Rebound (Seattle Steelheads #1)(71)

But when his cock thickened against my tongue, when his groans took on a more urgent quality as his hips jerked with the restraint to keep from thrusting in too deep, I couldn’t have drawn this out if I wanted to. I needed his release as badly as he did. Call it insecurity, call it arousal—I needed to hear and feel and taste Geoff getting off, and neither of us could wait much longer.

“God. Asher.” His fingers shakily dragged through my hair, and he was so breathless it was making me dizzy. “Asher, I’m… Oh Jesus, baby. You…want me to come like this?”

I moaned an affirmative, and he gasped and shuddered, and the instant the first jet of cum landed on my tongue, my own hips bucked as if I were about to come too. For a second or two, I was genuinely surprised I hadn’t.

Geoff dropped on to the bed beside me, but he didn’t just lay there and enjoy the afterglow of his orgasm. No, he kissed me hungrily, and damn—our lips had barely touched before his fingers were around my cock. I was already on edge after giving him that blowjob, and the touch of his hot, rough hand had my back arching off the bed, and I gripped his shoulders as I fucked into his hand and tried to remember how to kiss. Damn it, I didn’t want to go off too soon, but…hell…

“Don’t hold back,” he whispered against my lips. “This won’t be the last time I make you come tonight.”

That was all I needed. He muffled my cry with a kiss, and I arched and bucked as he kept jerking me off until there was nothing left. When he stopped, I melted back on to the bed, breathless and shaky, my head spinning and my whole body tingling from the force of my orgasm. I was pretty sure there was cum everywhere, but whatever. That was what tissues and showers and…stuff…were for. Didn’t care.

“I meant what I said,” Geoff purred against the side of my neck. “We are so not done yet tonight.” He nibbled my earlobe, making me gasp. “And don’t think for a second that any of this is anything less than amazing for me.”

I couldn’t speak, so I just nodded.

Oh yeah. Message received.

*

A week and a half after that somewhat embarrassing but reassuring heart-to-heart with Geoff, I got some much-needed good news: As of this morning, Nathan was sentenced. It was over.

I’d made a statement regarding the reasons why Nathan had been warned against contacting me, but thank God, neither lawyer had dug too hard into our volatile relationship. Instead, Geoff’s prediction had been correct—the prosecutor was giving it to Nathan with both barrels over punching a cop. She’d explained to me that the system wasn’t great when it came to domestic violence, but it had a very low tolerance for assaulting police officers. Right or wrong, she was using that to her advantage, and I didn’t argue, especially since it meant I didn’t need to testify in court. The farther I was from the proceedings, the less attention would be drawn to it, and that was fine by me. My team still didn’t know, the fans still didn’t know, and I intended to keep it that way.

I was on the road for the sentencing and wouldn’t have gone anyway. Geoff was there, though, and he filled me in as soon as it was over. Nathan was sentenced to two and a half years plus several years of probation after he was released. Even if he was let out early for good behavior, which he likely would be, he wouldn’t be a thorn in my side any time soon. Or at all, if he had a brain in his head.

Since I hadn’t gone to court, Geoff had filled me in last night on the judge’s comments afterward.

“Might I suggest, Mr. Warner,” she’d said after the sentencing, “that you take your situation seriously and remember that any future contact with Mr. Crowe will be considered a violation of your probation?”

From what Geoff said, Nathan had been shaking in his boots, and he’d been a hell of a lot more intimidated by the judge than he’d ever been by Geoff. He’d muttered “Yes, Your Honor,” and the judge had ordered the bailiff to escort him out.

It was over. Nathan was in jail and a judge had put the fear of God into him. It was fucking over, and that meant I’d start feeling like I had my life and my freedom back.

Any minute now.

Any minute now.

It had been better lately, though. When I went out on the ice, I still glanced up at his old seat in the stands because that was my routine, and every time seat 4K was empty or occupied by someone I’d never seen before, I got a triumphant rush. I’d won. I was free. I could play some damned hockey without feeling him breathing down my neck.

But was he still under my skin? Oh yeah. I could feel him every time I second guessed myself over Geoff, and even after Geoff and I had talked about things, I was still second-guessing it all. It was fine when we were in the same room. When we were apart? Fuck. Every time we talked on the phone, I’d spend forever replaying the conversation, wondering if I’d said something I shouldn’t have or if there were some lines I should’ve read between. If he didn’t respond to a text, it didn’t matter that I knew damn well he was probably just busy—I’d scroll back and reread the conversation in case I’d said something stupid. Whenever I had enough time to worry and dwell, that was exactly what I did, and it was exhausting.

Then I’d come home, and Geoff and I would be together, and it would all be perfect…right up until we were apart again.

God, what is wrong with me?

A relationship with someone as easygoing as Geoff should have been easy, but no, here I was sweating bullets and waiting for the other shoe to drop. Waiting for him to be Nathan even though I knew damn well that wasn’t him. I knew it wasn’t Geoff making me tear my hair out. It was obviously my history with my ex. But knowing that didn’t chase away the anxiety.