Page 17 of One Night Only
Not only does my subconscious swoon like the pathetic traitor she is, but I’m taken aback by the unexpected fragility in his words that I have a feeling guys like Dallas Shaw tend not to show very often. It makes me wonder if this is all an act. Or is this the real him? The one he keeps hidden beneath the veil of cocky flirtatiousness and bravado.
I’ll admit the time we spent together was amazing, and not just the sex. We talked and laughed, and it was like nothing I’ve ever experienced before with a man.
I remember I was mid-sentence when it happened. When I realized he was just staring at me with this enamored smile, looking at me like I invented beer. But then it was as if something snapped between us, and in an instant, everything changed. And I can confidently say without a sliver of a doubt, that I have never been kissed the way Dallas kissed me. I’ve never felt such an overwhelming surge of lust and longing from just one kiss.
But he’s twenty-six. Almost a full decade younger than me. And sure, it’s not like he’s nineteen or anything; we’re both fully grown adults, but he’s this hotshot pro hockey player, and I’m what? A broken thirty-five-year-old with way too many scars.
Not to mention, I need this job. This is my first job in over three years. It’s a statistical fact that the longer a woman is out ofthe workforce, the harder it is to get back in. It was by sheer chance I applied for the role at HMC when Andy was desperate. He’d just fired Paris and he was drowning; I was the only suitable applicant with immediate availability. A combination of good timing, luck, and possibly a little sympathy secured me the job at HMC, and I cannot screw this up. There’s no way I can risk jeopardizing this job for a cocky, self-professed playboy who will likely run for the hills the moment he sees therealme, regardless of how sweet and vulnerable that last text message was.
But as I re-read the message one last time, all I keep thinking is that if Dallas is serious, and he really can’t stop thinking about something as innocent as falling asleep with me in his arms, then perhaps he’s not quite the man-whore the internet is making him out to be…
CHAPTER 6
DALLAS
Fuck, I need to get laid.
As I gear up for our game against Philly, I have to wrestle a hand into my goalie pants so I can adjust my cup because my balls are like fucking lead. I don’t know what the hell is wrong with me. First game of every road trip, I’m always so pent up, which is why I made it a tradition to get thoroughly fucked the night before we leave. There’s usually always at least one local in my long list of contenders who will drop everything she’s doing to be that girl. Last night, I fucked my hand in the shower. Twice. And it still wasn’t enough.
I blame Emily. It was her I imagined naked, on her knees on the wet tile in front of me, those pretty pink lips wrapped around my cock, big honey eyes gazing up at me. I came so fucking hard, groaning her name. But less than two minutes later, I was fucking hard again. This is all her fault. Not really, but man I want her so bad it hurts. And the most frustrating part of all is that I want her for more than just a blowjob. I want her. All of her. Period. Fuck, I am so screwed.
With a huff, I sit down on the bench in front of my designated cubby, strapping my leg pads while trying to keep my focus on the game ahead as Coach stands front and center, giving hisusual pre-game motivational speech which is really just him telling us not to fuck up out on the ice mixed in with a few buzz words and a couple of loud claps.
I’m only half listening as I continue fixing my pads, catching a quick glimpse of Robbie beside me as he grins down at his phone. Probably some cute text from Fran, telling him she loves him, telling him to be careful, telling him to get into a fight because apparently it gets her all hot and shit, or so he let slip late one night on the team plane after a game against Miami.
I’ve never had that. I’ve never had a woman go out of her way to wish me luck before a game, to tell me to be careful, to tell me she loves me. I’ve had plenty of women congratulate meaftera game, usually by sticking their tongue down my throat or a hand down my pants, but I’m not an idiot. I know they don’t give a shit about me. And, if I’m being honest, up until a certain blonde came into my life like an adorable wrecking ball, it wasn’t really something I cared too much about.
After I finish strapping my chest protector, I reach into my cubby and pull my phone from my duffle. Eyeing Coach carefully as he goes over a few plays, I scroll to my messages, to my thread with Emily. Well, my thread with myself, really, because she’s still not acknowledging me in any way. I swear, I’m a sucker for the worst kind of punishment. I shake my head as I tap out a message.
Me: I’m gonna pretend that you just wished me luck.
Smirking, I reply. To a non-existent message. Like a fucking psychopath.
Me: Awww, thanks, Goldie.
I stare at my phone. I’m not an idiot. I know she’s not going to reply, but it doesn’t stop me from hoping she does. And yes, for the record, I officially hate myself.
“You good?”
I look up to see Robbie standing beside me, securing his shoulder pads, his gaze dipping to my phone.
Locking the device quickly, I shove it back into my bag. “Yeah, all good.”
“Yo, Tex!”
“What’s up?” Glancing over my shoulder, my eyes land on Happy sitting across the room, pulling his socks up over his shin guards while grinning like a creep.
“I called the red head,” he says with a wink. “Stacey.”
Huh. How about that. Fucked her twice and always thought her name was Sara.
“She wants to hook up after the game. Gonna bring a whole heap of hot friends, too,” Happy continues, eyebrows jumping up and down suggestively.
“Good for you.” I nod, struggling to get my jersey on over my pads.
“Where’re we going?” Logan asks, lacing his skates.
“She suggested some nightclub.” Happy shrugs. “Although I don’t intend on staying long, if you catch my drift…” When he realizes Coach Draper is suddenly standing right there to his left, glaring down at him with a face like Thunder (our unofficial mascot), Happy sits up straight, squaring his shoulders.
