Sin Bin (D.C. Stars, #5) — Chapter no 21

TWENTY-ONE

BRODY

THE HOTEL WHERE THE STARS’ holiday gala is taking place is festive as hell. There’s garland around the windows. Ornaments hang from chandeliers and fake snow falls from the ceiling. On one side of the ballroom, someone set up a photo op with Santa and a handcrafted sleigh, and I blink down at the shrimp appetizer a waiter offers me on a tiny cocktail napkin.

“No, thank you,” I grumble, taking a slider instead.

“Dude. This is a fundraiser for charity. Can you attempt to be in the holiday spirit?” Parker asks. “Less Grinch, more jolly.”

“Ho. Ho. Ho. Is that better?” I nod my appreciation to the bartender who brings over a double whiskey neat. I slide him a hundred-dollar bill as a tip and down half of it. “I spent thirty minutes being forced to network with a group of men who told me I made them lose a thousand dollars after I pulled Liam from the net the other night. As if my coaching decisions are a contributing factor to their gambling addiction.”

“Sports betting is ruining the game, and it’s a shame to see.” He shakes his head at the next tray of appetizers that come by. “Grilled octopus?

Really?”

“Hell. I would’ve been happy with a hot dog.” I take another sip of my drink and lean against the bar. “How much longer do you think I have to hang around before I can make an escape?”

“Given you’re the one delivering the speech to thank all the donors for their generous contributions this season? At least another hour.”

“We could’ve done this at an Applebee’s.” I finish my drink and set down the empty glass. “At least the guys are behaving.”

“Probably because you told them we have a weight lifting session at six tomorrow morning. Watching them puke while doing bench presses sounds delightful,” Parker says, and I snort in agreement.

A flash of color from across the room catches my eye and pulls me away from our conversation. I crane my neck, trying to find the source of it, and when I do, my heart skips a fucking beat.

Goddamn this woman and her inability to get out of my fucking head.

Hannah walks into the ballroom with Grant by her side. Her hair is down tonight and hangs halfway down her back. Her light blue dress matches her eyes, the thin straps showing off her shoulders and too much bare skin. There’s a slip up the side, but the most devastating part is the way the material dips low to her chest. How it hugs the curves of her breasts, showing off the cleavage that makes my brain go foggy.

People turn her way. At least three guys start walking toward her. My fingers curl around the edge of the bar to restrain myself from walking over there, giving her my jacket, and not letting anyone else look at her.

She breaks away from her brother who’s greeting Maverick and Hudson, scanning the room. Her gaze bounces from person to person, and when her attention lands on me, she lights up brighter than the twenty-foot Christmas tree in the lobby.

Her smile stretches into something big, something beautiful, and the twinkle in her eye when she lifts her hand in a wave tells me she knows exactly how good she looks tonight.

“Fuck,” I whisper, scrambling when she starts to make her way over to me. “Do I have anything on my face? Is my tie straight?”

“What?” Parker blinks. Stares at me and frowns. “You look great, B.

Are you nervous for your speech or something?”

“Or something. I’m going to do a lap,” I say, stepping away from him and finding a cocktail table off to the side.

The champagne is flowing. A string quartet starts up a holiday tune, and I’m fighting for my fucking life. Hannah weaves her way across the room, a drink in her hand by the time she makes it over to me.

“Well.” She looks me up and down, an appreciative hum working its way up her throat. “A bowtie and cufflinks? You sure do clean up well, Brody.”

“Hey.” I reach for her like I’m going to hug her but stop when I’m halfway there. I throw out my hand instead, offering her a handshake.

“Good to see you, Hannah.”

“Wow. Going with the formalities tonight?” Hannah laughs and takes my hand with hers, squeezing my palm. She’s soft and warm, and a bracelet slides down her wrist with the movement. “Good to see you too, Mr.

Saunders.”

“I didn’t know you’d be here tonight. These things are pretty boring.”

“Boring? I see free food and alcohol. And I know there’s a chance to bid on some of the players later.” She sets her drink down, an elbow propped on the table. “Is the coach up for auction too?"

“Hannah.” I pull on my collar, lowering my voice in warning. “You can’t say that to me. Not here.”

“Oh.” Her face falls. She shuffles back, lifting her dress so she doesn’t trip on the hem with her silver shoes that make her impossibly tall. “You’re right. That was totally inappropriate. I’m sorry. I’m going to find some of the girls and a grab bite to eat. It’s good to see you, Brody.”

Hannah turns, gliding past a group of kids who stop me for an autograph. I do my best to plaster on a smile and sign all the rookie trading cards they brought, excusing myself after I get to the end of their stack. A reporter tries to snag me for an interview, and I politely ask to circle back in half an hour to answer any questions they have.

“Hey.” I finally reach Hannah and spot a door off to the side of the room. I put my hand on her elbow, gently guiding her into a hallway that’s quiet and deserted. “I’m sorry for how that came out.”

“No, I get it. I shouldn’t be saying things like that to you when we’re around people who could hear.” Hannah leans against the wall behind her, arms crossed over her chest. “I don’t want to make you uncomfortable, and I’m sorry.”

“You know you could never make me uncomfortable.” I step toward her, resting a palm flat on the wall near her head. Her inhale is subtle, but I hear the hitch in her breathing. “You didn’t then. You don’t now. When you say stuff like that to me, all flirty and cute and fun, you make me want to be reckless. You make me start wanting things I know I can’t have.”

“What kind of things?” she asks, tipping her chin up. Our eyes meet and hold. “What other secrets do you have, Brody?”

“I want you.” I bend, whispering in her ear. “I want you so fucking bad, it’s getting so hard to stay away.”

“I thought you didn’t play games.” Hannah’s mouth twists into a frown.

Disappointment in her eyes. Hopes dashed. “Why are you saying that after you already rejected me?”

“Rejected you?” I move even closer, until the tips of my shoes touch hers. Until I can smell the wine she was just sipping on her breath. Until I can see the collection of freckles on her right shoulder. “I spent every day since that June night going out of my goddamn mind with missing you.

With wondering what you were up to or how much you hated me for not coming back to apologize. I couldn’t, Hannah, because I knew the second I did, you’d suck me in. I’d be a lost cause. And being on the ice with you?

Seeing you at dinner and bars and when you’re in a fancy dress that should be criminal it looks so stunning on you? I get weaker every day. So close to giving in. So sick of trying to fight it.” My mouth drops to her neck. I press a kiss to her throat, indulging in irresponsibility. Just for a second. “I fall asleep dreaming about you, and I wake up mad as hell that I let you get away.”

“You don’t mean that.” She loops an arm around my neck. Grabs a fistful of my shirt with her other hand. “It was one night. Just sex. That’s what we said.”

I sneak out from her hold. I keep my eyes on her while I take off my jacket and drape it over my forearm. Rolling up my right sleeve, I point to the tattoo I got last year on a night when I was drunk and stupid and missing the hell out of her. When I thought I’d never see her again.

It’s been easy to pretend it’s something for Olivia. A design I had made to celebrate her accomplishments, but I know who it’s really for. Blonde hair. Long legs. A laugh I can’t stop hearing.

“What do you think this is?” I ask.

Hannah holds my arm. “A tattoo?”

“Look closer.”

Her thumb traces the outline of a pair of skates with a ribbon threaded through them. It’s the same color, the same pattern as the one she was wearing the night we were together, and her gasp is a dagger to my chest.

“Brody.” She blinks up at me with long lashes and brings her mouth to my arm. She kisses the small piece of artwork, and my body is electrified with long-lost pleasure. “Is that my ribbon?”

“Nothing I’ve ever done has been without a purpose.” My voice is hoarse. My heart is thumping so loudly, I’m surprised she can’t hear it. How pathetic would it make me if I asked her to kiss the tattoo again. “I torture myself by spending time with you. I know nothing can come out of it, but I can’t stay away. Not anymore.”

Hannah grabs my shirt. She tugs me toward her, not stopping until our bodies are flush together. Her mouth is inches away from mine, and I haven’t breathed in what feels like years.

Fuck.

How often have I thought about her mouth and the things I would do it if given the chance? How badly have I wanted to kiss her during one of our sessions, just so I could taste her again? How long have I felt like I’ve been searching for the sun, only for it to be right in front of me the whole time?

“Kiss me,” she says, a challenge behind it.

“No.”

“Brody.” Hannah puts her fingers under my chin, turning my face until her palm rests on my cheek. “Kiss me.”

“I can’t.” I try to swallow, but my throat is on fire. “I won’t be able to stop if I do.”

“Stopping is the last thing I want you to do.”

A million different ways our conversation could have gone, and this right here—with her stroking my jaw, with her asking for the thing I’ve wanted to do for months but didn’t think I could—is the biggest fucking surprise.

“Are you sure?” I rest my forehead against hers. It’s the last bit of my sanity telling me to slow down. To make sure we’re on the same page, because once this door opens, there’s no going back. Not for a second time.

“My self-control is dwindling by the fucking second, but I can walk away.”

“You did that once.” Her fingers trail down my chest, palm splaying out across my stomach. Her thumb brushes along the waistband of my slacks, teasing. “And look how it turned out.”

“Horribly,” I croak. “You need to be the one to do it, Hannah. So I know—”

“What was it you said?” she murmurs, her exhale tickling my skin.

“Fuck it, right?”

Her lips are soft and sweet on mine, but there’s a roughness to the way she kisses. Her hands work up to my hair, threading through the stands and giving a sharp tug that almost makes my knees buckle. I cup the back of her head so she doesn’t hurt herself, a soft moan tumbling from her when I rock my hips, wanting her to feel what she does to me.

“More.” She untucks my shirt from my pants. I let my jacket fall to the ground and bump her ear with my nose. “Please, Brody.”

“I love it when you beg.” I lick a hot swipe up the line of her throat, laughing when she squirms. “It’s nice to be in control around you for once in my fucking life.”

“Do you want me to get on my knees?” She touches my belt, and I see stars. “Because I will.”

“Not here. Not where someone can see.” I kiss her collarbone, glad when she pulls on my hair again. “And not because I’m embarrassed of you, but because I’m selfish, sweetheart. What’s mine is mine, and I don’t want anyone else to see what they can’t have.”

“Your place or mine?” Hannah ghosts her fingers down the front of my pants. Her knuckles tease my cock through the fabric, and I have to hold back a groan. “Preferably soon, please.”

“Mine. Liv is with her mom for the weekend.” I have to shift away from her and scrub a hand over my face to make this decision. “But I have to give a speech before I leave.”

“You have to go out there and talk to people again?” Her eyes travel to the hard dick I’m supporting, and I can’t help but burst out laughing when she gives me a proud grin. “I wish you all the best.”

“Think I need a second before I go out there.” I tuck in my shirt and roll my sleeve back down. Shucking on my jacket, I hold out my arms. “How do I look?”

“Unbelievably hot and like you can’t wait to be thoroughly fucked.

Except…” She licks her thumb and touches the corner of my mouth.

“There. No lipstick that will give you away.”

“Hey.” I cup her cheeks. “Just give me a little time. I’m not leaving you.

Not again.”

“I know.” Hannah smiles, and all feels right in the world. “I’m not big on second chances, but I have a feeling you’re not going to let me down.”

With a kiss to each of her knuckles, I move away and find my way back into the gala. No one notices my absence, and I charm the fuck out of everyone I’m introduced to over the next hour. I pose for photos. I sign more autographs. I give advice to a season ticket holder’s daughter who wants to play hockey at a higher level, but is afraid of the kickback from the boys on her small club team who say she’s not good enough.

“They’re jealous,” I tell her, “Which means you’re doing something right.”

When it’s time for my speech, I get a standing ovation as I stress the importance of camaraderie and working together toward a common goal.

Hannah stands in the back, her eyes never leaving me as I shake the hands of our owner and CEO. My assistant coaches rib me for speaking so eloquently when they’re used to only seeing me scowl, and when I make it to the bar for one more drink, a relieved sigh loosens out of me.

“Nice job out there,” Maverick says, leaning against the bar next to me.

“You light a fire under the boys’ asses.”

“Where’s your better half tonight?” I ask, sipping on my last whiskey.

“Emmy didn’t feel like coming.” He plays with his cufflinks and shrugs.

“I get it. All the questions lately are when is she going to be back on the ice? How is she planning to lose the baby weight? How does she feel about her husband traveling across the country to hit a puck while she’s at home with a newborn?” Maverick glances my way. “That shit hurts.”

“Being an athlete is really fucking hard. Being a female athlete? You and I can’t comprehend the scrutiny they’re under.” I sneak a look at Hannah, watching her talk to Piper and Lexi. “As long as you’re there for her when she needs you, that’s all that matters.”

“I’m trying to be.” His jaw tightens. “The guys want to double check what time practice is in the morning.”

Thinking about dragging myself to the arena a few hours from now while Hannah is still in my bed sounds unappealing. I swirl my drink around and drum my fingers against the glass, contemplating.

I never missed a practice during my playing career. High school, college, and the NHL all saw perfect attendance from me. It stretched into my coaching days, with the exception of one game last season when Liv had appendicitis and I rushed home to be with her.

When I’m scheduled to be somewhere, I show up.

But how fun would it be not to for once?

“You know what?” I finish the whiskey and slide the empty glass across the bar. “Let’s scrub practice tomorrow. Take the day off.”

“Uh.” Maverick looks down at his hand and pinches his skin, wincing when a red mark appears. “I’m not dreaming. You actually just said that to

me?”

“I did.”

“You never cancel practice. Ever.”

“There’s a first time for everything.” Hannah makes eye contact with me. She mimes tapping the invisible watch on her wrist, and I don’t bother holding back my smile. “Might as well make it tomorrow. Weather looks nice too. You guys can go get brunch.”

“Brunch?” He pulls out his phone. His fingers fly across the screen, and I roll my eyes when my own phone buzzes in my pocket. I pull it out to see what he has to say. “Holy shit.”

Puck Kings (+ their savior, BS)

MILLER 911. Emergency. Coach is canceling practice tomorrow

morning.

Said we could go to fucking BRUNCH?

Around the room, the guys’ heads pop up. They look at their phones, then at me, then down again. Ethan stands and gestures to the server passing with champagne, grabbing the bottle and chugging it.

HAYES Uh. Did someone spike his drink?

EVERETT There’s no way this is happening. Coach canceling practice the day my favorite spot is doing bottomless mimosas AND pancake stacks? I believe in MIRACLES.

RICHARDSON We’re partying hard tonight boys!!!!!!!!!!!! No sleep until Brooklyn! Strip club. Bar. Night club. Casino. We’re doing it all!!!!!!!

SULLIVAN I’m not going to a strip club. Nothing I want to see there.

MITCHELL Same

RICHARDSON Okay you boring ass married men. The REST of us will go, and we’ll send pictures of all the women you’re missing out on.

“Tell me I didn’t make a mistake, Miller.” I pinch the bridge of my nose. “He can’t possibly do all of that in one night, can he?”

“Oh, Coach. Best not to question what Ethan can or cannot do.”

Maverick laughs. “It’s better for everyone.”

EVERETT Wait a second. If his drink isn’t spiked, and this is really happening… Coach has to have a very, VERY good reason for not wanting to show up bright and early tomorrow.

Is it a woman????

“Let Everett know I expect him on the ice an hour before film review on Monday,” I say to Maverick, tucking my phone away. “And make Richardson join too for talking about women like that.”

“Happy to pass along the message, but he makes a valid point. Is there someone involved with this decision of yours?”

“Miller. This is an inappropriate conversation for us to be having.”

“Oh, fuck off, dude. We’ve spent years working together, and you’re barely older than me. When I retire, we’ll go to the bar, grab a beer, and shoot the shit. We’ll probably even be friends.” He clasps my shoulder. “I’m sure you have a shit ton of pressure on you. I’m sure it’s hard balancing work and a kid. Hell. I’m struggling to keep my head above water and Murph can’t even walk yet. You’re allowed to be happy, just like the rest of us.”

“Noted. Thanks for the pep talk, Miller.” Hannah tips her head to the door, and I pat Maverick’s chest. “Now leave me the hell alone.”