Page 13

Chapter 13

Crosby

“ O bie, do you think you can tone it down a little? You’re blocking Henri.”

“Left foot first, Charlie. And maybe smile? Or at least look up?”

“Great job, Nicky. Yeah, just… feel the music.”

Violet gives direction and encouragement to my teammates as we sway along to Celine Dion for the tenth time. I made sure everyone watched the inspiration video at least three times on the plane, and I’ve listened to the song so many times I know all the words now. All we have to do is “vibe” as Violet’s email instructed with a link to the original video: two guys in a garage being unfalteringly committed to the feeling of the music, stepping side to side before throwing their arms out as the song crescendos. It should be easy.

“No, Gus, it's the beat before ‘baby, baby,’” Violet explains, setting her phone on the ballroom chair. The hotel was nice enough to give us an empty room to film in before we have to get upstairs for a pre-game nap and dinner. She sings the line, nodding along to the beat and exaggeratedly showing when to put her arms out. Gus tries once more, but it's half a second late. “It’s like doing a shuffle at practice. Step, step, step, slide. Listen to the beats like that. You’ve got the right enthusiasm.”

Her eyes lock with mine when she hits play on the music and lifts her phone to film. She smiles shyly and counts us in. I dance my heart out, hoping we get it right because this is important to her, but also hoping we have to try it again. This is the only time I’ll see her until we’re back in Connecticut after the game. Coach likes to keep a tight schedule on the road, and I realize now the only reason we’ve been allowed to do this is probably because it was his daughter who requested the thirty minutes.

“Got it!” Violet cheers, the music abruptly cutting off.

“Thank God,” Bones says from behind me. He’s already heading for the exit. “Nice to see you, Violet.”

“That was fun, Vi!” Tex gives her a side hug. “My mom used to love that song. I bet she can’t wait to show everyone at her ceramics class.”

He and Nicky leave without much comment. Tex is likely texting his wife about the whole thing, and Nicky is off in his own thoughts. He gets really serious before a game; it’s a goalie thing. I hope he agreed to this because we’re friends and not because Tex pulled rank. He’s had a rough season already, and his moods can be hard to read.

“Thanks for your help.” Gus hovers over Violet’s shoulder as she presses the button for the playback. She’s smiling at him, pointing out the moment he got the move right. “You’re coming to the game, right?”

“Nope.” Violet packs away her phone into her purse, handing the one that played Celine on it back to Obie. “I’m not responsible for game footage, so I’m going to order a ridiculous amount of room service and stay in.”

“Watch us on TV?” Obie asks. Violet rolls her eyes, giving a little sound of annoyance. “Please, Letty? I could use your post-game report.”

Obie is giving her the biggest, most ridiculous puppy dog eyes I’ve ever seen as he puts his hands together in a silent request. I don’t think Violet will break. Her eyes are narrowed, her arms crossed. I’m trying not to lose myself in the distraction of the swells of her breasts sitting atop her folded arms when she agrees.

“C’mon, Rook.” Gus slaps Obie on the back, steering them out of the room. I give my best friend a slight chin raise in gratitude. I’ve been dying for more alone time with Violet since she agreed to go out with me last night. We’ve texted a few times in the fourteen hours since I last saw her. The messages are no longer strictly professional—we’re flirting, testing the waters to see how deep we want to go, and I know my teammates have noticed my newfound obsession with my phone.

There’s a clatter from the closing of the ballroom door. It means we’re alone, and I wait for the moment it registers with Violet. She flicks her eyes past my shoulder just once in confirmation before they settle on me. I don’t wait for any of her usual unease to sink in; there will be no uncertainty anymore about who we are when we’re alone.

“Are we finished with work?” I ask. Violet’s eyebrows pinch for a moment in confusion before she nods to me. “Good. That means I can do this.”

I scoop her into a hug. Banding my arms around her waist, I wrap them so thoroughly I can rest my hands on her opposite hips. I haul her close, dipping my nose into the brunette strands she’s styled in easy waves, inhaling the summer and promises I feel from her signature scent.

It takes her half a second to respond, but then she glides her hands up my chest until they loop behind my neck. It’s a stretch for her, so I sink down a little. Now, her face is snuggled just under my chin, tucked against the base of my throat. Her breath is warm as it tickles against the sensitive skin there.

I wanted to wrap her up like this last night. I almost did after she agreed to go out with me, but my instincts told me I had pushed her limits enough for the night. Instead, with her agreement making my feet practically float off the floor, I let her guide me to the door for a quick goodnight. Even now, with Violet sinking just a brief second into me, I know she’s about to pull away. I do it first, untangling our limbs and letting her out of my embrace. I don’t, however, let go of my grip on her hips.

“I wish you were coming to the game.”

“Maybe the next home game.” She gives me a sweet smile. I know I’m getting ahead of myself, and I love that she’s willing to call me out on it. “But this is nice.”

She lifts onto her toes, initiating another hug. Her fingers toy with the hair at the back of my head. It takes a considerable amount of energy to suppress the shiver trying to slide down my spine. Instead, I hold her a little tighter, humming in appreciation, letting my hands ghost along her waist, her hips, and the very top of the swell of her ass. I haven’t kissed her yet, haven’t managed to take her on a date, but the feeling of Violet in my arms is right. It settles something that has roiled and rioted with unease in me for years. Like a distant stereo finally being turned down, the silence that follows is peaceful.

“For the first time in years, you’re making me want to miss a game,” I whisper against her cheek, barely feeling the softness of her skin against my lips. It’s a tempting thought to turn just a little and have the feeling imprint itself there. “I could take you to dinner instead, and I could catch up on the highlights later.”

Violet pulls back this time, trailing a hand down my arm before giving it a squeeze. She pushes her hair back behind her shoulder and steps far enough away to pick up her purse.

“Can’t have that, Wellsy.” She uses my nickname from the ice—switching us back effortlessly to our previous professional dynamic—except it now has a playful edge it didn’t before. “Columbus’ defense is starting their backup goalie. He’s weak on the glove side, perfect for a wrap-around if you can get it behind the net.”

“Damn, Cameron. You sure know all the sexy things to say.” I bite my knuckles exaggeratedly before smiling. Violet blushes, and her shoulders sink a little. I know insecurity when I see it. I wrap a finger up in the ends of her hair, pulling at it a little. She looks up, the silver in her eyes dulled. “Hey, I wasn’t dismissing you. I love that you probably know more about my job than I do.”

“Okay.” Violet nods. My fingers still play with her hair. It is as silky as I dreamed about for a month. I tuck the strands behind her ear, letting my thumb rest on her cheekbone. She leans into my touch for a beat, then flashes a big smile. “C’mon, time for your nap.”

She turns toward the doors, and despite knowing we will hide away the flirty words and touches as soon as we cross through them, I can’t resist one more volley.

“Will you tuck me in?”

Violet

Another win!

Me

Someone gave me a really great scouting report. Bones destroyed the glove side.

Violet

All of you played great. Congratulations!

Me

That means you watched right? You had your room service and took notes for Obie? (He’s currently reading this over my shoulder.)

Violet

I have your notes, you nosy pain in my ass. Go away. (Is he gone?)

Me

He’s back in his seat with Gus. We’re heading back to the hotel. Too bad you ate dinner already, we could have ordered in together.

Violet

I haven’t had dessert yet.

Me

Not exactly what I had in mind when I asked you to go on a date with me.

Violet

Save that for a second date? I’m in room 1303.

Thirty minutes later, I tuck my phone into the pocket of my joggers, illuminating the button for the thirteenth floor in the elevator. I lean back against the wall, trying to steady the pounding of my heart, waiting for the elevator to carry me the four floors below to where Violet is waiting. Once we disembarked the bus, I made my excuses to the team to get out of a round of drinks at the hotel bar. I came up to my room, deposited my kit bag, took my second shower since the end of the game, and threw on my black joggers and a hoodie.

As the doors close, I study my reflection in the chrome. Just like the day in the Midnight main office, I’m wondering if I should have dressed up, especially now that I know Violet is waiting for me. But I wasn’t expecting to have any real time with her here, so I didn’t pack more than my standard away game suitcase: suit and tie for arrival and departure, sweats for downtime, and multiple sets of socks and underwear. It would be weird to show up near midnight in either of my suits, and I’m betting that Violet will be just as relaxed tonight as she was last night at her house.

Every time I see her at work, I’m reminded of how striking she is: the kaleidoscopic shades of blue in her eyes, the wavy, full brunette tresses she styles to fit her fearless and flirty wardrobe. Violet Cameron is easily the most beautiful woman I have seen since moving to Connecticut. It’s hard to take your eyes off her, and having walked around the facility a handful of times now, I know I’m not the only one looking. But Violet doesn’t seem to notice. If she does, I’m not surprised she knows how to ignore it for the sake of her job.

But last night, in the soft light of her new home, boxes stacked in half-furnished rooms, she was resplendent. The tight curve of her leggings that showed off her fit thighs, coupled with the artfully draped sweater that offered outlines of her perfect breasts, had me wishing I could peel them away layer by layer to feel her warm skin underneath. Her hair was tied high atop her head, giving me full access to the slope of her neck, teasing me to press soft, sucking kisses to every inch.

It was the perfect kind of torture to have those desires and be so close to the source of them, only to be reminded that despite the very long, self-inflicted dry spell I have been in, I am not ruled by my dick. I am not ruled by my dick. I repeat it as the chime announces I’m on Violet’s floor.

Violet opens her door after the first knock. She’s in gray sweatpants and a simple pink long-sleeved shirt. Her face is makeup-free and glowy despite the standard bland hotel light, and her hair hangs in a loose braid down her back.

I barely make it inside before I wrap an arm around her, pulling her close again. The door closes behind me, and Violet melts against my chest. She stays, not pulling away, and my brain isn’t the only part of my body that registers it.

I am not ruled by my dick. The twitch it gives in reply clearly states he’s willing to challenge my resolve on that principle tonight. I push a chaste kiss onto the crown of Violet’s head and turn us into the room.

It’s an identical match to my own, except it’s flipped to have the king bed on the left wall instead of the right. Violet slips her hand into mine, leading us to the little table and chairs against the window. The city lights are distorted through the sheer curtain she has pulled closed, and a few silver room service trays sit on the table.

“I wasn’t sure what you’d want, so I ordered cookies, a crème br?lée, and a small charcuterie tray. I don’t know what the nutritionist has you on or how strict you need to be. Dad liked to joke desserts never counted, but just in case, there’s another option. Or, if you’re a salty person? Maybe you don’t like sweets.” I squeeze her hand. She’s rambling adorably, the nerves coming through clearly in the way she speaks and how her hand is beginning to slip in my grasp.

“After a game, I’ll eat just about anything, but cookies are my biggest vice.” I encourage Violet to sit down, dropping myself into the chair across from her. I help her lift the covers on the platters, sighing in satisfaction as huge chocolate chip cookies are revealed. Violet lets out a little groan when she uncovers the crème br?lée. Her happiness at the sight of the decadent treat makes the silver flecks in her eyes light up. “Thanks for inviting me and doing this, Sparks.”

“That’s the second time you’ve called me that.” She taps a spoon to crack the caramelized sugar while I swipe the first of the cookies, taking a large bite. She waits for my answer, scooping a bite of the custard, passing it delicately through her lips before dragging them along the spoon and swirling her tongue just a bit at the end to ensure she’s collected every bit.

I am not ruled by my dick.

“It’s—well,” I clear my throat, inspecting the chocolate chunks to avoid how embarrassed I feel under Violet’s gaze. “You have these silver streaks in your eyes. They remind me of the sparklers I’d get on the Fourth of July as a kid. They light you up, and I can’t keep my eyes off you when they do.”

Violet’s face softens, and she sets down her spoon. She’s quiet for longer than I expect, making me shift uneasily in my chair.

“I won’t say it again if you don’t want me to,” I offer. I put the cookie back on the plate, my own hands now starting to sweat with nerves.

“I like it,” she finally says, looking at me. There’s a sweet smile painting her lips, curling up in the corners. I exhale my relief. “I like you, Crosby.”

“I like you, too,” I reply immediately. Because I do. I haven’t been this interested in a woman, ever. With my dad’s death and my brief time in college, I barely entertained the idea of relationships. It didn’t make me a saint, and I always tried to be upfront with any woman I shared my bed with, but I never bothered to look for something more. Once I made it to the NHL, hockey became my focus. Sure, there have been the occasional hookups. I even dated a really nice woman I met in the grocery store for a month one off-season, but she wasn’t interested in dealing with my work schedule once training camp started.

Since then, it’s been a steady stream of me, myself, and I. Subconsciously, I think I just haven’t wanted to try with anyone who couldn’t understand how important my job is to me. But Violet, she gets it. In ways no one else could possibly wrap their minds around. She grew up seeing the good and the bad parts of what an NHL player endures. I’ve not had to finesse my way through that with her. Telling me she doesn’t date hockey players the night we met felt like an extra challenge I couldn’t bring myself to walk away from.

I reach for her hand across the table, the need to touch her growing exponentially at her confession. Violet surprises me, standing from her chair and rounding the small table to end up next to me. I turn myself so she’s now directly in front of me, opening my legs to give her space to come closer if she wants.

She takes the invitation, stepping into my space, a determined look on her face as her eyes fall to my lips.

I am not ruled by my dick.