It takes no time at all before my husband’s expert ministrations have me breaking apart and it feels so damn good it brings tears to my eyes. I fall into his chest, putting my head on his shoulder as he withdraws his hand from my panties. He pulls my t-shirt down in the back, wrapping his arms tightly around my waist to hold me to him. I can feel the hard length of his erection pressed against my core, yet he makes no move to do anything about it.
He won’t either.
His goal was to recreate that night we first gave our hearts to each other, and he’s done it to perfection.
We sit like that for what seems like hours, but it’s not. I don’t want it to end, but Jim disentangles our bodies, lifting me into a standing position along with him.
One hand wraps around my neck to hold me in place, and I feel the press of his lips on my forehead. “Goodnight, Ella. I love you.”
“Goodnight,” I reply, and because I never stopped loving him, I give the words back.
It’s the fact Jim continues to walk away through the darkness to the side gate that assures me he knows this was a start, but that’s all it was.
I grab my box of oatmeal cream pies and blow out the candles, leaving the grape juice behind. I’ll come out in the morning to clean it up. I pad back into the house to my bedroom.
Before I go to bed, I eat one of the cookies as I lean against my headboard. I replay this evening, from the moment Jim sent me that text. More than once, I replay the orgasm I just had, which I swear I can still feel tingling between my thighs.
While I might not know where Jim and I will end up, one thing has become clear to me tonight. I have to let David go because it’s not fair to him. He’s at a disadvantage because I still love my husband, and we have more than sixteen years of history together.
More than that, I want to give Jim a real shot. I don’t need him competing for me. I don’t need him going overboard to catch my attention.
I just want him to be himself, so I can clearly see if he’ll change to give me what I need.CHAPTER 8SteeleMy fingers drum on the desktop as I watch more teammates file into our large, arena-style meeting room. The rows of seats climb upward, filled with plush leather club chairs that have fold-over wooden tops for us to take notes on. It’s where we watch game films and have meetings before games to discuss strategies.
The players tend to sit with their linemates. It’s not required, but it’s kind of a bonding thing. We don’t have to be best friends or confidants outside of this arena, but when we’re on the ice, in the locker room, and in the meeting room, we sit as a mini team within the team. We’re a synchronized unit that often has to read subtle body language out on the ice. Any time we can spend together to help encourage that synchronicity is a good thing.
We have a game tonight and in moments, Coach Perron will be coming in for a last-minute strategy and pep talk. The game doesn’t start for another four hours, but there’s a lot to do before we step out on the ice. We’ll be listening to the coach, carb-loading in the team room with a buffet set out for us, warming up on bikes or light runs on the treadmill. We’ll work with trainers to get stretched and sprained joints taped. We have sticks to wrap and mindsets to settle into. So you see, a game is much more than the few hours it takes to play three periods plus intermissions. It’s almost a full-day event.
“You ready for tonight?” Kane asks from my left.
“More than ready,” I reply. It’s always weird playing your former team, but tonight we face off against the Quebec Royals. I left behind friends—many whom I still consider close friends—so it’s just odd to be battling them on the ice.
Over the summer, I’ve taken plenty of ribbing from those guys, teasing me that I somehow bought my way onto a Cup championship team. It’s all in good fun, and I love the hell out of them.
Miss them, too.
But those friendships get put aside for the time being because they are my enemies tonight. The friendship bonds can resume when the buzzer sounds at the end of the last period.
“I heard Gannon is out,” Jett says from my right.
He’s talking about the Royals’ star player and team captain. He’s been battling recurring knee problems, and I’m going to guess this might be his last season. Like me, he’s up there in age to be playing such a fast-paced, hard-hitting sport. Unlike me, he never took great care of his body, doing the bare minimum in conditioning and relying instead on his amazing natural talent. It’s one of the reasons I work out almost every day and eat healthy unless I’m hanging out with Lucy, and she wants something junky. Luckily, she likes the good stuff—like lean protein and leafy veggies.