Prologue
Joey
Dude. Get your ass here. Everyone’s heading to Malley’s.
I shook my head at Alix Halvrick’s text. He was one of my best friends on the team, but as single as they came. When he said everyone, he meant every single guy looking to score. I hadn’t been that kind of guy in years, really never, considering I was drafted to the Las Vegas Vipers when I was twenty and started playing as soon as I graduated from college.
I wasn’t surprised the guys were headed out to celebrate. We were headed into late November, the trade deadline was over a month away, and we were killing our division, currently up by three games. The team was incredible, all of our lines working together like we practiced twenty-four-seven, even in our sleep. I was on top of my game, scoring a hat trick earlier in our road game to Arizona.
I was also exhausted, my ribs aching from one too many slams into the boards by their defenseman who should have been a football linebacker.
I’m out. Next time, I texted back and shut my garage door before entering my home.
Lenora had a matinee earlier where she worked as a burlesque dancer for Las Vegas’s premier show on the Strip. I wanted a drink, my wife, and a few hours of catching up on our lives while I’d been on the road for the last week. Some sex. And a long night of sleep.
Although that sex part could have been in any order.
God, I missed my wife. We both led crazy lives, but when we were home together, she was the calm to my constant rush.
Tucking my phone away, I entered our house, a gorgeous six-thousand square foot home, all modern and bright, but with finishing touches Lenora had made over the years. She’d turned the behemoth structure from a house to a home. Careful not to leave anything out where she’d trip over it, which drove her crazy, I dropped my bag into the mudroom and kicked off my shoes.
The house was quiet, but that wasn’t unusual. Lenora lived a lifestyle that involved so much loud music and constant flashing lights she said it overwhelmed her senses and she craved the quiet when she was out of her performing mode.
Which meant since she wasn’t on the main floor, in the kitchen, or reading a book in the family room, she was probably upstairs. Maybe napping.
Hopefully soaking in our bathtub.
Her car was in the garage, so she was home. A bath would explain why she hadn’t answered any of my texts after we landed letting her know we won. She might have been married to a pro hockey player, but when it came to the game, she gave no fucks about it. Barely watched it, occasionally came to my games, but never really enjoyed them. I didn’t fully blame her. Some women could be judgmental bitches when they heard what she did for a living, but I’d always been damn proud of her and impressed.
She was incredible on stage, even if I didn’t love the fact she did it with barely anything left to the imagination. Guys got hard-ons to my wife’s moves and tits and her abs she worked hard to maintain, but only I saw the person she was outside the performer.
And she was fucking awesome. Captured my attention the moment I saw her grabbing a coffee. I was a young, cocky little shit who’d recently moved to Vegas. I took my shot, got shot down, and continued to get right back up. For weeks I stalked her at the coffee shop, made her laugh. Once I realized she ordered the same thing every day, a skinny caramel latte with no whip, I’d have it waiting for her when she’d walk in.
The third time I had her order ready, I’d already been sitting at a table, two cups of coffee in front of me. As soon as she entered, she didn’t even look toward the line. Her gorgeous blue eyes scanned the small shop, landed on me, and she came straight to me.
She sat down, grabbed her coffee and said, “One date, you crazy man. I’ll give you one date.”
I was done for. Now, every time I was on the road, all I wanted when I got home was to fall into my wife’s arms, talk about our lives, and then spend the rest of the night making love.
Soft music filtered down the hallway from our bedroom. A light jazz. Her favorite.
I picked up my steps, thinking of finding her in the tub, bubbles surrounding her full breasts that would already be peaked and hardened. I’d tear off my shirt, and she’d begin grabbing her tits, playing with them so I could watch her get herself turned on while I finished stripping.
Oh yeah. Fuck Malley’s and spending time with the guys. I saw them enough. All I needed was my wife.
I worked at the belt of my dress pants, yanking it through the loops and undid the button. The sooner I could join her, the sooner I’d have everything I needed.
With my belt in one hand, I pulled off my shirt and reached for the door handle and opened it slowly, softly, so I could surprise her.
Instead, it was me that was fucking surprised.
My jaw might have slammed into the floor and I blinked several times, trying to make sense of what I saw in front of me.
Because my wife wasn’t in the bathtub.
And her hands weren’t on her own tits. They were on another woman’s, who was sitting on my wife’s face, her back to me.
“What in the fuck?”
“Oh shit!” Lenora screamed and the woman who was on top of her jumped to the side, grabbed the sheet from our bed and tangled it around herself.
“Are you…” I blinked, trying to clear my vision. “Are you fucking kidding me?”
Pain like I’d never known before slashed right through my chest. I might as well have been shot at point-blank range with my dad’s hunting rifle.
“Joey. I didn’t know you were coming home yet.”
Was she fucking high? “To my own home? What in the fuck is going on?”
I mean, it was obvious. I’d just walked in on my wife, not only fucking around on me but fucking around with another woman. Pissed. Hurt. None of those words described what I was feeling. A roar rushed through my ears and I locked my knees so I didn’t collapse. Was this seriously happening?
“Fuck, Lenora.” If the person she was cheating on me with was a man, I’d probably deck his ass. Instead, a quick glance told me it was Rhianna. Fucking Rhianna. They were friends. Had been for years.
And Lenora hadn’t held secrets from me. At least I hadn’t thought so. Not until now. “How long?”
Lenora blinked at me, eyes shimmering with tears. She’d told me early on she was bi. I’d worried about it for months. It’d taken a lot to be confident in what we had, Lenora assuring me she just loved everyone, regardless of gender. She wouldn’t leave me just because she got sick of dick and wanted variety. It wasn’t like that.
Which meant I never, in my wildest dreams, even when I knew she thought Rhianna was attractive, could have imagined walking in on this—with Rhianna still currently scurrying around my bedroom, grabbing clothes and apologizing.
Yeah.
Me too.
“How long?” I asked again. Lenora stayed on the bed, a pillow in her lap. and for the first time since I met her, I had no desire to glance at her breasts.
“A couple of months.”
A couple of months.
Four small words.
And my marriage imploded.
I spun on my heels, threw my shirt back on, and grabbed my phone from my pocket.
I’ll be there in fifteen minutes, I texted Alix. Because fuck this. If I stayed, I’d yell. I’d punch a wall or hell, I… I had no idea what to do with what I just saw. Heard.