11. Dj

CHAPTER 11

DJ

A few days after my electric locker room kiss with Tyler, I stretch out on a lounge chair by the hotel pool, soaking up the Florida sun. My shades are on but my eyes keep drifting to my phone sitting on the little table next to me.

I keep hoping it'll buzz with a text from Sydney. Or Tyler. But it stays annoyingly silent.

Tyler seemed so eager the other day. I was thrilled that he was finally admitting that there was something between us, that he finally seemed ready to explore it. But then…nothing.

He's obviously still working through it. I know sexuality isn't a simple thing, particularly if you're learning something new about yourself as an adult, when you already have a set idea of who you are.

But man…I hope he figures it out soon. I'd really like to pick up where we left off.

I sigh and let my head fall back, my mind drifting to last night's game instead. We kicked ass out there on the ice, and I can't help grinning as I replay the sick goal I made in the second period. Their defense was all over me but I deked left, then right, leaving them grasping at air as I flicked the puck top shelf, bar down. The red goal light flashing was sweet vindication.

At least something's going right . I rub my knee absentmindedly.

The steady regimen of Advil, icing, and babying it between practices seems to be keeping the ache to a dull roar. Gotta stay on top of that if I want to keep bringing my A game...

My phone trills suddenly, making me jump. I snatch it up, hoping—but it's just my mom calling.

Ah well, I need to talk to her too, make sure she doesn't need more help. I stifle my disappointment and answer.

"Hey Ma, what's up?"

"Hi honey, how's Tampa treating you?" Her voice is warm but sounds tired.

"Can't complain. Wish you could see this resort, you'd love it. How are things back home?"

She sighs. "Oh you know, same old same old..."

I frown, hearing the exhaustion in her voice. "Everything okay? You know I can transfer more money if…" If she'd just tell me exactly how much she owes on her cards after that ruinous investment . But she won't share the details, insisting that she doesn't want to worry me.

"No, no, I couldn't ask you to do that again..."

"Hey, I'm happy to help. You're my number one girl, you know that."

She laughs softly. "What am I gonna do with you and that silver tongue?"

"Let me transfer some cash to get you through the next couple months? No arguments?" I say, rolling over to one side to keep my conversation shielded from some of my teammates who are hanging out a few chairs down.

"Alright, alright. You win," Mom concedes with a sigh. "I don't know what I'd do without you, kiddo. I'm so proud of the man you've become..."

"Aw geez, you're gonna make me blush," I joke. "Love you, Ma."

"I love you too, DJ," she replies, and I can hear the emotion in her voice. "So much. Thanks for looking out for your old mom."

"Anytime," I assure her. "Talk soon, okay? Try to relax a little."

She agrees and we say our goodbyes. I toss my phone down and rub a hand over my face.

I'm grateful I can help her out, but I wish she wasn't too proud to just share all the details so I could pay off her debts once and for all. Right now I could afford it, I'm sure—we all got a sweet holiday bonus since the team has been winning games again.

I'm planning to transfer it all to her, she needs it more than I do.

I take a deep breath and push the stress aside. Today's about rewarding myself for playing well and giving my body some much needed R&R. My eyes drift shut as I let the warm sun melt the tension away, but my thoughts keep drifting back to bronze skin, soft curves and hard muscle...

Dammit, why doesn't Tyler just text me back?

The team's big win last night has me on top of the world...and horny as hell. What can I say, crushing it on the ice always gets me amped up and ready to celebrate in my favorite way—by making somebody scream my name in ecstasy.

My mind keeps flashing back to the charity event—the press of Sydney's lush curves against me as we danced, those come-fuck-me bedroom eyes. And Tyler behind her, his heated gaze locked on mine.

I can still feel the solid heat of his body pinning me against the lockers, taste the desperation on his tongue right before he bolted like the hounds of gay panic hell were nipping at his tight little ass.

Fuck, I'm getting hard again just thinking about it. I palm my dick through my board shorts, then throw a towel over my lap in consideration for my teammates just across the pool. Not the time.

Snagging my phone, I pull up my texts with Tyler, scanning the series of increasingly thirsty messages I've sent him. The dude is an Olympic-level ghosting champ—my texts get read almost instantly but no reply.

Maybe turn receipts off, my guy .

I toss the phone aside with a sigh, sinking lower in the recliner and adjusting myself lewdly. When did I turn into a lovesick teenager, moping over unrequited crushes?

This is some bullshit. DJ Johnston waits for no man. Or woman. There are plenty of hotties in my contacts who'd come running to bounce on my dick. I should call one of them...

But I don't want them.

I want Sydney. Or Tyler. And Tyler.

Fuck .

The day drags on without a single text from Tyler. I'm getting restless, pacing around the pool, when a burst of laughter draws my attention.

It's Sydney, looking like a goddamn snack in her modest one-piece and cover-up. I grin, soaking up the sight. I bet she thinks the suit is a professional choice but the joke's on her—it's sexier than all the barely there bikinis around put together, the way it teases and conceals her considerable attributes.

I'm captivated.

Screw it, I'm making my move . If Tyler isn't ready to pick things up where we left off, that's his business. And my business…well, tonight it'll be Sydney. Throwing on my most panty-dropping grin, I saunter over to where she's chatting with some of the staff.

"Can you believe that turnover in the third period?" Coach Alex is saying animatedly as I join the group. "Absolutely clutch."

"Hell yeah! We're on a roll," I chime in, reveling in the post-win high.

Sydney smiles at me, her eyes sparkling with mirth. "Well, well, look who decided to grace us with his presence. To what do we owe the honor, Mr. Bigshot?"

"What can I say, I couldn't resist the allure of hearing everyone say nice things about me," I quip back, holding her playful gaze.

Coach Emma chuckles. "C'mon DJ. That assist in overtime was pure luck and you know it."

"Bullshit, it was all me. They don't call these magic hands for nothing!" I joke, wiggling my fingers.

The group dissolves into knowing laughter—my salacious reputation isn't really a secret on the team. Or anywhere, for that matter.

As the conversation turns to post-game analysis, I sidle closer to Sydney. Leaning in, I murmur, "So, I was thinking... How about you and I explore the Tampa nightlife tonight?"

Sydney arches an eyebrow, looking adorably conflicted for a moment.

"I don't know, Johnston. You keep getting me into trouble."

Her words say no but her eyes are issuing a challenge. And damn if I don't love a challenge.

"Hey, I'll be on my best behavior. Scout's honor," I vow, throwing up three fingers in salute.

She laughs, shaking her head. "Fine, you've got yourself a date. But no funny business, you hear?"

I grin as images of just what kind of funny business we could get up to cross my mind. It's a good thing I'm not actually a scout . "Mmm."

After some killer fish tacos and a bit of restaurant hopping in search of the perfect key lime pie, Sydney and I find ourselves in the back of a tiny local joint I heard about from a friend who went to school down here.

The twangy notes of an old man strumming a beat-up guitar on a cramped platform blend with the clinks of glasses and chatter filling the dive bar. I lean in close to Sydney so she can hear me over the noise.

"Is it just me or do these lyrics make absolutely no sense?" I ask with a smirk.

Sydney giggles. "It's like he picked random words out of a country music dictionary and strung them together." She puts on an exaggerated Southern drawl. "My truck got towed, my dog done died, drinkin' whiskey by the riverside."

I laugh and throw an arm around her shoulders, pulling her against me in the booth. "Don't quit your day job to become a country star now."

She fits perfectly tucked into my side, her curves pressing deliciously against me. I know I promised, I know I should behave myself, but damn if I don't want to slide my hand down and grab that fine ass.

Sydney looks up at me through her dark lashes. "You don't think I could make it in Nashville?"

She juts out her bottom lip in an adorable pout. I want to bite it.

"Oh, I think you'd be a star no matter what you did, beautiful." I reach out and gently run my thumb over her lip. "But I like having you all to myself."

Her breath hitches and she parts her lips slightly. I'm so fucking tempted to lean in and capture that pouty mouth with my own. Instead, I force myself to pull back, trailing my fingers down her arm and noticing how her skin prickles with goosebumps at my touch.

I clear my throat and force myself to look away. "Another beer?" I ask, my voice coming out rougher than I intended.

Sydney nods. I signal the bartender for two more of the potent domestic drafts. Is it getting hotter in here ? I shift on my stool, trying to adjust myself discreetly. This woman turns me on without even trying.

I want to peel that sundress off her and lay her out on my bed, kissing a path down her throat, between her perfect tits, over her soft belly. Burying my face between her thighs and tasting her sweet honey until she's writhing and begging for more...

The beers appear in front of us and I take a long swig of the cold liquid. It does little to cool the desire raging inside me.

Sydney watches me over the rim of her glass, her cheeks flushed and her eyes dark. She senses this electric pull between us too, I can tell. But neither of us makes a move, the exquisite tension simmering in the scant space separating our bodies.

Sydney told me to behave, so behave is what I'll do.

For now…

The hotel is totally deserted when we get back.

The silence of the lobby amplifies every step we take, the clicking of Sydney's heeled sandals on the marble floor echoing like a metronome ticking down to something inevitable. I glance at her, catching the slight tremor in her fingers as she brushes a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

We've kept things friendly tonight, but the night isn't over yet. I call the elevator, gesturing for Sydney to step in first. She hesitates for a fraction of a second before sliding past me, the subtle scent of her perfume filling the small space—something floral and wickedly intoxicating.

The doors close with a soft ding, and we laugh as we both reach for the same button, realizing we're staying on the same floor. And suddenly it's just us, surrounded by mirrored walls that only seem to multiply the tension.

I lean against the wall, trying to look casual, and not like I'd like to rip her clothes off and fuck her right up against that mirrored wall. Not at all.

"So," I start, breaking the quiet. My voice sounds unnaturally deep in the confined space. "Did you have fun tonight?"

Sydney leans back against the opposite wall, mirroring my posture.

"I did," she admits. "Thank you—I needed this."

The elevator pings and the doors slide open to reveal the dimly lit hallway. Sydney and I step out in unison, our footsteps muffled by the plush carpet. We don't speak but an electric current builds between us as we walk side by side down the deserted corridor.

My room is coming up on the left. I pause with my keycard in hand, my heart suddenly pounding. It's now or never .

I turn to Sydney, my eyes searching her face.

"Listen, I know you think this is a terrible idea, but if I don't at least ask if I can kiss you right now, I'm not going to be able to sleep tonight." I swallow hard. "But no pressure, the decision is totally yours."

Sydney stares back at me, her eyes glinting in the low light. The moment stretches between us, taut with unspoken desire.

Then she lunges forward, crashing her lips against mine.

Suddenly we're a tangle of roaming hands and gasping breaths as we stumble backwards into my room. I kick the door shut and press Sydney up against the wall, my body molding to hers.

Holy shit, is this finally happening?