I didn’t say another word.
I waited, ready for her to fight me, for her to say I was disgusting and I didn’t own her, that I couldn’t tell her what to do.
Satisfaction buzzed deep in my being when she didn’t do any of that. Instead, she slid the thong on, showing me more than her words that this was far from over.
Once her dress was in place again, I pressed her against the mirror, running the pad of my thumb over her bottom lip.
“I promise… the next time I touch you?” I hooked my thumb over her bottom teeth, swiping her tongue and prying her mouth open. “You’ll be begging me to.”
I sealed that promise with a bruising kiss, and then I released her, turning my back and pulling on my briefs and shorts. I grabbed a wipe and ran it over the bench, too, because I wasn’t a monster.
That made Maven laugh.
“Where are you going?” she asked when I was heading for the door.
I turned, walking backward as I shrugged and offered one last smile. “Gotta take care of that tape.”
I nodded toward the camera in the corner that was still covered by my shirt, and Maven’s little mouth popped open, eyes bulging.
“I thought you said there was no audio!”
“You’re not the only one who’s a good liar.”
The laugh that rumbled out of my chest was almost as satisfying as the dumbstruck look on her face.
“Vince! Do not keep that tape.”
I held up two fingers. “Scout’s honor.”
“I mean it. You better destroy it.”
I just laughed again as I kicked the door open and made my way toward security.
We both knew there was no chance in hell I’d be doing that.
Roller Coaster
Maven
The next week passed in a dizzying blur.
I’d been in a daze the morning after my night with Vince, waking up with a cacophony of questions and thoughts screaming at me all at the same time.
What the fuck happened last night?
Oh my God… what the fuck happened last night?
That was a mistake.
That was the hottest experience of my life.
It can never happen again.
I can’t wait for that to happen again.
I need to talk to Livia about it.
I shouldn’t tell anyone it happened.
It was just for fun.
It was more than just a little fun.
At some point I let out a scream, stalking to the shower to scrub off the night and the memory and all the questions that paraded on the heels of it.
So what, we’d had sex. So what, it had been the best sex of my life by far.
I was a professional, and he was my client, for all intents and purposes. He was also a professional, and it would all be fine. We’d made an agreement that it was one time and one time only.
I only half-believed that as I made my way to his condo, feeling like I was doing the walk of shame even though I was showered and refreshed, and no one knew Vince had had my ass hanging off a weight bench while he ate my pussy last night.
I wondered if he’d smirk at me all knowingly when he saw me, if he’d tease me about the noises I’d made, or how embarrassingly wet I’d been for him.
But when Vince opened his door, he just offered me a polite good morning before letting me inside, and his pre-game rituals got underway. We went to the morning skate, he retired for his nap, we had fettuccini alfredo together, I posted a video mashup of him doing his pushups and turning on his closet light and calling his sister for their traditional dance.
And all the while, he didn’t say a word about the night before.
Sadly, we lost the game at home that night, ending the hot streak we’d been on. Vince had scored, but a nasty fight had broken out between the teams that seemed to tip the momentum into the hands of our New York opponents. They scored twice, back to back, leaving our fans going home as disappointed as the team was.
After that, the week just sort of… happened.
The One Month with Vince Tanev account had grown into a feeding frenzy. As soon as I posted a story, it was screenshotted or recorded and shared on other accounts, everyone thirsty for more content. My messages were so insane, there was no prayer of keeping up, and I couldn’t post a photo or video without it having thousands of likes in mere seconds.
When the account broke one-million followers, Reya and Camilla gave me a generous bonus.
And an extension.
One Month with Vince Tanev was now just Rookie Season with Vince Tanev. The Ospreys’ GM was so thrilled with how tickets were selling and all the coverage, that he wanted me there at least through the holiday season, and my bosses agreed.
It was business as usual.
I spent my days and nights with the team, almost feeling like I had always been a part of it. And though I worried it would, Vince’s demeanor didn’t change. He made his snarky little remarks and smiled in victory when he managed to make my skin heat. He tested out a few new pet names — darling, sunshine, sweetheart — all of which were shot down by a smack or glare from me.
Things weren’t weird, and he also didn’t push me, didn’t press for another night together.
Which was exactly what I had asked him for.
So why was I perturbed by it?
I felt like a toy that had been wound up tightly and then bound in rubber bands. I was ready to go, all this pent-up energy crackling beneath my skin, but I was stuck, unable to release any of it.
I masturbated more in that week than I had in the last year, even going so far as to buy a toy.
Each and every time, I thought of Vince, which only pissed me off.
After that picture he posted of us, the Internet had been buzzing with rumors. Camilla and Reya loved it, but they didn’t read the comments that streamed in under every post, or the messages that plugged my inbox.
You’re too ugly for Vince.
What does he even see in you?
You only got this job because he wants to have sex with you.
How big is his cock, Maven?
When he’s done with you, send him to me.
Whore.
Slut.
Puck bunny.
No one wants to see you. This is about hockey, not some romance fantasy.
I tried to ignore them, and when Vince was asked about us in interviews — which wasn’t often, but enough to make me grind my teeth each time — he would always laugh and politely defer. He spoke highly of me, saying I was a professional and I was good at my job, that the team loved having me around, but that there was nothing romantic between us or me and anyone else on the roster.
The first time he said it, that there was nothing between us, I’d felt queasy.
Even though it was what I wanted him to say.
… Right?
I was a damn mess.
Livia told me as much the night before I traveled with the team to Atlanta, me sprawled on her couch while she steamed one of her dresses.
“You’re a damn mess.”
I sighed.
“You like him. And he clearly likes you. Stop being a dumdum.”
“He’s fun, sure,” I conceded. “We have a good time together. But I don’t like him. And he doesn’t like me. He just wants to get me naked.”
She leveled me with a look, hanging one hand on her hip. “Bitch.”
I held up my hand to stop her. “I can’t like him, Livia.”
That made her pause, her brows folding together.
“I can’t,” I said again, throat thick. “I get hives just thinking about it.”