nestles in, getting reacquainted with my special parts. Alex runs the head of his cock back and forth over my clit a couple of times, probably so he can hear my porn-like soundtrack. Then he slides home.
“Holy shit,” Alex groans.
“I know.” I nod into his shoulder and bite down because, hot damn, it’s been a while and nothing has changed about the dimensions of his cock.
He lifts his head as he begins to move. I’m locked in his stare, unable to break it as he shifts his weight so his pelvis grazes my clit with each slow thrust. I thread my hands into his hair and exhale unsteadily. The warmth spreading through my body is reflected in his eyes. His love, his desire, our mutual need envelop me, sensation and emotion merging. When I come, it’s going to be unbelievable.
“Violet.” He slides his hands under my shoulders, holding me tightly.
I moan the words I’ve been too afraid of until this moment. “I love you.”
I hope I’m semi-coherent, or I’ll feel like an idiot if he asks for clarification. My eyes beg to close, but I won’t let them. I stay focused on him as the sweetest smile appears, followed by the unexpected reply.
“Oh fuck. I’m com—”
His lips part and his eyes glaze. He pushes into me, deep and hard, hitting the special place inside that makes me see stars and fireworks and leprechauns. Never mind the leprechauns, they’re creepy.
We must lie there, completely immobile, for five minutes, which feels more like forty-five.
“That was awesome.” I look up at him blearily. I’m orgasm-stupid right now.
“Uh-huh.”
“Violet.”
“Mmm.”
Alex pulls the covers up, cocooning us in warmth and each other. “I love you, too.”
Chapter 27
EVEN AWESOME RELATIONSHIPS TAKE WORK
Violet
Our relationship isn’t magically perfect after Alex apologizes and we exchange I love you’s. We’re figuring things out and having fun while we’re doing it—and each other.
In the off-season, Alex trains almost daily, and much of his free time is taken up by promotional shoots. Apparently stealing one’s own thunder with a public declaration of love has an amazing impact on marketability. Companies are clamoring to use him for various campaigns. My personal favorite is his endorsement for Trojan condoms. Magnum,
of course. I have a seven-foot cardboard cut-out of him in the corner of my bedroom. He wears only boxers. It’s the best jill-off inspiration I have. Alex turns it around to face the wall whenever he sleeps at my apartment.
I haven’t moved in with him yet. It’s only been a couple of months since we got back together, and I’m trying not to rush things. Alex is like a fairy tale prince. Not so much that he comes riding in like a white knight to save me, more like he dives into huge life decisions with absolutely no caution. He asks me to move in with him on a weekly basis. I’ve decided if things are going well by fall, I’ll say yes.
It would be easy to slip into a routine where all I do is go to his house and eat his awesome food and sleep in his huge comfortable bed. I do this no more than twice a week—okay, three times. We balance it out with the occasional sleepover at my apartment. Alex isn’t a fan. It’s not so much the apartment, it’s the lack of luxury. I feel it’s important to know what it’s like not to have millions of dollars and four thousand square feet of living space.
Tonight, Alex is slumming it at my place. We reserve his sleepovers here for Wednesday nights. This is purposeful on my part. Melvin, my smelly, death-metal-loving neighbor, goes out for his role play club every Wednesday. He always leaves dressed as a wizard.
Now it’s not that I’m trying to hide Melvin’s crush on me. Alex knows about it. Although he’s unaware Melvin still stops by on a regular basis to see if I want to play Guitar Hero.
What I am trying to hide is Melvin’s habit of listening to obscenely loud music every night between the hours of seven and eleven. I don’t want to give Alex more ammunition to convince me to move in with him. I’m not ready. I don’t think. Not yet.
Alex is sitting on my couch, nursing a light beer—he can’t drink the regular stuff because of pre-season training. He rarely takes a break from all the healthy eating. We’re watching Netflix since I won’t pay for cable, and I won’t let Alex pay for it either. Melvin should be out tonight with his friends. Instead, he’s serenading us with his music. I can sing along if I want to. Or scream, as the case may be.
“What the hell is wrong with that guy?” He glares at the wall separating us from the barely muffled sound.
