Total pages in book: 67
Estimated words: 64238 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 321(@200wpm)___ 257(@250wpm)___ 214(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 64238 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 321(@200wpm)___ 257(@250wpm)___ 214(@300wpm)
Except, I was. His rough hands and talented tongue kept me grounded. And when he reached between my thighs to stroke me as he pressed a single digit into my hole, I was a goner. There was no point in denying that I wanted this. I would have taken anything he offered just then. His cock in my ass…sure, why not?
I came down from a satisfied high in bits and pieces, unwrapping my fingers from the headboard and easing my body onto the mattress and into his arms.
And check this out: I fell asleep on his chest. No shit.
I woke in the middle of the night, squinting at the sound of rustling in the dark. “You’re leaving.”
Jean-Claude moved to my side of the bed and planted a chaste kiss on my forehead. “It’s almost dawn. I fell asleep, but don’t worry. If anyone sees me, I was making an emergency tuna salad delivery. That’s my story, and I will stick to it.”
I chuckled and pulled him close for a proper kiss. He told me to go to sleep and I did, but damn, I missed him in the morning.
“We received your recent MRI report this morning. Occipital neuralgia.”
I sighed, adjusting my earbuds as I settled onto the chaise end of the basement sectional. “Yeah, but we already knew that. It’s a pretty common sports injury.”
“I know what it is,” Coach Marsden replied. “And I know that the visual distortion and partial blindness is most likely temporary, but it’s not going away anytime soon if you don’t take care of it. Avoid bright lights, avoid extensive exercise…and you should be seeing a masseuse too. Did that doctor give you a nerve block shot?”
“Yeah. I’m following protocol, checking in with the local doc, wearing sunglasses everywhere, and I’m trying to stay in shape without overdoing it. Vinnie has a skating treadmill at the new sports facility he opened. I’m using it regularly since I’ve been told to stay out of the rink, which sucks, but…look, it’s been a month and I know this isn’t ideal—”
“Don’t be stupid,” he intercepted. “I want you healthy, Trunk. You can’t rush it, and there’s no point in trying to ’cause you’re not getting on my ice until you’re cleared by the professionals. If it takes another month, so be it.”
Icy dread trickled through my veins. Another month would be the holidays, and if this went the way I suspected it might, I wouldn’t see any real ice time till late January or February. I’d be rusty and slow, and—fuck, my career would definitely end the way it began…on the bench.
“It won’t take a month,” I bluffed. “The headaches are almost gone and my vision is clearer.”
“Just concentrate on getting better. That’s your only job for now. We miss you, but we’re hangin’ in there. Did you see the game last night?”
“Yeah, it was a good win.”
He whistled, then launched into the finer points of the third-period game-winning goal Childress had scored on a power play.
I hummed and grunted on cue while my guts twisted and wrung themselves out internally. Hey, I could read between the lines as well as anyone. Coach Marsden didn’t have a lot of time to spare, so the fact that he’d personally made this call and didn’t seem to be in a hurry to end it was a positive sign. It was his way of letting me know he was rooting for me.
However, he wasn’t the type to make empty promises. He couldn’t give me what I wanted—a guarantee that my role on the team hadn’t been compromised by my injury. I supposed I needed a magic crystal ball for that.
Later that afternoon, I was still stewing over Coach Marsden’s phone call. He’d been upbeat and generally positive, but that might have been due to eking out a clutch win against Vegas. I’d been touching base with most of my team before and after each game like a good captain, but I was kidding myself if I thought those rah-rah conversations were enough to keep me in the loop. I felt like an outsider, and I hated it.
I also sucked at reading context. I kind of hoped Vinnie could offer an unbiased opinion. He’d played for Coach Marsden, and he knew most of the guys on the roster. Plus, he had the advantage of being a couple of years removed from the league, so he might have a fresh perspective.
Vinnie wasn’t my first choice for a sounding board, though.
I glanced at the diner as I walked the few blocks from Main Street to Elmwood Rink, kicking dried leaves in autumnal shades of orange on the pavement. Jean-Claude was busy preparing for a large party, and I didn’t want to disturb him. I hadn’t stopped by for a meal in almost two weeks. I didn’t need to. I had a special midnight delivery with complimentary sexy extras.