“Pax,” I gasp.
He grins into my neck and just increases his pace, his hand sliding around my hip to caress my clit in those tight, close circles that have me a boneless mess within seconds. I clench around him as the orgasm crashes through me, stealing my vision and my breath in equal measures. Paxton presses his face into the crook of my shoulder as he moans, his body shuddering above me.
I can’t help a shocked laugh as my mind slowly remembers how to form thought.
“Oh my god,” I whisper. “We just… I mean, we’ve never done anything like that.”
Paxton chuckles, kisses my shoulder, and then pulls out, quickly fixing my panties and dropping my dress’s hem back down before readjusting his own clothing. I somehow remember how to stand on unsteady legs.
“Better?” he asks, pulling my lips to his.
“Better.”
RHETT
It’s a goddamn miracle I don’t completely lose my shit over the four hours the team’s Thanksgiving dinner lasts. It had started rocky enough with Timber freaking Carys out for some reason. I’d had to let her dad comfort her while all I wanted was to pull her into my chest until her trembling faded. Thank fuck Timber has no sense of smell, or our entire secrecy plan would have been blown apart only a week into it. Then I’d forgotten to put on a cologne to cover her scent. No one recognized it aside from Paxton, and he’d only raised a single eyebrow. Ashton simplychirped me about hooking up with someone literally right before a big team event, though his eyes flashed with curiosity.
Now, nearly three hours into it, my body itches to cross this room and pull her into my arms, feel the crush of her hair under my lips and the silkiness of her skin under my touch. That dress hugs her like a damn dream, and I both love it and hate it because of that. I throw back the last of my second whiskey, dropping it back onto the table where I perch, my ankles crossed as Ashton and Ares talk about some new defensive drills we started this last week during morning skates.
I only manage to halfway listen, my eyes cutting to where Paxton and Billie ease their way back into the groups, her hair a bit frazzled and his cheeks still a bit too red under his beard. Even as I watch, he leans over and kisses her temple, smiling as she shivers. The neckline of her dress shifts, baring a corner of a healed bonding bite. Jealousy seethes low in my stomach.
I’ve never once been jealous of Paxton. We’re too dissimilar for it, mostly. He’s always been calm and collected, keeping his head down as he makes steady progress toward what he wants. I’m the loud one, the one that runs headfirst into whatever has caught my attention with no regard for the fall. Even in hockey, there isn’t much room for jealousy. He has always been a forward. I’ve always been a defenseman. It’s left us mostly as parallel lines, working toward the same goals without getting in each other’s way.
But right now? I want to rip his head off. What I wouldn’t give to be able to sneak off with Carys here and give her an orgasm or two to ease the tension in her shoulders. My scent pulses out from me, and I swallow. Ashton lifts an eyebrow, causing Ares to pause.
“You good?” Ashton asks.
He knows damn well I’m not, though not entirely why. At least Ares can’t tell the difference in the small changes to scents that would give me away right now.
“Fine,” I mutter. Then I add a bit to the original conversation to keep their attention off of me. “Yeah, I’m not ever going to turn down the chance to work on some of the specialty setups. The more overtime we get into, the better we are to have run the trios.”
Ares nods. “I’ll definitely make a note that it’s working. We might need to drop it from the schedule leading into Christmas since we have so many back-to-backs. But we’ll certainly make sure we’re running it in the new year.”
We have three back-to-backs between now and Christmas. They’re the hardest games in any schedule. It doesn’t matter who the teams are. You’re tired and sore that second game. You can eat all the protein heavy foods and slam as much pre-workout as you want. But your legs just don’t work as well that second night. It doesn’t help they’re typically wedged in a road trip that’s already grueling.
I’m only going to be home for fourteen of the nights until Christmas. Fourteen nights to have Carys curled up in my bed, pressed against me. Not that I’m counting or anything.
My phone buzzing is a welcome distraction. My dick twitches as I see Carys’s name.
Tonight? It needs to be my place.
Of course. I’ll bring a cheesecake.
You’re perfect.
I know.
I drop my phone back into my pocket.
“I’ll see you both tomorrow for the flight to Vegas,” Ares says. “Carys and I are going to go celebrate our annual tradition of watching the dog show before we get spoiled about who the winners were.”
He waves to us both and then quietly collects his daughter. Her eyes catch on mine, flaring with heat before she manages to look somewhere else.
I send her another text.
My money’s on the German shepherd.
Chapter Twenty-One
