“Lungren’s really stepped up,” Randy says. “Never thought you guys would stay above five hundred without Stanton.”
“Yeah.” Fuck, it’s nice to have something to focus on other than the way Jules looks in that dress. “I’m glad to have him. Nice guy, too. He doesn’t take this comeback for granted.”
“Hey, Coach, is it okay if I take a photo of you and Mr. Seager?”
Jules is all big eyes and innocent smile, but I’m thinking about the way she moaned when I touched her clit. It’s beenabout an hour since then, but it feels like longer. I’d write a massive check to the foundation if it would end this party and get me upstairs with Jules.
“It’s Randy, please. And you are?”
“Jules Barlow. I’m the social media coordinator for the Crush.”
“Lucky them.”
Randy gives her an appreciative once-over, making me clench my teeth until a muscle in my jaw ticks. I’m quick to pose with Randy to get his attention off Jules. She takes a few photos and then leaves with a light wave of her fingers, her eyes locking onto mine in a meaningful one-second look.
Watching her go, Randy gives an appreciative hum. “That’s a ripe peach if I’ve ever seen one.”
“I need to go talk to Hudson.” I reach out to shake his hand. “Great seeing you, man.”
“Yeah, you too. Let’s get lunch sometime.”
“Sounds great.”
It doesn’t, but pretending is part of my job sometimes. Randy’s married, and I never acted like he just did when I was married. Even when I was miserable in my marriages, I was faithful. I didn’t do or say anything I wouldn’t have done or said in front of my wives. I expected the same from them, but I didn’t get it. Maybe I’m too idealistic.
I find Hudson and meet some more foundation donors who want to talk hockey. I deliberately keep my back to Jules because I can’t risk getting a visible hard-on.
I just have to keep it together for another hour, two at the most. Then she’s all mine, and I’m going to enjoy showing her exactly what that means.
I’m watchingSportsCenter from the hotel bed, a glass of whiskey in hand, when I hear Jules opening the room’s door later that night.
She comes in, softly closing the door behind her. I click the TV remote to turn it off, getting up.
“Did you enjoy yourself?” I ask, still glowering.
She studies me, licking her lips. I took off my shoes, jacket, shirt, vest and tie, down to my pants and T-shirt now.
“I enjoyed myself as much as you did in this room earlier.” She flicks off her heels.
Her cheeks are flushed and a few pieces of hair have fallen loose from her elegant style. She pulls more pins out, her hair falling around her shoulders piece by piece. I watch her, mesmerized.
Once her hair is all down, she walks over to me and turns, moving her hair over one shoulder. “Unzip me?”
I put a hand on her hip and kiss her bare shoulder, my tension easing now that I can finally touch her. She tips her head back on my shoulder as I slide down the zipper on the back of her dress.
There’s no bra strap. I slide my hand into the back of her dress and around to one of her breasts, cupping it. She gasps. I lock my other arm around her waist, my mouth next to her ear.
“I don’t like other men thinking they can have you,” I say, my voice a low rumble. “I don’t even like them looking.”
“Your jealousy turns me on, though. And you know I only want you.”
I graze the pad of my thumb over her nipple, then pinch it. She cries out, pressing the back of her body against me.
“Little-girl games mean little-girl consequences.” I slide the dress from her shoulder. “Hope you can take it as well as you give it.”
“I can.” She’s breathless, panting softly as I slide the dress from her other shoulder and wiggle it past her hips.
Her body is everything I dreamed of and more. I explore it, teasing her nipples and making her shudder by lightly grazing my fingertips over her skin. When I drag my knuckles down her underwear like I did earlier, she moans, pressing back against my erection.
