Hooked: A Hockey Romance

by Abby Donne

  After playing a few rounds and drinking a few beers Tyson calmed down enough to realize how douchey he acted towards Layla. All he wanted to do was see her to calm his nerves after fighting with Heath. Plus, he wanted to share his good news. She was the first person he thought of any time he heard a shred of anything from Jordan about the draft or scouts. The look on her face, one of pure pride, always shot a thrill through his stomach. There was no plan laid out for their relationship, and they both knew it, but she was always so happy for him.

  And he acted like a dick because he was annoyed he wasn’t getting enough time with her. Actually, he was acting like a kid that didn’t get his way. Just like she said when she called him out. Tyson took a break to make dinner, bland chicken and veggies to combat the liquid calories he was consuming, and finally mustered up enough energy to check his phone.

  He didn’t know what stung worse, the lack of messages from Layla or the last one she sent before he ambushed her at work.

  Layla: I have to stay over tonight. Someone called off. Want to play hooky tomorrow and stay in bed all day? It’s just a workday in Jackie’s class, anyway. I miss you.

  He started and deleted a half dozen messages back while he cooked. None of them seemed right so he ended up not sending anything at all. He didn’t want to grovel via text, but Tyson had no idea when she’d be off of work. Sometimes staying over meant two hours. Sometimes it meant an entire shift.

  In the end he decided he didn’t want Layla to think he was still acting like a dick so he sent out a quick text.

  Tyson: I’m sorry. Call me when you’re off, please. I miss you, too.

  There. That was good enough, right? He sure as hell felt like his tails was between his legs when he sent it. Yet by eleven she still hadn’t replied. Tyson did everything he could think of to keep busy so he didn’t drive back down to the Grab n’ Go and drag her out of the store. The longer time went on without a message the more pissed he got at her dumbass boss. Shifting his anger was constructive, at least. If he ever met the sleaze he was going to knock some teeth out. If Layla was still working it meant she was on hour nine of what was supposed to be a four hour shift.

  He was finishing an episode of Shameless when he heard the front door open. Assuming it was just Heath coming back from wherever he ran off to when the sun set, Tyson stayed hunkered down in his bed. There was a quick knock at his door, but before he could say anything in response it swung open. It wasn’t Heath; it was Layla. Bathed in the soft light from the hall, she looked like a literal angel.

  He tossed his comforter off and started to stand up. Her hair was damp and she was dressed in a black zip up hoodie and some leggings. The way her arms crossed, the uncertainty in her eyes… it killed him. His heart was in a vice while he crossed the room and wrapped her in a hug.

  “I’m stupid,” He murmured into her hair. He wanted to speak his piece before he lost steam. “I just hate seeing you taken advantage of. They’re so willing to fall back on you that nobody puts in a fucking effort. If it was anywhere else, anywhere that actually utilized you, I wouldn’t care. I want to see you, yeah, but work is work. I get that. You hate it there, though, and you’re getting stomped all over. For what? Some piece on your resume? Twenty cents more than minimum wage? Fuck that. I shouldn’t have taken my anger out on you, but seriously baby, you deserve more than that place.”

  “I know,” She whispered. She rolled her head against his chest so she was looking up at him. He wanted to take away all the uncertainty and sadness that lurked behind her brilliant gold orbs. “I’m going to put my notice in at the end of the pay period. I swear it wasn’t this bad last semester. Even over the summer we were staffed.”

  “So you forgive me for being an ass?”

  Layla unlatched herself from his body and started for his bed, unzipping her hoodie and giving him a view of her naked back. It was hard to think about anything other than the promises her bare skin whispered. There were other ways to apologize, he realized as he tugged off her leggings. No panties.

  Pushing her legs to the side, Tyson knelt on the floor and pressed a butterfly of a kiss to her mount. Her heels pressed into his side as she shivered. After a few more kisses he looked up at her, surprised to see her raised on her elbows staring down at him with complete and utter adoration. Funny, he bet he wore the same look when she was on her knees in front of him.

  “Hey.”

  She opened an eye lazily and hummed, “Hmm?”

  “About playing hooky tomorrow…”

  chapter sixteen

  Layla woke up to the smell of freshly showered man and coffee. Of course it was hard to think about the coffee thing when Tyson was kissing her neck and rubbing his erection against her ass. Arching into him she groaned and tried to turn but he kept her rooted in place. Her borrowed sleep shirt was already pushed up, and his fingers were inching down to her crossed legs.

  “Tyson,” She pleaded, wiggling. The wiggling usually got his attention. Her voice hoarse from sleep. “Let me touch you.”

  “Nope. This is my good morning to you.”

  Her sex was still sore in the best way possible from Tyson’s apology the night before. Honestly she forgave him the moment he hugged her and opened his mouth. She wasn’t going to turn down oral or the tender lovemaking that followed, and she sure as hell wasn’t going to turn down his special way of saying good morning. It occurred to her somewhere between his fingers rubbing her over stimulated clit and feeling his unsheathed cock rub against her cheeks, nudging them apart, that she should tell him there wasn’t a need to grovel and accept his apology. Tyson’s low groans scrambled her brains, though, and she couldn’t think of anything other than his body moving behind her.

  She pushed back and the head of his cock tapped against the only virginal spot on her body. Even though it was dry and the positioning was wrong there was something so incredibly sexy about feeling him there. She pushed harder, pulling another noise from Tyson.

  “Don’t tease me like that.”

  Layla scooted higher in the bed and curved her body so he lined up with a hole she felt a lot more comfortable with. Still feeling sleepy and warm and loved she pressed back. There was just enough pressure for the tip of his cock to slip in. A flood of heat rushed to her lower belly.

  “Let me get a condom,” He muttered, though he made no effort to move. Shallow thrusts, each more tempting and delicious than the last, kept him right where he was behind her.

  All the nerves in her body were chanting yes, yes, yes. It felt so good, so damn good, and she forgot all the reasons why getting a condom was a good idea.

  “I have an IUD, and I’m clean. If you’re clean we don’t need one.”

  She didn’t doubt that he was, but she had to cover all the bases.

  A faint, “Oh fuck” was muffled by the sound of her moan as he flexed his hips and slid all the way inside her. He was in her bare and she was loving every second if it. With one arm above her gripping the pillow and the other on her thigh keeping her leg in place Tyson moved slowly, each deliberate thrust creating a swirling need inside he that felt suffocating. Any time she tried to pick up the pace it seemed to spur him on to go slower.

  His lips ghosted her shoulder. It felt like he was melting into her, or was that wishful thinking?

  As good as he felt inside her, as deep as he was, Layla still needed more. She shifted just enough to get a hand between her legs. Half expecting Tyson to stop her, she started slowly. Even little strokes created big waves, and God was she feeling the waves. The tightness of her legs being clamped together and her fingers was intoxicating. He kissed shoulder again, teeth grazing when he broke and gave a wild thrust. It felt so good she reached back to encourage another one but he found his resolve somewhere between whispering her name and slapping against her ass.

  It didn’t take long for the storm inside her to swell to breaking point. She craned her head for a kiss, one he was more than willing to supply. And when their lips separated
she whispered, “I’m coming.”

  His response was a grunt and one more crazy thrust. In the middle of her orgasm she felt the almost overwhelming evidence of his own release, warmth filling her while she shuttered.

  It was the laziest morning sex, but she’d never felt more loved. They laid there for seconds or for minutes. He held her pressing tender kisses to her shoulders, writing either a love letter or an apology. She accepted both with open arms.

  Like it tended to do, the real world came crashing around them. A heavy pounding on the door followed by a rattling of the nob interrupted their cuddling session.

  “What the fuck, man? We’re going to be late for class!”

  Groaning for an entirely different reason, Tyson rolled off his bed. “I’m not going today. Don’t feel good.”

  A pause and then, “So that’s not Layla’s car I saw outside then?”

  “Fuck off!”

  There was one last obnoxious thwack on the door before Heath’s angry stomps echoed down the hall. Layla stood, keeping her legs clenched, and searched a discarded shirt to clean herself. Tyson cringed when he passed her one fresh from his dirty laundry.

  “I’ll go see if the bathroom is clear.”

  She nodded and then on a whim asked, “Is Heath like, okay?”

  Tyson snorted as he stepped into his old gym shorts. “Hell if I know. I tried talking to him yesterday and he jumped down my throat.” He pecked her lips and said, “Two shakes. I’ll be right back.”

  Standing in the middle of his room, awkwardly trying to keep from making a mess down her leg, she noticed the large cup from The Buzz on the edge of his desk. Waddling over she smiled at the label. Pumpkin spice. The moment she started ordering pumpkin spice anything when they were out she half expected Tyson to comment on how ‘basic’ it was that she loved the flavor. He turned out to be a total pumpkin spice enabler. There were no smirks or jabs at her obsession.

  After a testing sip she determined the temperature was tepid, but pumpkin spice was pumpkin spice so she took a big gulp. Three gentle taps, a far cry from the heavy knocks that came a few minutes prior, whispered a greeting throughout the room and then Tyson was walking back in with a towel in his hands.

  “Sorry if that’s cold. We can get another before our date.”

  “We’re going on a date?” She asked, eyebrow raised.

  He wrapped the towel around her and ushered her into the hall and to the bathroom. She watched his expression shift in the mirror. “Yeah. I don’t know what kind of hooky you played in school, but I’m not about to sit around in my pajamas watching TV and eating Poptarts.”

  “Why not?” She pouted, stepping into the warm spray. The tension she didn’t even know she had melted away with a masked moan.

  He tugged the shower curtain back and smacked her ass. “Because we have plans.”

  It was Layla’s first full day off in over a week, since the Sunday lunch with Tyson’s family. Exhaustion was second nature at this point. Spending a lazy day inside eating sugary processed treats sounded like a perfect day. She didn’t want to be a party pooper, and Tyson seemed eager for whatever he had planned. Layla showered quickly, hyping herself up. She had her favorite caffeinated beverage. So what if it was a little cold? Plus she got to spend the whole day with Tyson. He had to go to practice that morning, but she stayed cozy in his bed until his special kind of wakeup. They both already sent out emails to their professors letting them know they would be absent from class. Now they were in the home stretch.

  Most of the time Layla and Tyson spent together they were holed up in her apartment or his bedroom. It would be nice to go on an actual date. She liked to think she wasn’t the type of girl that needed the validation of constantly being shown off. Constantly wasn’t necessary, but once in a while would be nice.

  She rushed to finish her shower and jumped into the borrowed clothes she was offered. She swam in Tyson’s clothes but it was only a temporary fix until she got back to her apartment. Tyson was dressed in chinos and a preppy button down, a snapback resting backwards on his head. Other than the Sunday with his parents, this was the most she’d ever seen him dress up.

  Even though she asked a thousand questions on the quick drive back to her place he kept tight lipped about their plans for the day. It was eight in the morning – too early to do anything, really – but he insisted she get ready right away so they could get on the road. He was determined to stay on schedule, apparently, since he shut down a blow job. If the look on his face when he saw her dressed in a thin burgundy ribbed sweater, skinny jeans, and combat boots was any marker he was showing some serious restraint.

  “You’re pulling out all the stops,” She grinned when he insisted they listen to her music on the drive.

  Rolling his eyes, he said, “You act like you don’t always control Spotify when we’re together.”

  “My phone isn’t even synched to your car. Proof that I, in fact, do not control the music,” She said smugly while she struggled to hook up her Bluetooth.

  Tyson didn’t say anything, but she didn’t think much of it. Plus, she was too busy trying to figure out his space ship of a vehicle. It wasn’t until he cleared his throat and muttered, voice a bit hesitant, “I know we don’t do a lot, but I promise I’ll make it up to you.”

  She was surprised to see the wrinkles marring his face when she looked over. They didn’t belong. Tyson laughing, smiling, existing – that was her favorite version of him. Not the one riddled with worry.

  “There’s nothing to make up. I wasn’t lying when I said I’d take what I can with you, Tyson. You’re busy. I get it. Of course I’d like to spend more time together, but I’m busy too. I don’t ever expect anything with you.”

  “You should. You’re my girlfriend.”

  It was dumb, the thrill she got when he said girlfriend.

  “Are you okay?” She frowned, dropping her phone. She reached over and rubbed his arm. “I swear to you, Tyson, I am the happiest I’ve been in a long time.”

  His head bobbed, eyes never leaving the road. Some of the tension bled from his face, and she leaned back in her seat.

  “I’m good. Just kind of stressed, I guess. Practice fucking sucked this morning. We were out of sync, and I need to make sure Saturday is a good game.”

  Another scout was going to be at the game. Actually, Tyson was being wined and dined by a big suit. After they calmed down from their fight he filled her in on his most recent phone call with his agent. Even in the darkness of his bedroom she could see the light in his eyes when spoke. It wasn’t a team in his top five – his top ten, even – picks but it was a team in the NHL. It was like déjà vu, getting to see Tyson start to live out his dream, but Layla felt nothing but pride when she thought of him achieving great things. Whether or not they were together or she was escaping to the other side of the country to get over the inevitable heartbreak that came with their falling out, she’d be proud of him.

  “You haven’t lost a single game yet – ”

  “Don’t jinx it!” He rushed, gifting her with a smile.

  “I’d have to walk sixty miles into a dark forest to find an ancient witch for even the possibility to jinx you. You totally don’t need this ego boost, but have you watched yourself play? All I know is you look hot out there, but according to Herb and Ernie you’re the bees knees.”

  He laughed, “Those guys are Stanberry legends. I can’t believe you wound up sitting next to them.”

  “Believe it, babe. They were total gentlemen.”

  “Now I’m starting to get jealous.”

  “Like anyone can compete with you,” She snorted. Maybe her obnoxious mouth noises would keep him from seeing how serious she was. Maybe it would help her from leaning over and grabbing his face so she could whisper I love you and only you until her heart felt steady again. Maybe.

  Tyson gave her a gentle leg squeeze in return, like he understood just where she was coming from. She wasn’t going to entertain the idea that h
e was as serious about her as she was him. Not until the season was over. If they even made it that far. Everything with Tyson was so peachy she had serious worries she was looking at their entire relationship through rose colored glasses, but it didn’t stop her from lying in bed at night wondering what if.

  Today wasn’t about those what if’s. So she scrolled through her playlist, the one she tossed together full of songs that reminded her of Tyson, and leaned back in her seat.

  Thirty minutes of driving back roads later and Layla still had no idea where they were going. She still wasn’t entirely convinced they hadn’t been going in circles around Stanberry the entire time. Interesting way to spend a day off, but she wasn’t going to lie and say driving around aimlessly wasn’t a blast. She probably wouldn’t have spent an extra ten minutes perfecting her hair and makeup, and maybe she would’ve gone for some clothes that were a tad more practical. Her sweater really made her boobs look great, but it kept riding up and the sleeves were a little itchy.

  Another song went by and Layla thought about asking if they were ever going to get where they were going when a town popped up in front of them like a mirage. Crestfield, according to the little green sign they passed. It looked like any other small farming town in Ohio; this was exceptionally obvious when they turned on the tiniest Main Street strip she’d ever seen in her life. Tiny but busy, since they struggled to find parking on the road. She pressed her nose to the window and took stock of the stores. They all seemed locally owned and thriving, despite being located in Small Town, America. Eventually they snagged a spot between Dave’s Hardware and the library. An independent freaking hardware store. Despite her hatred for everything that screamed Ohio Layla loved quirky, and quirky this town was.