Lover Read online

  Table of Contents

  One

  Two

  Three

  Four

  Five

  Six

  Seven

  Eight

  Nine

  Ten

  Eleven

  Twelve

  Thirteen

  Fourteen

  Fifteen

  Sixteen

  Seventeen

  Eighteen

  Nineteen

  Twenty

  Twenty-One

  Twenty-Two

  Twenty-Three

  Twenty-Four

  Twenty-Five

  Twenty-Six

  Twenty-Seven

  Twenty-Eight

  Twenty-Nine

  Thirty

  Thirty-One

  Thirty-Two

  Thirty-Three

  Thirty-Four

  Thirty-Five

  Thirty-Six

  Thirty-Seven

  Thirty-Eight

  Thirty-Nine

  Forty

  Forty-One

  Forty-Two

  Forty-Three

  Forty-Four

  Forty-Five

  Forty-Six

  Forty-Seven

  Epilogue: Piper

  Epilogue: West

  Acknowledgments

  Copyright © 2017 by Marni Mann and Gia Riley

  All rights reserved.

  Visit my website at: www.MarniSMann.com and www.AuthorGiaRiley.com

  Cover Designer: Letitia Hasser, R.B.A Designs

  Editor and Interior Designer: Jovana Shirley, Unforeseen Editing, www.unforeseenediting.com

  No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without the written permission of the authors, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the authors’ imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  ISBN-13: 978-1546680611

  To hockey.

  This book exists because of you.

  Because you have the hottest men and the best beards.

  You keep us inspired…and wet.

  One

  Two

  Three

  Four

  Five

  Six

  Seven

  Eight

  Nine

  Ten

  Eleven

  Twelve

  Thirteen

  Fourteen

  Fifteen

  Sixteen

  Seventeen

  Eighteen

  Nineteen

  Twenty

  Twenty-One

  Twenty-Two

  Twenty-Three

  Twenty-Four

  Twenty-Five

  Twenty-Six

  Twenty-Seven

  Twenty-Eight

  Twenty-Nine

  Thirty

  Thirty-One

  Thirty-Two

  Thirty-Three

  Thirty-Four

  Thirty-Five

  Thirty-Six

  Thirty-Seven

  Thirty-Eight

  Thirty-Nine

  Forty

  Forty-One

  Forty-Two

  Forty-Three

  Forty-Four

  Forty-Five

  Forty-Six

  Forty-Seven

  Epilogue: Piper

  Epilogue: West

  Acknowledgments

  About the Authors

  Drowning Excerpt

  West

  “Baby,” my wife, Tilly, says as she climbs onto my lap. She straddles my legs and digs her nails into my shoulders, knowing I like it when she grips me there. “How about I make a deal with you?”

  My cock hardens as she grinds her pussy over the tip, her heat soaking through my sweatpants. Her hips swivel several times before I look at her.

  “What kind of deal?”

  Her eyes widen as I shift her over my crown, guiding it toward her ass.

  “I’ll get on all fours and suck you off, but—”

  “Done.”

  She smiles. “But you haven’t heard the rest of the deal yet.”

  I grab a handful of her blond hair and use it to pull her head back, exposing the whole line of her neck. “You had me at suck.”

  I graze my nose up her throat. Damn, she smells good, like some berry lotion and perfume and whatever else she puts on that always takes her so long to get ready.

  It’s been days since I really took in her scent. It’s not that she hasn’t been home. She just hasn’t come too close to me while she’s been here. Whenever I’m waiting on a call from my agent, I prefer it that way. No touching, no nagging, no asking me any questions. I just want to be surrounded by the noise of the TV and all the accomplishments that hang on the walls of my mancave. And I try not to let the thoughts overtake me.

  I’m doing a shitty job at it.

  This call will be one of the biggest of my career.

  And my wife has broken our unspoken rule.

  Maybe putting my cock in her mouth will bring me a little luck. I sure as fuck need some.

  “My deal is a bit more involved than just sucking,” she says.

  Her groan vibrates over my lips as I bite into her flesh. “You’re going to give me your ass?”

  She laughs, which tells me her answer, the same one I usually get whenever I try to stick my dick in there.

  “As long as I come,” I say, “your deal can be as involved as you want.”

  “Then, you’ll follow me into the shower now?” She pulls her neck away from my mouth and locks her eyes with mine. “Because that’s where it’s going to take place. You know, after you’ve stood under the hottest water and I’ve scrubbed your body with a sponge full of soap.” She clenches her hand around the top of my T-shirt and smells the collar. “It’s time, baby. I don’t even want to guess how long you’ve been wearing this.”

  I know how long.

  Once I returned from the hospital, where I’d had my third MRI in less than a year, this was what I changed into. My team logo and number are on both the T-shirt and sweats—the same logo and number I’ve been wearing the whole six years I’ve been in the league. Both were given to me during training camp directly after I was drafted. I have a closet full of athletic gear just like this, but there’s something about the originals I can’t part with. These clothes have seen me through some long-ass stretches when the guys and I couldn’t find our rhythm on the ice, when the fans wanted to turn on us.

  The clothes are going to see me through this, too.

  They fucking have to.

  I sink against the leather chair, my dick softening beneath her, the shifting of her hips not doing it for me anymore.

  “Come on, West.” Her lips find my jaw, and she kisses down to my chest. “You know you want your cock in this hot, wet mouth. You love it when I slide my lips right around your tip and suck so hard just as you’re about to come.”

  My wife gives some mean head.

  But, right now, I don’t want her mouth anywhere near me.

  “Tilly, listen—” The sound of the phone cuts me off. I check the screen, seeing my agent’s name and number, and say, “Get up.”

  “Baby—”

  “Get up, Tilly. It’s Jesse.”

  She wiggles off me and moves a few paces away.

  I take a deep breath and hold my cell up to my ear. “Jesse, what’s the news?”

  “West, we really need to talk.”

  I can tell by the tone of his voice.

  H
e doesn’t have to go on about the chain of events—how the doctor sent the results to my coach, the owner of our team, and the NHL commission.

  I don’t need the results either.

  I already know.

  From the second I was hit—when my helmet shifted up just enough that it exposed my head and it slammed into the boards—I knew I had a concussion, my third one this year. I immediately felt the wave of nausea. There was ringing in my ears. Blackness in front of my eyes.

  And, now, it’s happening all over again but for a whole different reason.

  “Jesse, I’ll call you back.”

  “Not the news we were hoping, my friend. I know—”

  I hang up.

  He doesn’t know shit.

  “Baby…” Tilly’s voice is so quiet, I barely hear her, but it’s enough to get my attention.

  “What?”

  She holds out her phone, her hand covering the speaker. “It’s Viktor. He tried your line when you were on the phone with Jesse, and when you didn’t pick up, he called me.” She walks over and sets her cell in my lap.

  I lift the phone to my ear and say, “Viktor.”

  “What the fuck, man? It’s been days, and Coach hasn’t told us anything. The guys are all waiting to get our captain back. You coming to practice this morning or what?”

  My eyes close. I can’t handle all the spinning, the little shimmers of light, like I’ve been rubbing my lids for hours. My chest starts to rise and fall, as though I’d been skating sprints. “Nah, man. I’m not coming in today. Maybe tomorrow.”

  It’s a lie.

  I drop the phone and feel Tilly pick it up.

  “Hey, Viktor. He’ll call you back, okay?”

  I don’t know how long I sit in the chair with my eyes closed. I don’t know how I’m getting any air in with my chest this tight. I don’t know how long my wife waits silently for me to tell her the news.

  But, when I finally open my lids, I bark the words, “Get the condo listed. Pack our shit. We’re getting the fuck out of here,” and I watch her sadly move out of my mancave.

  Then, I strip my clothes, get into the shower, and don’t get out until the water feels as cold as the rink.

  Piper

  “What’s wrong, Pipes? You look like you’re a million miles away.”

  I slap on a smile and turn my head toward my husband, surprised he even noticed something was bothering me. He’s been so checked out lately that I could scream, and he probably wouldn’t hear me.

  “I’m fine, Cannon. Just thinking.”

  His crystal-blue eyes search mine, and I almost tell him, but I’m afraid. This trip is supposed to bring us closer together. When I booked it, I thought that time away from his job and the office would help him focus on our marriage again. But the week is almost over, and we’re still as disconnected as when we arrived.

  Cannon has been taking phone calls the entire time even though he promised he would leave his work back in Florida. Each call comes with an apology and time locked away in the bedroom, away from me.

  I don’t know what else I can do. I’ve Googled ways to bring the spark back into our marriage. Each day, I’ve worn sexy dresses and tiny bikinis to the pool. I scheduled romantic beachside dinners and late-night desserts in bed, but they’ve done nothing.

  The only thing that excites him these days is work. When someone from the office calls, they get a reaction.

  At night, when he’s asleep, I become that person. The one who snoops around, checking his phone and laptop. But all I find are texts and emails about business and calls to and from the office. Nothing is out of the ordinary.

  Things haven’t always been like this. There wasn’t always a wedge and divide in our marriage. There was a time when Cannon would make me feel like the prettiest girl in the room. His warm smile would wrap me in a hug, and I was content, knowing he wanted me as much as I wanted him. His actions were the most honest quality he possessed. Now, I constantly question them.

  “We’re on vacation, gorgeous. Don’t let your job bring you down.”

  “I’m not,” I tell him.

  It’s not my job that has me this worried. Sure, I’m mad about the cuts the district made, eliminating my position along with a lot of others. I’m nervous that my job isn’t the only part of myself I’m losing. I’m scared Cannon will be next if we can’t fix this. There’s only so much distance two people can put between themselves before they’re each going in opposite directions, permanently.

  My marriage and my classroom were my comfort zones, the places where I felt most like myself. Without work, a little piece of my identity is lost. Without Cannon, my world is turned upside down. Another job, I can find. I’ve had several over the course of my life, but I’ve had only one husband, one marriage. And I can’t believe he’s slipping through my fingers.

  Cannon chucks his towel in the sand and joins me on the blanket, checking his phone the second his ass hits the towel. I wish I knew whom he was waiting for or what he thought he was missing.

  After he sets the phone back in the beach bag, I grab his hand and pull him closer. My lips chase a water droplet down his smooth chest, and I imagine what it’d be like if he had a smattering of hair there. Always clean-shaven, he doesn’t go more than two weeks without a stop at the barber. I used to love how much he cared about his appearance. Now, I realize looks are only skin-deep. It’s the passion beneath them that I’m after. The unapologetic demand to be lit on fire.

  “What do you say we get out of these suits and take advantage of the hot tub for a little while?” I say, hopeful that he won’t turn me down.

  “You’re done with the beach already?” he asks.

  Yesterday, we stayed until six, but who cares if it’s only three in the afternoon?

  “The beach is great, but my husband is better,” I tell him as my finger traces the curve of his jaw.

  His head dips, and he’s so close to kissing me that I can almost feel his lips on mine. But that little bit of hesitation on his part adds another layer of doubt to my already cluttered mind.

  “Never mind,” I whisper. “Help me up.”

  Neither of us moves.

  Finally, Cannon snaps out of it and raises his head. He looks around before leaning forward to press his lips to mine in a gentle, chaste kiss, followed by a deeper one with a little tongue. Even though I want more, I know that’s all he’s comfortable giving me in public.

  “You taste like coconut,” he says as he checks to see if anyone saw us kissing.

  The beach is fuller than it’s been all week. Someone had to be watching us. I don’t know why, but that thought makes my heart race so fast that my pulse pounds in my eardrums. Cannon’s never been big on public displays of affection, and for a minute, I want to press him for more to see just how far I can get him to go.

  “Kiss me again,” I whisper against his skin. But a soft peck isn’t nearly enough to satisfy the warmth pooling between my thighs. “More, Cannon. Please.”

  “I thought you wanted to get up?”

  “What I want is for you to touch me.” I take his hand and place it on my thigh, encouraging him.

  “Piper, slow down. We can’t do this here.”

  We could, if he wanted me badly enough. If he wanted us more than his phone.

  My fingers slip beneath the waistband of his board shorts, and he shudders.

  “Tell me you want me, Cannon.”

  “Piper, I always want you.” He’s sincere enough that I almost believe him. “But we’re at the beach. There are kids and other people all over the place.”

  God, I wish he would just let go for once in his life. I wish he would stop fixating on appearances and lead with his body instead of his mind. All I want is for him to cut loose and pick me instead of lying under the sun. “Let’s go back to the room,” I tell him.

  He pulls his phone out again, checking the time. “Okay. I’ll pack up.”

  Once we have everything in the bag, he glances over
his shoulder and then walks us toward the resort. Sand from my flip-flops smacks me in the back of my legs and sticks to my lotioned-up body. I know the perfect place to try again. It’s more secluded, private enough that nobody would be able to see us even though we’d still be outside.

  As we’re approaching a little alcove with its own shower, I take Cannon’s hand and pull him inside. When we’re out of view, I slip my hand inside his swim trunks and wrap my fingers around his dick.

  He lets his guard down for a split second, groaning, as I pump him up and down.

  But, as soon as he hears voices approaching, he grabs my arm. “Piper, enough. We have to stop.”

  “What if I don’t want to stop?”

  He pulls my hand out of his bottoms and stares down at me. I’m still wrapped around his torso when he searches my eyes and says, “What’s gotten into you?”

  Herein lies the problem. Cannon’s meticulous and proper, driven by calculation. How else would a lawyer win court cases? And I’ve always been the good girl who follows the rules and doesn’t take chances. I suppose I’ll always have those qualities somewhere inside me, but I don’t need reasons for my husband to touch me. Isn’t it enough that I just want him? That I need him to show me how much he craves me, too?

  Maybe. Maybe not.

  “I’m sorry,” I whisper. “I got carried away.”

  “Don’t be sorry, Pipes. But I can’t share you with the entire beach.”

  Shame washes over me, and my cheeks redden, like I’ve chased too much of the sun. I’ve made a fool of myself, trying to throw my body at my own husband.

  What was I thinking?

  That I’m not enough for him.

  That he doesn’t want me anymore.

  That he wants someone else even though I haven’t found any proof of that.

  Cannon steps out from the alcove, and I follow him. I’m adjusting my suit when a group of rowdy guys walks by, whistling because they think we just had sex in the shower.

  My husband looks embarrassed, the exact opposite of how I’d feel if it were true. None of the comments or cheers bother me.

  But Cannon said no, and now, I think I might have messed up.

  I thought the warm island air would be enough to clear my head, but it’s the same air I choke on back in Florida. Nothing about Belize has made my thoughts clearer, more absolute, and I have no idea what it’ll take to make the ache in my chest go away.