“What can I say? I find guys that are your type all the time, and since my daughter doesn’t allow me to fix her up, I choose my second daughter.”
Mr. Gerhardt is always making me feel like a part of their family, which I normally appreciate. Just not in this instance. “My schedule is pretty booked.”
“One night out won’t kill you.”
I smile politely, not wanting to make a big deal of it in front of all these people. “Can you excuse me? I need to use the restroom.”
I leave the suite and head down to the locker rooms, showing security my employee pass. Nudging the door open a little, I find Maksim stripping off his pads and throwing them into his locker.
“Maks?” I say.
He turns to me, the anger softening on his face. “What are you doing here?”
“I came to check on you.” I look behind me and step inside, closing the door.
“I’m fine. Fucking refs don’t call shit. What are they being paid for?” He tears off everything, leaving him in just his jockstrap. He sits on the bench in front of his locker and throws his head into his hands, his hair slicked with sweat. “I’m sick of being the only one who sees this shit.”
I hear a television with the game on in the next room. I wish I could go turn it off. He just needs to chill at this point.
I stand in front of him, putting my hands on his head. He widens his legs and pulls me into him, snuggling his face into my stomach and clenching the back of my shirt. This poor man and the burden he carries with him every game. I wish I could ease some of the load for him.
His hands inch my shirt up, his lips pressing to my stomach.
“Maksim,” I sigh. It feels good, but we’re in the locker room where anyone could walk in at any time.
“Shh…” he says, unbuttoning my jeans and sliding them down my legs.
Even though I know I shouldn’t, I let him. His finger slides the crotch of my panties over and runs along my folds while his other hand snakes up my shirt and grabs a hold of my breast.
“I need you so fucking bad.” He pushes my jeans down the entire way, so I step out of them and he hoists me up, my legs wrapping around his middle.
God, he feels incredible. The calloused tips of his fingers massaging my ass, his hot, wet kisses along my collarbone. As much as I feel as though I should push him away, I can’t.
He gets my back up against a locker and shifts to hold me in one of his arms while he frees himself from the jockstrap. Teasing me with the tip of his hard cock, he runs it through my wetness.
“Condom?” I ask.
“I’m clean.”
I bite my lip. I’m on the pill. I was waiting to tell him until we were at that stage of our relationship, but I’m not sure I can hold out. We have an entire period before that team will come in here.
“Me too, and I’m on the pill.”
He doesn’t even acknowledge my words before he pushes into me, making me lose my breath. His dick fills me completely. Nothing has ever made me feel more like his than when he looks me in the eye with such conviction when he’s inside me. As though I’m the one who can change his mood. Remove his burdens. Make him happy or sad. The man’s eyes give away every feeling inside him, and I close mine briefly with the knowledge of what we are to one another.
“Goddamn, you feel so good, kotik.” He’s doing most of the work, so I pull my T-shirt behind my head and pull down my bra straps, wanting and needing his hot mouth on my nipples. As soon as they’re free, he’s there, licking, sucking, and nibbling.
“Don’t stop. Please don’t ever stop.”
“Never, krasavitsa. Never.”
I love when he uses Russian words for me. I don’t know what they all mean, but I know I’m the only one in his life that he uses them with.
He growls into my neck and my back hits the lockers over and over. It’s noisy, but I don’t care. We’re both chasing the high of what we are together. I wrap my arms around his neck, needing to ground myself to get max enjoyment. His head is in my breasts and he’s switching his attention from one to the other.
Sweat forms between us, and murmurs of swear words and praise for one another leave us both. I use my legs around his hips as leverage to help him with the momentum that’s going to have each of us screaming in a moment.
Just when I think my orgasm will never crest, it’s like a rogue wave crashes into me. Maksim doesn’t let up, pumping into me until his hips jerk one final time and he pushes his face into my neck. After we both come, we don’t move or talk. We’re exhausted and breathless as he stands there, holding my weight.
On the television, the announcers are talking about Aiden racing with the puck down the center, passing to Ford, who passes back.
“Here comes Langley,” one says, and Maksim tenses in my arms.
“This doesn’t look good,” the other announcer says.
“And Langley nails Drake to the wall, and Drake is down.”
I lower my legs and Maksim sets my feet on the floor before he leaves me to go watch the television.
“This isn’t good. The way these two teams play, lambasting one another. I think we knew when Petrov left the game Langley would use it to his advantage.”
I get dressed while listening and hear medics being called out to the ice. By the time we’re both dressed and walking out of the locker room, Aiden is unconscious and being wheeled out of the arena.
I rush out to the ambulance as they’re wheeling Aiden into it. He’s just lying there lifeless.
Saige sits in the ambulance, holding his hand and whispering to him. “It’s okay, baby, come on. Wake up.”
An arm wraps around my shoulders. Paisley. Sweet Paisley, but even she can’t get me out of this.
I grab the arm of one of the paramedics. “I’m coming to the hospital. Which one are you taking him to?”
“He’ll be at Memorial,” he says.
“We’ll be right behind you, Saige,” Paisley tells her, but her eyes never leave Aiden.
The ambulance leaves with the lights and sirens, and suddenly I’m back on that highway in Russia, watching Armen being loaded into an ambulance.
The police were using flashlights to stare into my eyes, asking me to walk a straight line, recite the alphabet backward. They were sure we were drunk, but an animal had come out and I swerved, lost control, and hit a tree. To them, we were just two teenagers who were driving crazy.
“Is he okay?” Armen’s blood-curdling cries as they extricated him from the car were still ringing in my head. At least he was breathing, I thought. Maybe all the blood didn’t mean it was as bad as I suspected.
“They’ll get him to the hospital. Let’s get you situated,” the police officer said. “Take you down to the station.”
“Come on, Maksim, let’s go.” Paisley is pulling on my arm to get me to move. I do, and she wraps her arms around my waist. “This isn’t your fault. This is just hockey. Part of the game.”
“Let’s just go,” I say grimly.
I dislodge her from my body and run inside to get my shoes and my keys. Within five minutes, we’re in my Mercedes and heading to the hospital as I pray like hell I’m not responsible for the death of another best friend.