Page 38 of Trick Shot (Bainbridge Hockey #4)

“O’Brien scored on me in the first period, but I’ve got to admit it was a sweet fuckin’ shot.”

“Nah, man,” Mick chimes in. “Van’s got it right. You’re solid. We’re all playing our best hockey right now. We just gotta keep it up.”

“What are we keeping up?” Rosco asks, dragging a chair over and grabbing a drink.

“This fucking momentum,” I answer.

“Damn straight,” he says, lifting his glass to mine. I let out a howl, and the guys join in. Well, three of them do. JT’s got his face buried in his phone.

“Everything ok?” I ask. Maggie was at the game tonight and she seemed fine, but I know nothing about pregnancy.

“Yeah,” he says. “Just saying goodnight to my girl. She’s back at the hotel with Viv watching movies.”

Jenksy joins us, pulling up a chair beside Rosco. “Did you say Viv’s back at the hotel? That girl’s hot as fuck. And she’s a cheerleader, too. I’ll bet she’s bendy as hell. Maybe I’ll head back there instead of shooting pool all night.”

I’m not sure whose look is more lethal, JT’s or Mickey’s, but JT’s the one who speaks up.

“Stay away from Viv,” he warns, and Jenksy’s hands go up immediately.

“The fuck, dude? I’m one of the good guys.”

“Then you’re not her type. Do yourself a favor and steer clear, okay?” JT’s leaning back in the chair, but his tone is far from casual.

“You can’t tell me who I can talk to, bro. If I happen to, I don’t know, run into her at the ice machine or something, and we take things back to my room, how is that any of your business?”

“You’re gonna need that ice, bro , because Viv’s gonna kick you in the dick.”

Mickey’s probably right, but JT puts his hands out like he just needs everybody to chill. “Keep dreaming, Jenksy,” JT says. “You’re not getting with Viv. Besides, she’s with Maggie tonight. They’ve got a watch list of all these old movies from the 80s and 90s and you are not invited.”

“How’s Maggie doing?” Rosco asks. “And when are you finding out the gender? Holland wants to go shopping.”

If they cut the electricity in this place right now, JT’s smile could light the whole damn pool hall. “Maggie’s great, but we’re not finding out the gender until the baby comes. We like surprises,” he jokes.

“Bro, I can’t believe you’re gonna be a dad.” Jenksy’s shaking his head like fatherhood is the wildest thing he can think of, and a fate worse than death.

“Less than two months to go,” JT says, his smile still in place. “I can’t fuckin’ wait.”

“Dude,” Jenksy says, drawing the word out. “I know you’re excited, but having a kid at nineteen? You’re a brave man.”

“I get it,” Van says, shrugging.

All eyes turn to my best friend except mine. I’m watching Mickey so I can intervene before he jumps out of his chair and pops Jenksy in the jaw.

“Hol-y shit,” Rosco says, letting out a whistle. “Is Josie?—”

Van shakes his head. “No, but I wouldn’t lose my shit if the stick turned purple or whatever.”

“I think it’s pink or blue, but I don’t actually know,” Rosco says. “I’m just relying on my memory of commercials.

Van shoots Rosco a look. “Yeah, and pink and blue make purple. Anyway, I’m just saying that Iris has gotten a lot better at taking care of her dolls. None of their heads have fallen off since Christmas. I’m no expert, but I’m pretty sure that means she’s ready to babysit.”

“I’m pretty sure that’s not what it means,” I say, laughing.

Josie and Holland stroll over and Rosco and Van both give the fakest yawns I’ve ever seen. “That was pathetic,” I tell them. “I think even Will the thespian could do better than that.”

“In that case,” Rosco says, “I think I’ll head back to the hotel to brush up on my acting. Wanna do a scene with me, Holl?”

Somehow his girlfriend keeps a straight face, and they say their goodbyes. When Josie and Van start to leave a few seconds later, I tag along.

Van’s out of his brace and the hotel’s only a block away, so the walk’s not long.

He’s usually my roomie at away games, but it’s a safe bet he’s spending the night in whatever room Josie booked.

I was hoping that meant Claire could stay with me, but it’s cool.

I’ll have the queen-sized bed all to myself, and I definitely won’t be thinking about how hot my fake girlfriend looks in her new jammies.

Scanning my key card, I check my phone as I enter the room. Leo and Henry texted after the game and said Ma didn’t have much of an appetite but was doing okay. There are no new messages, so I’ll probably watch sports highlights until I drift off to sleep.

When I flip on the light, I realize I might just have other plans .

There, in the middle of my bed, surrounded by a mound of pillows and a fluffy comforter, is my girlfriend.

My fake girlfriend.

My girl-who-used-to-hate-me-but-loves-having-sex-with-me-and-might-not-hate-me-anymore-friend.

My Claire.

“Did you get lost?” I ask, toeing off my shoes and unbuckling my belt. Earlier today, Claire said she liked seeing me in a suit, but she’s watching me strip right now, and she’s not complaining.

“No,” she answers. “I know right where I am, and it’s exactly where I want to be.”

I’m standing next to the bed in just my boxers and a t-shirt, and I can’t believe how lucky I am. There are no roommates to be found, no family coming home. It’s just the two of us, and I’m here for it.

“Maybe I’ll start calling you Goldilocks,” I tease, running my hand through the silky strands of her blonde hair as I lie down next to her.

“Don’t even think about it,” she says, turning toward me.

She’s still swaddled up in the covers, but I can see her face in the dim lamplight.

“I always hated that story. She was a vapid bitch who stole their food and broke their shit. Or,” she continues, her eyes widening, “she was a girl who did what she needed to do to get into the bear’s bed.

Yeah, maybe I don’t hate her after all.”

This. Woman. “Were you here the whole time, waiting for me?”

“I was. Van gave me his key card, so I came up here after the game, showered, and crawled into bed.”

God bless my best friend.

Her words have me wondering if she planned all this? Maybe I’m a sappy bastard, but it makes me feel kind of special. “I thought you said you’d see me at breakfast tomorrow?”

“I will,” she says, running her fingers along my jaw. “After you fuck me, you damn well better feed me.”

“Noted. Now are you going to show me these brand-new jammies or was that just a tease? I’ve been trying to decide if they’re black lace or if they’re flannel with rubber duckies on them.”

A look washes over Claire’s face that I can’t decipher. There’s no way she’s nervous or unsure. It’s me, the man she loves to tease. How bad can these pajamas be? “Wait, is that part of the surprise, too? Maybe there aren’t any jammies. Are you naked in my bed, Claire?”

She shakes her head. “No, but this was a dumb idea. Not the waiting-in-bed part, but the clothing choice. And if you hate it or if I crossed the line or something, then you have to blame the girls, because it was their idea. And Van helped, so be mad at him, too.”

“Uh, what the hell kind of pajamas require a whole committee?” I ask.

Claire starts to peel the covers down and I’m not sure what I was expecting, but never in my wildest dreams did I think I’d see her like this.

She’s not wearing a leather thong or a see-through bra.

There are no straps. There’s no lace. And there’s no corset.

She’s not wearing lingerie.

She’s wearing my jersey.

It’s so hot that I’m fucking speechless, but she takes my silence as a bad sign.

“You know what? It’s fine,” she says, pulling her hand back like she’s about to shrug my jersey off. “I’ll just?—”

“Leave it the fuck on, Claire,” I say, my voice low and needy. There’s no way to disguise how turned on I am, or how much I want her, so I don’t even bother trying.

Her eyes find mine, and there’s no denying the heat in them.

I pull the rest of the covers back to reveal her bare legs. My jersey is a few sizes too big for her, but she’s so damn tall that it hits mid-thigh. I can’t wait to find out if she’s naked underneath.

The image in front of me is so damn hot it has me gripping my cock through my boxers. It’s not enough relief, though, so I slip my hand inside and stroke myself.

“Do you like what you see?” she asks, her confidence restored.

Do I like it? I could make myself come in about ten seconds flat, but where’s the fun in that? Pulling my boxers off and tossing them on the floor, I sit up to get a good look at the woman in front of me.

“Get on your hands and knees for me, Claire, because I’m gonna fuck you from behind. I’m gonna watch you ride my dick with my name on your back.”

She gasps as she rolls over and lifts up, kneeling in front of me with her hands braced on the mattress. The motion makes my jersey ride up and holy hell. She’s completely bare under my sweater and my dirty words are having the desired effect.

My hands roam up her legs until they find purchase on her hips. My dick is rock hard, and I need to find a condom soon. I’m leaking precum on her bare ass cheeks because my dick has a mind of its own.

“I want to fill you up with my fingers, Claire. I’m gonna make you feel so good you see stars. Is that what you want?”

“Yes. Please,” she says, practically begging, even though we’re just getting started .

Leaning my body over hers, I reach out to grab my bag from the floor, grateful that I was running late and didn’t have time to toss it in the closet.

Fishing what I need out of the front pocket, I toss it on the bed before straightening up.

I’m about to put my hands right back where they belong when Claire stills in front of me.

Rising up, she turns her face toward me.

“You need something?” I ask, stroking my cock and loving the expression on her face as she watches.

“Yeah, I have a question. Well, it’s really more of a request.”

“What’s that, Claire?” I ask, my voice dropping. “You want me to touch you? To get you wet and ready for my cock?”