“Oh, I get it. Fascinating,” Brody murmurs, genuinely interested. “Are those the ones I got you?”
“Yup. Front and center.” I tap the recent additions and smile before flipping the camera back so he sees me. “They fit in well with the rest of the group.”
“Looks great. Thanks for showing me.” His eyes flick from my face to my shirt. “Hang on. That shirt looks familiar.”
“This one?” I hold up my phone to show off the shirt I stole from him,BC HOCKEYwritten across the front. “You didn’t think I was going to give it back to you, did you?”
“It looks better on you anyway.”
“And it’s comfortable.” I pad back to the living room, dropping on the couch. “The back is the best part, in my opinion.”
Brody’s gaze flares. “My last name.” He leans forward, elbows on his knees and a hand rubbing his jaw. “Can I see?”
“Of course you can.” I give him a coy smile and lean my phone against a stack of books. Standing, I move my hair away from my neck and turn so he can see his name stretched across my shoulders. His old number, nineteen, sits right in the center of my spine, and I swear a growl leaves his end of the line. “What do you think?”
“Lift it up.” His voice drops low, a commanding lilt behind the ask. The shirt is so big on me it hangs down to my knees, and deciding not to wear pants was the smartest decision of the day. I glance over my shoulder, watching him as I pull the hem of the soft material up the curve of my ass. Brody brings his fist to his mouth, biting his knuckles while his eyes never leave the screen. “Fuck, Hannah.”
“See something you like?”
“Saunders looks good on you.”
“It does, doesn’t it?” I bite my bottom lip and let go of the shirt, covering my backside. Brody groans and scrubs a hand over his face. “Would you like it better if it was off? Or should I leave it on?”
“Hannah.” A plea. A prayer. Exquisite music to my ears.
“I asked you a question, Brody.” I grab the shirt again, bringing it halfway up my stomach. I keep going, pulling it over my head, and I look at him again. A whimper leaves him when he sees my boy short underwear and nothing else. “You should answer,” I say, tossing his words from the night of the gala back to him.
“You’re going to kill me. Off. Of is definitely better. Turn around again. Let me see the rest of you.”
“So demanding.” I sink back on the couch and put my feet on the edge of the table with a smirk. “If I’m going to show you mine, it’s only fair that you show me yours.”
“Is that what you want? To watch me jerk off?”
“I want you to be next to me right now, but since that’s not possible, I’ll take the next best thing.”
Brody stands and moves to the bed in his room. He leans his phone on something out of frame and kicks off his shoes. He drags his sweatpants down his thighs, showing off his cock straining in his briefs when he sits back down, shoving a hand in his underwear.
“Better?” he asks, and I smile.
“Perfect.”
I relax into the cushions, my hands roaming over my chest.
This is my first time having phone sex. Knowing someone from his team could be on the other side of his wall listening is exhilarating. The secrecy is heightened by Brody getting rid of his briefs and dragging his thumb over the head of his cock. Pre-cum slicks his fingers, and he holds them up to the camera.
“This could be yours,” he says. “Itisyours.”
“Not tonight it isn’t.” I angle my phone so he can see my whole body. “But I wish it was.”
“I swear this isn’t what I had in mind when I called you.” He strokes his length up and down, blowing out a breath. “I wantedto hear about your day. I wanted to see your cute face. I like you for reasons outside of sex, Hannah. I swear.”
I know he does.
He sends me texts throughout the day. Pops in at the end of Liv’s lesson and lingers with me at my car when we finish one of our skating sessions in the morning. His affection when we’re in a public place is always subtle—the hook of his pinky in mine when he passes by. The graze of his palm. A thumb bushing against the small of my back. It’s just enough to know he’s there, to know he’s thinking about me, and I havesucha crush on him.
When we’re alone, it’s amplified. Rough kisses. Teeth scraping along my hip and a burn on the inside of my thighs from his beard. Tangled limbs while we fall asleep wrapped around each other on the nights he doesn’t have Liv or a game, and I find myself wondering how the hell something can be so good, so soon.
“I can grab a blanket,” I suggest. “If that would?—”
