“Damn, Nils, I’m sorry. I guess my own anger toward what you did blinded me from seeing the whole picture. You’re right. She’s your mom. She should’ve put you in your place but not disown you all over again. That must have been so hard. I understand she hurt you. I don’t want to push you to talk to her if you aren’t ready. I just thought you should know where she’s at,” I say, swiping at my tears.
“I know,” he says softly. “I know you mean well. Damn, I wish I was there now so that I could hold you in my arms.”
My heart bursts, and I know I am a goner.
“I’d like that,” I say, because I can’t reject him now. Not when I’ve dredged up his past and made him feel bad.
“I should get to bed,” I say. It’s getting late, and I have class first thing in the morning.
“Good night, sweet Sierra,” he says.
“Good night.”
Nineteen
Sierra
Aunt Becca called to say she was under the weather, so I head to the supermarket and pick up some ingredients to make a chicken soup recipe I found online. Aunt Becca has asthma, so whenever she catches a cold or flu, it affects her way more than it would the average person.
I use my key to enter her apartment and spot her on the couch, wrapped in her robe and a thick blanket.
“You didn’t need to come by,” she insists.
“Of course I did.” I head into the kitchen and set the grocery bags on the counter.
“I don’t want you catching this bug,” she says, and then breaks into a coughing fit.
“Are you using your inhalers regularly?” I ask.
“Yeah, I had just refilled the prescription when I got sick. Lucky for that,” she says.
“Do you have someone helping you out at the store? Because I can always go in this weekend,” I offer.
Her brows knit together. It’s been more than a month since I got fired from the station and I’m still not working in a new job. Well, at least not one I’ve told Aunt Becca about. I need to come clean about being Nils’s fake girlfriend, but as time passes, it’s becoming harder to ’fess up.
“Have you not found a job yet? How are you getting by?” I hear the concern in her voice rising.
I take a seat in the wing chair next to the couch. There’s no time like the present. Besides, I’ve been feeling guilty about keeping her out of the loop.
“I have something to tell you,” I say carefully.
“Sierra, dear. You know me. You don’t need to be scared to tell me anything,” she says. I know that’s true, but I feel like she may have a moral problem with what I’ve agreed to.
“Yes, I know . . .” I sit straight and fold my hands in my lap. My face is creased, like I’m guilty. “Remember when I lost my job at the station and got into the little fender bender?”
She nods.
“Well, I was kind of feeling a little desperate for cash and Nils made me a proposition, I couldn’t turn down.”
She palms her chest. “Don’t tell me you had sex with him for money,” she says. “Wait, that wouldn’t make sense. I remember that video. That boy doesn’t need to pay to get laid.” She bursts into a coughing fit. I need to get that soup cooking.
“No, I didn’t sleep with him for money,” I confirm. “What I am about to tell you has to stay between us. It’s important,” I emphasize.
“You know I’d take your secrets to my grave,” she says with a smile. I hate how pale she looks. I know it’s just the flu, but it makes me think back to the time she was battling cancer.
“I know, that’s why I need to tell you. I just can’t keep it inside any longer,” I say.
“Well, go on then. You’re worrying me.” Aunt Becca’s lips turn down.
“Sorry. It’s just that Nils got put on probation by the senior managers of the team. It had something to do with the sex tape we saw,” I say.
A slow smile spreads her lips and she nods.
“Nils asked me to be his fake girlfriend so he could clean up his image on social media. He’s been paying me every month to do the job, and it’s been working out great. He posts a couple of pics of us. I’ve been to his home games. He’s been doing really well with staying out of trouble,” I explain.
“Oh, darn. This is probably why I should get on social media. To keep tabs on my niece,” she laughs and it causes her to cough. “In all seriousness, Sierra, sweetheart. That wasn’t what I was expecting. You know I can’t tell you what to do. I mean, yeah, it must be nice to get paid to be a sexy hockey player’s girlfriend. But what happens when the job ends, and he doesn’t need you anymore?” She looks at me with sympathetic eyes.
“I’ll have to find a real job eventually, but this has just been so great. I have time on my hands. I’m not stressing to get my schoolwork done,” I explain.
“That’s not what I meant, sweetheart. You’re falling for him.” She gives me a pointed look. “I’ve noticed something different about you these past couple months. You’re glowing and it’s beautiful, but now I’m scared he’ll break your heart.”
Her words cut me deep and cause my belly to dip. “He isn’t the same guy he was back in Minnesota.”
“Is he willing to commit?” she asks.
“It’s frustrating. We get along really well. We have late-night talks when he’s out of town and he comes over when he’s in town. We hang out and laugh. Things between us are easy,” I say. “But he’s not willing to commit. He’ll say he wants me one minute, and then the next, he says he needs to stay committed to his career. He was almost booted from the NHL, and it really scared him.”
“What are you going to do?” Aunt Becca asks.
“I’m going to be his fake girlfriend for as long as he wants me to. Then, I guess we’ll call it quits.” I stand from the chair. “I should really get that soup boiling. Some broth would be really good for that cough.”
I head to the kitchen and start chopping vegetables. My mind drifts to Nils. We speak every day. How can we just cut each other off, cold turkey?
At least we haven’t slept together. If we had, then things would be so much more complicated.
Twenty
Nils
It’s a Wednesday evening, and I am back in town with the night off. Myles and Oli went straight home to their families. There’s no way I’m spending the night at home in my big, lonely house when all I want to do is spend time with Sierra. The lines of our relationship have become blurred, but I’ve never had such intense conversations with anyone in my life—or sexually charged ones, for that matter, either.
She has a test to study for, but I convinced her to let me come over and help her, since it’s math. I’m bringing dinner, along with a bottle of wine. After months of sobriety and getting my reputation back on track, I figure a little wine with my girl won’t hurt.
Only she isn’t my girl. I don’t allow myself to dwell on that last thought.
I knock on her apartment door with two large paper bags in my hand. She opens the door and smiles wide.
“Welcome home,” she says warmly. I find it hard to breathe as I take her in. Her words are a slingshot to my chest. ‘Welcome home.’ I’ve never felt like I was home until now, with her.
“Let me help you with this.” She takes one of the bags out of my hands.
“Thank you,” I give her a peck on the cheek. It’s what we’ve become accustomed to when we see each other.
She walks into the kitchen and I follow her. She places the bag on her kitchen table. “You look beautiful,” I say, because I know she needs to hear it, and because it’s true.
“Would you stop it?” She smiles, blushing. “How was the trip home?”
“Usual.” I look around her apartment. “Is Sunny here?” I ask, wondering if we get the place to ourselves. Not that I’m planning anything.
“She’s spending the night at Declan’s. His roommate is out of town this week, and I guess they wanted privacy. She’s been there since Sunday,” she explains.
>
“Are you good staying in this place alone? I mean, do you have the proper locks on the door?” I walk over to the front door. I open and close the lock to make sure it’s secure. She laughs. “I hear you,” I say with a chiding tone.
“When did you become the protective type?”
I turn around and look her in the eyes. “When I met you.”
Her face falls, and her hazel eyes get this glint of alarm. I was hoping my words would get under her skin not cause it to crawl. I watch her throat bob.
“Are you thirsty?”
“I brought wine, but I figure we need to study before we drink,” I say.
“I just have a few things I need to go over, if you don’t mind? Are you starved, or can we study first?”
“Let’s hit the books. I had a late lunch,” I say.
She heads to her bedroom and returns with a textbook and binder.
We spend the next hour going over calculus equations. She’s pretty good at it, but there are some complicated trig questions she gets stuck on. As I explain one equation, I take in the scent of her hair, and my eyes drop to the creamy skin of her nape. Hmm. She’s so distracting. What does she taste like?
“Did I get it right?” she asks, pulling me from my dirty thoughts.
I clear my throat and force myself to focus. “Yeah, I think you got this.”
“Yay,” she cheers, and gets up from the kitchen chair. “I’ll just put these back in my room.”
“I’ll set up dinner,” I say. I turn to watch her ass as she walks away. Then I have to adjust myself for the trillionth time because my rebellious cock keeps swelling in her presence.
She returns to the table and I have the wine bottle open.
“I don’t know where you keep the glasses,” I say.
She opens one of the cabinets and takes some regular drinking glasses off the shelf. “This is all I’ve got.”
“That works.” I wink and pour us each half a glass.
“When did you start drinking again?” she asks, not in a judgmental way—more like she’s curious.
“I didn’t. I just figured it would be nice to kick back and relax with you,” I say. She seems to like my answer because she smiles, and the warmth touches the gold in her eyes, making them shine.
We eat sushi and drink wine. After dinner, we drink more wine until we’ve polished off the bottle. I’m feeling warm and happy and Sierra is flushed.
“I think this was a bad idea,” she says.
“What?” I ask, even though I have a clue as to what she is talking about.
“The wine. I’m feeling giddy.” She giggles.
“If I remember from the wedding, you’re a fun drunk to be around. Lucky for us, you can’t drink anymore since I only brought one bottle. Just enjoy the buzz,” I say.
She stands to clear the table. When she gets to the kitchen, she turns on an old CD player she has sitting on the counter.
Imagine Dragons begins to play. She starts singing and swaying her hips. I get up and we both start dancing. She laughs and I laugh, and we just enjoy the moment until I take her hand and pull her into me. Her smile fades and the flush in her cheeks brightens. With her body pressed against mine, I can’t hide what I’m feeling any longer.
“Nils.” She says my name as a warning.
“Stop fighting this.” I gaze into her eyes and there’s a silent understanding between us.
She nods, and that’s all I need for my lips to come crashing down on hers. Months of wanting her come to a boil as my lips move with hers. She takes and I give. I give and she takes, our tongues swirling in delicious harmony. She tastes better than I remembered, sweet and sultry.
Her hands come up to my hair, and her fingers dig into my scalp. My hands run down her neck and wrap around her back. Her palms resting on my shoulders.
“Tell me you want me to take you to bed.” My gruff voice is filled with urgency. My chest heaves and my cock pulses behind the zipper of my jeans. This isn’t about my abstinence; this is me wanting her more than my next breath. Damn it.
“I want you to take me to bed, Nils. I want you so bad,” she says, her voice dripping with lust and her eyes holding a carnality that makes my world tilt sideways.
I lift her in my arms and carry her to her bedroom. She giggles and her smile is infectious, but it dies the moment I place her on the mattress.
“Take off your tank top,” I say, waiting.
She does as I say, and I stare at her white lace bra that is slightly see-through.
“Take off your bra.” I tilt my chin to her breasts and my eyes drop to her perfect rose-colored nipples. I can’t count the number of nights I got off to thoughts of her full breasts. Her chest rises and falls of at a quick pace. Her fast breaths send my own need skyrocketing. “Now the pants.”
“You take something off first,” she says, and she licks those pouty lips of hers. My cock pulses.
I remove my sweater and take off my jeans, leaving me in nothing but my boxers and a T-shirt. My cock stands erect and pulsing behind the waistband.
“Take off that shirt, too,” she says.
I hesitate. Part of the reason I got so many tattoos was to hide my scars. The sleeve of my arms are covered in tattoos, but my chest and abdomen only have a few sparse ones. In the past, I would keep my shirt on during sex but with her, I want to feel her skin against mine. I want our bodies connected in every way. Only, I feel more naked now than I ever have.
I take a deep breath and remove my shirt.
She gasps and crawls on her knees toward me. “Are these from him?” she asks. Her touch is feather soft; her voice is silky and sweet.
“Yes. It’s not something I like to dwell on or bring attention to,” I say.
“I get that,” she says, and she kisses me on the mouth. That small gesture makes my heart beat fast as a warmth I’ve never felt before floods my insides.
“Get undressed,” I say more softly. I don’t want to lose this moment with her. I sure as hell don’t want to turn it into a therapy session.
She removes her pants and then crawls to the edge of the bed. She’s about to go for my cock when I stop her. I don’t know what she’s planned, but I am about to blow my load without even touching her. I’ve been dreaming about her and getting off to thoughts of her naked body for weeks.
“Wait.” I stop her hand from fisting my cock. “Lie back on the bed and touch yourself.”
Her cheeks turn a cherry red.
“Don’t be shy,” I say softly.
“I am shy and inexperienced,” she admits.
“Are you a virgin?” I ask, as I slowly remove her glasses and place them on the bed stand. I remember Sloane’s mother saying something about her not having orgasmed the weekend of Oli and Sloane’s wedding.
“No.” Her hazel eyes are intense as she looks down at the bed. “Not a virgin. Just . . . I haven’t been with many guys,” she says, and I like those words very much.
“Lie back. I’ll take care of you.”
Twenty-One
Sierra
Seeing his scars breaks my heart and reminds me that we are two broken souls who have come together again. Is it fate? I’m falling for him and I can’t seem to stop it.
He hovers above me—big, strong, and sexy as hell. I have a feeling he’s used to hiding those scars. They make him more handsome than ever because they show his resilience. His tanned skin and those tattoos running up his arms are hot, but it’s the searing look in his blue eyes that brings me undone.
He watches me carefully as his hands work to lower my panties. Thankfully, I put on a pair of lace panties—not that I was expecting something to happen, but it feels like we have been building to this forever.
“I want to taste you,” he says. His words make me squirm.
“I can’t. I mean, I’ve never had anyone do that before,” I confess.
His chest rises and falls in a soothing rhythmic motion.
“Please let me. I need you to trus
t me,” he says.
“I do trust you,” I admit, and it’s the truth. He’s been so good to me these last couple months. “I’m just nervous.”
“Let me relax you,” he says, that accent of his sounding sultry.
“Okay,” I say quietly.
He lowers his head and kisses me on the lips. I ease my body into him. Our bare skin touching ignites the flame burning low in my belly. He kisses me slowly, like he means it. His lips move to my neck, where he peppers kisses. Goose bumps erupt all over my body as he moves lower to my shoulders, spreading kisses there, too. When he reaches my left breast, the warmth of his tongue runs over my sensitized nipple and my body arches into his touch. He pays careful attention to each of my nipples, licking and sucking. Wetness pools between my thighs, and I want to moan, but I’m embarrassed from my extreme reaction. His tongue lowers down my stomach to my abdomen and then he is there, his head between my thighs as he slowly licks up my slit, then back down. His tongue runs over my clit softly, slowly, and I am a goner, as moan after moan escapes my lips. My body arches off the bed. He doesn’t relent, his tongue moving torturously over my most sensitive parts.
“That feels so good.” My words are lazy and drawn.
I look down to see a small smile spreading across his lips and then he licks me faster, causing my eyes to fall shut and my head to fall back. Something is building inside me. I know the feeling from when I try to get myself off. Problem is, when it’s my own fingers, I get close to orgasm but can never reach that spot they call nirvana. This is different.
Dirty Swedish Player: A Big Stick Novel Page 15
