Page 32 of Hockey Player Seeking Fan (Billionaires Seeking Wives Club #2)

Sabrina presses her lips together. I can see that her eyes are glowing, and she's trying not to laugh.

“I'm not going to say anything,” she says. “I'm just passing along the message.”

“Well, good,” I say. “What about Helen? Have you heard anything from her?”

“She’s studying super hard for the MCATs. Her dad really, really, really wants her to get into a top five med school.” She makes a face. “We might not hear from her for a while.”

“Man. That's some pressure, huh?”

Sabrina nods. “Oh, by the way, my mom sends her regards. She wanted to tell you that she's going to be planning a picnic in the park in a couple of weeks, and she hopes that you’ll be able to attend.”

“Does she know when yet?”

“No.” Sabrina rolls her eyes. “Oh, yeah, and did I tell you my sister called me?”

“Oh? How’s that going? I hope you didn't think I was just being selfish and talking about myself. I didn't want to pry if you weren't ready to talk more about the situation.”

“No, it's fine. She said that Dad agreed to go to rehab again, but that he really wants a relationship with me, and that he really wants a close relationship with her. So… we’ll see.”

“You think he's going to follow through this time?”

“I don't know.” She mumbles and shrugs. “I want to just pretend that it doesn't matter. I want to pretend that I don't care. I want to pretend that what he does is his business. I thought he was dead for so many years… but it hurts. I feel like if he really loved me, if he really loved her, he would fucking do anything to make sure he was in our lives. But… I don’t know.” She licks her lips.

“I just feel like maybe he doesn't love us as much as he tries to say that he does.”

I nod slowly. “Yeah. Just because someone says they love you doesn't mean it's true.”

“Has someone told you they love you and lied about it?” she asks softly.

“No,” I say, almost bitterly. “Not one man in my life has ever told me that he loved me. I mean, aside from my brothers and my dad and my grandpa. No boyfriends, no love interest, no one’s cared about me enough. No one’s seen my potential. No one’s?—”

“Hey, Erica. It's okay.”

“I just feel like maybe I partitioned the part that was disappointed and felt rejected, and maybe that's why I've gone so hard on wanting to find true love. Because what does it matter if random men don't fall in love with me? All I need is that one.

“Am I a loser?” I can feel myself growing sad, not because I am sad, but because of the way that society and relationships have made me feel.

I don't want to feel this way. Like I'm not good enough.

And while Tyler doesn't make me feel that way right now, how am I going to feel when he's ready to move on?

How am I going to feel when he's dating some other bimbo like that redhead I saw the other night?

But he wasn't dating her, right?

Sure, that wasn’t a date. But what about when it is a real date? What about when there's someone else whose back he wants to blow out and fuck all night long?

I mean, let's be real. He's not whispering sweet nothings in my ear and telling me how much he loves me.

He's not telling me that he's my soulmate and that I won the bet.

He's just calling me pretty and telling me that he likes to be with me—and that's okay.

It really is. Because I like to be with him, too, and I don't want to hold any expectations.

But there's a small part of me that's really scared that I'm going to break. And I think I knew that after the first time I slept with him, and that's why I stayed away. But I couldn't quit him. He was too persistent. He's too mesmerizing. He's too handsome. And when he touches me…

“Oh, Sabrina. When he touches me, I feel like I'm on fire. I feel like I could cure AIDS and cancer and every disease in the world. I feel like I'm all-powerful. And that scares me, because how does he have the ability to make me feel every positive emotion?”

“Because you love him,” she says simply. “And when you love someone, they bring out all the positive traits inside of you, and they bring out all the love. And hey, it's okay to love him.”

“I know it's okay to love him,” I admit finally. “But I'm scared. I'm scared what's going to happen when I finally come to terms with the fact that he doesn't love me.”

Sabrina blinks and nods slowly. “I don't know what to say,” she says. “All I can say is that if that moment comes, I will be here for you—and I'll love you double the amount that he could ever love you, okay?”

I reach over and squeeze her hand and nod. “Thank you,” I say simply.

“So, are you ready for your game?” I ask Tyler as I lie back in my bed.

“Not really,” he says. “But I’m not going to tell my coach that.” He chuckles. “We’ve got practice early tomorrow, and then we’ve got the game the next day. If all goes well, we’ll win the championship. And if all doesn’t go well, we’ll be losers.”

“But you would still be second place.”

“That’s nothing.” He bursts out laughing. “Second place is as good as last. In fact, it’s worse than last because you came so close you could almost taste it, and then you failed.”

“Well, I hope you don’t fail,” I say. “Shall I come to the game?”

“Do you—if you want,” he says. “You were my good luck charm at the last game.”

“I don’t know about that, but it was fun watching you skate around the ice. And now that I’m almost a figure skater?—”

“What are you talking about? Almost? You could be in the Olympics, Erica.”

“Yeah, okay. Thanks for that. But…”

“What? Johnny Weir called me last night and was asking about you.”

“Very funny.” I giggle. “I sucked. But I appreciate the sentiment. You were a good teacher.”

“Well, when I have a student like you… So, Erica. Erica.”

“Yes? Tyler. Tyler. Tyler.”

“Where are you?”

“I’m in my room.”

“In your chair?”

“I’m in my bed.”

“Ooh. And what are you wearing?”

“Are we having phone sex right now, Tyler?”

“Right now we’re just talking. Why? Would you like to have phone sex?”

“No, I was just curious why you were asking me what I was wearing.”

“Because I’m lying here right now naked, and I was wondering if you were naked, too.”

“Would you like me to be naked?” I say lightly, hoping that no one is standing outside my door with a glass, trying to listen.

And by no one, I mean my brother… or Sabrina.

"Hold on a second," I say as I jump up out of the bed and walk over to the door. "What are you doing?"

"I'm making sure my door is locked, just in case someone comes in."

"Oh, so you are naked?" He sounds husky.

"No, but I'm about to be," I say, giggling as I pull off my clothes and jump back onto the bed.

"Oh, so what are you taking off? Just tell me," he says. "Tell me in detail."

I look down at my naked body, but I realize he doesn't want to hear that yet. So I lie back on the bed and close my eyes.

"I'm slowly taking off my top," I say. "Do you like that?"

"Yeah. And what do you have on now?"

"I have on my black bra and blue jeans."

"Unzip those jeans for me, baby."

"Okay. I'm unzipping the jeans."

"Slide them off. Fuck," he says. "If I were there, I'd rip them off of you."

"Well, you're not here, so I'm sliding them off and dropping them on the floor. And now I’m just in my bra and my black thong."

"Ooh, I love a thong. Fuck. Slip your fingers between your legs."

"Tell me—are you wet?"

"Yeah," I say.

"Erica, slip your fingers between your legs."

"I did."

"No, you didn't." He chuckles.

"What do you mean, no, I didn’t? You're not here. You can't see."

"I know you, Erica. You didn’t slip your fingers between your legs."

"Excuse me? You don’t know."

"I do know."

"How do you know?"

"Because if you had, I would've heard a gasp."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, whenever I touch you in that spot, you take a light breath, and you gasp, and your eyes roll back in your head slightly. I can picture it. That face you make—it turns me on. And that sound—it makes me hard. And you haven’t made that sound yet. That’s how I know."

"Fine," I say as I open my legs slightly.

"Touch yourself," he says.

I slip my fingers between my legs, and I touch my wetness. My fingers rub gently against my clit, and I gasp.

"That’s the sound, baby," he growls. "Fuck. I wish I were with you right now."

"What would you do if you were with me?"

"If I were with you right now, I’d lick every single drop of moisture from between your legs. I know you’re wet right now. Are you wet?"

"Yes," I whisper. “Are you hard?”

“Harder than fucking concrete, baby girl.”

“Oh, fuck. What time is it?" he asks.

"Why?" I say.

"Because I’m wondering if I can come over there right now, fuck you senseless, and then get back in time to get to practice tomorrow morning and still feel like I’m invigorated and fresh."

"No, you don’t. And Wes is here, and Miles is with him, and they’re drinking beers, so I don’t think they’d like you slipping into their apartment to fuck their little sister. Especially because they don’t even know that we’re seeing each other.”

“We could tell them tonight.”

“I don’t think so. Plus, you have your match tomorrow.”

“My game, honey. It’s not soccer.”

“Sorry,” I say, laughing. “I got confused.”

“It’s okay. I don’t even care about that right now. All I care about is you. Touch your nipples for me.”

“What?”

“Flick those nipples for me. I know you like it.”

“Oh my gosh. Really?”

“Yeah, baby. I know what you like. Why do you think I’ve made you orgasm every single time, even without penetration?”

“Ooh, because you’re the master lover?”

“No, I wouldn’t say I’m a master lover, but I’m a master at making you come, baby.”

“Oh, your head is so big. Isn’t it, Tyler?”

“Right now? Yeah, it is. It’s pretty engorged.”

“That’s not the head I was talking about.”

“It’s the head I’m thinking with right now, baby. Fuck. I’d love to slip into that tight, wet pussy right now. I’d love to—" He groaned. "Are you touching yourself?"

"Yes," I say, moaning slightly.