by Rose, Callie
Okay. That may be the sexiest damn thing I’ve ever seen.
I honestly could’ve watched him do that all day with no complaints, but Sawyer had other ideas. Biting his bottom lip and keeping his gaze fixed on my face, he tugged his shirt over his head, revealing the perfectly sculpted muscles of his shoulders, chest, and abs. He tugged a condom out of his wallet before shucking his pants, and I felt a little drool pooling in the corner of my mouth as I took in the breathtaking image of Sawyer Dawson completely naked.
He really shouldn’t be allowed to wear clothes. Ever.
The fleeting thought was driven from my mind when Sawyer stepped back in between my legs again, palming the back of my head and kissing me so deeply the world spun. My hands came to rest on his chest, and I felt his heart slamming unevenly against my palms, the rhythm as fast and desperate as mine.
I liked that.
I liked that as crazy and out of control as he made me feel, I made him feel the same way. Neither of us was immune to the other, and that seemed like exactly how it should be.
“You’re… gonna be… late,” I muttered into his mouth, half-heartedly trying to do the right thing and make sure he didn’t get in trouble with his coach.
“Nah.” His fingertips massaged my scalp as he dipped his tongue into my mouth, stroking it against mine hungrily. “I was gonna be early. Now I’ll just be on time.” He drew back a little, his cheeks slightly flushed and a sexy smile curving his lips. “And if I am late, I don’t give a fuck.”
When he kissed me again, I could tell he meant it. Time, work, food, sleep—everything about the outside world seemed to fade into unimportance when we got wrapped up in each other like this.
I lost myself in the feel of his mouth on mine, and I was vaguely aware of the crinkling sound as he unwrapped the condom and rolled it on. Then I felt the broad head of his cock at my entrance, and my perception narrowed to only the connection between us.
He slid inside me in one long, smooth stroke, and when our hips met, we both groaned. I could still feel everything we’d done last night in my body, and the delicious soreness in my muscles only made the feel of having him inside me again even better.
I felt alive in a way I hadn’t for months. Maybe years.
“Sawyer,” I murmured, raking my nails down his back as my heels came to rest on the firm, round muscles of his ass. “You’re so… fuck, it’s so…”
I couldn’t come up with the words. I was too high on the connection between us, too overwhelmed by pleasure to put it into words. But luckily, I didn’t have to.
“I know, Addison. For me too.”
His words were a breath at my ear, and then his arms wrapped around me, holding me tightly as he pulled out and thrust back in. I clung to him, riding out the waves of sensation as he fucked me slow, then fast, then slow again, teasing us both, drawing out the pleasure.
When I couldn’t hold myself back any longer, I buried my face in his neck and cried out against his warm skin, his masculine scent infusing my nostrils.
“Fuck. Oh, Fuck,” Sawyer grunted.
The feel of me coming apart around him pushed him over the edge too, and he followed after me, driving into me one last time and swirling his hips against mine as he came hard.
We kept holding on to each other as our bodies slowly relaxed, as if we both needed something steady to cling to so we wouldn’t just melt into a puddle on the floor. I ghosted my fingers up and down his spine, running them through the short hair at the nape of his neck, and I felt him shiver at my touch.
Finally, he pulled back, pressing a kiss to my lips and then one to the tip of my nose in an affectionate gesture that made my heart squeeze. He pulled out and got rid of the condom, then helped me dress before tugging on his own clothes. My legs were still a little wobbly when he lifted me off the counter and deposited me back on the floor, and he chuckled as he held my waist to steady me.
“You all right there?”
“Yeah.” I grinned up at him, tugging my bottom lip between my teeth. “I think I’ll make it.”
As if he couldn’t help himself, he leaned down to kiss me again, and when our lips parted, I could practically feel the reluctance in him. He lifted his gaze to the clock on the wall and grimaced.
“Damn it.” He shifted his gaze back to me, heat still burning in his eyes. “Sorry, darlin’. Time for work.”
“Go. Don’t be late. I’ll be here when you come back,” I said with a happy sigh.
He winked at me and brushed my cheek with his fingers before throwing his bag over his shoulder and heading out.
After he left, the big house seemed to grow impossibly large around me. I dawdled over coffee and breakfast, then headed upstairs to shower and dress in real clothes. I was intimidated by the sheer size of the project in front of me, and I hoped that dressing the part of a professional reporter would help me tackle it. Now that I had crossed the line with Sawyer—and loved every second of it—I was more determined than ever to write an objective, factual piece.
“Basement to rafters,” I said with a sigh. “Here we go.”
Armed with my phone, voice recorder, a notepad and a pen, I searched for the stairs to the basement. They were tucked away under the main stairs, hidden by a modest, unassuming door. It was surprisingly well lit for a basement, but after a moment, I saw why. Most of it had been set up as an indoor ice rink. It was currently out of commission, and I suspected that it got most of its use during the off-season.
“Does he ever stop training?” I wondered out loud.
I scribbled a note about the rink in my notebook then took a brief look around the rest of the space. There was nothing of interest, just the expected utilities. The first floor was more interesting, but no more informative. I had the same impression of it that I’d had every other time I’d walked those rooms; a swap meet exploded. But what about the rooms themselves? I was seeing too much, and not enough. Tucking my notepad in my pocket and pulling out my voice recorder, I used a trick on myself that my first mentor taught me. When you can’t see the problem, try explaining it out loud.
“Here we have a modern-day mansion, made to order by the famous hockey player Sawyer Dawson. The large double doors open into a foyer fit for a reception hall. Beyond that, a broad hallway runs the length of the house, opening on either side to more nameless rooms, all filled with… no, that isn’t the point. Look at the bones of the house, Addison. Focus.” I could feel that there was something here, I just couldn’t quite put my finger on it.
Chewing on my lip, I headed back upstairs. I had been through his room twice and found it interesting, but only on a personal level. The room beside it was still a mystery to me. I had never seen him go into it, and until now, I’d assumed it was just another bedroom. When I went inside, though, what I found surprised me. It looked much more lived in than the guest room he’d given me, which had been so immaculate it’d felt almost sterile. This looked more like the room of someone who actually lived here—or a frequent visitor, at any rate.
On the wall was a big, framed picture of the same three kids who had been in the photograph in the book. This time, they were standing under a tree, grinning from ear to ear with their arms around each other’s shoulders. More pictures were scattered over the walls, most of them featuring the youngest girl; the one whose smile was just like Sawyers.
“Kindergarten graduation, first grade achievement award… who is this girl?” She was beautiful, bright-eyed and rosy cheeked throughout her elementary school pictures. She looked a little thinner in her middle school photos, a little paler. Something was wrong with her smile that I couldn’t quite put my finger on.
A scrapbook sat on a little white desk. Heart pounding, I opened it. Inside, between the pictures, were copies of prescriptions and doctor’s notes. Catalog clippings of wheelchairs sized for children. Tears welled up in my eyes when I found the one they had circled in red; a pink chair with ‘Princess’ printed on the back in gold letters. A receipt sat
on the page beside it. I flipped through the book, wiping tears away as they came, following this girl’s decline.
The last page held a funeral announcement and obituary. She had died at the age of seventeen, two years before Sawyer had started college. The obituary was beautiful, but between the lines I could almost feel the rage, confusion, and hopelessness of the person who wrote it. The part which stood out to me the most was the line at the bottom.
The family declines to accept condolence gifts, and instead urges mourners to make a donation to FA research in Elyse’s name.
Wiping away the last of my tears, I closed the book reverently. Whoever this girl was, she had clearly been extremely important to Sawyer. I left the room and shut the door. I considered making a note to ask Sawyer about all of that, but I knew I couldn’t bring myself to. Nothing in there had anything to do with the kind of article I was supposed to be writing about him, and it was clearly painful and private. I wondered why he hadn’t asked me to avoid that room.
“Because he knew it would pique my interest,” I concluded. “The best way to keep a secret is to ignore its existence.”
As I walked away from the room, I decided that he could keep this one for as long as he wanted to. I might be a journalist, but I wasn’t an actual vulture. Returning to my room, I opened my laptop and decided to take a different approach. I spent the next few hours simply compiling everything I had learned about him, without bias or judgment, in a narrative voice. If nothing else, it would make a nice friendly article to line birdcages with.
18
Sawyer
“Ah, I could get used to this.”
I sighed as I pulled up to my house, knowing Addison was waiting for me inside. Then I shook myself out of my happy daze, pumping the brakes on that thought process. There was no point in getting my hopes up again; she could very well turn out to be just like all the other women who had screwed my life up. But I couldn’t make myself believe that. I whistled as I walked into the house, happiness overriding the soreness in my muscles.
“Honey, I’m home,” I called ironically as I stepped into the house. There was no answer. Frowning, I went upstairs to stash my gear. As I passed her room, I could hear her clicking away on a keyboard. A flash of anxiety churned my stomach. If she was writing, it followed that she had something to write about, didn’t it?
I shook the feeling off before it could take hold. She wouldn’t have found anything to confirm the whole party-boy angle she had been after, so what was I even worried about? I was satisfied with my life and how I had been conducting it, at least recently. Since I didn’t think she was the type to rehash old news, recently was all that mattered.
I was going to go knock on her door when my phone rang. I glanced at the name and grinned before I swiped to answer the call.
“Hey butthead, what’s up?”
“You speak to your elders like that? Shameful! I’m in town and wanted to check on my baby brother.” Amelia’s voice was sharp and perky all at once, like a high school teacher who’d just brought a failing kid up to an A, but also the Bunsen burner was about to catch a textbook on fire and the kids were all verging on cabin fever.
“I’m good, Amelia, chill. You can come over and see for yourself, though. I’ve got company, but she won’t mind.”
“She? You got yourself a girlfriend?”
“No, I got myself a stalker. She’s a journalist and she’s doing a story on me.”
“Oh no, not another one,” Amelia groaned. “What did you do this time?”
“Nothing, I swear! But the team wants to prove that to the investors, so she’s here to prove there’s nothing to find.”
“Sounds difficult. Proving a negative is supposed to be impossible.”
“I kind of feel like she can do the impossible.”
“You slept with her, didn’t you.” It wasn’t really a question, but a statement filled with something halfway between disgust and disappointment.
“So what if I did?”
“Sawyer. Sawyer! When are you going to learn to keep it in your pants?”
“What, forever? No can do. Tell me when you’re getting here so I can roll out the landing pad for your broom.”
“Go ahead and shove that landing pad up your ass, I’m pulling in now.”
“You know you’re not supposed to be on the phone when you drive. I’m calling highway patrol.”
“Hands-free, sucker! Be there in a minute.”
I grinned as I hung up the phone and tapped on Addison’s door.
“Come in,” she said absently.
I walked in to find her sitting cross-legged on her bed scowling at her screen with a pencil between her teeth and another one sticking out of her bun. Magazine and newspaper clippings were spread out on the comforter around her, organized into piles that I couldn’t begin to decipher. Two notebooks, a small notepad, and a voice recorder took up the last bit of remaining space. One of the notebooks was open to a page full of angry scribbles surrounding the word “nothing”.
“How’s it going?” I asked hesitantly.
“Ur, uh nur… bleh.” She spat out the pencil and wiped her mouth, then smiled sheepishly at me. “It’s going terribly. You’re completely boring.”
“Ouch! Cold.” I put a hand over my heart as though mortally wounded by her words.
She laughed. “Not like that, drama queen. I’ve been sitting here trying to figure out what to write about you for hours. There’s nothing. That’s probably a good thing for your career, but it’s not so wonderful for mine. You’ve got to give me something.”
I grinned evilly at her and moved toward the bed. “Oh, I can give you something,” I said as I leaned over her. “If you ask me nicely.”
She blushed slightly and bit her lip. “While that’s incredibly tempting—“
“You do have a way with words.”
“—I should really have gotten more work done by now, and I have to get something together.”
“Put it off,” I murmured suggestively.
She sighed contentedly and kissed me, shooting a shock of pleasure down my spine. I pulled away reluctantly then kissed her cheek and whispered in her ear. “I wish we could finish what we started right now, but I promise I’ll make it up to you later. My sister’ll be here any minute.”
She jumped slightly, making me laugh.
“What? I can’t meet your sister looking like this, I’m a wreck! When is she going to—“
The doorbell cut her off, and her eyes widened. “Damn it, Sawyer!”
I just grinned at her and pushed away. “You’ll like her,” I called over my shoulder as I walked away. “You two have the same favorite phrase.”
She growled, and I chuckled all the way down the stairs. The bell rang three more times before I made it to the door. I opened it to find Amelia leaning on the buzzer.
“Do you know how long it takes to get down here?” I asked.
“That’s why I called you on the phone before I got here, butthead. It’s not like you didn’t have time to make it downstairs.” She pushed past me and looked around, shaking her head. “Well, I guess video games are better than stripper poles. Where’s this journalist of yours?”
“Upstairs, but she’ll be down in a minute. I got her nice and pissed off for you.”
“Gee, thanks, you’re a sweetheart,” she said, rolling her eyes. “I hope she’s better than that Becky or Brandy or whatever her name was.”
“Yeah,” I said, not bothering to correct the name. “At least I know Addison is out to get me. I prefer playing it straight.”
She laughed and shook her head. “I swear, one of these days I’m going to set you up with some nice, quiet farm girl who has never even seen a hockey game and you won’t even know what to do with yourself.”
“I get enough frictionless living on the ice, thanks. Oh, there she is! Addison, this is my sister Amelia. Amelia, this is the journalist who is going to expose my deepest, darkest secrets, Addison.”
19
Addison
Amelia was stunning. She was tall and fit like Sawyer and had the same blazing blue eyes, but her hair was dark brown and straight and cut in sharp bangs across her forehead. She wore her t-shirt and jeans like a suit, radiating a vibe of utter control that I had only ever felt from one other person. She was like a younger, prettier version of my boss, Edwards. I was almost intimidated by her until I saw the look she shot at Sawyer.
“It’s great to meet you,” I said with a relieved smile. “You’re exactly the person I need. Would you mind discussing Sawyer with me for a while, or will you not be here that long?”
“I’m here until Monday at least,” she said, shaking my hand firmly. “I’m actually looking to buy a place up here.”
“What?” Sawyer looked adorably dismayed.
“What, afraid I’m going to cramp your style? Don’t worry, kiddo, I won’t be in your business too much. I need a change of scenery, and the houses here are exactly my style.”
“They have houses just like this in Seattle,” he said.
“Too much rain.”
“Uh… L.A.?”
“Too expensive.”
“Reno?”
“Too depressing.”
“Damn it, Amelia, why Denver?”
She shrugged, but there was a wicked twinkle in her eye. “To drive you crazy, of course!”
“Butthead.”
“Brat. Now, Addison, right? Let’s go get some coffee and talk about this juvenile delinquent.”
“You can’t print anything she says, she’s biased!” But he was grinning, so I just stuck my tongue out at him. He shot me a warning look, and I laughed.
“So what do you think of my little brother so far?” Amelia asked.
“Ah… personally or professionally?” I could feel my cheeks heat, and she shook her head when she caught the expression on my face.
