14. Elise

CHAPTER 14

Elise

So I’m engaged to Blake Wilder.

How the fuck did that happen?

I mean, I was there. I remember it. I even remember it making sense at the time. But now we’re out, dressed up, holding hands as we walk toward a restaurant, and someone has already spotted us and yelled, “Wilder! Who’s your girlfriend?” And he answered, “Her name’s Elise, and she’s a lot more than just my girlfriend.”

So…this is real. And weird.

Blake has a reservation, so once we arrive, we’re immediately led to a table across the restaurant. It’s an upscale Italian place and he tells me it’s one of his favorites. It seems most of the staff knows him and he greets several people as we pass their tables. He never lets go of my hand, and when we get to the semi-circular booth along one wall, he steps back to let me ease in first. His hand grazes over my lower back and hip as I move past him. He slides onto the bench beside me, not stopping until his thigh is pressed right up against mine.

The waiter comes over immediately, pouring us ice water, and asking if we’d like to see the wine menu.

“Are you a wine drinker?” Blake asks me.

“Sometimes. I like a lot of things.”

His gaze drops to my lips and I press them together. I didn’t mean that the way it sounded. I can’t seem to help flirting. What is going on? I’m going to call it the Simon effect. It really might be, because that man has made me feel pretty fucking good about…everything. Especially sex. “Do you want wine?” I ask Blake.

“Not a wine guy, really,” he admits. “But please have whatever you want.”

I really kind of want a couple of tequila shots but that is not the vibe for tonight. Probably. At the moment, anyway. But if I’m lucky, then later…

I clear my throat, tamp down my inner floozie, and tell the waiter, “I’ll have a vodka martini.”

“Bring me whatever ale you have on draft,” Blake tells him.

“Of course. I’ll give you a few minutes with the menu.”

“I hope you like Italian,” Blake says. “I realize just now I should’ve asked. They do have great steak and salmon here too.”

I open the menu. “I love Italian. This is great.”

He seems relieved, and I wonder if Blake brings women here often. “Do you date a lot?” I ask.

“Define ‘date’.” He looks amused.

Yeah, that’s what I thought. “You seem like you have plenty of attention. Of all kinds, including female. But I’m wondering if perhaps you don’t need to date them.”

“So I seem more the type to take them home, fuck them, and not call them the next day?”

He’s a straight shooter so I decide I can be too. I pick up my water glass. “Yes.”

He chuckles. “Well, I guess that’s not entirely wrong. But I usually call them a few times. And I’ve at least talked to them at the bar or an event or two before I take them home.”

I know ‘the bar’ is the regular hang-out where the Racketeers like to gather. I’ve been there a few times, and it makes sense that he could meet women there and get to know them at least a bit.

“But you aren’t friends with any of them after you…stop calling them?”

He narrows his eyes. “Why do you assume that?”

“Because you asked me to be your fake fiancée. We barely know each other. We made out once. Seems if you had someone you’d taken out even a couple of times, she would be a better candidate.”

He sips from his water glass, watching me. He sets it down and says, “You’re right. I don’t stay friends with women I fuck. And I don’t date. I have avoided anything serious on purpose. I don’t intend to stay in Chicago, so it’s always seemed silly to fall in love with a hometown girl. And the fake fiancée thing seemed complicated to go into with anyone else.”

“But it’s not with me somehow?”

“You seem like a no bullshit kind of person. I really like that about you.” One corner of his mouth curls. “And…” He shakes his head. “Your name just popped out when I was talking to my grandmother. You were obviously on my mind. I guess it seemed like a good way to spend more time with you.”

I’m not sure what to make of that. I like that he’s been thinking about me. Probably too much.

I don’t need this. For one, he’s grumpy and blunt and literally just said he has no intention of staying in Chicago. Letting myself develop feelings for him would be stupid. So, I can tell myself not to do that but…what if I can’t? Clearly we’re going to be pretending to be close. We’re going to go on dates, hold hands, probably kiss.

For another, I just had my world rocked last night by Simon, and now Aidan showed up and seems to want to make it a threesome.

A shiver of desire goes through me at that thought. Wow. Simon and Aidan are clearly into each other as well as being into me and that is so hot…

I blow out a breath.

I don’t need Blake Wilder.

Why did I agree to help him out in the first place?

You had no hope of saying no when he asked you a question. Any question. But especially one that involved getting to see him more.

My inner voice is very annoying, but she’s right. And I don’t know what to do with that realization.

The waiter returns before I need to comment. And goes over the evening specials. We both place our orders—lasagna for Blake and lemon garlic linguine for me—and he moves off again, leaving us alone. Blake leans back, his beer cradled in his hand.

“So tell me about this cabin that’s so important you’ll fake having a fiancée to get it,” I say.

“It’s gorgeous. Five bedrooms, four baths, huge balcony that looks out over the lake and a screened-in porch. We have our own dock. It’s surrounded by trees. The closest neighbor is a mile away. Woodburning fireplaces, amazing hiking, quiet, you can see so many fucking stars.”

I smile at how easily he launches into the description, and the softness in his voice. He’s relaxed talking about it and it’s clear that it means a lot to him.

“A lot of memories there?”

“The best. We went up every summer, often in the fall too. The leaves are amazing. It was one of the few times that my family was all together, no crazy schedules.”

“Are you close to your family?”

He nods. “Definitely. When I started playing hockey, things got a little crazy. There was lots of traveling, the schedule was nuts. But they were totally supportive. It was actually tough making the decision to come to Chicago.”

“Really? Even to play professional hockey? Wasn’t that your dream?”

“My dream was to play for Minnesota.” He chuckles. “I was actually disappointed to be drafted by Chicago at first. I’m happy to be here now. But it’s far from home. I’m ready to go back.”

I sip from my martini glass and study him. I’m surprised for some reason to see this softer love-of-family-and-home side of him. This cabin matters to him because he has roots there. I like that about him.

“Does your grandmother know how you feel?”

“She does.”

The waiter delivers our salads, and our conversation pauses again. But when he leaves and we start eating, Blake picks the conversation back up.

“It’s my sense of family and home that’s hurting me with her, actually,” he says, scooting the cucumbers and onions to the side and mixing dressing over the rest of his salad. “She knows that home and family are important and she’s worried I’m letting my chance pass me by. She’s afraid I’m going to end up just being the fun uncle.”

I snort. “Fun? Does she have you mixed up with someone else in the family? Are there a lot of cousins or something? Is she easily confused?”

He just grins. I like that I can poke at him and he takes it in stride.

I take another drink, then ask, “Why won’t she just let you have the cabin because you love it? She doesn’t think a woman would ever go up there with you?”

“I wasn’t exaggerating when I said that I want to go up there and live alone. Away from the world. Unplugged. My least favorite part of being a professional athlete is all of the PR that goes with it. I hate social media. I don’t love fan meet and greets. Really hate talking to the media after games. I just wanna play hockey. And when I’m done playing hockey, I just want to hike and fish and enjoy nature.”

“But really all by yourself?”

“I’m really good at being alone.”

“You don’t think you’ll get lonely?”

He gives me a little smile. “If I want human connection, I know how to get into the cities. And I expect I’ll be back in Chicago to visit from time to time.”

I feel my stomach flip and tell myself that’s stupid. He’s teasing. Yes, he’s insinuating that when he misses sex, he knows how to find it. But the comment about visiting Chicago isn’t necessarily about me.

And I remind myself again that I have two other guys who also seem to want to spend time with me.

Of course, one of them, the one who, after only one night, I am already feeling some pretty strong feelings for, is going back to London at the end of March. Blake and I aren’t the only ones who have a deadline.

My stomach dips at that reminder, but not in a good way.

“So you and Simon? And Aidan?” Blake asked, as if reading my mind.

I pick up my martini and take a sip. Then shrug. “Yeah.”

“But this is new. The three of you haven’t been together before. Or yet.”

“I see you and Aidan were chatty in the kitchen.”

Blake grins. “I was curious, I’ll admit.”

“I guess if I showed up at your apartment first thing in the morning and two other women were there, I might be a little curious.”

He laughs. “Would you be ready to talk about making it into a foursome right away?”

I laugh. “No. That doesn’t sound nearly as much fun as what we talked about.”

I feel his hand on my thigh, heavy and hot. He strokes his thumb up and down my inner thigh just above my knee.

“Why did you say yes to this? To helping me, I mean?” he asks.

Dammit. I can ignore answering that question for myself, but how can I avoid answering him?

“Seemed like it could be fun,” I tell him. That’s not a lie. There is something that sparks in the air between Blake and me that does always make me enjoy myself. “And I guess I didn’t have a good reason to say no.”

“I’m glad. I do think it could be fun. Maybe we should go over some rules. Talk about what we’re gonna tell people.”

He seems to have abandoned his salad, his hand still on my leg.

I set my fork down too and pick up my drink, taking a gulp. “That’s probably a good idea.”

“Okay, I’ve been thinking about this,” he tells me. “I think we should go on a public date, like tonight, once a week.”

“That seems fair.”

“You’ll need to meet my grandmother, of course.”

I’m already nervous about it, but I nod. “Sure. Whenever.”

“You also need to come to my games. I really feel like a fiancée would be at all of my home games. Wearing my jersey.”

I smile. “That’s kind of a thing isn’t it? Guys like to have their girls in their jerseys.”

He frowns. “Well, yes. Obviously.”

“Why?”

“Shows you’re proud of me.” He leans in. “Shows everyone you’re mine.”

A hot shiver dances down my spine. “I don’t have a jersey with your number and name.”

“I will take care of that.”

Inadvertently, my gaze drops to his mouth.

“And you need to spend the night at my place five times a week when I’m not traveling.”

My gaze bounces back up to his. “What? No. Come on.”

His voice drops lower. “Elise, if you were my girl for real, you would be in my bed every night. If we were actually engaged, I’d have you moved in. You need to be at my place a lot.”

“But I’m not actually your girl,” I say, my voice breathier than I would like. “So we need to negotiate that.”

“Because of Simon and Aidan?”

“Yes. In part.”

“I see.”

I decide to say something that’s been on my mind but that I hadn’t decided on for sure. Until now. “Maybe we should?—”

He squeezes my thigh. I have to clear my throat.

“Maybe we shouldn’t…I mean, you and I…shouldn’t do the spend the night thing. Or the sex thing…”

His hand slides up higher.

I take a breath and keep going. “That might just make this unnecessarily complicated. There’s Aidan and Simon.”

“I don’t mind that you’re with Aidan and Simon,” he says. His hand is squeezing and running up and down my thigh, pushing the skirt of my dress higher.

“I know,” I say, my voice a little husky now. “And that’s…nice. But this thing with us is fake, and it’s not with them. I might have a real…thing…”

His thumb brushes over the elastic that crosses between my pussy and my thigh. I suck in a breath. Focus! “...with them. And there’s a timeline with us. And…”

“Elise.”

I finally look up from my salad to meet his eyes.

“Take your panties off.”

I feel my eyes widen and heat pool in my core. “What?”

“Take your panties off. I need to touch you.”

“But…why?”

“Because I’m going to remind you that even ninety days between us is worth something and this—” He strokes his thumb over the silk over my clit. “—is real no matter what else we’re saying or calling things.”

“But…dinner,” I manage.

“Yes. We’re going to eat dinner. And I’m going to finger fuck you while we do it. And get this pussy nice and wet and ready for the three men who want you.”

Holy…crap. What am I supposed to say to that?

Besides, yes, please .

“I really am surprised that you’re cool with sharing with Simon and Aidan,” I say instead.

“You don’t think I’d be okay with sharing?” His thumb brushes over my clit again.

I grip the edge of the table and squeeze. I shake my head. “Honestly? No.”

“Well, you have no idea what a fucking turn on it is to watch a woman that you’re into being pleasured by another guy who is really into her. One of my favorite things is making a woman come. I don’t mind having help. Whether it’s toys, role-playing, fantasies, or another guy. I’ll admit I’ve never had two others, but if that’s what you want, my ego is huge , and I can handle it.” He leans in and presses his thumb firmly against my clit. “I look forward to watching you lose your mind and hearing you scream all night.”

That is maybe one of the hottest things I’ve ever heard. I blow out a breath. “I wasn’t actually worried about your ego. But glad to hear it.”

“But, with four of us, I’m also cool with going over to one of their places some of the time.”

I stare at him for three seconds. Then I scoot away from him, glance around the restaurant, reach up under my skirt and tug my panties down.

I lay them in his lap.

His big hand clenches around them.

I smile and lean in and put my mouth against his ear. “This is why I said yes to you.”

He catches me as I try to lean back. He cups my face, keeping my mouth close to his. “You need three cocks to keep you satisfied?”

I nod against his lips.

He growls and seals his mouth over mine, kissing me deeply.

We’re interrupted when the waiter returns with our entrées.

I sit back, taking a deep breath. Ninety days. That’s all I have with him. That’s all I have with Simon, too.

But damn, it seems like these might be the hottest, best three months of my life.

My phone buzzes in my purse as a text comes in. I should ignore it. It might be Luna or Dani wanting more details. Or reporting something else that landed on the Racketeers’ Instagram page. It could also be an online order though, and I like to respond to those quickly with a follow up message, letting the person know I received the order.

“Sorry,” I murmur to Blake as I reach for my purse.

“No worries,” he assures me as he tucks my panties into his pocket.

Whew. I’m so revved up. I’m not sure I can even eat.

I pull my phone out and swipe across the screen. The text is from Simon.

I laugh.

“Everything okay?” Blake asks.

“Simon says you need to buy me a real engagement ring. You can afford it.”

He frowns. “Well, of course. It’ll be huge too. My girl isn’t going to have some dinky little piece of ice on her finger.”

I grin and type.

He says of course. He’s offended you would think otherwise.

Good. Now tell him to bring you to my hotel. We’re in the bar waiting. We both want to see you.

My chest feels warm even as the rest of my body heats.

I start to type, but another text comes in from Aidan before I finish.

Both of you.

Oh…yes.

I look up at Blake. “Simon and Aidan are inviting us over after dinner. To Simon’s hotel.”

Blake’s mouth stretches into a wicked grin. “Who knew proposing to a girl with two boyfriends could be so much fun?”