Even though they’d begun this, well, marathon, over an hour ago, he was still not hurried. It was nothing short of impressive the control he had over his body. For that matter, the control he had over her body too. Even though this was their first time, he made love to her with more assurance than Pete ever did in the few months that they had been together.
She ran her hands up his arms and reveled in the smooth muscles, the coarse hair, the intoxicating male sweat that put a gorgeous sheen on his skin. The flickering candlelight only made him that much sexier.
He increased the tempo, the intensity of his movements and her body responded. She locked her legs around his waist and he groaned as she arched to meet his thrusts. Her own skin was heated and slick now. Above her his breath came out hard and fast. The sound of their bodies slapping together only added to the urgency.
“Maggie, I can’t…I need to…” he gasped.
“Do it,” she urged. “Do what you have to. Don’t wait for me.”
He glanced down and scowled. His eyes shone darkly in the dim candlelight. He looked like a warrior. His hair was spiked with sweat, his face flushed. She loved it. Spearing her with his gaze, he seemed to dig deep and find some reserves and all she could do was take it—take it until at last, the wave broke over her a third rapturous time.
She let out a cry that didn’t even sound like it came from her and not a moment later, his roar of triumph was even more primal. She rode the wave for what seemed like a lifetime while he plunged into her a few more times.
They didn’t speak for long moments. She couldn’t anyway. Too busy catching her breath and reveling in the head-to-toe, skin-to-skin contact. His heartbeat seemed to reverberate in her bones, not that it felt like she had any bones. She imagined if she tried to move right now, she’d only slosh around like a bowl of Jell-O.
At last, he shifted, turning his face toward her neck and smiling as he gently withdrew and kissed her on the mouth.
“I’ll be right back.”
Getting off the bed with an athletic grace she’d never get tired of watching, he went to the bathroom and came back with a warm, damp washcloth, which he handed to her. The gesture touched her.
“Fucking incredible,” he said, cracking open one of the bottles of water and chugging half of it down while she cleaned up.
“Ditto.” She took the bottle he offered and drank quite a bit herself.
He raised his head and gave her a smile with a hint of cocky. “I told you so.”
“That it would be incredible?”
He gave a soft chuckle. “That I’d get the hat trick. You’re gonna have to learn to trust me.”
“I’m going to have to start working out,” she said as he took the towel from her and tossed it into the bathroom.
He scoffed as he hopped back in beside her. His hand went straight for her butt cheek as he kissed her. She actually hoped he wasn’t ready for another round. Walking tomorrow was going to be challenging enough as it was.
“You’re perfect. Don’t think you have to change anything about yourself.”
You’re the one who’s perfect, she thought drowsily.
25
After a fucktastic morning, making love to Maggie then sharing a post-nookie breakfast together, Spencer sent her off to school. He wanted to get her a lunchbox so he could gift her with treats and notes, like she was a little kid. He thought she might find it romantic and thoughtful. Romantic and thoughtful meant racking up sex points and he wanted a lot of sex with Maggie.
Not that he thought he needed to replenish his points. Last night, she’d drifted off to sleep a thoroughly satisfied woman, which meant he went to bed in a similar state. As a result, the quality of shut-eye he got was Grade-A. In fact, it was so good that he woke up earlier than usual on a game day, and had energy enough for wake-up sex. But mindful that they were playing Pittsburgh tonight, he didn’t overdo it.
Shortly before he left for the DISC, Stacy came over.
“Morning,” she said, somewhat less chipper than usual. “Trip good?” she asked.
“Yeah. Thanks for the food. You’re the best.”
She shrugged and tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. “I, ah, couldn’t help noticing that you and Maggie seem to be…”
He flicked his gaze to her and she looked vulnerable and sad. Fuck.
“I mean I saw her catch an Uber this morning.”
“Yeah. We, ah…well, we’re together now.” He gave a half laugh. “Never thought I’d end up dating a teacher. I hated school.”
She nodded so dejectedly, he reached out and took her hand.
“Hey,” he said, “I’m sorry if I ever led you to believe that you and I—”
She jerked her hand away. “What? No.” Her laugh sounded like an engine with a dying battery. “You think I had a crush on you? Please. We were always just…friends, you silly man.” A vestige of her old spunky good humor flashed.
And even though they both knew she was lying to save face, he went along with it.
“Good friends,” he said, meaning it.
“So, anyway, I brought you your key.”
He shook his head. “No, you keep it. You never know. I may lock myself out of the house one day.”
Their gazes met briefly before she lifted her chin, nodded and went back to her house.
One of the trainers poked his head into the locker room shortly after the morning skate.
“Joubert wants to see everyone in the lounge in twenty. Mandatory.”
Guys glanced around at each other. It had to be something big if the general manager called a meeting.
“What do you think that’s about?” Ian asked, ripping off his shoulder pads.
No one had any idea.
Spencer looked at Paul who was studiously avoiding eye contact. Interesting. Likely he knew something but wasn’t at liberty to share.
After showering, Spencer headed for the lounge and spotted Head Coach Vardis heading toward the exit, which was odd, considering the time of day. He and the rest of the coaching staff usually stuck around for a while.
Exactly twenty minutes after the announcement, the team was seated in the area off the players’ lounge that had a white board and big screen TV. Stadium style seating for thirty.
Spencer appreciated the punctuality expected of the Dragons. He’d been on teams where tardiness of a few minutes here and there was expected and tolerated. Often because some of the prima donna players thought it was their due to passive-aggressively control shit. But Spencer preferred everyone being held to the same standard and respecting that they all had lives.
Joubert cleared his throat. “So, I’ll get right to the point. Head Coach Vardis and Assistant Coach Levosky have been released from their duties as of today.”
A wave of surprise rippled through the rows. Guys sat up straighter and exchanged glances.
“Who’s taking over?” someone asked.
No one asked why. They all knew why. Despite the fact that they’d won the past three out of five games, they were far from comfortably making it into the playoffs in April. They had the talent, but there had been a general lack of energy, of buzz in the room and on the ice. Paul had been doing his best. Hell, they had all at one point or another given pre-game pep talks, but frustration had taken root. Determination was slowly turning to resignation. Unfortunately, in the world of professional sports, the simplest and sometimes most effective sea-change a team could make was to replace the coach.
“Simon Bertsoulakis will be head coach. Ulysses Dorsett is now assistant. We feel both of those men have the know-how to lead this team into the playoffs. In addition, Dallas Wingate has gone to St. Louis in exchange for Donovan Hooper.”
This time he heard a gasp or two of shock. Spencer did a mental jig. Suddenly, his entire outlook for the next few months took a decided upswing. No Wingate meant the fucking shackles were off. Hopefully, with a new coach at the helm, they’d all be able to play with a little more creativity and free
dom. And Donovan Hooper was a solid guy. Skilled hands, quick thinker, and faster than his size suggested.
“Simon,” Joubert said with a sweeping gesture, “I’ll let you take it from here.”
Simon Bertsoulakis was a tall, gray-haired man in his late fifties. He had a goatee that wouldn’t have looked out of place on an eighteenth century English gentleman, and he seemed to be in good physical shape.
“Thanks for that introduction, Marty. I just want to say that I’m eager to get started. I would have been here yesterday, but…shit happens. If you know anything about me, you’ll know I’m a player’s coach. What I want to do this afternoon is meet with each of you individually before we play tonight.”
More exchanged glances. A little throat clearing.
“I know you might have had plans, and I appreciate you’re sacrificing those. I wouldn’t ask it of you if I didn’t think it was important. That’s another thing you’ll learn about me. I hate wasting time, yours or mine, on trivial shit. As per my request, lunch is already being set up so you’re not just sitting with your thumbs up your asses while you’re waiting. There’s…let’s see here…” He consulted his clipboard. “Grilled teriyaki salmon and chicken, rice, stir fried vegetables, and some noodles I’m told are good luck.” He looked up at them. “You guys do things differently here in San Francisco.”
There was some low laughter.
“They are good luck,” Ian muttered. He was a true believer since a couple of years ago when he’d eaten a pile of the noodles for lunch one day before scoring a buzzer beater later that night against Winnipeg.
“To make it fair, we’ll go in numerical order. I want the next guy on deck outside my office for efficiency. I’m going to ask each of you what you think your role on the team is and what you’d like to see us do, moving forward. Thanks again for this. See you in a few.”
The two guys with the lowest jersey numbers followed Bertsoulakis out of the room and the rest of them headed for the chafing dishes on the other side of the room. Spencer got himself a plate and sat next to Gideon.
Gideon Aguilar was “the new guy,” but already seemed like he’d been with the team for years. The guy was smart and funny and was hooked on Spider Solitaire just like Spencer was. On plane trips, they’d race each other—first one to win a certain number of games, depending on how long the flight was. Sometimes there was money involved.
“Well, no one expects the Spanish Inquisition,” Gideon said, quoting Monty Python.
“Shit, Aggie, he’s not torturing people in there.”
Laughter broke the tense mood. Everyone started talking at once.
“Talk about a bomb dropping.”
“Did you see his boarding pass sticking out of his pocket? I think he came straight from the airport.”
“Talk about jumping right in.”
“Anyone coached by him?”
No one spoke up.
“So, mystery meat,” Ian said.
Not exactly. Bertsoulakis’ outstanding record in the NHL was public knowledge.
When it was Spencer’s turn, the meeting only lasted a couple of minutes.
“Great to meet you, Corbett.”
They shook hands.
“Define your role on the team and feel free to tell me if you’d like this role to change.”
Spencer had been thinking about it off and on during his time eating.
“For the most part, I’m satisfied with my role. I can locate first and second options quickly so the puck moves up the ice faster. I’m good in the corners and in the room, but if given the chance, I could play more offensively, especially on special teams.”
“Noted.” Bertsoulakis wrote on a legal pad that already had half a page of scribbles. “What do you think the team needs right now?”
“I think it’s obvious. A real focus on offense, on speed. Power play goals. Face-offs.”
Bertsoulakis nodded. “Is that it?”
“No. Now that Wingate is gone, if we rolled four lines more consistently it might allow our best players to worry less about keeping energy in reserve. The other guys would then be pressured to step up and not rely on the big guns to do all the work.”
Bertsoulakis nodded as he finished writing.
“Thanks, Corbett. Appreciate the honesty.” After they shook hands, he referred to a printed sheet. “Tell Stone he’s on deck.”
Spencer dutifully passed on the message to Max then left the building.
On the drive home, he revisited his conversation. Had he sounded like a complainer? Had his comment sounded like he was really more concerned for himself rather than for the team’s performance as a whole? Because he certainly wanted more ice time. Everyone wanted ice time. One hundred percent, if they all had the energy, they’d all play sixty minutes, given the chance. But he’d said it and he couldn’t take it back. Hell, the guy asked.
He wondered what his teammates’ answers had been and if anyone had echoed what he’d said. Of course, now, he was thinking of other shit that needed changing that he could have mentioned.
He told himself to stop second-guessing pretty much every word he’d said. That shit was out there. Hell, it was written down. No sense in beating himself up over it.
Better he think about Maggie.
“Hey, Siri, text Maggie ‘We got a new coach today. I told him what you said about style over substance.’”
The text was sent. He grinned, thinking about her reaction when she—
Maggie: YOU WHAT?
—got the message.
Spencer: Just kidding. I didn’t tell him you said that, but I do happen to agree with you. #wisewoman
An emoji with sweat appeared on his screen.
Maggie: Thanks for the mini heart attack. In the middle of something. Talk later.
He chuckled, mood lifted. He might have interpreted her text as annoyed, but he knew she wasn’t.
She just didn’t have that kind of personality, something he valued. He’d been with women whose hobby seemed to be finding things to be annoyed with—usually something he did or said. He supposed it was a good thing they were so vocal about it. Saved him time in figuring out they weren’t a good fit. Better they find someone with a similar knack for finding fault.
He turned this thoughts toward the surprise he wanted to plant for Maggie to find when she got to his house later this afternoon. Chocolate was a safe bet. Flowers too, but…he wanted to go the extra mile. He might have asked Jade for ideas if he’d wanted to expose himself to a tsunami of excitement on behalf of her best friend, but he didn’t have her number. In the end, he got the bright idea of looking at her social media for clues. If only he knew what social media she was on. His own accounts were under account names known only to his family and trusted friends. He made a note to add her to that list.
It wasn’t until he got home that he had the time to find her on Facebook and Instagram then stalk her a little.
Amazing what a person could find out from social media. He now knew about restaurants she frequented, food and drinks she tended to order, places she liked to spend her free time. She liked Justin Timberlake, Idris Elba, Taylor Swift and Café Vanilla Frappuccinos. And pugs. Obviously. When he finally emerged from his social media deep-dive, he realized he’d been at this for over an hour.
Fuck. He was out of time and left with two options, neither of which he liked.
26
Maggie arrived at Spencer’s house with an overnight bag this time. The dogs greeted her enthusiastically, an emotion she mirrored. After her bag was nose-snuffled, she dropped it at the base of the staircase.
“This is so much better than going to my lonely apartment, you guys. I love this. Let’s see what Spencer left me for dinner. I hope it’s not—” She stopped as a thought suddenly occurred to her. “Stacy?” she called loudly, looking around for the woman.
No answer.
Thank goodness. She wasn’t comfortable with the fact that Stacy waltzed in and out of the house at her own d
iscretion. Was it only when the Dragons were on the road, she wondered? She’d have to ask Spencer about that.
In the kitchen, she saw a wine glass and a note on the counter. The first part read:
Sexy thing, welcome to the loneliest part of your evening. I missed you today. There is wine and cheese in the fridge.
She opened the stainless steel French doors and saw a bottle of Chardonnay and salad plate with Laughing Cow cheese wedges on it, which made her smile. Not the most sophisticated cheese, but the wine might be very good.
Wanting to prolong the note reading, she found the corkscrew, opened the bottle and poured herself a glass before going back to it. She was right. The wine was excellent.
The Manly Bath Salts are in the bathroom if you want to really unwind.
Apparently, it only took one erotic bath experience for her body and mind to react to the memory of that scent with an intense wave of desire. She exhaled hard and glanced guiltily at the dogs as if they knew what she was thinking about.
Deciding against a solo bath—because where was the fun in that anymore?—she turned back to the note.
Dinner will be delivered at seven, so you’ll need to be out of the bath by then. And yes, I’m trying very hard not to picture you in there all wet and naked.
She laughed and sipped the wine.
Because I’m a fast learner, I ordered enough food for Jade but not enough for a party. Ha ha ha ha ha…
She almost laugh-spat out her wine at that.
So kick back, cuddle the dogs for me. I’m not expecting you to wait up. I know you have school tomorrow and I typically get in late. Because of the coaching change, the routine might not be what it normally is. There might be an extended post-game meeting. There will definitely be more interviews.
When I get home tonight, I’ll try to be quiet, but if I accidentally wake you up, try not to brain me with a baseball bat or something.
Animal Attraction (San Francisco Dragons Book 2) Page 14
