Just as I hit my climax, I whisper, “Open your eyes.” She does, so I add, “Come on, Avery.” The love I have for that phrase is unbelievable. Ever since the first time I said that as a way of giving Avery a little nudge, it’s caused Avery to crumble beneath me in waves of pleasure. Every. Single. Time. And it feeds my ego, making both heads swell, but I’m positive Avery loves it as much as I do.
She screams out my name, shuddering as I slow down my movements to drag out her high. This is one of the moments when she’s most beautiful. Pure bliss is in every part of her body and her love for me flows right behind it. I pull out and fall onto the bed next to her.
“Damn, Avery.”
“Ditto,” she agrees and I laugh.
After a few minutes to re-energize, she turns her head to look at me. I’ve already turned onto my side and started running my hand over her leg.
“C’mon. There’s still water on the floor and,” she faces away to peek over the edge of the bed, “I made a mess with the ice cream. Plus, we should probably shower.” She grins at me from over her shoulder. “Just in case I’m still sticky.”
I laugh. “You’ve been thinking about that water since I walked out the bathroom, haven’t you?”
“No,” she denies. “Once you stopped distracting me, I remembered. Besides, I’m adding shower sex to the bucket list.” Without another word, she walks her naked self across the room and disappears. “Don’t forget to go get the towels,” she calls out as she turns the water on.
Oh, I’m going to be so tired tomorrow, but it’ll be so worth it.
~ ~ ~
“Avery, I’m home,” I call out.
“In the office,” she shouts back.
I came home for a quick lunch with her before I leave on a string of road games. The playoffs are coming up and the pressure is sitting on my shoulders as if I’m attempting to balance a house on them. We’re looking good to make the cut, so I’m feeling good about that. What’s bothering me is the looming end of my contract.
Part of me is itching to be at the rink right now, improving on every aspect of my play. It doesn’t help that I can feel the hunger for the Cup, so strong and clear. I honestly believe we have a good chance this year. But I am fighting off that nagging feeling that the closer we get to the playoffs, the more I should immerse myself into hockey. Not doing so is a bit more difficult than I thought it would be.
Not because of my priorities, because Avery is, without a doubt, my number one, but because of how I’m thinking about it almost all the time. Before I made captain, before I met Avery, my team won the Cup. It was amazing. Last year, when I was feeling the pressure, it clicked in the back of my mind that during our best seasons before I met Avery, all I did was hockey. It consumed every aspect of my life.
I can’t lose myself in my job again. I don’t want that for me and definitely not for Avery or for our marriage. My thoughts bounce back and forth between Avery and my raging desire to succeed my own expectations as well as the team and our fans.
Avery doesn’t glance up when I walk in. This is supposedly my office, but I never use it. Avery does though.
“Jax, did you buy plane tickets? What for? Or should I call the bank?” She finally looks over at me as I sit in the chair next to the desk. “There’s a charge for an airline up here, but I didn’t make it, so I didn’t know if you did or if someone else used your card.”
“I bought them,” I answer, leaning my head back against the chair and closing my eyes.
“Okay,” she drags out, waiting for me to fill her in. This wasn’t how I was going to tell her.
For now, I ignore her. “Do you think I’m successful?”
Her silence causes me to open my eyes and look at her. She doesn’t seem sure of herself.
“You don’t, do you?” My chest tightens at the thought.
“No, I do,” she quickly answers, “but I don’t know why you would ask. I mean, you’re the captain of an NHL team, you’re on the way to the playoffs, and you’re worth thirty million dollars.”
“Yeah, I guess you’re right,” I shrug.
“You don’t think so?” Before I can answer, the worry enters her voice. “What’s going on, Jax?”
“Nothing,” automatically leaves my mouth.
Avery stands and sits sideways in my lap. “Hey, talk to me. What are you thinking about?”
The words mull over in my mind before I speak. “I don’t need the game, Avery. All I need is you and you come first.” I want to make sure she knows that. She nods that she does. “I play because I’m good and I love it. It’s fun, even with all the work that goes into it, and I’m too damn competitive not to love it.”
“But,” she says, trying to help me along.