A Hockey Player's Proposal (Oh Captain, My Captain #2) (14 page)

“Trying something new?” she bites down on her lip.

“Trust me, you’ll enjoy it.”

She doesn’t say anything as she positions herself on the bed. I crawl up behind her,  kissing up her spine, feeling the chills pulsating through her. I tease her with my tip gently stroking her.

“Brody,” she pleads, and I push into her. She cries out as I pull out and thrust again. I repeat this several times as I watch her cling to the headboard.

My body needs more of her. I pump faster into her as she yells out my name over and over. I can feel myself about to lose it as she grows tight around me. I lay my body to match hers and unclasp her hands from the headboard, lacing our fingers together. I hold onto her as she buries her face into the pillow and yells my name.

“Fuck,” is the only thing I can say as I feel myself release. It takes everything I have to hover over her because I’m shaking. Finally, I pull out and roll off of her. Selene doesn’t move, she just turns her head to me.

“Well, I definitely won’t forget that,” she says between breaths.

All I can do is laugh at the woman I love.

Selene

“God, I love you,” Brody murmurs as he nuzzles my neck.

I smile. I can’t help it. A giddy feeling arises within me as he presses a kiss against my shoulder. What is it about him that when he says he loves me, I feel like I should go skipping or go twirling in circles in a field of wildflowers with glee? The best part is that he’s saying it because he wants me to know. Simple as that. There isn’t an expectation for me to say it back either. I want to tell him how I feel, so badly, but I’m holding back for some reason.

Brody lifts his head suddenly, a matching smile on his face. “Why are you grinning like that, Selene?”

“No reason in particular,” I lie.

His grin widens, recognizing my fib. “Are you sure it’s not because of what I said? About the fact that I love you?” Is he addicted to saying those three words to me? Because it’s like he can’t help himself.

“You see,” I start, wrapping my arms around his neck. “I already knew that, but thanks for saying it.” Thanks for saying it? How lame am I? Why can’t I tell him already? It doesn’t seem to faze Brody, though.

He places a kiss on the tip of my nose and says, “You’re welcome. Let’s go shower and get dressed. We’re going out.”

“Out where?” I ask, curious.

“Out.” He grins. “C’mon.”

“I need to know where so I know how to dress, Brody.”

He huffs like this is such a trying subject. “Wear whatever you’d like, Selene. You’ll be beautiful either way and as long as you have clothes on, I’m sure it’ll be fine.”

“How about this, you go to my closet and pick something out for me?”

Brody nods. I take a shower while he sifts through the clothes hanging up. With extra care, I shave, ensuring that my legs are as smooth as possible. Excitement runs through me, wondering what Brody will choose. I’ve never had a guy pick out my clothes before. Is he choosing my outfit based solely on where we are going or how he thinks I’ll look in it? Or maybe on what he will want to take off when we get back from wherever we are going?

When I emerge from the bathroom, Brody isn’t in my room, but I think I can hear water running from down the hall. He must have gone to that bathroom to take a shower. On my bed, he’s laid out what I’ll be wearing tonight. It’s a light gray dress that I’ve worn to a couple of events I’ve had to go to for my father. It’s borderline inappropriate for a business event as it hugs my body and the neckline plunges between my breasts. I usually wear a long necklace with it though. The dress has sleeves that stop above the elbows, and its length is just to my knees.

Returning to my bathroom, the towel still wrapped around my body, I dry my hair first. I think I’ll wear my knee-high, black suede, high-heeled boots and a black, button up coat with the dress. Sounds from down the hall drift down to my room as I slip on the dress. For a moment, I wonder if that really is Brody. What if he went home to get ready instead? What if that’s not him?

Absolutely hating myself, I call out, “Brody? That is you, right?”

“Yeah, babe,” he replies.

Relief floods me at hearing his voice. It was ridiculous to think that it wasn’t him, but I wanted to be sure anyway. While I go back to getting ready, he slips into the room, leaning against the doorframe, but I don’t realize it until he speaks.

“I think I did a good job,” he says, those blue eyes raking over my body in appreciation. I smile and when his eyes finally reach mine, he adds, “I’m heading to my place for a minute, okay? I won’t be long.”

“Okay. I’ll be ready by the time you get back.”

Brody nods, walks over to kiss my temple, almost looking concerned, and then leaves to go next door. I ignore any reasons why he may be concerned. Not going there right now. Instead, I’m going to lotion myself up, put on my makeup, and finish so I will indeed be ready. Before we go, I have to let Bonkers out. I stand just inside the door, watching him through the glass and hating that I have to leave him.

The clicking of a door shutting causes my heart to constrict as it shoves its way up my throat. I turn to find Brody and my heart slowly makes its way back down. I hate my reaction, but I’m not going to think about it. Brody walks over to me, looking rather handsome. He’s wearing black slacks and a white, buttoned-up collared shirt with the first few buttons undone.

“Ready?” he questions.

“Almost. Waiting on Bonkers.” My smile doesn’t feel real, even to me. My heart is still going a mile a minute. This is absurd. He only left me alone for a few minutes, and his return has my heart going crazy and my hands trembling.

Brody notices me shiver slightly as a chill runs down my back. His brows bunch, his lips dip in a frown, and he steps forward, running his hands up and down my arms. “Are you cold, Selene?”

“No. Just a chill in the air, I guess.” Thankfully, Bonkers starts heading our way. I let him in, pat his head, and then Brody leads me outside to his car.

When he takes my hand, everything apart from us and this moment disappears. Right now, life only consists of Brody and me and our plans for this evening. Perfection. I feel like I need to absorb every detail, starting with his hand. It’s rough with callouses, warm, and allows mine to fit perfectly inside his. I turn in my seat a little, taking in his features as he drives.

His jawline is smooth and strong, leading to a chin that slightly juts outward. Even his nose looks strong. How can a nose look strong? It sharpens the outline of this side view of his face. Light-colored eyelashes move as he blinks and his hair is smoothed away from his face. Finally, my eyes venture to those red lips, my favorite. They lift as he smiles, and he glances over at me.

“Are you ogling me?” He tries not to laugh, but it falls from his mouth anyway.

“No, I’m not,” I lie. “Where are we going, Brody?”

“We need to eat, don’t you think?”

Giggling, I agree. He still hasn’t told me where. Fine. I sit back in my seat, but we arrive at a restaurant within minutes of doing so. I can’t tell much about the place from the outside. There’s no denying the romantic atmosphere as we walk inside, though. The lighting allows each table to feel secluded in a room full of others. At the front of the dining area, there is a large grand piano and a man wearing a suit is playing a soft, alluring tune.

We’re seated at a small, round table in the center of the room, it seems. Brody pulls my chair out for me. It’s a sweet, gentlemanly gesture. He slides his chair closer to mine, making it where we’re facing the guy up from who is now singing in a quiet, but powerful voice. Brody slings his arm on the back of my chair and I look over at him.

“This place is lovely,” I say. The atmosphere is relaxing yet romantic and intimate. I unbutton my coat, feeling warm, and slip out of it before Brody takes it from me, hanging it off my chair.

“I’ve heard great things about this place, but I’ve never been before. So I’m really happy that you like it.” He smiles, leaning over to plant a sweet kiss on my lips.

A waiter walks up, greets us, and asks if we know what we’d like to drink. Brody quickly answers that we would like a bottle of wine. Once he leaves, I take an opportunity to tease him.

“What if I didn’t want wine?”

Brody grins. “That never occurred to me because I already know what you want. Wine tonight is something you want.”

Leaning in to whisper, my lips graze his ear as I say, “What else do I want?”

“Me,” he answers with such simplicity. “Us,” he murmurs confidently, scanning the menu. I freeze unable to find words to respond, staring at the man next to me. Brody lifts his head with a chuckle, brings my hand to his lips for a kiss, and then tells me with a nod to my own menu, “Might want to look that over.”

“Right,” I mumble, the word tumbling from my mouth as I try to find something appealing. Brody rests a hand on my thigh, and I really try to focus. The words don’t mean anything to me as his thumb moves back and forth over the hem of my dress as half of his thumb touches my bare skin. My thoughts are focused on what he said. What that means. Because I’m pretty sure that I just fell further in love with Brody. Two two-lettered words rendered me speechless and helpless to this hockey player.

“Selene?”

My head lifts and I realize the waiter has brought us our drinks and is currently waiting on me to order. “Oh, sorry. I’ll have the same.”

Brody chuckles, shaking his head before giving the waiter his order. Oops. He hadn’t said his yet. I reach for my glass as he walks away and Brody asks with curiosity, “What were you thinking about?”

Mm. This is good wine. I take another sip before I say, “Just you. Do you realize that I’ve given you all the power tonight? You picked my dress, the wine, and dinner.”

Brody laughs. “Yet, the way I see it, you’ve always held the power.” Before I can comment, he asks, “Are you excited about the game tomorrow?”

A grin automatically appears on my face. “So much. I’m beyond ready to be back in the arena. I miss it.” God, do I miss it. That’s my sanctuary and I haven’t been there in what seems like forever. Too much has been going on. Watching games on TV hasn’t done anything for me. Tomorrow, I’ll get hockey back. For some reason, I feel like I’ve lost it. “It’s going to be a little weird sitting next to Bradley, but seeing your face on the screen.” I laugh softly. “Good thing I can tell you two apart. Do fans ever mistake him for you when he’s here?”

“Sometimes. His hair usually helps distinguish us. Once, a girl saw him and freaked out, thinking I cut my hair.” Brody laughs at the memory with a shake of his head. Our waiter brings us our food, and when he leaves, Brody smiles at me, taking a deep breath. “Are you going to wear my jersey, Selene?”

“Hey,” I start playfully, nudging his shoulder with mine. “You stay out of my hockey wardrobe.”

“You do realize that I play on your team, right?” he teases. “I’m your captain, in fact.”

I roll my eyes at him, having to pause my response as I eat. “I know that, but I can’t be obvious about my favorite. Have to share the love for the other players too.”

He leans closer. “I’m your favorite?” he whispers.

“You always have been, Brody.” He seems almost skeptical, so I continue. “I’ve been watching Mustangs since Stacy introduced it to me. When you started playing for them, you easily became my favorite. I observed you, was mesmerized when you were on the ice. You’ve always been a fantastic player, Brody, and I saw you grow into your role as captain. I admired the person I saw on the ice, in interviews, in pictures, and whatever else was put out there for fans. There’s something about the way you play that demands my attention and respect. Stacy would have loved you.”

Brody’s lips part, but he doesn’t say anything. My throat is tight at having mentioned my friend twice, tears wanting to form and fall at her memory. He gives me a kiss and rests his forehead against mine for a moment.

“That has to be one of the best things anyone has ever said to me. Thank you. I wish I could have met her,” he says softly.

“Me too.”

The piano player announces that he’s taking a quick break, ruining our moment, but I’m thankful. I take a deep breath as we go back to our meal. When the tears stop threatening to fall, I resume our conversation.

“Thank you for tonight, Brody.”

He smiles. “I wanted to take you out.”

Our waiter comes to check on us and Brody orders some chocolatey dessert. The pianist/singer returns for some background music, inviting people to come dance, as Brody turns towards me in his seat. He takes my hands in his, demanding my attention.

“There’s something I want to tell you. It never hurts to hear these things and I need to make sure you know.” I nod, propelling him forward. “Moving in next to you is the best thing that has ever happened to me. I love your passion with hockey. It’s greater than my own and I’m a pro player. You have such strength. You named your dog Bonkers.” He shakes his head with wonder. “You are a remarkable person, Selene, and you’ve made my life so much better by being in it.”

His words move me, even as his comment on my “strength” nags in the back of my mind. No, I
am
strong. Being temporarily shaken and unsure doesn’t mean that I’m not. I want to lean over and give him a kiss that isn’t appropriate for a public place. I want to tell him how he makes me feel, how I feel about him. He should know, just like he’s made sure I know how much he cares about me. The waiter saves me from speaking, bringing us one bowl and two spoons. Brody doesn’t look away yet.

His voice is husky and quiet. “I love you. So much, Selene, so much.”

I remove my hands from his, place one over each cheek, and press my lips to his in a simple, but promising kiss. Promising more than what we have now without the words that I can’t say.

“Let’s eat our dessert before it melts.”

~ ~ ~

“When was the last time you went to one of Brody’s games?” I ask Bradley as we take a seat in my section.

“Last season. What the hell are you eating, Selene?” Bradley looks completely disgusted by my hotdogs and milkshake.

“Do you not have these delicacies in your home country?” I laugh.

“It’s gross,” he answers, ignoring me.