Riggs, obviously tensed and poised for a fight if pushed the wrong way, relaxes a tiny bit. He concedes, “Yeah… sure… maybe.”
“You should bring her to the Halloween family party next week,” I suggest, giving him a push to integrate with our team. “It’s a great event, and Dominik goes all out with games and rides. It’s like a mini carnival just for the Vengeance family.”
Riggs considers, then nods. “I’ll ask Janelle if she’s interested.”
Pretty name—Janelle. I don’t comment on it because no telling how Riggs will react. But I’m going to continue to remind him of the event. Maybe I’ll even put a bug in Dominik’s ear that he should perhaps “encourage” Riggs to come.
Maybe even make it mandatory.
I don’t normally meddle in such things, but I want Riggs to personally integrate on this team. Eventually, he’ll learn we are his family. By extension, we will be Janelle’s family. But I think he’s going to need a whole lot of gentle pushing to get there.
CHAPTER 9
Ella
This is different. For years while following my husband through his professional hockey career, a night out after a big win was usually done with a high-energy celebration. When Jim asked me to come watch him play tonight, there was never any answer but “yes”. I have always been his biggest fan, even when separated. He might not have known it, but I never missed watching him on TV even after we parted ways. Given what that promise ring seems to represent… a new commitment by him to me, I was thrilled he’d invited me to the game. It felt good to be back among the crowd, wearing the number 42 Steele jersey.
When Jim also invited me to go out after the game, I had some reservations. I absolutely wanted to spend time with him, but I was nervous about being back among the team and his friends. It was going to be slightly awkward explaining my appearance by his side again, but then again, Jim may have told his teammates we were trying to reconcile.
My biggest hesitation was that a post-game celebration usually meant little time with my husband. I mean sure… there were moments when he’d be by my side, arm around my waist as we talked to some other players.
And many, many moments he’d be pulled off by his teammates to be drawn into a ribald conversation or pose for pictures with fans. Jim likes the limelight, and I understand it. I love watching him because he positively glows when he’s in his element, and I am happy my husband loves what he does.
But in those many moments when he’s pulled away from me, despite the fact I have plenty of others to talk to, I feel as lonely as if I were abandoned on a deserted island and it was simply for the fact that my husband never seemed to glow when he was by my side.
It really hurt.
I could have easily said no to going out after the game, expecting all the same hurts would be dredged up, but I also made a promise to myself when Jim made his to me as he slipped that ring on my finger. I vowed to give him a fair shot. That meant I had to put myself out there with him in the normal situations we often found ourselves.
You could have knocked me over with a feather when, instead of heading to The Sneaky Saguaro where the Vengeance usually goes for a post-win party, he brought me to a tiny wine bar only a few blocks from the arena. He had changed into street clothes after his shower rather than the suit he was required to wear to the arena and put a hat on his head that he pulled down low so he would hopefully not be recognized.
Jim chose a two-person table in the back corner. Although it isn’t necessarily quiet because the bar has the chatter of a couple of dozen patrons, it’s secluded enough that people aren’t around us.
He pulls my chair out for me, something he has always done. Then, he scoots the other chair around the table a bit, so we are sitting closer to each other rather than across from one another. When he sits, his knee bumps mine, and our forearms touch as we rest them on the table.
It’s a good start to our first date after the moment I call “The Promise” went into effect.
“Want anything to eat?” Jim asks.
I shake my head, knowing he’ll order something. He’s always ravenous after a game.
“Then what will be your poison tonight?” he asks with a grin.
“I think I’m in the mood for a beer,” I reply, propping my chin in my hand while Jim does a quick perusal of the menu. I take just a second to appreciate how hot my husband is and it’s not because he has the face of an angel, the body of a god, or he’s a professional athlete, either. It’s that he brought me to an out-of-the-way quiet corner, disguised so he wouldn’t be recognized, and pulled his chair close to mine so we can talk.
Jim flags a waitress and orders a grilled chicken salad, to which I wrinkle my nose. He’s such a healthy eater, but he also ordered a beer. I didn’t even have to tell him what type I wanted as he knows my favorite.
“You looked great on the ice,” I say after our beers are placed before us and we each take a savoring sip.
“I love this line I’m playing with,” he replies. “We connect well.”
“It shows.” I run a finger down the side of my pint glass, catching the condensation of an icy draft. “You look happy out there.”
“I’m always happy on the ice. It’s all I’ve had to get me through this separation.”
I wince, and he immediately grabs my chin and forces me to hold eye contact. “I’m not saying that to make you feel bad.”
“But you always were happiest when you were on the ice, around your hockey buddies, or doing something to further your career,” I murmur, hating the swell of bitterness in my voice.
“That’s not true, Ella.” He still has my chin in his grip, and he leans in so our faces are close. “But I know that’s how you must have felt. I was just too stupid to see it. I was too deaf to hear it, too. Looking back on things, I know you tried to tell me you were unhappy.”
My heart flutters with the knowledge he’s done some self-appraisal. His promises to change are nothing but promises with no plan of action, but he’s clearly been trying to figure things out.
“I’m not going to let you feel invisible again,” he assures me, then his mouth is on mine. He kisses me softly with a gentle press of lips. Another promise, so to speak, before he pulls away.
“I almost believe you when you say it like that.” A nervous laugh comes out as I realize his words and kiss have made my skin feel flushed.
Jim settles back in his chair, the distance feeling like a void following that intimate moment. “You don’t have to take my word for it. I’ll show you, Ella. I’ll take any chance you’ll give me, which means I’d like to officially put in a request for all available nights I have off from games to spend with you. So, you tell Mr. Ordinary he can’t have those days.”
I smirk down at my beer. Just like Jim to tell me how it’s going to be and damn him all to hell, he knows I like his bossy side.
Lifting my pint, I take a long pull and set it down again before admitting, “I’m not dating David anymore.”
Jim’s eyes flare wide, and a slow smile curls his lips. He stares, then starts doing a little dance in his chair, popping his head from side to side. He puts his fists side out, drawing a big circle in front of his chest. “Oh, yeah. Oh, yeah. I won. Suck it, Mr. Ordinary.”
This peacock routine is just for fun because Jim’s not like that. He’ll quietly gloat to himself that David’s out of the running, but he succeeds in making me laugh.
“Stop it,” I reprimand, batting down his arms. “You’re acting like a fool.”
“Because I got the girl,” he says smugly, nodding.
“You don’t have me yet.” My voice is prim, and I place my clasped hands on the table.
“Point taken,” he says somberly and then puts an arm on the back of my chair, eyes going serious. “So, what happened?”
“I called it off,” I admit to him. “The night you gave me the ring, and well… other things.”
He grins. “It was a good orgasm, right?”
; “You know it was,” I say in exasperation. “But the minute we went back to that level of intimacy, it wasn’t fair to David because I wasn’t going to go there with him. When I let you touch me, I was committing myself to giving you a shot to put our marriage back together again and I’m pulling for you, Jim. I’m pulling for us. David has no place in my life right now when I want my marriage to be saved.”
Jim’s expression softens, his voice respectful. “I’m sorry if he’s hurt by it. But you’ve always had so much integrity, Ella. You did the right thing not only for you, but also for him.”
“Yeah,” I murmur thoughtfully. “I know that. And he appreciated my honesty, wished me all the best. It was about as smooth as a breakup could go.”
Jim leans to the side and pulls his phone out, holding it up for me to see. “I need to make a quick call to the hitman I hired to take David out.”
I tip my head back and laugh. Jim winks, then puts his phone down on the table, and from a glance, I can tell it’s blown up with texts.
“You’re a popular guy,” I say, nodding toward his phone. “And I can bet about half those texts are the guys from the Royals, wanting to hang with you tonight.”
“You would be correct, sweet and intelligent wife. They’ve been hounding me, but I told them that while I loved them and missed them, I had far more important things to do, such as hanging with my beautiful wife.”
“Did you really?” I ask in amazement.
“I really did,” he says, but looks disappointed at my awe. “Ella… I’m going to tell you something that might be hard to understand. While I know you didn’t feel it much of the time, particularly during the last few years of our marriage, you have always been my number-one priority. You’ve always been my greatest love. You’ve been my best friend, the person who makes me smile the most, and the only one I could ever tell all my secrets to. You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen, the best mother to our daughter, and if I had to pick one person to spend my life with on a deserted island, it would be you. So while I may have been off doing things I felt were critical to my career, spending more time away from you, I never did those things because they were preferable to you. They were necessary to my career, but never at the expense of making you feel invisible. The only thing I can tell you is that any time I’m away from you, I’m still thinking about you a million times a day. Maybe if I’d just let you know that, you would have been a little more secure in how I felt about you.”
Slack-jawed, I stare at my husband. Jim has never been a man of many words, preferring action instead. But damn if that didn’t make me fall deeper in love with him. It helps more than he could ever know that maybe I was more cherished than I had thought.
The waitress appears with Jim’s grilled chicken salad and we break apart, having leaned very closely into one another as we were talking.
Even after the salad is deposited and the waitress leaves, I find myself still very moved by his words. I also think about our moment in the gazebo after he gave me my promise ring. Glancing down at it, I remember the way his mouth feels on mine and how he smells and tastes. How his finger felt inside of me and on me, and well… the combined effect of those memories and his efforts so far make me feel all kinds of… yearning.
“After you finish that salad,” I suggest, picking up my beer and preparing to take a sip. “Maybe you and I could go back to the house and fool around.”
Jim had just picked up his fork and knife to cut into the chicken and his eyes snap to me, utensils hovering over his meal. “Are you serious?”
“Why not?” I say with a casual shrug, but we both know there’s nothing casual about my invitation.
“Because I never dared hope you might be willing to take this a bit further right now,” he admits to me. “I’m okay if you want to go slow.”
After considering that, I nod thoughtfully. “I do want to go slow. It took me years to get to the point where I’d felt I’d had enough. It’s not going to be fixed by some earnest sentiment and a roll in the bed.”
Jim stares, waiting to see where I’m going with this.
“But nothing will be hurt by that roll in the bed, right? I mean, it’s where we are the most compatible in my opinion.”
He still studies me, face impassive, and impossible to read. Just when I think he might be more gentlemanly than I give him credit for, he lets the utensils drop where they clatter onto the plate and stands abruptly from the table.
He jerks his wallet out of his jeans, pulls out a hundred-dollar bill, and tosses it on the table. His eyes intent on me, he says, “Let’s go.”
“But your food. Our beers.”
“Fuck the food and beers, Ella,” he growls, reaching to nab my arm and hauling me out of my chair. “You just gave me the green light I never thought I’d get again, and I’m not about to waste another minute.”
He forcefully drags me through the restaurant—not that I’m resisting and in fact, I’m very much enjoying this caveman treatment. We pass our waitress, and Jim tells her, “Emergency. Left you a hundred bucks on the table.”
I barely get a glimpse of the waitress’s eyes going round as saucers, and she hustles to the table before anyone can snatch that money. I laugh as Jim leads me out the door of the bar.
He might be the one showing the urgency to get to the house and get naked, but I’m just as eager. Sex with my husband has always been amazing. Never dull, always fulfilling. More than fulfilling as Jim loves to give me pleasure. My poor vibrator just isn’t a match for my husband’s talents.
Is this a mistake?
I don’t see how it is. We were having sex right up until we separated. We’re giving this a fair shot. Jim’s courting me, and I love him. Sex can’t be anything but right with my husband.
And I feel like we have a lot to make up for.
CHAPTER 10
Steele
Ella and I practically run back to the player parking lot at the arena just a few blocks down. She’d taken an Uber to the game. Lucy had ridden with her friends and their parents since she was going home with them. When I asked Ella out for the evening, I made sure she knew I’d be the one taking her home tonight.
Not that I thought anything sexual would happen. It’s just I wanted to do things right because, in some ways, we’re starting all over again.
The mood in the car is almost silly as I navigate us out of Phoenix and into the burbs. It feels like we’re seventeen all over again, and we hold hands across the console.
It’s when I enter the neighborhood that Ella makes her move.
I can’t speak for other marriages, nor can I speak for committed relationships. But I can say, without a doubt, I won the fucking lottery with Ella when it comes to sexual inhibition.
Meaning… she has none.
She’s always been bold, willing to experiment, and is not afraid to make the first move. Now, that didn’t happen a whole hell of a lot during our marriage, because there’s really not a time I’m looking at my wife that I don’t want to touch her in some way, so I just do. Meaning, I don’t give her much opportunity to be the instigator.
But tonight, I’m getting the siren Ella, who is as eager for us to reconnect in our sexual intimacy as I am.
Releasing her hold on my hand, she leans across the console and lays her palm on my thigh. I can feel the warmth seeping through the woven khaki of my shorts, and she puts her mouth near my ear.
I almost jerk the car off the road when she slides her hand right over my crotch and whispers, “I want you in my mouth now.”
I feel it and she most certainly does, but I immediately start to swell and thicken from the weight of her hand and the wicked promise in her words.
“No argument from me,” I manage to say, my throat hoarse from the desire she just provoked.
I drive carefully, slowing my speed down through the darkened streets, which are illuminated periodically by streetlamps. Ella undoes her seatbelt, then goes to work on my pants. I lift my hips wh
en she tugs and because this isn’t the first time she’s given me a blow job in the car, she deftly has my swollen cock in her hands and then in her mouth.
“Fuck,” I groan as hot wetness envelopes me, pulls me in deeper, and tightens. Ella is a master at sucking my cock, and she knows exactly how to work me. I’m a slave to her mouth, and she knows it.
Just as she is the same to me when my mouth is between her legs. We’re a couple who enjoys oral and indulges in it as frequently as we do actual fucking, and I cannot begin to put into words how much I missed this.
I’m struggling not to let my head fall back and my eyes close in rapture, but I’m not about to wreck the car and injure us. So I force my attention on the road, grateful we’re but a block from the house.
One hand on the wheel, I put my free hand in Ella’s hair, sifting it through the softness while she slowly bobs on my cock. She knows if she puts too much effort into it, I’ll probably run into a mailbox.
“House dead ahead,” I mutter as I put my blinker on and swing into the driveway.
The minute I put the Rover in park and cut the engine, Ella lets loose. I manage to push the button to slide the seat away from the steering wheel and recline the back a bit, but now she’s using hands, lips, tongue, and teeth.
I groan low and deep, both my hands now diving into her hair to help her move up and down. It’s been six long fucking months since Ella has touched me like this, and it has never felt better.
It doesn’t take long. When Ella decides she wants me to come, she knows what to do to get me there. In moments, I am coming hard with a sharp bark of relief as she sucks every bit of me down her throat.
Ella hums with appreciation, cock still in her mouth as she pulls up, then licks around the head. I grab her by the shoulders, haul her half over the console, and kiss the fuck out of her. Deep, wet, and still tasting of my seed.
God, I love this woman.
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