Page 54 of Hot for the Hockey Player (The Single Moms of San Camanez: The Vino Vixens #2)
“Absolutely,” Maverick replied. “Body count isn’t a number, it’s a collection of lessons. Survival badges. I’ve never judged a woman for how many, or how few, men she’s been with. All I hope is that I pleased her when we were together.”
Damon cleared his throat. I could tell my son’s awkward throat clearing noise like a mother penguin could identify her chick’s squawk in a rookery of half a million.
“Sorry,” Maverick murmured.
“S’okay,” Damon said.
“Wait, are you dating Damon’s mom?” Roman asked, clearly picking up on the awkwardness.
“Yeah,” Maverick confirmed.
“Shit. So this is even more awkward. Dude, not cool that you’re putting this kid through that.”
“It’s fine,” Damon said. “Mom’s happy. I like Mav. It’s fine. Let’s keep going. The more we talk like this, the more I have to edit out later.”
“All right then,” Roman said with amusement in his voice.
“All I’m saying is, the men who care about body count are probably the ones who couldn’t survive an emotional conversation without needing three business days to recover.
They’re being told that they should want, that they deserve a virgin with the skills of a porn star and the loyalty of a 1950s housewife. In what world does that woman exist?”
Maverick scoffed. “Yeah. Like, bro, pick a fantasy, pick a struggle, pick a lane. Do you want the virgin? Cool. Then marry a virgin, but don’t expect her to do what the girls in your late-night videos do.
Do you want a porn star? Cool. You do you.
You can’t have them all though. That woman does not exist.”
“Maybe in Japanese robot girlfriend form,” Damon added, mostly under his breath, but it prompted both men to snicker.
“Yeah, maybe,” Maverick agreed. “But I think what we need to address here is the fact that men have been conditioned to believe that a woman’s body count lowers her value, and a man’s body count increases his.
Who is he sleeping with to increase his numbers then? Somebody, obviously. Many somebodies.”
“The math isn’t mathing,” Roman said. “Body count doesn’t lower a woman’s value, insecurity lowers a man’s.
Dudes think they’re going to find the one asking for a factory reset girlfriend, but all they’re going to find themselves is alone.
Dating their own ego, going home with their hand—” Damon snorted.
“And arguing with Instagram models who they will never meet.”
“How are you feeling about everything going down with our teammate Henderson?” Maverick asked, a slight quaver to his voice, which meant he was probably nervous to bring it up.
“I’m disappointed in Henderson. I’m disappointed in the league and the way they’re handling things.
I’m disappointed in the teammates who are choosing to stand by him,” Roman said.
“It’s definitely caused tension in the locker room and on the ice.
Probably one of the reasons why we’re not doing too hot right now. ”
Maverick made a non-committal noise.
Roman continued. “I was worried about speaking out at first, because of the potential backlash, but I had a long, hard conversation with my amazing girlfriend last night and she pointed out that the backlash is what keeps men like Henderson from being held accountable. The longer we support an industry and people who think it’s okay, the longer it will continue to go on.
Nothing will ever change. Sometimes, you need to sacrifice your own comfort to do what is right.
And let’s be honest, as a white male from an upper-middle class family, and now a professional athlete, I’m not sacrificing much.
I could retire today and be fine. I don’t want to retire today, but I have privilege, I have advantages, and I need to use them for good. Just like you’re doing, Mav.”
“I knew you were a man of honor, Roman, but this makes me so happy to hear that you’re standing by the victims and believing them.
We both know what Henderson is like. How he speaks about women in the locker room, how he’s treated women.
We’ve seen it, and I know I carry a lot of guilt for not speaking out about it sooner.
Maybe none of this would have happened if I had. ”
“We’re speaking out now,” Woodman said, regret in his voice too.
My heart absolutely soared with how incredible these two men of immense privilege were not only using their privilege and advantages for good, but also demonstrating that for my son.
While some of the topics they discussed were not exactly what a mother wanted her son to listen to, I wasn’t living with my head in the sand.
There was a reason that when Damon turned fourteen, I put condoms in the bathroom and had “the talk” with him.
He spent far too much time in the shower, and had to wash his own socks. He was becoming a man now.
Hormones were rampant. Sex was on his mind. So if he was going to have it, I wanted him to be as informed, prepared, and safe as possible. But that didn’t just mean condoms. That meant the right mindset too, and Maverick and Roman were definitely helping in that department.
The wall and baseboards were sufficiently cleaned.
So reluctantly, I moved on further down the hall, the interview in my office fading into mere murmurs with bursts of laughter.
After about ninety minutes, I was in the kitchen, cleaning under the sink, when my office door opened and Maverick and Damon came out, both of them smiling.
“How’d it go?” I asked as they joined me in the kitchen. Damon grabbed them each a bottle of water from the fridge.
“Great,” Maverick said, the veins of his exposed forearms bulging a little as he twisted off the cap of the water bottle. “Roman did fantastic.” He gripped Damon by the shoulder and gave him a friendly squeeze and shake. “So did this guy. I couldn’t have asked for a better producer.”
My son’s cheeks turned pink.
“Yeah? Who do you have next in your lineup?”
Maverick frowned. “Don’t know, actually. I guess we need to get on that, huh?”
“You know who might be great to interview? Jagger. Any of the McEvoys really. The girl-dads, Clint and Bennett. But Jagger really helped Raina, and he’s quite the feminist.”
Maverick wiped the back of his hand over his mouth after taking a sip. God, why did everything he do make my entire body clench with need? “Sure. I’ll shoot him a message and see when he’s free. Might be a good idea to have a few in the queue, huh?”
Damon nodded. “I’m going to get working on the one with Man today.”
“Need help?” Maverick asked him.
He shook his head. “No. I’m good.” Then he grabbed a banana from the fruit bowl. “But we’ll play video games later, right?”
“I’m staying for dinner, so you’re on.”
Damon’s face lit up before he disappeared into his room, leaving me in my kitchen with Maverick and those exposed forearms of his. He wore a long-sleeve Henley like he often did, but had shoved up the sleeves. God damn, that was a good look.
“You’re looking at me like a lion looks at a gazelle on the savannah,” he said, playfulness in his voice.
I swallowed and licked my lips. “Thank you for involving him. This means so much to … both of us. He’s learning a lot.”
We were alone, but he glanced toward the bedrooms for a moment before bracketing me against the counter like he had earlier.
I was dressed now, in loose-fitting trousers and a black T-shirt.
His hands slid between where my waistband and hem met, brushing against my skin and making my body ignite with heat.
“How do you feel about me spending the night?” he asked, his voice low and rough.
I blinked up at him. While I’d love nothing more than to spend all night getting hammered into my mattress as my body shook relentlessly with orgasms, I remained hesitant because of the kids.
He could see that hesitation in my eyes and nodded. “Not yet. I get it.”
Sighing, I dropped my gaze to his chest. “It’s only been three days.”
“It’s been eight years for me. Eight years of longing, three days of living out the fantasy.
But I get it. And it’s okay. We’re not in a rush.
” His thumbs rubbed back and forth over my hipbones in a hypnotic slide, causing my eyes to flutter shut.
I leaned forward and rested my forehead against his chin.
He kissed the top of my head. “Just do me a favor?”
“Hmm?”
“Carve out some time today where you can sit on my face, please? That’s all I ask.”
I glanced up at him, and those light-blue eyes with the flecks of gold shimmered back at me.
My core tightened and my clit throbbed. “I’ll figure something out.”
His hand slid down and he patted my butt. “Good girl.” Then he left me standing there, drenched between the legs, heart pounding, breath shallow. “I’m going to go see a man about learning how to blow glass. I’ll see you later.” And with a wink, he was gone.