Captive (10 page)

Ryke tossed his video game controller aside as soon as I walked in the door from work.

“Hey,” he said. “I ordered dinner from that Italian place we like.”

I nodded and walked into the kitchen. Knowing he was sleeping in the hockey room last night had kept me up tossing and turning. We’d argued before, but never left things unresolved. I wasn’t sure what to do.

He came into the kitchen and leaned against the counter. “How was your day?”

“Fine. How was yours?”

“Not that great.” I looked at his face, trying to read his expression. Was he still mad? I regretted turning bitchy during the argument, but I also resented him not understanding and sharing in my excitement about adopting a baby.

He crossed his large arms across his chest and met my eyes. “Look, I’ve been thinking about things today. I’m committed to our marriage. You’re my wife. And even though it’s frustrating as hell, I’ll survive several months of abstinence. I don’t want us to sleep apart ever again when we’re both home. If you can ignore the baseball bat pressed against your ass every night, that is.”

His small grin caught me off guard, but I smiled back. “Baseball bat? You flatter yourself.”

“Maybe a little. Softball bat, maybe.”

“Maybe. You are … well endowed.”

The buzz of our front desk calling sounded, and he went downstairs to get our food. I sat the table with plates and silverware, wondering what I should say to him in return. I’d pictured us sharing the excitement of adopting a baby right now, not fighting and giving each other the silent treatment.

When he came back in, we ate lasagna and made small talk about the day. I hated the distance in his eyes. He was giving me what I wanted, so why did I feel so bad about it?

He stayed a few feet away while we cleaned up and stood on the other side of the dishwasher while we loaded it together. “I’m going to Denver in the morning and then Winnipeg after.”

I knew that already, but he was probably just trying to fill the silence, like me. “Do you have time to make fundraising calls for the Foundation tonight?”

“Sure.”

“Thanks.”

He gave me a tight smile. Ryke looked physically uncomfortable. He hadn’t said the word ‘fuck’ once since walking in, which was very unlike him. I almost preferred fighting with him to this. At least the light had still been in his eyes yesterday.

Jack clapped me on the back in a very uncharacteristic show of appreciation.

“You gave me every fucking thing out there tonight,” he said. “You spilled your fucking guts on the ice. It was something to witness, Ryke.”

I nodded and pressed the bag of ice Pete handed me over my swollen eye. It’d been a physically brutal game, which made the victory that much sweeter. Fighting for it always felt better than winning with finesse. These days, anyway.

For the first time in a while, the pain in my balls wasn’t from lack of sex. I’d fallen hard on something tonight, I wasn’t even sure what, and my whole groin ached. I wanted to take an ice bath in the locker room and then soak in a bathtub of hot water at the hotel.

I found my phone and saw a text from Kate:
Amazing game! So proud of you! xoxo

The message warmed me and made me miss her. Between her adoption meetings, work, the foundation and my road schedule, we’d be able to pull off this new no sex setup easily. The distance between us was wearing me down. Before Kate, I’d never had anyone cheering me on at every home game. My parents going to my high school games wasn’t the same as knowing my wife was in the stands at my NHL games. And now that I’d had it, I knew what I was missing. It fucking sucked.

I needed more than texts and phone conversations with my wife. I missed the smell and feel and taste of her so bad I dreamed of them at night. Which officially made me a pussy.

“Hey,” Luke called, walking toward me. “Good game, brother.”

He slapped my back and then helped me pull off my pads, which I was struggling with due to my soreness.

“There you go,” he said, stacking them neatly in front of my locker.

“You gonna comb my cock hair, too?” I asked, shaking my head.

“You wish, asshole. You need to trim that shit, you look like a fucking caveman.”

“My cock only needs to please one person, and it ain’t you, Hudson.”

He rolled his eyes and dropped it. “You need to come out with us tonight.”

“I fucking hurt all over,” I said. “I need an ice bath.”

“After.”

“I don’t—”

“Don’t bother,” he said, cutting me off. “You just played what was probably the best game of your NHL career so far. We’re fucking celebrating if I have to drag your ass out by your foot-long cock hair.”

“Christ, I’ll shave the shit just so you’ll stop talking about it. And yeah, I’ll go out for a little while.”

He nodded, satisfied, and I forced my worn out body up for an ice bath. I was feeling my more physically aggressive game all over. When I put my headphones in my ears and zoned out to the music on my phone, it relaxed me more than the ice did. I got a quick shower after that and dressed in a suit as we were required to after games. Luke had texted me the address to a bar, and I pulled on my long wool coat and caught a cab to head there.

The downtown bar was packed with people – the kind of place I always loved in my rookie days. Tons of fans and lots of women to choose from. But tonight I just groaned inwardly at the game face I’d have to put on for this.

I paid the driver and walked in to pounding music and dimmed lights. This wasn’t the kind of place I’d be able to get a decent dinner. And in our suits, the hockey players stood out. I saw the large table of my teammates immediately.

“Jason Ryker!” one of them yelled as I approached. “What’ll it be?”

“Surprise me,” I said. “With beer, I mean. Don’t bring me a fucking cosmo or anything.”

I pulled a chair up by Luke and sat down. Women were already chatting up some of the guys.

“Feeling better?” Luke asked, sliding me a shot. I nodded and we tipped them back. The burn of the whiskey reminded me how little hard liquor I drank anymore. Someone slid a tall glass of beer in front of me, followed soon by another shot.

“Hey there,” a blonde in a tight black shirt said, smiling widely at me and Luke. “Which one of you wants to buy me a drink?”

“Uh. Sorry, I’m married,” I said, my gaze sliding to her D cups for a second.

“Engaged,” Luke said. “Unfortunately.”

He really sounded bummed about it, but it was the line he brought out when he wasn’t interested. He fucked women of all body types if he was hard up enough, but Luke didn’t like huge tits. The blonde moved on and I went up to the bar to see if I could find a menu. This place had to have some food, even if it was just pizza and peanuts.

I was leaning on the bar, waiting, when I caught the scent of Lauren’s expensive perfume. I turned and saw her next to me in a sparkly top and a short skirt.

“Just … getting a drink,” she said, sounding like I’d accused her of something. I sighed deeply and rubbed the scruffy beard I hadn’t shaved since my hot streak started.

“I’ll get it,” I said. “I was a jackass before. If I made you feel bad, I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. I’m sure you’re stressed about the problems with your wife.”

I shook my head. “We’re not—”

“I know. Everything’s great. She just never comes to the games anymore and you’re pissed off all the time for no reason.”

I smiled. “No relationship is perfect all the time.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

The bartender stopped in front of us. “A menu?” I asked. “And whatever she wants.”

“Do you want to go somewhere we can get a real dinner?” Lauren asked. Her blue eyes glimmered hopefully.

“I promised the guys I’d hang out with them.”

“Later?” She brushed her fingers over the top of my hand and a rush of desire hit me hard and fast. I could be giving Lauren a no questions asked fuck within half an hour if I wanted to. I’d checked out of the emotional part and just enjoyed the physical part many times before getting married.

The bartender reappeared with the menu and held it out. I shifted, trying to readjust my hardening cock without touching it. “I think I’m gonna eat somewhere else, actually,” I said.

Lauren smiled, her fingers sliding down to stroke my wrist. “Now or later?”

“Uh, alone,” I said. Her face fell.

“What’s so wrong with dinner?” she asked. “As long as it doesn’t end with an orgasm?”

“Look, I just can’t. I meant what I said before. You know you want more than just dinner, and I don’t fuck around on Kate. I also don’t talk about our marriage with anyone but her.”

“You want more than dinner, too,” she challenged, leaning in closer. “I’m not blind.” She eyed my crotch and I scrubbed a hand over my face, wishing I’d never come to this bar.

“I’m leaving now,” I said. “Have a good night.”

Luke was holding out another shot for me when I got back to the table, a brunette perched on his lap.

“I’ve gotta go,” I said, grabbing the coat I’d left folded over a chair. “See you later, man.”

He waved and I made my way through the crowded bar, relieved when I stepped into the crisp Denver air. I pulled out my phone and dialed Kate.

“Hey,” she said. “Are you out celebrating that amazing game with the guys? You’d better be.”

“I need you to come to Winnipeg tomorrow. To watch the game and spend the night with me. I know you’ve got stuff to do—”

“I’ll be there. I can make it work. Is everything okay, baby?” The worry in her tone doubled my guilt over getting hard for Lauren.

“It’s fine. I just need to see you.”

“I’ll book a ticket online right now.”

I hailed a passing cab and it stopped. I slid in and gave the driver the name of my hotel. “I can’t wait to see you, babe. I love you.”

“I love you, too. I’ll be waiting outside the locker room after the game.”

“See you then.” Just the thought made me smile. I wanted to get everything out in the open. How much I missed our sex life and my concerns over her emotional ups and downs and her hurry to adopt a baby. I’d told Lauren I didn’t talk about my marriage with anyone but Kate, but I hadn’t even been talking to her about it enough to get past what was going on with us.

Even inside the Winnipeg arena, I was freezing. The leggings seemed like a good idea when I’d packed them, but now I was reconsidering. Canada was a lot colder than Chicago.

But this modern building and the fact that I’d technically come to another country on a whim this morning had me feeling upbeat. And I couldn’t wait to see Ryke and share my idea with him.

An usher led me to the friends and family section and I hardly recognized anyone from home. Dave Dennison, a retired NHL player who came to every game to watch his son play, was there. He nodded politely when he saw me. Lauren Monroe, a groupie with nothing better to do than follow the team around, was the only other person I knew. I sat down near strangers to avoid having to talk to her.

My heart pounded as always when Ryke skated out with his team. I jumped up and cheered, feeling a little out of place wearing something besides my worn blue jeans and a team shirt. I’d dressed in black leggings, a fitted red sweater dress and tall black leather boots to celebrate returning to a game.

Seeing the game live, cheering with the crowd and knowing I was here with Ryke, whether he could see me or not, brought on a wave of guilt for all the games I’d missed. I wouldn’t miss another home game. I belonged there, supporting my husband.

We lost in an overtime shootout, and I hoped Ryke wouldn’t be down about it. He’d scored a goal, so hopefully that would help his mood.

I asked an usher to show me to the locker room doors, and the boys from a high school ice hockey team were gathered in the hallway when I got there. Being checked out by minors felt creepy, so I pulled my black trench coat closed.

Ryke was the first player out, and he broke into a huge grin when he saw me. He rushed forward, sweeping me into his arms and pulling my feet up from the concrete floor. When he kissed me, I melted into him, but the laughter and hooting from the high school boys made us both pull away, laughing ourselves.