Play With Me (Playing For Keeps Book 2)

JENNIE

“I’m gonna vomit.”

“You are not. Quit being dramatic.”

“I am. I’m gonna do it.” I’m not lying.

“If she doesn’t, I will.” Olivia places one hand on her stomach, the other over her mouth. Her face pales right on time, and Cara rolls her eyes, yanking her candy dish into her stomach.

To be fair, Olivia might actually vomit. She’s been on this pregnancy health kick lately, but we went for lunch earlier and she kinda said fuck it and threw it all out the window. She had a platter of tacos and a basket of chili cheese fries. She’s been moaning and groaning for hours now.

“There’s nothing wrong with my snack.” Cara sticks her hand inside, grabs a whole-ass handful of Skittles and M&M’s, and dumps them—together—into her mouth. “It’s de-wish-us.”

Olivia gags, lurching forward, and I gather her hair at the nape of her neck and rub her back. She’s become such a good actor since becoming a Beckett. I’m so proud of my Pip-squeak.

With another exaggerated eye roll, Cara hauls her candy to the kitchen. “You guys fucking suck. If you’d just try it, you’d like—”

“Absolutely not.” I release Olivia’s hair and sink back, picking up my plate of Pop-Tarts. Garrett left me a box of my favorite kind before he left: Frosted Hot Fudge Sundae.

Cara lifts a brow at me from where she shovels her snack into her mouth at the island. “We don’t have that flavor here, Jennie. That’s exclusive to the States.”

I hum around my bite.

“You know who always has fun flavors of Pop-Tarts?” This handful isn’t big enough to hide her shit-eating smirk. “Garrett. Yeah, gets them sent special from Adam’s mom.”

“Really? Wow. I’ve never met Adam’s mom. Is she as sweet as he is? Sounds like it.” Deflection: A+. Cara opens her mouth, but I shove a snack between my teeth and point at the TV. “Boys are on.”

Cara sinks beside me with an acceptable snack, and Olivia snuggles into my side as the boys start zipping around the ice, warming up for their game.

It takes Olivia approximately ten seconds to go from snuggly to growly, shoveling popcorn into her mouth while she mutters beneath her breath, scowling at the TV.

“What are you on about, Pip?” I ask, stealing a queso-covered nacho chip from Cara.

Olivia gestures wildly at the TV. “Look at them! Damn vultures. Swoop right in.”

“Who swoops in?” I answer my own question when the camera pans over the half-dressed women shaking their signs behind the glass.

Beckett, show me a hat trick and I’ll show you a sex trick!

You can put it in my 5-hole, #87!

My nose scrunches with disgust. “Ew. Don’t worry; he’s not paying them any attention.” In fact, he skates over to one of the cameras at board level, and when he stops there to talk to it, the camera on the TV switches to that feed.

“Hi, princess!” he shouts from behind the glass. “Miss you!” He skates away with a wink, and Olivia’s entire face lights, body humming happily.

“See? Nothing to worry about. We didn’t even have to fly to Montreal so you could bump ’em with your belly and show ’em who’s boss.”

“Oh look.” Cara grips my forearm. “Garrett’s got his own fan section tonight too.”

I hate the way my head whips and the frantic “What?” that leaves my lips. But worst of all? I dropped my nacho chip.

My eyes trail the rink on TV, and I find Garrett without hesitation. He’s tall and broad as he floats around the ice, right before he crashes into Carter from behind, shoving him into the boards. It’s followed quickly by Emmett crushing both of them to the boards and Adam dog-piling on top when they sink to the ice, and I’m too annoyed with the group of women two rows up to find it cute.

Marry me, Andersen!

Can I handle your stick, G Baby?

“Stupid. Those are stupid signs. They’re not even creative.” I nab the pack of Swedish Berries off the coffee table, tear it open, and dump half the contents into my mouth. “Handle his stick? Whatever. What does that even mean? Handle his stick.” I snort. “Whatever.”

“You’ve said that twice,” Cara murmurs.

“No I haven’t.”

“You did, actually,” Olivia observes, eye cocked as she examines me.

I shake my head, looking back to the TV. Terrible timing; one of the women has made her way down to the boards, and my brother seems to be facilitating conversation between her and Garrett.

“Pee.” I rocket to my feet. “I have to pee. In the toilet. Excuse me.” I’m turning into the man who fingerbangs me straight to heaven. Highly embarrassing.

I stay in there for five minutes, until I’m sure I’m safe to return. When I do, I glue on my best carefree smile, pick up my plate of Pop-Tarts, and squeeze myself back between my friends, both of whom steal a Pop-Tart from my tray.

“Tell Garrett thanks for the Pop-Tarts.”

It’s not Cara who says it. It’s Olivia.

“I’m hot.”

“We love a self-aware queen,” Cara murmurs into my hair. “Yes, Jennie, you’re gorgeous.”

“No, I mean, physically I feel like I’m on fire.”

I’m currently sandwiched between two women—one tiny and pregnant, the other tall and lanky—who have decided to make me their bedtime bitch for the night. Those were Cara’s words. Olivia told me she simply missed snuggling with her husband. She’d already told me she hadn’t been sleeping well without Carter, and the dark circles under her eyes were proof.

So when she held up a pair of pajamas, gave me that pouty face, and asked me to stay the night, I couldn’t say no. Cara said if Olivia got to sleep with someone, so did she. Now here we are, the three of us snuggled together in one outrageously large bed, after a FaceTime call with Carter, Garrett, Emmett, Adam, and Jaxon that lasted way too long and had Carter asking Olivia to sneak off alone to the bathroom once, and Cara and Emmett actually sneaking off.

“It’s me,” Olivia says on a sigh. “I’m hot all the time. I’m like a furnace. I can’t turn it off.” She pops up on her elbow, eyes dancing in the moonlight. “Hey, remember when Carter bought me a furnace when we started dating because mine was broken and he didn’t want me to be cold?”

“He’s so ostentatious.”

“He does love his big gestures. But he’s so thoughtful.” Another sigh, this one happy, and Olivia flops back down on the mattress and shoves one leg between mine, snuggling closer and upping my body temperature another ten degrees. “You Becketts are the very best at snuggling.”

The full, content feeling that hums in my chest makes me smile. “Cara, I wouldn’t have expected you to be so snuggly.”

“Oh, I’m a sprawler. Yeah, I like to get right on top of Emmett and just give up for the night. Can’t tell you how many times that guy’s woken up with his head tangled between my legs, and not for the right reasons.”

I snicker, and my mind coasts to Garrett. I’ve fallen asleep wrapped around him countless times, woken up in the middle of the night to his head between my legs for the right reasons. But without fail, I wake up alone each morning, trying to remember the way his warm body felt locked around mine, the feel of his fingertips drifting over my back, his lips sliding along my shoulder.

My forever has been a lonely one so far. I hadn’t realized the weight of the emptiness until Garrett filled it so effortlessly, lifting everything heavy off my shoulders, my chest, letting me stand taller and breathe deeper.

The night is quiet and still around us, the soft sound of steady breathing in my ear, the gentle rise and fall of chests on either side of me, and I sit in the silence, the love, basking in it.

A pair of arms squeeze around me, and when I open my eyes, I find Olivia’s dark ones gazing sleepily at me.

“What’s up, Pip?”

“I don’t want you to leave,” she whispers, and there’s something heavy and vulnerable in her voice, something on the verge of broken. “I don’t want you to go to Toronto when you graduate, and I feel so selfish for that.” The moonlight streaking through the balcony doors slices across the single tear that peels away across the bridge of her nose. “I want you to be successful, and most of all, I want you to be happy. But, God, I don’t want you to have to leave to do it.”

I think Cara’s asleep, but she tangles her fingers with mine. “We’ll always be together, no matter where we are. But it’s always a bonus when we don’t have to be far.”

And maybe forever doesn’t need to be lonely. It sure doesn’t feel that way with these people surrounding me.

Cara had this fun idea.

I use the word fun loosely, of course.

She woke us up this morning by ripping us apart, grinning down at us like some sort of deranged convict who’d just found her next victims.

Let’s make the boys work for us, she’d said with a maniacal giggle.

Apparently, that meant getting dressed up, leaving the house right before the boys landed so that they returned to an empty house instead of a full one where we were supposed to be waiting to welcome them home after a long stretch apart.

I don’t mind. I’ve got a full belly, I’m wearing a kick-ass pair of scarlet, heeled booties, and I look fine as fuck in these jeans, my waves spilling down my back. I can’t wait to see Garrett’s reaction.

When they eventually locate us, that is.

The other part of Cara’s plan involved sending them video clues in our group chat as we made our way around the city. They’ve been chasing after us, and it’s been significantly entertaining reading their excited texts when they realize where we are, only to have it followed by a fuckton of swearing when they find we’ve already moved on. We’ve been at least two steps ahead of them the entire night.

Now I’m in the middle of the dance floor at Sapphire, sweaty as fuck as I spin around it, a tiny pregnant woman dancing more than I’ve ever seen—she’s riding a wild sugar high from dessert—and Cara’s double-fisting her martinis.

Even with all the noise, it’s impossible to miss the chatter that starts, the small frenzy that suddenly ensues, and when a wicked smirk breaks across Cara’s face, I know: they’re here.

She shoves her martinis into Olivia’s hands and points at a handsome, dark-haired man. “You. Dance with me.”

His eyes double in size. “O-okay.”

She snuggles into his chest and slides his hands over her hips as they start swaying together, and the poor guy looks like he’s in heaven.

He might be in thirty seconds. Emmett looks like he’s gonna put him through the floor.

The broad teddy bear of a man comes to a stop in front of them, staring down at his smiling wife. His fists clench and he flicks his gaze toward the man holding Cara. “Hands off my wife. Now.”

He drops Cara like she’s on fire, sprinting off the dance floor, and I snicker-snort as Emmett scoops her up, tosses her over his shoulder, and carts her off toward the private booths in the back.

Hot breath kisses my neck, a shiver of anticipation dancing down my spine. “You’re about to be next, somewhere a fuckload more private, and with my handprint tattooed on your ass. So if I were you, I’d quit laughing.” There’s a quick, sharp slap to my left ass cheek before Garrett struts by me, turns around, and calls out, “Found ’em!”

“Ollie!” Carter skids onto the dance floor, breathless. He looks down at Olivia, his gaze heating by the moment. “Ollie,” he murmurs. “Baby, you look fucking—”

“You fuckers.” Adam wraps me in a hug, smothering a compliment I don’t need to hear. “You had us all over the city.”

“It was Cara’s idea,” I say, hugging Jaxon next. “We’re just the innocent bystanders.”

Jaxon unbuttons his collar, eyes coasting over the club. “And I appreciate it.” He grins down at me. “I need to blow off some steam tonight.”

“Assuming that’s code for get laid?”

That grin keeps growing, and he holds his hand out. “Wanna dance?”

I meet Garrett’s narrowed gaze over his shoulder. “Love to.”

Tattooed, my big guy mouths before I disappear with Jaxon.

I’ve grown to like Jaxon, and it hasn’t taken much. Is he still a bit of an egotistical ass? Yes. Is he exceptionally horny? Who isn’t? But he’s friendly and easy, and there’s something quiet about him that keeps me talking to him. Maybe it’s because I’ve always felt a bit like the outsider within this group, and when he came along, he felt it too. He was accepted without hesitation, the same way I was, but sometimes I wonder if he questions his place here, the same as me.

“Does Andersen look pissed to you? He looks pissed to me.”

Garrett has one elbow on the bar as he sips a sparkling lemon water, stare set on us. But does he look pissed? He looks like he’s going to take what he wants as many times as he wants tonight before he finally gives me what I want; that’s how he looks. Either way, sounds like a great night. Can’t wait.

“You know what else I’ve noticed about that guy?” Jaxon brings my attention back to him. “He drinks when we’re on road trips and stuff, or if the guys go out together, but whenever you’re around, he only drinks sparkling water.”

I’ve noticed, too, though we’ve not once talked about it since that night we shared our first kiss. Garrett never touches a drop when we’re together, even if we’re out with everyone else. He used to have a six-pack stowed in his fridge, but now it’s hot chocolate or bust. Come to think of it, I can’t remember the last time I’ve seen a beer bottle there.

“He’s a supportive friend,” is what I tell Jaxon.

“Yeah, he’s a pretty good guy.” The song ends, and Jaxon takes my hand, leading me off the dance floor. “Even if he does look like he wants to murder me. Maybe Cara was right.”

“Right about what?”

“That he’s got a crush on you. She said so on New Year’s Eve.”

I stumble over my own two feet, and a large hand lands on my lower back, catching me. Garrett steadies me, then guides me into our private booth, sliding in behind me.

Jaxon arches a brow, looking between us.

“There’s something seriously wrong with you if you believe everything that woman says,” Garrett finally says. He nods in the direction of the woman in question, who happens to be in her husband’s lap, hands in his hair, tongue in his mouth. “C’mon, Riley.”

Jaxon chuckles, shaking his head as he takes a seat across from us. “Fuck, yeah, you’re right. Cara can’t be trusted.”

Cara flashes her middle finger over her shoulder.

Carter, Adam, and Olivia join us a moment later, Carter with a tray of various drinks and a food menu—priorities—and Adam half supporting a quickly failing Olivia. She looks to be both coming down from her sugar high and regretting her decision to wear heels.

An hour later, I haven’t moved from my spot, and I’m having the time of my life. It’s perhaps partly due to the unholy amount of sexual frustration rolling off the man next to me as he reads each text I send him without being able to outwardly react.

Me: Should I ride Indiana Bones tonight, or your face?

Me: God, I can’t stop thinking about your tongue on my pussy. I love when you make me your meal.

Me: Maybe we can try that little glass plug tonight while I suck your cock.

Me: If you slipped your hand between my legs right now, you’d find out how wet I am.

Garrett’s fist clenches so hard around his glass, I’m worried it might shatter. He sets it down and furiously types out a response.

Bear: How wet are you, sunshine? Don’t leave out any details and I’ll go easy on you tonight.

Me: What if I don’t want you to go easy on me, big guy?

Bear: How. Wet. Are. You?

Me: So drenched, you’d be able to slide right in.

Garrett leaps to his feet, accidentally shoving Adam out of the booth. “Bathroom!” he shouts. “Gotta go. Pee. Bye. See ya.”

I suppress my laugh as he dashes off, and the rest of the guys follow to grab more drinks. They’re not gone more than thirty seconds when a tall, lean man with dark curls approaches, his deep brown eyes friendly and set on me. Nerves pull at my skin, and I cross one leg over the other, busying myself with my drink.

“Hi there,” he says, stopping at the edge of the booth. “I’m—”

“Oh my God!” Olivia comes alive, clapping her hands. “You’re Alejandro Perez!” She squeals, fists shaking beneath her chin. “Jennie, he’s the—”

“Midfielder from the Vancouver Whitecaps,” Alejandro finishes, laughing.

“So sorry. I’m fangirling a bit. I played soccer growing up and—”

“Soccer?” Cara sips her drink. “Thank God. You said midfielder and I was like, ‘I haven’t heard of that hockey position before. Which one of our guys plays it?’”

Alejandro’s still grinning. He’s got a great one, wide and toothy, but it’s not goofy and lopsided like Garrett’s. He holds his hand out, and I slip mine in simply because I don’t know what else to do. “And who are you?”

“Jennie,” I answer quietly, meeting Garrett’s curious gaze as he approaches.

“Excuse me.” He steps between me and Alejandro, sliding in next to me, extra close.

“Oh.” Alejandro examines the proximity of our bodies. “Are you two…?”

I look at Garrett. He looks at me. It’s Cara who answers the question.

“No, our Jennie here is single as a Pringle. Isn’t that right, Gare-Bear?”

Garrett’s gaze lingers before he drops it, sipping his water, and I don’t know why, but when he murmurs, “Right,” my stomach dips, heavy with disappointment.

“Cool.” Alejandro extends his hand. “Hey, you’re Garrett Andersen, right? Right-winger for the Vipers? I’m a big fan.”

Garrett shakes his hand, giving him a smile that seems a little tight to me. “Right back ’atcha. The guys and I already have tickets for your home opener.”

“Right on. We should grab some drinks afterward.” Before Garrett can respond, Alejandro turns his attention back to me. I shift in my seat, not wanting it, not used to it. “And I was hoping to buy you a drink right now, Jennie.”

“Oh…” Uncomfortable heat prickles my neck. “I don’t drink.”

“Water counts just fine.”

“Yeah, Jennie,” Cara pipes up. “Water counts just fine.”

I flash her a warning look, and she folds her lips into her mouth. Olivia’s watching me with an indecipherable expression, gaze flickering to Garrett, who feels like ice beside me. I don’t want him to feel like ice; I like when he’s warm like sunshine.

I clear my throat, steel my spine, and smile up at Alejandro. “Thank you for the offer, but I’m not interested.”

“Not interested in general, or not interested in me?”

My eyes coast the bar for something to say to shut this down quickly. I catch sight of the boys returning with drinks, my brother leading the way with what looks like an extremely ostentatious helping of blue and pink cotton candy sitting atop a glass of champagne, and I can guess that’s the only reason he ordered it. “Truth be told, I’m not really looking to expand my pool of professional athletes. I’ve already got an overprotective one on retainer as my big brother.”

“Ollie, look! This drink came with cotton candy!” Carter shoves said cotton candy in her face, then rips a piece off and eats it. His eyes widen when he sees Alejandro. “Oh hey! Perez!”

Alejandro looks from Carter to me. “Jesus, you two are nearly identical. How did I miss that?”

Carter sits with a chuckle. “Yeah, Jennie gets her strikingly good looks from me.”

I may not want Alejandro’s attention, but when he pulls up a chair next to Carter and everyone becomes quick friends, a strange sense of disappointment washes over me, mixed with déjà vu.

I had his attention, and now Carter does, and that’s just the way life goes when your brother is the captain of an NHL team.

Forcing my drink to my lips, I take a sip, the fingers of my free hand playing with my soggy napkin in my lap. A big hand covers mine, pulling the napkin free and setting it on the table. A second later, Garrett tucks his pinky carefully around mine, and something inside me settles.

I’ve got the only attention I want.

Forty-five minutes, several dirty texts, one dance with Adam, two with Cara, and a virgin cotton candy drink later, I’m hiding out in the bathroom. It’s becoming impossible not to look at Garrett, and his pinky hooked around mine below the table isn’t enough anymore. I’m hot and hungry, dying to get out of here and go home, where we can finally say a proper hello.

I pat my neck with a cool, damp cloth and sigh before heading out into the dark hallway.

Strong fingers wrap around my wrist, tugging me into a hidden alcove. My pulse thunders, a fiery heat spreading through my lower belly as my back is pressed to a hard, broad chest. A warm hand dips below the hem of my shirt, gliding over my torso. Soft lips touch my exposed shoulder.

“You have goose bumps,” Garrett whispers.

“Because you scared the crap out of me, you dink.” The words end in a moan when his mouth opens on my neck. When his name slips out of my mouth on a whimper, his hand covers it.

“Shh, sunshine. Make any more noise and I won’t be able to get what I came over here for, and I gotta tell ya, I can’t wait another minute.” He captures my jaw in his hand, turning my face to his, showing me the hungry darkness that glints in his eyes.

And then his mouth takes mine.

It’s everything I want it to be: starved, possessive, wet, hot. God, it’s so hot. But more than that, it’s…wistful. Yearning. Reverent.

He missed me. Maybe as much as I missed him.

As if to prove my point, he pulls back, resting his forehead against mine with a gentle sigh. “I miss you.” Present tense, not past.

I thread our fingers together. “I’m right here.”

“I know, but I’ve been busy with hockey, and you with dance and smelly Simon. I’m just grumpy ’cause I feel like I’m on time-out.”

“Well then, you must’ve been a bad boy.”

“So bad,” he murmurs, mouth taking mine again with a low growl. He pushes me against the wall and casts a glance over his shoulder before his fingers dance up my front, wrapping lightly around my throat. “I’m gonna take you home and fuck your soaking wet pussy with Indiana Bones. Then I’m gonna lick you clean and make you come all over again, this time on my tongue.”

Oh, Jesus.

“Got it?”

I swallow, nodding, and a deep ache settles between my legs as Garrett trails his nose down my neck, then back up to my ear.

“Use your words, sunshine. I know you have them.”

My tongue drags across my lips, desperate to taste him again. “Yes.”

“Good girl.” He presses himself against me, letting me feel the weight of his own need. “Now, let’s go back to the table and you can pretend like you hate me still.”

“You like when I pretend to hate you.”

“Yeah.” He pops a quick kiss to my cheek, then stuffs his hand down his pants to adjust that glorious lump, hissing. “It turns me on when you’re sassy to me.”

I giggle, but it doesn’t last.

In fact, it dies quickly when my eyes meet those wide hazel ones watching us.

Jaxon stands before us, gaze pinballing between Garrett and me, jaw getting closer and closer to the ground. He grins suddenly, but it’s one of those terrified, awkward ones, all bright, clenched teeth.

“Uh…” He clears his throat and claps his fist into his opposite hand. “So, um, I heard that…”

“Oh no.” I cover my trembling mouth with my hands. “No.” Tears fill my eyes, ready to spill. “Carter’s going to kill me.”

“Oh. Oh fuck. No.” Jaxon waves his hands erratically. “Fuck, no, please don’t cry. I won’t—I won’t tell him. I promise. Please don’t cry.” He looks to Garrett for help before squeezing both my shoulders. “Hey, it’s okay. Your secret’s safe with me, Jennie, really. And, uh…” His gaze falls to Garrett’s crotch. “I won’t tell everyone you named your junk after Indiana Jones. I haven’t heard that one before. It’s…new.”

I sniffle, wiping at my eyes. “Thanks, Jaxon. You’re a good friend.”

We watch him leave, and when he disappears, Garrett raises his fist.

“Good call on the tears.”

I bump my fist off his. “Gets ’em every time.”