As if I'm unable to stop it, my hand slides down my abs. The images of Pirelli's perfectly carved muscles, his skin shining with sweat are seared into my brain.
"Fuck,"I groan, wrapping my fingers around my cock.
I stroke myself faster, hating myself for it, butpowerless tostop as I imagine him pushing me up against the shower wall,feelingthe heat of his skin against mine.
This isn't a choice anymore. This is pure need.
My heavy breaths echo off the tiles as I picture the way he would look at me if I dropped to my knees in front of him. Ready to worship at the altar of his perfect body. I can almosthearthe sounds he would make when I'd swallow him down. The way he'd thread those fingers through my hair and hold my head in position. Taking everything he wanted from me.
The water pounds against my back as I chase my release, lost in my fantasy. Jamie moaning my name. His hands on my body. His mouth on mine, hot and demanding.
"Fuuuuck"I groan, and then I'm coming hard, pleasure spiking through me as I spill over my fist. For a moment my vision whites out, all that tension releasing in one desperate rush.
Reality crashes back as the evidence disappears down the drain. Shame burns in my gut, my cheeks flaming.What the fuck am I doing?Jesus fucking Christ.
I shut off the water and I dry myself quickly, pulling on fresh boxers and a t-shirt, carefully avoiding looking at myself in the mirror. I set my phone face-down on the nightstand before sliding back into my bed.
Tomorrow I'll be the team captain again, focused only on hockey and leadership. I'll welcome Pirelli professionally, help him settle in, and maintain appropriate boundaries.
Maybe if I keep telling myself that, I'll believe it. But as I liethere, I can't help but wonder whatit wouldbe like to allowmyself toreallywant someone. To let myself experience that kind of desire without the constant, overwhelming fear of losing everything I've worked for.
I don't know if I'll ever be brave enough to find out.
Chapter 4
JAMIE
The Sasquatch's high-tech meeting room screams money and professionalism, way more impressive than anything we had in Florida. My sneakers barely make a sound on the carpeted floor as I slip into a seat near the middle, not too close to the front like an eager rookie but not hiding in the back either.
Being fifteen minutes early probably makes me look like an ass-kisser, but it's better than being late and making a bad first impression. My leg bounces under the built-in desktop as I try to appear casual.
The first few guys filter in a few minutes later. A tall, dark-haired guy, a defenseman, I think, drops into a seat near the front, immediately getting into conversation with a redheaded guy with a British accent about some Netflix show. Their comfortable back-and-forth, complete with inside jokes, reinforces my status as the outsider in the room.
More players arrive in small groups, and the room slowly fills with the boisterous energy that comes from reuniting after the off-season, with guys comparing summer tans and sharingvacation stories. I recognize a lot of the faces from having played against them, but not everyone.
A few curious glances are thrown my way, along with some polite nods, but no one approaches me. I get it—I'm the dude with the asshole reputation, and no one's sure it was smart to bring me onto this already struggling team. I'm aware of the whispers, but I keep an easy smile on my face. If the last three seasons have taught me anything, it's 'never let 'em see you sweat'.
Louis Tremblay, the starting goalie, walks in with his signature grin. I know he and Rylan Collings are tight, I think they come from the same small town in Canada
Tanner Sinclair, my fellow trade acquisition, arrives next, looking as uncertain as I feel. We exchange quick nods, but he sits down next to Lou. Makes sense, wanting to sit next to the other goaltender. It's not like we knew each other well in Florida, since he was on the farm team, but still, his not taking the seat beside me feels like a rejection.
I make a conscious effort to stop drumming my fingers on the desktop. First impressions matter, and I'm hyper-aware of every move I make being watched. But after the mess of my last three years, Icannotscrew up this chance. It could be my last one in the league.
Coach Shaw and GM Carson Wells walk in together, their presence shifting the room's energy, and conversations quickly dying down. Rylan slips in behind them, moving to a chair in the front row with quiet confidence.
The GM clears his throat, drawing everyone's attention."Welcome back, gentlemen. It's great to see all your faces again, and some new ones too."He nods in my direction, and I sit up a little straighter.
"We've got a big season ahead of us. The last couple of years have been disappointing, but we're putting that behind us right now. This is a new beginning, a chance to start fresh."
Murmurs of agreement come from around the room. I glance at Rylan again, but his eyes are fixed on Carson, his expression unreadable.
"Part of that fresh start is bringing in some new blood, both on the ice and off. As you're all aware by now, we made a significant move at the last minute."More noises of acknowledgment follow that, and a few guys send looks my way.
"I understand this kind of change isn’t always easy. We'll miss the guys who've moved on, but I truly believe we've put together a group that can do something special this year. So I want to take a couple of minutes to introduce our newest teammates."
He introduces all the new guys, starting with the rookies, and everyone stands up and says a quick hello until he gets to me.
"And last, but not least, joining us from the Florida Jaguars, is forward Jamie Pirelli."
