Noel let out a deep sigh of relief when Coach blew the whistle and indicated that Noel was done for the day. The backup goalie jumped into the net, getting his shots in for this last part of practice while Noel got a head start to the locker room. Or, more accurately, to the trainer’s room.
He almost went in the wrong direction in the warren of tunnels under the ancient arena, but it wasn’t his first time in Detroit, fortunately, so he managed without issue.
No issue, that was, until he heard a strange noise and stuck his head through the door to see what was going on.
Savannah was doubled over one of the huge trash cans, her hands braced on either side to keep it from rolling away from her, as she threw up what had to be the entire contents of her stomach. And then some.
Shit, that looked just miserable.
As quietly as he could, Noel snuck back down the hallway and into the locker room. He’d need to see Savannah eventually about what he suspected was the beginning of a tight groin muscle, thanks to the heroic split save he’d foolishly made during shoot-out practice, but he could strip out of his gear and shower first. Give her some time.
And maybe spend a few minutes praying to all that was holy that the food they’d eaten on the flight out here wasn’t going to give them all food poisoning. Or that she didn’t have a stomach virus, because what one of the team got, they all got eventually.
The rest of the guys filtered into the locker room a few minutes after Noel was done in the shower. He was still sitting on the bench in a towel, consumed with guilt because he should have said something to Savannah and made sure there wasn’t anything he could do to help her. It had been pretty shitty of him to have left her alone like that. It was just—Noel always wanted to be left alone when he was sick. And, well, he was squeamish.
Rhian tromped into the room with the rest of the D-corps and smiled at Noel. It was good to see Rhian in a happy mood. He must have had a good practice. But at the risk of ruining that, maybe he should tell Rhian what he’d seen? Rhian was, after all, good friends with Savannah. Hell, he must like her a lot, since he voluntarily lived above her garage, which was just weird—the dude made millions, and he lived in an in-law apartment? But whatever, maybe she’d be comfortable accepting some help from him.
“What’s up?” Henri asked as he took his seat further down the bench, following Noel’s line of vision to Rhian and looking between them.
“Oh, nothing. It’s just…I saw Savannah was sick. You know, barfing? In the trainer’s room? And I was wondering if I should say something to Rhian.”
Noel wasn’t sure what Henri would advise, but he sure as hell didn’t expect Henri to break into a smile and look so pleased. What the fuck was up with that?
And they said goalies were weird.
Before Noel could ask Henri what his malfunction was, Rhian wandered over. “Hey. Did I hear my name?”
Noel shrugged and scratched the back of his neck, feeling guilty, again, that he hadn’t offered to help Savannah himself. Now, twenty minutes later, it probably wasn’t going to do a lot of good, but he plowed on anyway. “Yeah, uh…I thought you might want to know that I caught Savannah being sick when I got off the ice. She looked…well, it looked pretty miserable, man. And I know you two are friends, so—”
Noel didn’t bother explaining himself further, since he was suddenly talking to the empty space in front of him. Rhian was back at his stall, ripping the rest of his equipment off like it was on fire.
Noel caught Henri’s surprised expression, then they both watched the show as Rhian stripped down to his Under Armour and bolted from the room in nothing else. Not even socks.
Noel grimaced. No one should ever walk around these locker rooms without some kind of protection on their feet. That was just wrong.
“What the fuck was that?” he asked no one in particular.
Henri huffed out a half-laugh and shook his head.
Rhian knew better than to race into Savannah’s office like a lunatic, but he did it anyway. He burst through the door to find her standing in the middle of three of his teammates, calmly discussing their post-practice routines and what modifications were needed that day. The room, and her staff, bustled around her.
She appeared as healthy as a horse as she looked over her shoulder at him standing in her doorway in nothing but a pair of compression leggings—they were tights, if he was being honest—and a long-sleeve t-shirt plastered to his chest with sweat. He probably looked about as good as he smelled.
Worse than being yelled at for being an idiot was the way Savannah kept her face perfectly neutral and asked, “Is there something you need help with, Rhian?”
“Uh…no. I’m good.”
The guys were all looking at him funny now. He opened his mouth, but couldn’t come up with a single reasonable explanation for his behavior.
“Did you take a wrong turn?” Savannah asked mildly, and he latched on to that.
“Yeah. I guess I did. This old place gets me every time.”
He thought maybe a couple of the guys had bought that, and he didn’t linger long enough to determine what the rest thought, let alone if he could convince them. Spinning on his heel—his bare heel, which was gross, because everyone knew you didn’t walk around these places without some form of protection on your feet—he trudged back to the locker room. He didn’t make eye contact with anyone—particularly the French Canadian mafia—as he stripped down the rest of the way and ducked into the showers. The bus to the hotel would be leaving soon, and he wanted to be on it and not have to find his own way back. Then, like the fucking adult he was, he could sulk alone in his room.
Road trips were the worst. They hadn’t been so bad when Rhian had still lived in hotels full-time himself. The only difference from being at “home” back then had been that the team generally fed him and he was a little busier with all the moving around from hotel to rink to bus to hotel. He’d liked not having to think about much, just being able to do his job to the best of his ability.
Now, though, road trips sucked. Rhian wanted to be at home, in his own bed, surrounded by his own things. The idea of having things was a relatively new one for Rhian, but he’d taken to it. He’d still, though, burn them all, throw out every object he’d let himself collect, if it meant he could spend all his time with Garrick and Savannah.
But Garrick was at home, and Rhian wasn’t. When he’d first signed with Boston for six years, he’d actually thought the travel wouldn’t be so bad, since Savannah would be along for the trips with him. Sure, they’d both miss Garrick like crazy, but at least Garrick would have the comfort of home, and they’d have each other.
But it didn’t work like that. When they flew, she sat up front with management and worked, while Rhian sat towards the back with the guys and played cards or read. He didn’t sleep, almost ever, on the flights because as soon as he closed his eyes, all he did was wish he could move up ten rows and put his head on Savannah’s shoulder. It just made the distance between them that much more palpable to him.
And the hotels were the worst. Sometimes she’d be a few floors away, other times as close as across the hall—but it didn’t really matter which. She wasn’t with him, he wasn’t with her, and, worst of all, they had to pretend that didn’t bother either of them. And maybe it didn’t bother her. These days she was so desperate for sleep, she probably passed out the minute the hotel room door closed behind her. But he wanted to be on the other side of that door with her. He wanted to watch her sleep and know she was safe and tuck his face against her shoulder and feel her warmth.
Instead, he would be alone in his room, trying to make himself warm with blankets and dry, stale hotel air that would never smell of vanilla and home. And definitely not of Savannah and Garrick.
Rhian hadn’t jerked off on a road trip in over a year. That couldn’t be normal, could it?
He must have been giving off a pretty good leave-me-the-fuck-alone vibe by the time the team climbed aboard the bus, because even his friends didn’t do more than bump his shoulder, then sit down around him. He stared out the window for the short drive, only really starting to pay attention to the world around him when he saw a CVS on the corner. Then a convenience store flew past, just before they took the final corner and pulled up in front of the hotel.
Rhian told himself to chill out and be normal as he followed the rest of the team into the hotel. He couldn’t help but notice, though, that Savannah hadn’t made the bus. It wasn’t all that unusual that she would find her own way back, but when she also didn’t show to the dinner the team had arranged in one of the hotel’s large conference rooms, Rhian felt twitchy.
He’d already screwed up enough for one day, though, so he didn’t run up to her room and beat down the door, in spite of the burning desire to do so. Instead, he slipped his phone from his pocket and checked for a text from Savannah with her hotel room number. They were in the habit of sending their room numbers to each other when they arrived, though usually it only served to make him hyper-aware of how he wasn’t in her room, instead of offering reassurance that he’d know where to find her in an emergency.
In any case, he had it. And tonight, that was a reassurance.
When dinner was over, Rhian begged off joining the guys in “an epic Mario Kart battle” in the lounge that had been set up for them, saying that he was going to go for a walk instead. Henri stared at him, studying him in a way that made Rhian distinctly nervous, but Rhian knew better than to ask.
He smiled fondly at his idiot friends as Jean-Michel rode herd on Henri and Noel all the way down the hall, trying to get them to trash talk about their video gaming skills while they both just rolled their eyes.
Rhian wandered casually out the hotel’s front door, but as soon as his feet hit the sidewalk, he turned left and picked up speed. In a matter of minutes, he’d pulled together a bag of Ritz crackers, lemon-lime Gatorade, two Hershey bars, and a tin of peppermints. He found another shop that sold him a box of chamomile tea and two of the largest, cheesiest, glitteriest Christmas mugs he’d ever seen. Savannah would love them. He didn’t really strike gold, though, until the appliance store. Loaded down with his purchases, he blended with the rest of the shoppers as he made his way back toward the hotel, a gift-wrapped box with a cheerful red bow under one arm.
He ducked into the hotel’s garage entrance, found the elevator, and took it to the sixth floor, where he meandered down the hall toward his own room. When he didn’t see anyone, he slipped into the stairwell, then down one floor. He peeked into the hallway on the fifth floor and saw no one, but at this point, he needed to check in with Savannah before he did anything else.
She wasn’t going to like it, but at least this way they could prevent anyone else from witnessing his stupidity. That would help, anyway.
He smiled when she picked up on the first ring. “Hi, baby.”
“I’m guessing that greeting means you’re alone.” Just hearing her voice made something in Rhian’s chest loosen. “Are you in your room?”
“Yes?” She sounded suspicious.
“Can you let me in?”
“Rhian…”
“I’m looking down the hall. There’s no one—”
“Come on. Quick.”
Rhian didn’t know what changed her mind, and he didn’t care much, either. He darted out of the stairwell and down the hall, praying that Coach—or anyone else from management—wouldn’t open their doors. Savannah’s door opened the moment he arrived, and he slipped inside. She stumbled back a little when he pushed the door wider to get his parcels through with him, but he gladly wrapped his arm around her and anchored her against him as he kicked the door shut.
As soon as she was close, the moment he could feel her body against his and smell her shampoo and feel her hands on his back, he let go a breath he hadn’t known he’d been holding.
Savannah frowned down at the numerous bags hanging from Rhian’s fingers and the brightly colored box under his arm.
“What have you been up to?” she asked.
“No one saw me,” he promised.
“I know you’re careful, honey,” she said, still eyeing his parcels.
“I wasn’t today. I keep messing up. I’m sorry.”
Savannah pressed her hands to his back, holding him closer. “You’re okay. I mean, yes, you have to stop with the hovering, but I get it’s been…that you’ve been having a hard time with…”
“I just want to know you’re okay.”
“Well, I am,” she said firmly.
“So, Noel didn’t see you barfing up lunch into a trashcan earlier?”
Savannah’s shoulders slumped. “Oh, damn. I thought I heard something.”
“And you weren’t going to tell me?”
“What? No. I would have mentioned it to you and Garrick tonight on the phone, if the subject came up. It wasn’t a big deal, though. I’m not sick or anything.”
“You didn’t come to dinner.”
“Oh, well. Yeah. I ordered some room service.” She pointed guiltily at the desk and tray of food she’d barely picked at. The mac and cheese had sounded good when she’d ordered it, but the moment she took off the cover, she’d changed her mind completely.
Rhian passed her one of the smaller bags.
She peered inside and smiled, her heart squeezing tight at seeing the crackers she’d been subsisting on for the last six weeks, as well as a tin of the mints that often helped settle her stomach. Then he reached into another bag and handed over her favorite flavor of Gatorade before loading two more bottles of the stuff into her mini-fridge.
As soon as he stood, she leaned in and pressed her lips to his. He hummed, curling his arms around her until the bags thumped against her butt. She burrowed into his warmth.
She knew, in her heart, that the right thing to do would be to thank him for being so thoughtful, so sweet, and then remind him he had to leave.
She also knew she wasn’t going to do it anyway.
“Come on,” she said after indulging in the kind of long, lingering kisses that she often dreamed about when she was stuck in her hotel room alone. “I thought I couldn’t eat, but now that I’ve seen those crackers, I’m starving.”
He smiled, as if this was all he’d wanted, and her heart hurt with how much she loved him. Then he pulled a box of her favorite tea from one of the bags, and handed her the box. She ripped through the paper, laughing when she uncovered an electric kettle.
“Merry Christmas,” he said with a happy grin.
“I don’t think I’ve ever loved you more than at this moment.”
She said it unthinkingly. As a joke, almost.
But his face went serious. “I love you, too.”
After that, it was just lucky that she got any crackers or tea in her at all, since all she wanted to do was lie down with Rhian and hold him. Have him hold her. She scarfed her makeshift and absolutely perfect dinner, and when he went to make them both a cup of tea, she stripped down, pulled on Garrick’s old Ice Cats shirt she used as pajamas while on the road, and climbed into bed.
Rhian looked back at her and frowned before turning his focus to tea-making instead. When he brought her a mug and stood holding his, still fully clothed and looking uncertain, she peeled back the blankets.
“Come on. We’ll get you back to your room before dawn and no one will be the wiser.”
He didn’t move. “Really?”
She sighed, understanding his hesitation, and knowing she should be feeling it herself, but not caring either way. “Yes, I’m sure. And hurry up—all the warmth is escaping.”
Rhian was down to his boxer briefs and beside in her in record time. The smile on his face, and the tension she could feel easing from her own body, told her she’d made the right call, even if it sucked thinking about how they couldn’t do this all the time. Or, really, at all. Tonight had to be an exception.
With that in mind, she snuggled close, tucked right up under his arm as they called Garrick. He looked surprised to find them together, but he didn’t say anything about it, and his warm smile and roving eyes told her he liked seeing them this way. They stuck to their usual subjects—the flight that morning, practice that afternoon, the game tomorrow.
After a series of quiet goodnights and a frankly embarrassing number of “I love you”s, they hung up. Rhian turned off the lights, set his alarm for ass o’clock, then slid down in the bed facing her, their knees touching.
Savannah was tired all the time these days, but she was also sleeping better than she had in ages, so she had some energy left in the tank tonight. She used it wisely, reaching out to draw her fingers down Rhian’s chest, enjoying the soft skin and firm muscles as they twitched beneath her touch.
Rhian let out a huff of quiet laughter and disbelief when she curled her fingertips into the waistband of his boxers.
“Really?” he asked.
Her only answer was to kiss him and tug his shorts down over his hips.
They’d been together long enough that this part was…well, easy wasn’t the right word. But familiar. And maybe simple. She knew what worked for him. He knew they both wanted it to be quick and quiet. It was only a matter of seconds before her hand was wrapped around his cock, teasing him erect while he eased one of her legs over his hip and tugged her panties aside.
They didn’t even have to stop kissing. The awkward days of instructions and needing verbal feedback were in the past. Not that they didn’t still revert when trying new things or one of them just felt like telling the other two how they felt or what they were going to do to them. Hell, yes, they did. But tonight, the hum against her lips, the wriggle of her hips, was all the feedback needed.
She’d been thinking about doing this since the second or third time she’d caught Garrick’s eyes drifting down over them both. If she had to guess, Garrick was probably spread out across their bed right now, jerking off while imagining what they were up to. Maybe he was picturing exactly this, her hand running the length of Rhian’s shaft and tugging a quiet moan out of him, his index finger tracing exquisite and tormenting figure eights over her clit, again and again.
Her hips twitched against his hand and he smiled against her lips.
She thought about crawling under the covers and sucking him into her mouth, but when she looked down, his fingers threaded into her hair, tilting her head back up and capturing her mouth with his as his hips began to work in time with her hand.
Somehow he managed to do this while keeping up a steady, constant flick against her clit.
Goddamn, it was good to be with a professional athlete, she thought with a wry smile that was mostly lost to their kiss.
She circled her palm over the head of Rhian’s cock on her next trip up and found it wet, knew it would be going from pink to red as his need grew. She slipped her other arm down between their bodies and cupped his balls, rolling them against her palm as she started jerking him a little tighter, a little faster. He finally lost his rhythm with his fingers, which meant he was close.
Savannah slid two fingers back, tracing along the seam of skin behind his balls, then pressed up hard.
Rhian ended their kiss with a gasp as his back arched and he came all over Garrick’s shirt. Savannah stifled a giggle as she looked at the mess. She wished she had her phone handy so she could send Garrick a pic. That would definitely help him with whatever fantasy he was working on, if he wasn’t done already.
Rhian took him a minute to regather himself, but once he had, he smiled softly at Savannah and then meticulously took her apart. She buried her face in her pillow to muffle the sounds he drew from her as his thumb tormented her clit and two fingers pushed deep into her pussy and pressed against her g-spot. She could hear him quietly laughing at her when she bit the pillow, but what else could she do as his pinky wriggled its way into her ass?
Her orgasm washed over her, making her moan as he teased the ripples from her body until she was shaking against him and pushing weakly at his arm.
She slept better than ever that night.