John bounced on the ball of his foot. The hotel elevator was taking forever. In fact the whole enterprise had taken far too long. What seemed like a good idea - getting dressed and going to dinner after a day of laying around the hotel room - had evaporated the minute they hit the lobby. Meghan sauntered through in that tight coral dress, turning heads, and John immediately felt like a fool He’d had that girl upstairs, that dress off and he’d left voluntarily?

Meghan bumped against John’s side. Last night’s dress shirt and slacks looked pretty damned good on him considering they’d been on the floor for eighteen hours. For dinner they chose an Italian place and shared plates of food with a bottle of wine. The tempranillo stained John’s lips and Meghan found herself watching him talk without listening, smiling when he did just because she liked his smile so much. And refilling his glass. They’d skipped dessert as much to avoid Roberts’ wrath as to get the table out from between them.

Outside the restaurant, John had given Meghan a long, breathless kiss that curled her toes. She tasted the wine and something else, something urgent.

They’d had sex twice last night before falling asleep in a pile of each other, and once again after waking up the same way. It was sweet and slow, the kind that melted Meghan’s heart. Over the course of the afternoon, cuddled up watching movies and relaxing, they’d gone again. There was a sense they had all night to rest up for.

Now night was here and John was clearly tired of waiting.

Ding. The elevator door opened and he tossed her inside. He wasn’t this kind of guy. But he’d never had this kind of sex. Being with Meghan validated him - his past sex life had not been average because of him. It took two to tango and he was up for this challenge. Hell, right now he just wanted to be up. A few glasses of wine and hours of looking at Meghan in that dress were all he could take.

“Jeez, somebody’s in a hurry,” she teased. John kept a hold of her hand and growled.

The sound went over her bare skin like a touch. Getting to know John this way had been pretty incredible, but there was another gear she wanted to find. He could be good - John was always good, at everything. But could he be fun?

Time to find out.

He beeped open the lock and Meghan led him straight to the bed, sat him on the edge. She stood between his knees. His hands moved along her waist, her backside and stomach. She pushed them down to the hem of her skirt and wrapped his fingers into the dress so it began to bunch along her thighs. He quickly took the hint, working the stretchy material upward inch by inch. When he finally had it almost far enough, Meghan climbed right onto his lap. The position was perfect - her cleft just level with the skirt stretched playfully across her ass. She straddled John without giving him a moment to adjust, running her slit against his still-soft cock.

John’s eyes bulged, his blood racing to the crash site. Meghan grabbed his arms and rolled again. Her long hair bounced as she stroked him out using nothing by the space between her legs and his imagination. He shoved her skirt higher, then pulled her down hard.

“Mmmmm,” she said, feeling the solid outline of his growing erection. It felt powerful to sit atop him and control how much friction he got, to deny or increase his pleasure based on hers. John buried his face in her breasts, obviously enjoying the position as well. She kept twisting, grinding down with every move, giving John a lap dance until he was panting.

John could do this forever. He’d definitely come in his pants but that was fine. Meghan’s body was so lithe and fit, she was strong enough to push him around a little. Her quads and glutes flexed as she moved along his length again - up, then down; push, then pull, getting all the way to his base with a little shake of her ass. He looked up to see her smiling, this girl he’d had five times in a day.

“You’re a machine,” she said with an impressed smile.

“You know how hockey players are,” he quipped, thrusting up and lifting her almost off her knees.

Meghan slowed, then went still. “No, I don’t.”

John mentally facepalmed. “I didn’t mean, I just….”

She pushed him back flat on the bed with his knees still bent over the edge. Meghan forced her thighs wider over his hips, dress rolling higher as her legs spread. It dropped her another inch right onto the heavy promise of his hard-on. John winced against the pressure.

“I can now confirm, scientifically, there is a big difference between guys who play hockey and hockey players,” Meghan said slowly, as if she could ignore the pressure against her body. When it got to be too much, she put her hands to John’s chest, rocking against him. Her hot button rang like a bell, the sensation nearly buckling her arms. It was the closest they could be without actual sex, and that was up as soon as she could get his pants off.

Meghan looked into John’s eyes. “Anything else you want to teach me?”
____

It was easy to sleep next to John - too easy, Meghan thought. She’d rather stay awake and revel in the newness of everything. There were places she hadn’t explored yet - faint scars on his hands, stories she didn’t know. But with his heavy arms around her, Meghan could only drift off.

John noticed when her head rolled to the side. She slept very peacefully and he was afraid to disturb her. He turned the TV off by remote and burrowed back against the pillows.

All along, Meghan had been right. Two months wasn’t nearly enough time. Now John knew better than ever. He’d crammed an impossible amount of good stuff into the last two days and they were just getting starting. Spending time with Meghan was amazing, the sex was incredible but there was nothing in the world like sleeping in the same bed. Her mind could be a million miles away, but her body and heart were there with him. When summer ended, John knew the opposite would be true. With a sad smile, he kissed the top of her head and closed his eyes.
____

“So, uh, see you soon?”

“In ten minutes,” Meghan said. She and John were standing in his driveway, next to her car. They’d woken up and enjoyed their second straight morning together with another fantastic combination of sex and breakfast. There was a heavy, almost sad desire in the room - to stay there, hidden away. Too bad life, and especially the gym, called. Meghan slipped into the extra clothes she’d brought while John did his best in a two day-old date outfit. Now they were saying goodbye so she could drive herself separately to the gym down the road.

“I had fun.” John knew he wouldn’t be able to say that when he saw her next. He’d be lucky to get a word out, so afraid to give himself away in front of James.

Meghan felt bad. Worse than bad. She didn’t want this to be a dirty little secret. There had to be a way to tell James, and soon. She resolved again to try, then she gave John a long, lingering, hell of a kiss that went right through the concrete into the Earth below.

“Best date I’ve ever had,” Meghan assured him.

John drove in silence. He’d showered at the hotel, Meghan standing outside the stall drawing in the fog on the glass. She wrote his name and number like it looked on the back of a jersey. Then she joined him under the falling water. He’d used a whole bottle of shower gel soaping up a washcloth, then run it slowly over every inch of her. She trilled when it passed up her inner thigh, over her crease. They put a lot of miles on their bodies. Careful not to get her hair wet, he’d rinsed her clean and kissed every spot he could reach. With any evidence of the last two days cleaned from each other, they left the hotel behind.

As planned, Meghan was at the gym before him. James was there too, standing close like he was asking questions. Probably “Where the hell have you been for the last two days?”

A deep ache pulsed through John’s body. That’s where, Neal. Stamkos joined them before John caught up.

“I hear you’re a dirty stayout who doesn’t come home at night,” Steven joked. Clearly James had mentioned her absence.

Meghan just grinned. “Awesome weekend with Lucy. Legendary.”

“You’ve been out a lot,” James said, a sullen note in his voice.

Meghan tried to be airy. “I missed a whole year of this, remember? Locked away in London?”

“What’d you guys do for two days?” James asked.

“You know, girl stuff. Underwear pillow fights, bubble baths, painting each other’s toenails,” she said casually before risking a look at John. She tried to keep a straight face and said, “Talk about the boys we like.”

“Well,” John said with a perfectly blank expression. “Del Zotto’s ears must’ve been ringing.”
____

Monday’s workout was rough but John stuck with it, knowing Meghan was somewhere in the gym and probably just as sore as he was. They’d pushed their luck with two days together and when workouts ended, went home to their respective houses. Meghan watched James carefully, wondering if it was just brattiness or actual suspicion that had him asking questions. But as soon as they were alone, things were as normal.

Tuesday was no better: John had a meeting with his agent in mid-afternoon that lasted a while and turned into dinner. He texted Meghan, claiming he’d heard through the grapevine she was into underwear pillow fights. She texted back a picture of her underwear, from the side, in the mirror. John woke up sore again Wednesday morning. He figured Meghan must have too because she didn’t show at the gym.

“Bummer,” he said when she finally returned his call.

“I know, but I made this appointment ages ago and I’ll never get another.” Meghan would much rather have driven to John’s than have a physical complete with blood work and labs. It had been put off for her trip to the UK and was long overdue. When she booked the day, she never imagined she’d have anything that much better to do. Or that much better looking. Now there was a possibility the blood work would show nothing but hormones after two days with John, then two days without him. “I’ll just Google photos of you all day.”

That night she made a point of calling John before dinner. James’ brother Pete was over and the boys were rattling around downstairs attempting to grill. She’d have to rescue them soon. Music played from the outdoor speakers and lights were on in the pool. It was a perfect summer evening, the kind she’d looked forward to all year. Now she wished to be somewhere else.

“Next time you’ll have to come over,” she told John, laying on her bed looking at the ceiling.

“I could come by now,” he said earnestly. Two days was way too long to go without.

“I’m afraid I couldn’t keep my hands off you.”

“I am not afraid of that.”

They talked for a little while longer, mostly about nothing. Meghan remembered back to high school, spending minutes on the phone with a cute boy then hours with her friends dissecting every moment. As much as she wanted to have her way with John, there was something delightfully adolescent about sneaking phone conversations that left those butterflies long after they said goodbye.

“See you tomorrow?” he asked, leaving the details of a possible encounter open.

“Hmmm, maybe. Will you be all sweaty and panting?”

John’s heart rate ticked up dramatically. “At the gym, or after?”

“Both,” she quipped.

Alright, there was the flirting he wanted. “Depends on what you’re wearing.”

“Ohhhhh,” she chuckled. “Alright then. Challenge accepted. You’d better bring your A game.”

“You’re on.”

“That means no black sneakers with shorts,” she said. John stuttered, as if he wanted to ask what he was supposed to wear then. With a quick goodnight, Meghan left him to fend for his own fashion choices.

When she climbed into bed that night, Meghan set her laptop across her knees. Two days alone had her down. Luckily if she wanted to see John’s face, all she had to do was type in his name. Up popped a hundred videos. She chose one of John and PK Subban dressed in matching red Team Canada hoodies. They looked about fourteen years old when in truth they were eighteen and nineteen. By then, Meghan had already known PK. The next time she saw Subban, she intended to give him an earful about holding out on her.

On screen the boys laughed. They cut each other off and spoke in the kind of shorthand that good friends shared. It was amazing to think they were both such superstar, powerhouse players now. Not to mention James, Steven or Michael. Meghan felt lucky and proud to have all those guy friends, but when she looked at John’s too long hair and goofy enthusiasm from four years ago something else came to mind: boyfriend.
____

James got up early and made breakfast. Meghan had been so happy the last few days that she was glowing. He wanted to keep the streak alive. She could stay out with Lucy whenever she wanted if it made her this happy to come home. He put two plates of scrambled eggs on the table along with toast and half an avocado for each of them. By the time they reached Robs’ gym, they’d be ready to go. She came downstairs, raking her hair into a ponytail. The curve of her neck was so delicate; her dark lashes needed no makeup. And her shorts needed no introduction. Black, fitted and short enough to disappear under any skirt, James’ eyes locked right on them. Her t-shirt barely covered the top of her ass.

“What’s all this?” she said brightly. James momentarily forgot about her shorts.

“Hope you’re hungry.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Did Paul teach you to cook?”

“God, I never should have let them film that!” James’ episode of NHL 36 had been a big deal around home and Meghan had laughed so hard she cried. In it, James revealed he often goes across the street to his teammate Paul Martin’s house for breakfast.

“Only now you’re Paul, and I’m you,” she pointed out since James had done the cooking for once.

“I guess you are the better looking one here,” he admitted.

Meghan finished a bite of eggs. “It’s the shorts. Are we picking up Steven?”

“He has a photo shoot today. His new girlfriend is working it, some big thing fell through and she’s filling in. Stammer’s all mooney about her putting in the effort.”

“I like her,” Meghan said. “She’s good for him.”

James shrugged. “Yeah, till he’s gone.”

The comment hung between them for a minute. It hurt Meghan every year when James and the boys left, but by far the deepest cut would be John. There was no protecting herself - she’d tried not to get involved. But the heart wants what the heart wants and here she was, thinking of him over breakfast, excited to see him today and hoping to….

“I’m gonna drive myself,” she said. “I’ve got some errands in the city afterward.”
____

It was definitely the shorts. And the hot pink t-shirt. And the ponytail swinging as Meghan strutted across the gym. She gave John a private smile. He looked at the floor and crushed a water cup in his hand. James was right with her, looking bright-eyed and bushy-tailed. John thought he would be too if he spent every morning playing house with Meghan. But as they crossed the room, her eyes never left his. She likes me, she likes me! bubbled up in John’s chest.

“What’s up, bro?” James put his hand out his fist. It took John a moment to realize it was meant for him and react. He couldn’t recall James having ever done that before. Meghan noticed too.

“I don’t get a fist bump,” she complained.

“You’re not a bro.”

“Hey Meghan!!!” Gary practically shouted, marching up to them and putting his fist up. She bumped it with a playful switch of her hips and walked away, shorts, ass and ponytail bouncing. All three of them watched her go.

“She is out of your league,” Robs told them both.

Gary seemed to drill them extra hard to make up for Stamkos’ missed workout. He was busy being famous. John might never be - not till his team started winning - and James could never hope to outshine his captain. So here they were, working hard while Steven had the day off to just look good.

Meghan took a class to avoid being in the middle of the gym with John nearby. She had missed him over the last two days, and not just in her heart. Her only option were to grope him or walk away. At least class gave her a headstart on afternoon plans - and hoping John didn’t have any. She showered and dressed, smiling at the underwear and bra combo she’d selected. After fixing her hair just enough that no one would notice the difference, she took her book to the juice bar inside instead of going outside.

It wasn’t a long wait. John was still breathing hard from the last drill when he leaned on the counter next to her and ordered something with spirulina and algae. Everything about his stance was casual except for his gaze: he was anxious to get her alone too. Meghan thought John was pretty good at this game after all.

John tried to be cool. Meghan’sdaytime outfit wasn’t much more than her workout getup - little pink shorts, a soft grey t-shirt, flip flops. He knew her skin was soft, knew the exact location of the tan line across her back. The only safe place for his hands was inside his pockets.

“Busy now?” she asked, lip curling flirtatiously.

John’s eyes went wide. Just like that? He thought it would take an elaborate plan - one he’d have to work out - and hours before he could see her. Whatever plan she had for now, he wanted it even sooner. “No.”

“I’ll be at your place.” She slipped off the stool to leave well before him. “And John, don’t shower.”
____

Speed limits were for guys who did not have hot girls waiting on their porches. John went as slowly as he could. Skipping the shower had been a great idea - he was only five minutes behind Meghan.

She was leaning against the railing when he pulled in. John threw the car into park while it was still moving and practically tore the door off. Meghan stayed where she was, shaking her head.

His hair was matted with sweat and his workout top was soaked. John’s skin was darker every time she saw him, evidence of days on the golf course. Now it was glowing in that post-exercise way, making his already strong presence seem to double.

“Hi,” she said, sliding her arms up around his neck.

“Hi.” His lips found hers, staying closed to keep from groaning in pleasure. Their shapes fit together like magnets and his body ached no less that something being pulled by the force of gravity. “I can shower real quick.”

Meghan was busy kissing the line of his jaw. He tasted of salt from hours of exertion. His smell was different too - not bad, but deeper and warmer, a mix of honest boy sweat and his deodorant. She moved to his neck. “No way. You’re too sexy like this.”

John just laughed. He thought leaving without a shower was a clever ruse to cover up their meeting - he’d never go straight from the gym to a girl. Instead it was just that she was in a hurry to see him. He grabbed the back of her thighs and hitched her legs around his waist. With her hanging on like a koala bear, John climbed the three steps to his front door.

“I’m gonna give you a key,” he said, trying to maneuver his around her ass.

“No, now you’re going to carry me inside every time.”

John set Meghan down carefully in his living room. She was pretty heavy - tall and strong - but there was certainly room for a Meghan Carry in his regular workout. His arms stayed around her back and he continued the kiss she’d started outside. It deepened as they found themselves alone together for the first time in days. His tongue raked across hers brazenly as he lifted the back of her t-shirt and filled his hands with the familiar curve of her back.

Meghan had the same idea. She peeled the sweaty shirt over his head, balled it up and threw it toward the kitchen. It landed with a wet thwap on the tile. John was quickly pulling at her top, which he simply dropped onto the couch.

“Hmmm, nice,” he said, taking in her white lace bra that lifted more than it covered, offering the rounded tops of her breasts to anyone lucky enough to get this far. The light color stood out against her tan body. John traced one thumb across the scalloped edge, just over her nipple. Meghan guided his mouth toward her skin.

John kissed and licked greedily, all the frustrated desire of the last few days moving toward his lap. The bra held her just where he wanted her, so John busied his hands with the button on her shorts. They fell away easily and left her standing in matching white lace panties. He wanted to pick her up again, straight to the bedroom, but Meghan was too fast.

She pushed one open hand over the front of his pants, right down his shaft. John growled and brought his mouth back to hers. The mesh of his workout shorts was quickly off and Meghan took her hand to the spandex base layer underneath.

“Oooh,” she giggled, prying herself free and stepping back. John in nothing but black Under Armour shorts was a sight to behold. As a base layer they were short, running out well above the bulging muscle of his thighs. The skin-tight material hugged his ass perfectly but was pretty powerless against his arousal in the front.

John rolled his eyes, but he was blushing.

“How do you get those on?!” she asked.

“You just worry,” he started working the elastic waistband open, “about getting them off.”

Meghan smacked him on the ass. “Upstairs. Now.”

John got to the top of the steps and stripped off his remaining clothes. Meghan went past and dropped her bra on the carpet right where his shorts landed a second later. He followed the back of her panties right into the master bathroom. She sat on the counter and pointed toward the shower.

John’s shower was a luxury. He didn’t even have a tub; instead one wall of the bathroom was a combination shower stall and steam room. With a turn of the handle, warm water poured from the overhead faucet. The glass front went all the way up, sealing the space so it could fill with steam if desired.

“You coming?” John held the door open.

Meghan leaned back against the mirror. “Just watching.”

He felt nervous under her gaze. It wasn’t self-consciousness - John knew a good body was a by-product of his job. It wasn’t a symbol of vanity and he still harboured plenty of shyness when it came to walking around naked in front of a beautiful girl. Being fully hard just made it worse. He left the door open and turned his back to Meghan, reaching for the shower gel.

Shameless, Meghan knew. She was shamelessly drawing John out of his comfort zone and shamelessly enjoying the show. His shoulders were broad, his back v-shaped toward a narrower waist. John was all muscle and at least thirty percent of his body weight was in his ass and thighs. He soaped up and she had to bite her lip.

John worked fast. He gritted his teeth as he washed below his waist, lest Meghan think he was touching himself while she watched. This was all dangerously close to something that only happened in fantasies. He scrubbed everywhere else with short, hard strokes and washed the sweat from his hair. Start to finish, the shower took six minutes. John shut the tap off and turned.

Meghan was right there, towel hanging from her outstretched finger. John ignored it and grabbed her instead. His wet arms and chest swallowed her, water ran from his hair and face as he kissed her. Drops puddled beneath their feet, Meghan dropped the towel on top of it. Skin squeaked with cleanliness where they rubbed together.

She backed up, wiggling out of her panties as she went. John almost asked if she’d be more comfortable on the bed but then realized this place was full of mirrors. He helped her onto the counter. The heat from the shower had been nothing compared to the heat of her hand around his shaft. John snuck a look at her long back, flaring at the waist and going all the way down to the top of her ass in reflection. His cock throbbed hard.

Meghan had found a box of condoms in the medicine cabinet while John washed. He closed his eyes as she rolled it on, giving plenty of push and pull along the way. When John looked at her again, his eyes were bright green.

He’s never done anything like this, she knew. It wasn’t even that racy, having sex standing up fresh out of the shower. But she didn’t need to get crazy with John. She just needed to want him, anywhere and anytime, for him to look at her in disbelief. That was not going to be a problem. She gave him the go-ahead kiss and John took the hint.

The angle was perfect. Meghan was perfect. John thought he’d never turn another light off while she was around because he’d never tire of looking at any part of her, especially her back arching in the mirror as he pushed inside her. He could only watch for so long before his eyes closed, focusing on desire and working through that initial urge to come like a rocket. Meghan clung to him, letting him get comfortable. When he was, she started to move.

He’d never been with a girl who got what she wanted. John assumed he got them there, and he’d never minded the trying. But Meghan had her own desires and moved like she intended to fulfill them. Every one matched up with something John wanted to feel. Her hands moved along his body, fingernails digging lightly into his ass as she worked against him. John did what she did, combining their efforts until they were both panting.

Meghan purred as John gained speed. He’d have lifted her ass from the counter if he wasn’t holding her hips down against every thrust. His size was perfect, like the stick shift on a car fitting right where it needed to go. Every stroke delved deep and lit her body up. Even as she’d admired John’s lower body in the shower, Meghan had underestimated the strength in those hips and thighs. That was the difference between guys who played hockey and actual hockey players. He drove in to the hilt, bottoming out inside her body, and Meghan moaned.

“Fuck,” he said softly. “When you make that noise it’s hard for me to hold on.”

John didn’t know or care what he was saying. Her body was heaven. He hoped he wasn’t hurting her, moving as hard and fast as he was. She didn’t seem to mind. If anything her fierce kiss urge him to go faster. John locked an arm around Meghan’s waist and doubled his effort.

“Ohgod,” she gasped. There was another gear. She should have known but it seemed impossible. John groaned like he was close and Meghan hurried up. A flick of her hips, angling him right into the hot spot he’d been teasing, and she was gone. She cried out as she came, the noise skipping across her voice until it was nothing but a weak sob of breath.

“Yes, baby.” John’s orgasm ripped out of him. Meghan’s body went clenched and grabbed at him, pulling out what he’d been trying to keep in. He wrapped around her back and held tight, his pleasure draining out in time to her body’s pulses. When it finally stopped, he was slumped over her still-sitting form.

She kissed his ear, laughing softly. “That was amazing.”

“You are amazing,” John corrected. “I am just trying to keep up.”

They untangled and cleaned up, both knowing Meghan wouldn’t be staying all day. It was almost like a date a normal couple still in the early stages would have - except with more sex and at lunchtime. Close enough. John got dressed while Meghan poked around his kitchen for lunch. By the time he came down in black shorts and a white t-shirt, Meghan was halfway through making grilled cheese sandwiches.

“Don’t worry, there are veggies. Gary won’t mind.”

In fact she’d stuffed the sandwiches with tomatoes and lettuce as well as whatever cheese John had in his fridge. Using the spatula to press them down, they grilled evenly and melted into a perfect, gooey combination. As soon as she had one cut in half, half of it was gone.

“Oh my God, I love you,” John said airily, with a mouthful of deliciousness. Then he froze.

Meghan put another sandwich on his plate and smacked him on the ass. “Boys are so easy!”

They took the rest of the sandwiches out to the back deck, a place Meghan hadn’t even been yet. It had a maple colored deck and a very nice, glass topped table with matching outdoor chairs. The umbrella overtop was kelly green and white striped. But that wasn’t all.

“You have a pool!” she said. “Why don’t you ever have everyone over after the gym? The guys would love it.”

John shrugged. He’s always assumed they wanted to get home, and he didn’t mind the trip to Whitby. “I can.”

“You have to,” Meghan’s mind was spinning plans. “Then we can hang out more.”

Finishing another piece of grilled cheese, John considered the option. Meghan in a bikini at James’ pool without him, or Megan in a bikini in his pool with James around. It wasn’t perfect but it was an improvement.

“Speaking of invitations,” John said, slipping an ad her waist, “my parents are having a barbeque on Saturday. It’s like a neighborhood-slash-family thing. Would you want to come?”

Meghan looked surprised.

“I asked Sam, and you could bring Lucy. If you want. You don’t have to. I mean,” he started backpedalling, “you said you told your parents so I thought….”

“I’d love to come.” She gave him a kiss to cover the little hitch in her voice. Meet his parents? In two days? Her heart was singing but her brain was saying, woah woah woah. Still it had kind of been her idea.

“I haven’t told them about us yet, so they won’t be all over you. You can just charm them until they’re begging me to ask you out.”

Until I’m begging you to come with me, he thought.