I feel hungover when I wake up. My head is achy, my muscles are tight and sore at the same time. And I’m ravenous. Not just for food. I roll over and find her curvy body warm and naked beside me. Yeah, this is heaven.
My lips press into the crook of her neck and she sighs and stretches and then curls over onto her side, giving me her back. I don’t think it’s a cock block though because she pushes the swell of her ass into my morning hard-on. “Morning princess.”
“You have got to stop with that,” she murmurs. “Mac. Say it with me M-A-C.”
“Mac. Mackenzie. Mackenzie Gabrielle Larue.” I kiss her neck between her nickname, her full first name, and after I say her entire name, I kiss her gently on the mouth because she’s turned to look at me over his shoulder.
“How do you know my full name?”
“Because you picked your new middle name when they were doing the paperwork for your adoption,” I say, moving to kiss her shoulder as my hand slides over her hip, fingertips dancing over her belly button. “I remember my mom saying how sweet it was that you picked your mom’s name as a middle name. And then I asked if I could pick a new middle name and they said no.”
She laughs quietly. “What would you have picked?”
“Iron-Man,” I confess and her giggles get louder. I bite her shoulder. “I was eight. Cut me some slack.”
She giggles harder and I slip a hand between her legs and that shuts her up. Well, actually it doesn’t. The giggles turn to breathy pants and I like that much better.
We have morning sex, and it's the best morning sex of my life. We're both slow and lazy and yeah, sliding into her without a barrier will never get old. It's my new favorite thing. That and the way we both seem to be bare in other ways too.
I pin her wrists above her head on the bed and pump into her slowly, making every stroke count. When she comes I lift her left leg over my shoulder to get deeper and let the tight pulse of her pussy draw my own orgasm out of me. I come with a shudder and collapse onto her, moving only once my cock has slipped out of her on its own.
"I have to get back to Portland," I begrudgingly admit. "It's an off day but I have a media thing to do. Twenty questions with the Instagram team."
“You should thrilled.” She smiles.
“I hate this part of the job,” I admit. “I didn’t used to because I used to be hot shit. But since the waiver thing…”
Her big blue eyes lock with mine. “You’re still hot shit, Con. I meant what I said. You need to play like there is no name on your jersey. Like you have nothing to prove.”
It’s easy to say, but not easy to do. I don’t tell her that though. I get out of bed and walk to her bathroom. I turn on the shower and wait for the water to warm. I’m going to have to head straight into the arena for this interview. No time to head back to Abbott and Declan’s first so I have to shower here. She walks into the small room as I climb into the tub. I hesitate before pulling the curtain closed. “Care to join?”
She unties her robe.
We shower in silence that I wouldn’t exactly call comfortable. Her bringing up that conversation we had last night bursts the carnal bubble we’ve been in. That was some heavy shit. For both of us. I remember the feel of her tears under my thumbs. She’s in front of me, the spray of warm water rinsing the soap off her body, and I encircle her in a hug from behind. I kiss her shoulder.
“Are we okay?”
“Yeah. I mean, I need to see my therapist, but I’m not mad about it.” She takes a deep breath and exhales slowly. “I think we both needed to hear what was said.”
“Yeah.” She slips out of my arms and out of the shower. I turn off the water and she hands me a towel. “So this twenty questions thing with the social media team… they’re gonna ask me a whole bunch of stupid stuff like my favorite pre-game meal and my favorite movie. But they might ask me if I’m single or taken.”
"Oh yeah," she nods firmly like, of course, they would and it's no big deal, but I'm waiting for her to meet my eye in the mirror and she doesn't. "The puck bunnies need to know."
I might as well just shoot my shot. “I want to tell them I’m taken.”
And now her eyes finally lift to find mine in the mirror. She looks… well it’s hard to describe but she definitely doesn’t look horrified or annoyed so that’s a good start. I fidget with the knot in the towel at my waist. “But I saw you the other day in Portland. After I saw you in the deli. And you were going into an apartment building with a guy I don’t know.”
She blinks, her face blank, and then it lights up. “You saw me with Norman?”
“I don’t know who he is.”
"He's a doctor. Psychiatrist. He's starting a non-profit in Portland," she explains and turns to face me. Her face is lit up with excitement as she explains. "There's a focus on youth, but really anyone homeless will be welcome. He needs psychiatrists on staff and he wants me to come work for him when I've graduated. It wasn't an apartment building you saw us go into. Well, it was, but it's being renovated into a non-profit shelter."
“Oh,” I cock my head as all of this new info settles in my brain. “Shit. You’re going to be working in Portland?”
“Yeah. If I take the job and well, I want to take the job,” she admits.
“That’s fantastic!” I pull her into a hug. “Congrats Mac. I’m really happy for you.”
“Me too.” She hugs me back, squeezing me hard as she adds, “Because soon I’ll be living in the same town as my boyfriend.”
I pull back a little. She's looking down, avoiding eye contact because she is shy. This strong, brilliant, invincible woman has gotten shy over me? I put my hand under her chin and lift it until she has no choice but to look at me. "He's one lucky bastard."
* * *
It takes everything in me not to seal the official decision to be together with another earth-shattering orgasm but I really do have to get back to Portland. And she has work in a couple of hours. So we both get dressed and I give her a toe-curling kiss at the front door. It's long and would have gone on longer but Tenley starts whistling from the farmhouse porch.
I flip her the bird as I walk to my car. She cackles of course. Mac disappears back into her apartment and I drive away, knowing full well Tenley is going to clomp on over there in her snow boots and demand gossip from Mac. I smile at the thought even though it’s also annoying.
I make it back to Portland with time to spare so I text Declan and let him know all is well with his truck. He isn't worried in the least and just texts me back a thumbs-up emoji and lets me know that he and Abbott will be out tonight and I'm on my own for dinner.
I didn't really think about it, but now that I'm back in Portland it makes sense. I want to live away from the arena but near the beach. I like it there, and also Mac will probably have an apartment close to her work. If I'm by the beach it will be like a getaway every time she stays over, which I hope is a lot. I'm smiling to myself at the idea. Declan sends a name and a phone number a minute later, and after thanking him, I pull up the only family group chat I like. It's just for the male cousins and it's got a picture of Tate, Theo, Grady, and me as pre-teens in snowsuits and skates holding sticks and wearing helmets out on the frozen Silver Bay lake. The name of the group changes occasionally. It's currently called The Boyz, but when it started, as teenagers, we egotistically named it Hockey Gods. When Tenley saw that, she stole Tate's phone and changed it to Small Dick Energy. That lasted longer than we would have liked because she somehow locked us out of the admin part. When we got control back it became The Boyz.
I type out a message as I enter the arena and make my way to the social media offices.
There’s a fairly long pause. Long enough that I can greet the social media team and make small talk. Then, as we walk down the hall to the elevator, my phone literally blows up.
He follows that up with a text with the guy’s phone number and website. Pennie, our head of marketing, is waiting for me in the room she booked for this recorded questions session. She gives me a friendly smile and taps the chair she wants me to sit in.
Of course, they don't shut up. That just floods the chat with snarky comments.
A bunch of laugh emojis get posted.
A bunch of eye roll emojis, including one from me.
“Ready, Con?” Pennie asks.
“As I’ll ever be,” I reply and punch out a quick response to Tate’s last comment.
I turn off my phone so it doesn’t buzz a hole in my pocket.