4. Graham

4

GRAHAM

I follow Savannah out to the parking lot. Her car is parked way off in the back of the lot. I don’t know what it is about seeing her tonight, but fuck if she doesn’t do something to me. She’s fucking gorgeous. Luscious curves. Large tits, like, more than a handful each. Ones I’d love to bury my face between or, better yet, my dick.

I have to adjust as we walk. My cock is hardening in my slacks with each thought of her rolling through my head.

“Do you want me to just meet you somewhere in a half hour or so?” Savannah asks when we reach her car.

“I don’t mind following you, unless you’d prefer I not know where you live?” I quirk a brow in question.

“You can know where I live,” she says, a small smile pulling at the edges of her lips.

“Then, I’ll follow you. I’m parked on the other side of the lot, so give me a minute to get to my car, and we can get moving.”

“I can give you a ride over, if you’d like.”

“That’d be great.” I open the passenger door and find the seat full of a backpack, shoes, and a grocery bag with clothes falling out of it.

“Oh, shit,” Savannah curses as she starts tossing things into her back seat. “I forgot I ran all of this out here earlier.”

“No problem.” I reach down to the floor and pick up a bra that must have fallen out of the grocery bag. I let it dangle from my finger as I hold it up. The lacy cups have my cock growing once again. “I think you dropped this.” I smirk as Savannah’s face goes crimson red.

“Shit.” She reaches for it and snags it off my finger, then tosses it into the back. “Can we pretend that you didn’t just find that on the floorboard?” she asks.

“Now, what kind of fun would that be?” I ask. “Not like I haven’t seen my fair share of bras. I am a fan of the body part, after all.”

“Do you go around telling everyone that nugget of information?” she asks as I fold myself into the passenger seat.

I chuckle at her question. “Not really, but it is something that my teammates know. Little tidbits like that come out eventually in the locker room. The guys like to razz me sometimes if a chick is sitting behind the bench with a low-cut blouse on who’s showing off her rack.”

“Do you get distracted by fans behind the bench?” she asks as she drives across the parking lot.

“Not usually. I’ve been playing for so long that I have a pretty good focus locked in when I hit the ice. All the people kind of melt away. Even if I do notice them, I can zone them out enough to stay focused on the game.”

“That’s good. Staying focused is important, especially for a job like yours where you can easily get hurt.”

“Yep,” I confirm as we pull up beside my car. The only one left in this part of the parking lot. “I’ll follow you home, and then we can go somewhere.”

“Unless you’d like to just come to my place?” Savannah offers.

“Whatever you’d like,” I tell her. I don’t know why I’m so adamant about spending more time with her tonight, but something inside tells me not to let this night end.

“I’m only about ten minutes away. I’ll take the main streets so we don’t have to worry about getting separated on the interstate.”

“That works for me, or you can text me your address, and I can program it into my GPS.”

“Duh.” She smacks her forehead and reaches for her cell. Mine chimes a few seconds later, and when I glance at it, I have the text notification with her address.

“I’ll see you shortly.” I step out of the car and shut the door before reaching for the handle of my car. I drove my sports car tonight. I also have an SUV and a truck in my garage. The security system beeps as the doors unlock. I slip into the driver’s seat and press the button. The engine purrs to life as I settle in. I click on the text message, and the Map app on my phone opens, giving me directions to Savannah’s place.

I follow her out of the parking lot, staying directly behind her the entire ten-minute drive. We pull into the parking lot of a large apartment building complex. The standard-looking multistory building has row after row of small balconies marking each apartment. I pull around to a spot marked visitor and kill the engine. I notice Savannah pull her car into a garage door, so at least I know she’s got safe parking for her car here.

I walk over to the main door and wait for her to come let me in. The inside door opens a moment later, and she’s carrying the bags from her car. I watch her through the door as she pushes a button, and the door between us automatically opens.

“Nice security around here.” I motion to the door.

“Eh, it’s okay. People like to prop the door open, which negates the fact that people must be buzzed in. I just make sure to always keep my apartment door locked. It’s also a safe part of town. I’ve never had any trouble around here. Management sends out reminders when they find it propped open, and it stops for a while, then starts again after a few months.”

I follow her through the door and into one of the waiting elevators. We ride up to the fourth floor, then head to the left, halfway down the hall, before we stop at an apartment door. She slides her key into the deadbolt, opening the door a moment later.

“Home sweet home,” Savannah says as she ushers us inside. She sets down her bags and flips on the hallway light.

I see a flash of something run by the end of the hall. “What the hell was that?” I ask.

“Simon.” She laughs. “He’s my hairless cat,” she says as she squats down and calls for him. “Simon, come here, baby,” she coos at him. He pokes his head around the corner and takes us both in.

I don’t think I’ve ever seen such an ugly animal, but I keep that to myself. After giving me what I can only describe as a death glare from a cat, he runs over to Savannah and jumps up into her arms. She stands, stroking the top of his head, and turns to face me.

“This is Simon,” she introduces us.

“Does he always wear clothes?” I can’t help but smile at how ridiculous he looks with a sweater on.

“Yes, because he has no hair, he easily gets cold. I have quite the sweater collection for him,” she tells me. I reach out and give the top of his head a little pat and am shocked at how soft he is.

Savannah lets Simon jump out of her arms, and he runs off. “Can I get you anything before I go change?” she asks.

“I’m good,” I say as we move farther into her apartment.

“The living room is that way.” She points to our right. “I’ll be right out.” She turns to the left and disappears into her bedroom. I take in the apartment. It isn’t huge but not tiny, either, with a nice kitchen, small dining area, and living room. I’m guessing the bathroom is near the bedroom. Looks like the perfect apartment for a single person or couple.

When I enter the living room, I take in the pictures Savannah has hanging on the wall and lining the mantel. There are many of her with her family over the years. Some from a vacation last summer I recall Lucas telling me about that they went on. There are a few others of her with groups of kids. I can only assume they are students she’s taught over the years.

“That was my first year teaching,” Savannah says as she joins me in the living room. I turn my attention to her, taking in her relaxed fit. She’s changed into some leggings and a tank top. One that has my mouth watering with the cleavage that it shows off. The clearing of her throat has my eyes snapping up and connecting with hers. “Eyes are up here.” She smirks.

“Yeah,” I stammer. “They sure are.” I turn back to the pictures before moving farther away and taking a seat on the couch.

“Do you really want coffee this late, or can I offer you something else? I have water, soda, beer, maybe some wine?”

“What are you in the mood for?” I ask.

“I could go for a beer. I think I deserve it after today.”

“Then I’ll take a beer,” I say. I don’t usually drink during the season, but one beer isn’t going to set me back.

She returns a moment later with two beers cracked open. “Blue Moon okay?” she asks before handing me one of the opened bottles.

“It’s perfect,” I say as I accept the beer. Our fingers touch with the hand off, and sparks shoot up my arm from the connection.

Savannah sits on the other end of the couch, leaving the center spot between us. At this point, it’s probably a good thing because I don’t think I could stop myself from touching her if she were closer.

“So, how’re things going with the hockey stuff?” she asks.

“The hockey stuff.” I chuckle. “You make it sound like a hobby when you say it like that.”

“Sorry, I just don’t know how it all works or what it entails.”

“That’s okay. Hockey has been my way of life since I can remember. I’ve had a really good career, but it might be almost over,” I confess. I don’t usually like to talk about that fact, but I find myself ready to spill my guts to Savannah.

“Why is that?” she asks, and I can see the concern on her face.

“I’m old for a pro player. The average NHL career is only five seasons, and I’ve been at this a whole lot longer than that. My body can’t keep up with the demand much longer, and I’d like to actually be able to enjoy life after hockey. If I end up with a family, I’d like to be able to do things with my kids, not be bedridden because of what I’ve put my body through.”

“Do you have a girlfriend?” she asks.

“Nope. Single and looking, kind of,” I say.

“Kind of?” She chuckles. “What does that mean?”

“It means, I’m not opposed to finding the right one. I don’t want someone who is just after the clout of dating a professional athlete. I’ve seen it happen to too many of my friends, and it ends in a mess. I’ve had a few girlfriends in the past who were in it more for the social aspect than the personal relationship, so I’ve just focused on the game and being the best teammate I can be while it lasts.”

“That’s sad. I’m sorry that’s happened to you.”

“What about you? Do you have a Mr. Right in the picture?” I ask before I make an ass of myself by flirting with her.

“Nope. I’ve been on a handful of dates in the past few years, but nothing has made it past a few dates. I think I’m too picky about who I want to date. I don’t see the point in putting effort into a relationship that you know isn’t going to go anywhere.”

“That’s fair enough. What do you want in a relationship?” I ask.

“Chemistry and honesty. If you don’t click in multiple aspects, it’s hard to make things work. That can be anything from your likes and dislikes to sexual chemistry. Being able to be honest with each other is also super important. Communication is key. I feel like so many couples crumble because of the lack of communication. With all that comes trust. If you can’t trust your partner, then the foundation you’ve built your relationship on wasn’t solid to begin with.”

“I couldn’t agree more with everything you just said.”

“Are you in the middle of your season?” Savannah asks.

“It just started a few weeks ago. The regular season runs from early October to early April, then the playoffs start and run into June.”

“Wow, I guess I didn’t realize the season lasted that long.”

“We want it to last as long as possible.” I chuckle. “The longer we go, the better we’re playing and the higher our chances of winning the Cup.”

“That makes sense. Do you ever get tired of it?”

“There are days, and one of the reasons I have to start thinking hard about what I want after this season. My body can only take so much, and I’d like to not completely trash it, if I can help it.”

“If you had to make the decision today, what would you choose to do?” she asks, and I mull over her question. “Don’t overthink it. Just say the first answer that comes to mind.”

“I’d request a one-year contract extension to play out one last season with the knowledge that it would be my last. Pre-announce my retirement when I sign the contract.”

“Do you think the team here would give you that?” she asks.

“As long as I don’t end up with a major injury, I don’t see why not. I have a great working relationship with the management, and they know my desires to retire here. But at the end of the day, it is a business, and they aren’t obligated to extend my contract. I’d even take a much lower amount for the final season. I just like the idea of going into it knowing that it will be my last and not be like this season, where I have the decision hanging over my head.”

“I’ll be honest, I have no idea what you guys make. What kind of pay cut would you have to take? And sorry if that is too personal,” she says, and I like that she’s so interested in the details.

“Not too personal.” I chuckle. “It’s public knowledge, as well, but my current contract is for five point five million a season for seven seasons. I’d be willing to go down to a million, at the lowest. Obviously, I’ll have my agent negotiate for the highest amount he can get for me, but he’ll know I’m willing to go down, if needed.”

“Five point five million?!” Savannah stammers. “For s-e-v-e-n years.” She spells out the letters for seven.

“Yeah.” I smirk. “It actually paid off to devote my life to hockey from such a young age.”

“I can’t even fathom one year of that, better yet, seven.”

“And that wasn’t even my first contract. I had two others before that.”

Savannah’s eyes go wide at my admission. “Damn.”

“I’ve mostly been smart with my money and either saved or invested a large chunk of it. Outside of buying my house, a truck, an SUV, and a sports car, I haven’t really blown much of it. I know I’ll need it to last me a long time, so being smart with my money was always on my mind.”

“That’s impressive. So do you live here year-round then, or do you go back home in the offseason?”

“I only own a home here, but I like to travel in the offseason. I also usually spend a good chunk of time with some of my teammates, as well as other guys from the league, up in Canada who train with some offseason coaches for part of the summer. A few of us go in on a large vacation rental house while we’re there. I also make a point to get back home to see my folks, even if it’s only for a week or two. They are starting to get up there in age, and I don’t want to miss out on spending time with them while I can.”

“I imagine they like that. Do they ever make it down here to see you play?” she asks.

“Oh yes. Now that they’re both retired, they like to travel. They’ll pick a couple of weeks each season to come down when we have a home stretch. They also like to travel to a few of the away series, and never miss the moms and dads trips hosted by the team.”

“Moms and dads trips?” she questions.

“Yeah, the team plans two separate trips every season. One is for the moms. If someone’s mom can’t attend, they can invite another woman who holds a special place in their life, so some guys bring a sister or aunt. Just no wives or girlfriends. It isn’t meant to be that kind of trip. The same goes for the dads trip. They plan it when we have a short trip, maybe two games over three days. They get to fly with us on the team jet and are put up in the same hotel. All meals are catered, or they take us out to a nice restaurant. Usually, they have some fun activities planned for our guests while we’re practicing, then they get to watch the game from a suite. It’s always a great time. We get to hang out with the important people in our lives, and they get to know one another and build friendships. This magic happens on the trips. It’s like their presence is our special luck charm. We have won more games while on these trips than we’ve lost. I think it is a high percentage, like, maybe ninety percent or something like that.”

“That sounds like so much fun! I can see why the parents would enjoy it.”

“Who doesn’t like a free trip and to get wined and dined the entire time?”

“I’ll have to take your word for that part of it. I can’t even imagine what something like that would be like.”

“You’ve never had someone try to impress you?” I ask, quirking a brow.

“Not to that extent. The most someone has done is maybe buy me dinner and flowers.”

“That’s a shame. Maybe I’ll have to change that.”