Page 90 of Anatomy of a Player

Hudson

When I walked into my bedroom, my jaw dropped to the floor, and so did the hockey gear I had in my hands.

Whitney was sitting against my headboard, wearing one of my jerseys and—if I wasn’t mistaken from the way it hung low in front, making it clear she didn’t have on a bra, and the gathered fabric at her thighs showing off a whole lot of bare leg—nothing else.

She gave me a siren smile and added a come-hither finger. “You said you needed me.”

The second the bus had pulled into Boston, I’d texted that I needed to see her at my place ASAP. Thanks to our away game, where we’d played UConn both Friday and Saturday night, it’d been four long days since we’d seen each other, and after being apart for Thanksgiving break the week before, it seemed especially unfair. That text was just one of many, many texts I’d sent while I was out of town, not to mention the hour-long phone call after our win on Friday. Each time I’d talked to her had made me wish for time to go by even faster.

I locked my door, kicked off my shoes, and started on my tie. She scooted to the end of the bed and I got the confirmation that she wasn’t, in fact, wearing any underwear.

My hard-on strained against the zipper of my slacks.

She reached up and removed my fumbling hands from my tie. Then she grabbed on to the end of the fabric and yanked me down so that my face was level with hers. “That’s my job, undressing you.”

I braced my hands on either side of her thighs and kissed the lips I’d been dreaming about for days. I didn’t care if it made me whipped or sappy, because she made me happier than I’d ever been before.

“I like it when you’re all dressed up,” she said. “Usually you change before you come home.”

“It was Coach’s punishment for ‘not acting like gentlemen’ on the drive there.”

She clicked her tongue. “Bad, bad boy.”

My blood fired hotter as she slid the tie free and went to work on the buttons of my shirt. When I reached out to slide my hand up her bare thigh, she smacked my hand. “Wait your turn.”

“Bad boys don’t really wait,” I said, then I dove on top of her, happiness tumbling through me as she shrieked. “And I’m going to punish you for trying to make me. We’ll see how you like waiting.”

I slid a finger inside her, covering her mouth with mine as she gasped, and then I slowly withdrew, dragging my fingertip up the center of her body before taking it away.

“Mean,” she whimpered. Then we had the best tug-of-war ever. She’d remove an article of clothing and tease me until I was on the edge and totally out of my mind and then I’d give her the same treatment. By the end, our mouths had explored every inch of each other’s bodies. Only then did we give in and have frantic, mind-blowing sex, putting all of our days and hours of missing each other into it.

Careful to not crush her, I leaned over her and kissed her swollen lips. Then I maneuvered so that I could rest my head on her stomach and look up at her pretty face. Just like I hoped she would, she reached down and ran her fingers through my hair in that way that soothed and drove me crazy at the same time.

When I’d decided to do whatever it took to get her back, I had no idea that it would mean a long, extremely torturous Skype session with Dane’s sisters. I’d spilled my guts, told them everything Whitney and I had done together—okay, every PG thing Whitney and I had done together—and they’d helped me come up with the ice-skating plan and Christmas tree. It’d made me feel like an idiot—especially since I’d needed the team’s help to pull it off—but right now I was glad that I’d given it all I had.

Whitney was also why I’d worked harder than I’d ever worked in my life at school. She deserved a guy who had it together, and she’d helped convince me that I not only deserved to be here, but that I was smart enough to earn whatever degree I wanted. Now I regularly met with a tutor who was helping me through my statistics class, and while it meant more study hours and less sleep, the material became a bit clearer day-by-day.

By the end of the school year, I’d need to decide which career path I’d put more effort toward, but either way, I planned on opening a sports center in my old neighborhood, for kids who needed a safe place after school. I’d told Whitney about it, and she’d given me great ideas about ways to reach out to people in the community, as well as how to get in touch with the press, who’d hopefully cover it and help spread the word.

Her unfailing belief in me, and her promise to stay by my side every step of the way, opened up a new realm of possibilities, ones I couldn’t wait to explore with her.

“So, did you see your mom?” Whitney asked. I knew it’d come up eventually—I actually gave her credit for holding back on asking about it for so long.

“She came to Saturday night’s game,” I said.

“Do I have to play twenty questions or are you going to tell me what happened?”

“I was thinking more of a sexual favor bartering system.”

She stopped running her fingers through my hair and shot me a death glare.

“Fine, you win,” I said. “It went pretty well, actually.”

Whitney was the one who suggested a meeting on neutral ground. Connecticut was about halfway between here and New York, with a little more driving on Mom’s end. I didn’t think she’d go for it, but she had. She’d driven up for the Saturday night game and we’d had dinner afterward. “She looked good. Sober and happy.”

“And she didn’t bring…?”

“No. She actually listened for once.” I’d thought she might bombard me with Raymond, but she’d respected my wishes. Of course he came up in conversation, and she wanted to know if I’d be at the wedding over Christmas break, and if I’d walk her down the aisle. “I thought a lot about what you said, how you worried I’d regret not going to the wedding. I know it’s hypocritical to not give the guy a second chance, since I needed one from you—”

---