O Goalie Night (The Ottawa Otters #1)

Chapter 29

CHAPTER 29

FOSTER

I needed to do press after the game because of the fight. I’m not a fan of talking to reporters to begin with, but I especially dislike it after a fight.

I’ve always believed that fighting is a part of the sport. We don't fight merely for the sake of violence. In-game combat acts as a powerful deterrent, protecting star athletes from harm. Aggressors know that any cheap shot or reckless play will be met with swift retribution. It’s an unwritten code that ensures that everyone thinks twice before targeting key players, maintaining a level of respect and safety on the ice.

What I don’t like is having to justify that aspect of the game every time someone drops their gloves. If a player takes out another team’s goalie, that team will retaliate. It’s not malicious and rarely personal; it’s just the way it is.

I’m not sure what reporters want to hear from me: No, the forward didn’t hurt my feelings when he skated into me. Yes, I trust my defensemen to have my back. Yes, I’m tired of answering your stupid questions .

People might think that games are the most stressful part of my job, but they’d be wrong. I feel most at ease when I’m on the ice. There’s something about being in the crease, locked in, everything else just fades. I know what to do out there; my instincts take over. But put me in front of a bunch of reporters and it’s a different story. I don’t have the same control. The spotlight feels sharper, and every word has weight. I’d much rather face a breakaway than answer questions about a bad game. On the ice, it’s all reaction. In front of the media, it feels like I’m second-guessing myself the whole time and it’s exhausting.

Being exhausted could also be due to the fact that one gets less sleep when they stay up all night having sex with their beautiful girlfriend.

I regret nothing.

Beth being in the stands tonight, watching me play gave me rookie level energy. Just knowing she was in the building gave me a rush. I’m glad that I played well, though I know it wouldn’t matter to her if I didn’t.

The house is dark when I enter, with the exception of the warm glow from the Christmas tree. The place really does feel more like a home than ever and it’s not just the decorations; it’s Beth.

The girl who was only supposed to be here for a few days went and weaved herself into my thoughts, my dreams, and now she’s taking up permanent residence in my heart.

After our late night yesterday, I expect to find her asleep on the couch, but it’s empty.

Maybe she’s gone to bed already?

I feel a stab of disappointment, not that I really blame her for wanting to get some rest before the start of another school week.

I’m just greedy when it comes to her.

Just as I’m about to head down the hall Beth appears in front of me like my very own manifestation.

“Hi,” she says shyly. Her hair is pulled up in a high ponytail and she’s still wearing the jersey she wore to the game. The black tights are gone and I’m treated to an eyeful of her long smooth legs.

“Hi.”

“Great game tonight. Did you get hurt in the fight?”

It didn’t even occur to me that the fight would have upset her. When was the last time someone cared enough about me to be worried?

“Nah,” I answer, my eyes still taking her in. “My defensemen were all over it.”

She plays with one of her sleeves and that’s when I notice that it’s not the jersey she wore earlier. That one was a few years old. The one she’s wearing now is the newer style, with the team logo on the right upper arm.

I go very still. Every muscle in my body tenses as I hold my breath. The world around me fades until all I can see is Beth’s coy smile as she stares up at me.

“Beth.”

“Hmm?”

“Whose jersey are you wearing?”

Those whiskey eyes blink up at me, her expression all innocence. “Mine.”

I run my tongue over my now dry lips and take a step towards her. “Whose name is on it?”

Slowly, she turns around, sweeping her ponytail over her shoulder as she does so it doesn’t obstruct my view .

JAMES. 33.

My name.

My number.

My girl.

I hear my heart as it pounds in my chest, each beat echoing loudly in my head as I stare at her; my real-life fantasy.

When I take another step closer, she shivers and I know she wants my hands on her almost as badly as I want to touch her.

“Are you cold, Baby? ‘Cause if you are, I’m going to have to insist that you keep this on. Can you do that for me?”

She nods her head quickly.

“Good girl.” I press a kiss to the nape of her neck and trail my hands down her, starting at her shoulders. When I reach her lower back, she arches it pushing her round ass against me.

I grab her by the hips and pull her to me, her back flush against my front and she gasps when she feels my hard cock pressing into her.

“Did you have any idea what wearing this would do to me?”

“I thought you…might like it.” Her breathing is shallow as I snake my arms around her. I can feel her heart beating wildly through the jersey.

Like . It’s far too flimsy a word for what I’m feeling. I like a lot of things. Coffee, dogs, long drives on clear days. I try and fail to explain to myself this rush of emotion that swells inside me everytime I’m with her. How do I even begin to describe the way my heart races when she’s near or the way my thoughts spin when she’s gone ?

I’m about to throw her over my shoulder and sprint to my bedroom, but she looks so gorgeous in the soft glow coming from the tree. Instead, I pivot and walk further into the living room. When we reach the couch I spin her around to face me, pick her up at the waist, then set her down on the back edge. She holds onto my shoulders for balance as I step between her spread thighs. Leaning down, I angle my head and capture her lips as she sighs into my mouth.

I love kissing this woman. I’ve kissed a lot of women and the mechanics are mostly the same, but something about Beth elevates the experience. The softness of her lips, her taste, her touch—I could kiss her for hours on end.

But not tonight. I’m so wound up that if I don’t get inside of her soon, my heart might give out on me.

Beth rolls her hips, rocking herself against me and I groan at the feel of the wet heat at her core.

I break the kiss and press my forehead to hers. I’m practically panting and she hasn’t even touched me yet.

“It’s going to be a struggle to go slow right now,” I say, our breaths mingling.

“I don’t want slow.” She starts to unbuckle my belt and I strip off my shirt, tossing it across the room. I allow her to slide herself off the couch so she can continue undressing me and soon my jeans and boxers are on the floor as well.

I drop to my knees and pull her panties down, pausing a moment to taste her.

“Foster,” she whimpers as my tongue parts her. “Please. ”

She doesn’t need to finish the sentence. As much as she loves it, she wants more than my mouth tonight.

I stand and kiss her roughly, letting her taste herself on my lips before turning her around and bending her over the couch.

I’m so desperate to get inside her that I almost forget a key player.

Swearing under my breath, I say, “Don’t move, Baby. I’ll be right back.”

But she shoots me a flirtatious smile over her shoulder before producing a condom from somewhere on the couch.

Thank fuck.

“Your attention to detail is so hot.” I pluck the condom from her hand and tear it open, almost dropping it in my eagerness to put it on.

She giggles. “Hotter than me wearing this?”

I stare at my name stitched across her shoulders as I align myself at her entrance. “Nothing is hotter than that.” We both cry out as I slam into her. At this angle, her pussy is the tightest thing I’ve ever felt, gripping me like a vice and making me see stars.

My fingers grip her hips through the jersey as I set a steady rhythm. It feels fucking unreal. It always does. Every time with Beth is the best sex of my life.

“Faster…please,” she begs as she bucks against me and my balls throb.

Without pulling out of her, I straighten her up so her back is against my chest, then hook her outside knee up to rest on the top of the couch. I continue to move, deeper than before and it’s like nothing I’ve ever experienced .

“What do you need, Beth?” My heart is beating faster than it ever has on the ice.

“This…you. Just you,” she cries as her inner walls begin to tighten even more around me.

Fuck. I need her too. Like I’ve never needed anyone. My head swims with the realisation and I’m dangerously close to coming.

“You have me,” I tell her as I reach my hand between her thighs. “Now show me how beautiful you are when you come.” My finger circles her clit once and then presses down hard and she shatters like glass against me.

So fucking gorgeous.

I manage only a few more strokes before I join her, burying my face in her neck on a long, shuddering groan.

Life altering. Every fucking time.

When we’ve regained our senses, we straighten on wobbly legs. Beth smirks up at me as she slumps against my chest, her now off-centred ponytail tickling my chin.

“So, you do like the jersey?”

There’s that word again. Like .

“Mmmm,” is all I’m capable of as I cup her face and gently guide her mouth to mine.

No, "like" isn’t enough, not even close. This is something deeper, something I’m not ready to name, but I know it’s real, and it’s everything.