As my mind wanders, small memories of my past emerge. I think of Parker Lewis, my best friend from back home. He wasn’t just my best friend . . . We fell in love. We were supposed to be together forever. Only Parker made sure that wouldn’t happen. Thinking of Parker only depresses me and reminds me of all the reasons why I’ve chosen not to go home for the past decade.
I take the wax out of the microwave and head for my bathroom. Standing in front of the mirror, I decide to go Brazilian. If there’s even a small chance Oli and I can be together, I need to be ready. It’s a delusional fantasy. My mother seems to think I want him because he’s unattainable in my eyes. Mom has a point. There’s a reason I’m hanging on to my virginity. It’s hard for me to move on. Wanting the unattainable is safe.
My mind is all over the map as I smooth wax over my skin, place the white cloth on the area, and pull back. “Motherfucker,” I scream.
I decide on a bath instead of a shower, to soothe my irritated skin. By the time I’m done, it’s after one in the morning. I saunter back to my room and get into bed. Thinking of Oli gets me hot and bothered, and I stir a little. I won’t get to sleep if I don’t have a vibie session. Problem is, it’s Oli who’s my go-to fantasy for getting off. How will I look him in the eyes tomorrow and not flush?
Two
Oli
I don’t know how my sister talked me into coming home with her, but she did. Probably because I don’t know how to say no to Flynn. We aren’t just siblings, we’re twins, connected at the hip figuratively until we were about fourteen years old. Still, I never saw myself returning back home, even though every single one of my childhood memories was good. The death of my parents blankets those memories in darkness. Going home is only going to dredge up the pain.
I’ve moved on; my life is good. Chicago has been a good distraction.
“Chance, stay down, buddy.” I pat the golden Labrador on the head, trying to get him to settle in the passenger seat. Problem is, he’s an over exuberant puppy who isn’t well-trained, so it’s hard to get him to calm down. It helps his cause that he’s completely adorable and makes my sister happy. She said Chance completed her family, and it’s kind of hard not to look into his chocolate-brown eyes and fall in love with him.
I pull up in front of Sloane’s building and text her to come down. I still have her number saved in my phone from a while back when I needed her help while my sister went through a rough time. I’ve known the girl for like a decade, but I tend to keep my distance because, even though she has a smartass mouth and killer looks, I get the vibe she’s a good girl . . . meaning she wants a relationship, not a one-night stand. No-strings sex is all I have to offer. Not only because my job as a hockey player involves lots of traveling, but because life is short. You never know what tomorrow will bring, and I’m happy with a good time and a vast selection of pussy.
I watch as Sloane exits her building, rolling a suitcase in front of her and carrying a large bag on her shoulder. Her tiny frame sways against the rough Chicago winds. Wearing a grey wool hat with a blue pom-pom on her head, and a short coat, she looks adorable. I want to step out of the car and be a gentleman and help her, because even though I get around, my mama still taught me manners but I’m scared Chance will take off the second I open the damn door. Instead, I pop the trunk and hold the dog by his collar as he tries to make a dash toward the fresh air wafting in the SUV. I knew he’d try to take off. At seven months’ old, he’s a fully-grown baby Labrador weighing eighty pounds. He’s a big guy.
As Sloane throws her suitcase in the trunk, Chance begins to bark at her.
“Nice to see you too, Chance,” she mutters sounding sleepy.
I chuckle. “Sorry. I’d come out to help, but I don’t need this guy running out on the street. He’s a suburban dog; he’d get killed fast in the city madness.”
She shrugs, a lazy smile on her plump lips. “No worries.” She pulls her attention from me and looks to the dog. “I thought you’d be happy to see me,” she says to him. The dog continues to bark. I’m thinking it’s his version of happy. She walks around the car, and I press the button to close the trunk. When she’s seated in the front seat I let go of the dog, and he lunges toward her and starts licking up her face. Lucky bastard.
“Hey, Shorty.” I smile as I call her by the name I bestowed on her the first night we met. In my defense, she is really petite. Well, except for that fine ass of hers, which I’d like to give a good squeeze and a . . . I shake those thoughts and clear my throat. “Ready for our road trip?”
She lifts up on her knees and tries to guide the dog to the back seat.
“I tried getting him to stay back there. He won’t settle,” I explain as I pull into traffic. We have a long drive ahead of us, so I want to hit the road.
“I can’t spend the next nine hours with a dog who probably weighs more than me sitting on my lap,” she huffs, trying to guide Chance to the back seat. “Come on, buddy, please . . .” she begs. After some jumping from the front to the back seat, Chance settles down. “Flynn said I should give him a little Gravol to sedate him. I think I’ll give it to him now,” she says, searching through her purse. She pulls out a pack of Gravol and a piece of cheese.
I laugh. “What else you got in there?” I peek inside. Just as I ask the question, Chance jumps back on top of her. She lets out a humph, as if he’s crushing her. She can’t weigh more than a hundred pounds, so he probably is. “He saw the cheese,” I snicker defending the furry animal.
“Yeah,” she replies, sounding unimpressed. She takes the pill and rolls it in the cheese. Chance swallows it down like a pro. “Good. Hopefully he’ll be out soon. I need sleep. Had a late taping last night, then had to pack. If I don’t get at least seven hours of sleep, I get a little cranky.” She yawns, and her mouth opens wide. Again, my thoughts go to places they shouldn’t. Thing is, this girl is real, unlike all the other puck bunnies I deal with.
I remind myself that she’s a little cranky this morning, which means a sexual comment won’t be taken well right now. I’m stuck in a car with a puppy who acts like he’s swallowed speed and a girl who’s hot as fuck, but cranky. Maybe if she had gotten laid last night she would be more cheerful.
Fuck my brain. I cannot be thinking this way about my sister’s best friend. She is off-limits.
She tries to move Chance to the back seat. He’s giving her a hard time, and tries to lick her face instead.
“He’s adorable,” I explain, trying to defend him while making some conversation because she seems a little withdrawn and quiet.
Sloane nods. “He’s very cute, but the giant dog is crushing my insides. I kind of need him in the back seat.”
I give her a side glance to see her squirming under him. I want to help her get Chance in the back seat, but with my eyes trained on the road, it isn’t possible right now.
Something about her words ‘crushing my insides’ jogs my memory and reminds me of the night I met Sloane Carmichael. I’d spent the night drinking with my team back in New York, and I didn’t know she was staying over at mine and Flynn’s apartment. I acted like a royal prick. She was completely put off, which turned me on more. The next morning, I woke up and acted like I’d never seen her before, probably because she was different from the other hook-ups in my life, and something about her made me feel nervous, because I wanted to know what made her tick. I knew right then that I had to shut those feelings down.
Over the years, she and Flynn became closer, which meant I saw her more often. We ended up in an accidental lip-lock the night I took her to a Mothers Against Drunk Driving gala I sponsor every year. The kiss grew impassioned and we broke apart just in time for Myles and Flynn not to see the hot interlude as they exited the party venue.
We’ve never spoken about the kiss. Not at my sister’s wedding, which we both attended without dates, me as the best man and she as the maid of honor, and not when the twins were born, and we were both named their godparents. As much as I’d like to say
that it’s like it never happened, I can’t, because it was the most passionate kiss of my life. I’m not sure Sloane felt that way though, because when it ended, she looked mortified. I figure it was a colossal mistake on my part.
“Looks like your fur buddy is getting a little drowsy.” I tilt my chin toward Chance, who is sitting on the floor in the front seat with his chin on her legs.
“Yeah, I think you’re right,” she answers. She unbuckles her seat belt to try and help Chance into the back seat. She gets up on her knees and faces the back. From a side glance, I see her ass right there, so close. If I turned my head, I would get the finest view of her ass in those tight leggings she’s wearing. In my mind, I give her round ass a playful smack. The thought causes my dick to swell. This drive is going to be painful. I better get a grip. My jeans don’t exactly have enough room for growth, and I have a good eight and a half hours left on this road trip.
She finally gets the dog settled and turns back in her seat, letting out a breath of air.
“Let’s hope that Gravol lasts the whole drive.” She giggles, and it lights up her green eyes.
“I doubt it. We’ll need to make some stops. He’ll need to take care of business. I don’t need any accidents on my leather,” I remind her as I pull onto the I-290 W.
“Yeah, that would suck,” she agrees.
“So, what’s new in your life, Shorty?” I ask.
“Besides work, not much. Anything new with you?” she asks.
“I guess not much either. My contract with the Blackhawks is up this year. I was offered a nice contract with the Columbus Blue Jackets. I’m hoping the Blackhawks come back with a better option though.”
Her green eyes turn round. “Would you really consider leaving Chicago? I mean, Flynn and the twins are here . . .” she trails off. It isn’t anything I haven’t thought about myself.
“Yeah, but I’m a hockey player. We move around and try to get the best contracts. Flynn knows that it works the same with Myles. This set-up is sweet, having everyone in the same town, but we all know it isn’t a permanent fix,” I explain, wondering why Shorty looks like she’s taking the news so badly.
“I guess.” She sighs, sinking down into her seat. “I kinda took it for granted. I mean, having Flynn in the same city for this long—it’s been nice.” She pauses, and I give her a sidelong glance, trying to get inside that head of hers. I’ve clearly made this conversation dreary for her. “Flynn’s hoping to make partner though. I wonder how that would work. She was on the up and up before the twins were born. I can’t imagine her wanting to give that away.”
I nod. “Myles is the top paid player in the NHL. Blackhawks have it in their interest to keep him. I wouldn’t worry about it,” I explain as I turn onto the SR-394 South. Now, we got a long stretch of road ahead of us.
“I hope you’re right,” she says, staring out the window with a blank look. I know she’s close to my sister, but I think I just made the poor girl sad. Nice going, me!
“You good with going back home?” she asks, looking to me thoughtfully. If it were anyone else asking that question, I would shut them down, but I know she’s stuck by my sister’s side through shitty times. She also basically knows everything about me through Flynn, so I don’t feel the need to hide or pretend.
“I fucking hate having to go back,” I admit, swiping a hand over the stubble on my chin. “I never planned on making it back there,” I say as a harsh stab of pain cuts through my heart. I try to keep my emotions at bay, even though I know I should talk about it. It’s just become a thing with me to lock the pain down. Old habits die hard.
“I know,” she replies thoughtfully. I take a quick side glance to really look at her for a brief moment. “It won’t be easy going back home for you, but it’s pretty awesome that you’re going to support Flynn and Myles.”
I shrug. “That’s what we do,” I reply.
“It’s beautiful,” she says with a small smile. She removes her shoes and pulls her knees up to her chest, looking a little more comfortable and relaxed.
I wish I wasn’t driving right now so I could look into her eyes and try gauge what was going on in her head. I don’t know much about her. “A penny for your thoughts?”
“Nah, you got enough on your mind,” she brushes me off, but for some reason, I want to know what’s making her down.
“Come on, Shorty. Don’t leave me hanging.” I reach over and take her hand in mine. Her eyes turn wide as saucers as she gazes down at our entwined hands. I don’t let go of her, despite the shocked look on her face. For some reason, I find her intriguing.
It doesn’t take long for her eyes to go back down to size, even though she still watches me with an assessing look.
“I don’t know much about you. I should know more, considering we’re practically family,” I argue, and I think I’m pretty convincing.
She tilts her head to the side and laughs, her shoulders rising and falling. Her green eyes sparkle, and her dark mood has clearly lifted.
“What’s so funny?” I ask, a little perplexed even though I’m happy I made her smile. “We are like family. You’re Flynn’s best friend, and my niece and nephew’s godparent. Under the Russell code of family, you qualify.”
Her features soften, her laugh turning to a warm smile. “You’re quite the charmer, Oliver. I appreciate you thinking of me that way.” She grins widely.
I huff. “Come on, give me more than that. Tell me about yourself. Where did you grow up? Are you an only child?”
She pulls her gaze to me. “Kansas City,” she replies with a pause before continuing. I’m guessing she’s thinking what information I should get. “I’m an only child.” She nods. “My dad is a pastor.”
“No shit!” I accidentally blurt out, surprised by that revelation.
“I kid you not,” she answers, but she’s smiling. She seems used to that kind of response. I pick up the coffee sitting in the center console, and take a sip. When I pull my hand from hers, it almost seems like she’s disappointed. Maybe I’m reading her wrong.
As I sip my coffee, I think of questions I really want to ask her, like what her deepest, darkest fantasy is, because, hell, having her sit beside me with her thin legs crossed on the seat has all kinds of fantasies running through my mind.
“My mom is a sex guru,” she continues, and I spurt some of my coffee out of my mouth, not expecting that one. Lucky, I have a few tissues to wipe my mouth off.
“You’re shitting me now. A pastor and a sex guru? How the hell does that work?” I ask in astonishment, my entire face scrunching up at the thought.
“It doesn’t,” she replies curtly, a harsh undertone to her words. “My mom left Kansas City my senior year of high school. Said she needed to find herself and moved to India for a year. I got phone calls where she explained her new calling and what it involved. My father received divorce papers the following year. She came to New York a few times to visit, and she’s been to Chicago too.”
“Shit, I’m sorry. I had no clue. I wouldn’t have asked if I did.” I avoid questions about my past like the plague. I should’ve known better than to go there with her. I just wanted to know more about her.
“Nah.” She waves me off. “It’s old news. It’s fine. I’m good with it now. I’ve got my own life,” she explains.
“I hear you,” I answer solemnly, because yeah, I got my own life too. I’ve got hockey, and my sister and Myles, who are now busy all the time with the twins. I’m an uncle to the cutest babies on earth. I just don’t know what I have for me. The bunnies are fun, but somewhere along the way, late at night after my bed is cleared, things get dark, lonely. It makes me think of my childhood and what I lost.
“What exactly is a sex guru?” I ask, because that piqued my curiosity, and I need a distraction right now. I’m heading straight for my past, clocking eighty miles an hour. I notice I haven’t received an answer, so I give her a quick expectant look when I realize she’s blushing big time. “What’s goi
ng on in that pretty head of yours, Shorty?” I ask, realizing I just called her pretty. Well, I can’t take it back now. I’m not sure I want to.
“I can’t talk about this stuff with you, Oliver. It’s awkward.” She cringes, scrunching up her nose.
I find her adorable. “First off, stop calling me Oliver. My friends call me Oli. Second, you do realize we’re both adults? I’m pretty sure my un-virgin ears can hear about whatever it is she does,” I say. Her cheeks have gone from a healthy pinkish tinge to crimson. What the hell? Was it something I said? “Shorty?” I ask, needing to confirm she is in fact still breathing. She has practically cocooned herself into a ball on my passenger seat.
“You know the name Shorty isn’t flattering at all. I think I should call you Giant, not Oli,” she retorts, straightening herself up on the seat. She squares her shoulders and gazes at me, her cheeks faded back down from crimson to a pale creamy color.
“When I call you Shorty, I mean it in a good way. You gotta know you’re hot as hell,” I say, keeping my eyes glued to the road. I can’t keep glancing at her; it’s too distracting. As it is, I’ve had a perma semi-hard-on since she put her sweet ass in my face. I like every part of a woman’s body—breasts, legs, a pretty face . . . but there’s something about Sloane Carmichael’s ass that makes me want to claim all of her.
A healthy pink flush to return to her cheeks. She looks a little speechless for a moment before she shrugs. “You aren’t too bad yourself, Giant.” She laughs.
“Okay, back to your mom . . . what exactly does a sex guru do?” I ask nonchalantly.
She looks out the window as we pass a lot of green fields. It takes her a while, but she finally turns to look at me. “Basically, she travels around the world holding seminars, which apparently are quite popular, especially in the UK, where she helps people come to orgasm without penetration,” she explains.
Butt Ending: A Big Stick Novel 2 (Standalone) Page 3
