Against All Odds (Holt Hockey Book 2)

Rylan turns into the bathroom at the top of the stairs. By some miracle, it’s unoccupied. Guess it’s early enough in the evening that most people aren’t drunk enough to need a toilet yet.

A few people greet me as they pass by, but my focus is on the brunette ahead of me.

I duck into the bathroom behind her, then close and lock the door behind us. She’s leaning back against the counter that surrounds the sink with her arms crossed, a knowing smirk on her face as she watches me ensure we won’t get interrupted.

We haven’t talked, not really, since she texted me on Wednesday and we ended up having sex in her room. She was clearly upset about something, something she didn’t want to talk about. And I wasn’t expecting to be as annoyed about that as I felt. I’ve dumped plenty of my shit on her. The least I could do was listen to her talk about whatever was bothering her. But she didn’t want to that, and so I rolled with it.

I didn’t think she’d be here tonight, since she left the rink with her dad earlier.

And I have no idea why she was heading toward the door as I arrived, or why she looked so surprised to see me with my friends on the front porch.

“How was dinner with your parents?” I ask.

There’s a flash of surprise on her face, like that’s a shocking question for me to ask.

“Fine. Good.”

“You tell them what was bothering you on Wednesday?”

More surprise. “It was nothing.”

I take that as a no.

“Something with your classes?” I press.

“It’s just math.”

I step closer. “It’s not just anything, Rylan. You can talk to me.”

“I didn’t come up here to talk to you, Aidan.” She takes a seat on the edge of the counter, the sexy red skirt she’s wearing riding up higher on her thighs as she spreads them.

A hot girl—a hot girl I can’t stop thinking about—wants to have sex with me. And I’m disappointed. I’m hurt that she doesn’t trust me. Won’t confide in me.

But I don’t know how to tell her that. If I should tell her that. I can’t force her to talk to me, to view me as someone worth sharing worries with.

And I’m used to girls only wanting one thing from me. What I’m not used to is wanting more than sex from them.

Rylan pulls her top off. My eyes immediately go to her tits, which are practically spilling out of the lacy bra she’s wearing. But then I spot the bracelet on her wrist, the one I put on her. The one with my jersey number amidst a bunch of beads.

I step between her spread thighs, deliberately brushing my thumb against her wrist before sliding my hand into her hair and using it to tug her head back so she’s looking straight at me. There’s a flush to her cheeks that wasn’t there a few seconds ago.

“Nice bracelet,” I say.

“Thanks,” she replies. “It was a gift.”

I smirk before I lean down and kiss her. My head might be confused about how to handle things with her, but my body thinks it’s straightforward. See her, kiss her, touch her, fuck her. Doesn’t matter where we are. How recently we hooked up. I always react like it’s the first time.

She whispers, “I want you,” against my lips, and I’m instantly hard.

“Can’t get enough, huh?”

“Are you complaining?”

“Definitely not.”

I kneel between her parted legs, impatiently tugging down her tights as far as they’ll go. I do the same to her soaked underwear before I lightly bite the inside of her thigh, then suck. Her knuckles turn white where her hand is clutching the edge of the counter, the colorful bracelet just as stark against her pale skin.

My mouth moves higher. Her taste floods my mouth, and my dick strains against the zipper of my jeans, desperate to join in on the fun.

Rylan rocks her hips, the breathy moans she’s making sending bolts of heat down my spine. She whimpers when I wrap my hands around her thighs, pulling her closer and spreading her wider.

“Holy fuck,” she says as more wetness soaks my tongue.

I move my mouth higher, sucking lightly on her clit as I curl two fingers inside of her. By now, I know exactly what she likes.

A few seconds later, she’s coming, calling out my name. And I’m supremely satisfied, even though my cock is still making my pants uncomfortably tight.

That might have been a new record.

I straighten and kiss her.

Rylan makes a surprised sound when she tastes herself on my mouth, then relaxes into me. Her hands slide down my chest to the waistband of my jeans. I groan into her mouth as she works at the button and zipper, thrilled by this turn of events. We had sex two days ago, and that doesn’t feel like recent enough.

I pull away when her hand finds my cock, mesmerized by looking down at the sight of her small hand working the engorged length.

Her nails are painted the same shade of red as her skirt, and it matches my angry-looking dick. The tip is already shiny with pre-cum. I grunt as her fingers spread it around.

“Do you have a condom?” she asks.

Thank God she’s as insatiable as I am. Either is better than having to take care of this myself, but I’d rather fuck her than get a hand job.

“No, but…” I pull open the drawer next to her left leg and rifle through it. No luck, but the one below has a box of condoms. I grab one and rip it open, rolling the latex on as Rylan hops down from the counter, turns around, and leans over.

“You good?” I ask, tossing the condom wrapper into the trash.

“Yeah. My legs were just falling asleep.”

Rylan’s breath catches as I walk up behind her, her entire body jolting when she feels my erection brush the inside of her thigh. There’s a mark where I sucked her earlier that will probably stick around a while, and I hope she’s not pissed about the hickey when she notices it.

“Do you know what you look like when you come?” I ask her, kissing her neck. I rub my cock between her legs but don’t enter her yet. I already know this will be the highlight of my night, so I’m in no rush.

Rylan shakes her head. Her lips are parted, watching our reflections.

I slip an inch into her, and she moans. Her cheeks are flushed, her chest heaving with ragged breaths. I drop my gaze to watch her take me.

“You look so good, baby. You always look good. But taking my cock?” I push in another couple of inches, hissing when she clenches around me. “It’s the hottest fucking thing I’ve ever seen.”

She whimpers, pushing back against me and trying to force me deeper.

Someone bangs on the bathroom door, but I don’t react. It’s locked, and having trouble finding an open bathroom at a college party is basically a canon event.

Rylan’s still watching us in the mirror. Every reaction on her face, I feel spasm around me.

I’ve never experienced this overwhelming need with anyone except her. I’ve been turned on and horny many times before. But it’s never felt this acute. Been this blinding urge. No matter how many times I fill her or how deep she takes me, it’s never enough. I’m desperate to come, but I never want to stop thrusting into heaven.

My heartbeat hammers out a wild, adrenaline-fueled rhythm. It feels like flying down the ice.

“More,” she begs, pushing back against me. “Harder.”

I wish we were on a bed. It’s much harder to angle her the way I want her in here, but I try. Her legs start to shake. I stop rubbing her clit and pinch it instead. She calls out my name again.

I glance down, savoring the sight of her bent over the sink and stretched around me.

She looks sexy.

She looks satisfied.

She looks like mine.

Skin slaps as I pound into her, totally losing control.

“Is this what you want, Rylan?”

A choked cry is her only reply. I wrap her hair around my hand, tugging it the way I know she likes.

“You’re so fucking full of my cock, you can’t even talk. Is that what you were begging for, baby?”

She makes a choked sound. “I’m-I’m going to…”

I know exactly what she’s trying to say. I can feel her convulsing around me. She comes with a loud moan, and I’m right behind her. She collapses onto the counter.

Both of us are panting, coming down from the incredible high.

Rylan recovers first, pulling away. I take care of the condom while she pees, avoiding eye contact with me the entire time.

The same awkwardness from before I saw the bracelet on her wrist is back. I’m not sure what she wants or expects from me. Am I coming on too strong? Not strong enough?

I don’t usually stick around this long.

Sex in the bathroom at a party is familiar, this part after is not.

I lean against the wall next to the shower and watch as she fixes her tights and skirt. Washes her hands and then attempts to fix the mess I made of her hair.

Are we going to avoid each other the rest of the night?

Are we—

“Do you know Jake Brennan?” she asks suddenly.

“Yeah, of course,” I reply. “He’s on the team.”

Rylan nods, twisting her hair into a low bun. Immediately, I want to pull the elastic out and run my fingers through the strands.

“Why?” I ask, refocusing on the conversation.

More like demand, but whatever. I haven’t forgotten his comments about Rylan by the bus before our first playoff game.

“Just wondering.”

“Why were you wondering?”

“I was talking to him earlier.”

“Again, why?”

She shrugs. “Because we were talking. He’s nice.”

Nice?

“Stay away from Brennan, okay?”

“Why?” she challenges.

“He’s…he can be kind of…” I war with myself. I don’t talk shit about my teammates. But I don’t want Rylan around him, knowing he’s interested in her and that he has a reputation similar to mine. And…I’m jealous. He’s a junior, like her. He’ll be here next year, while I’ll be where the hell knows. “Are you into him or something?”

“He knew who my dad is,” she says. I don’t miss that she didn’t answer the question.

“It’s not that big of a campus.” The whole team knows who she is, since she showed up at the bus before our first playoff game, but I don’t tell her that.

Someone starts pounding on the bathroom door again. Whoever they are, they’re more persistent than the last person was, continuing to hammer away when neither of us answers. Or maybe that is why they keep knocking.

“I think I need a drink after all,” she says.

“I can grab you one,” I offer.

“If everyone already knows who I am, then it’s probably best we keep our distance downstairs. I’d rather not have the whole campus gossiping about us.”

My jaw works as I force a nod. Technically, she’s right. The guys all know who she is, and me hovering around Rylan would probably end up in the team group chat. Hunter knows about us, but Conor has no clue. There would be lots of speculation and maybe some backlash about me seemingly prioritizing sex over a championship.

But it feels wrong, watching her unlock the door and head into the hallway, knowing that we’ll be acting like strangers downstairs after what just happened in here. I don’t really give a shit what my teammates think about us, and I can’t tell if she does or if she just thinks that I do.

I scrub a hand across my face before following Rylan downstairs.

Multiple people stop me in the living room. It takes at least ten minutes to make it into the kitchen.

I spot Rylan immediately. She’s standing by the fridge, holding a red cup and talking to Harlow. I watch as Jake fucking Brennan approaches them, saying something that makes Rylan smile as he grabs a beer out of the fridge.

My jaw clenches so tightly I’m concerned it might snap as I walk past them.

Telling myself not to care accomplishes nothing as I head toward where Hart is standing by the sink, sipping what I’m assuming is water. Conor doesn’t drink during the season. He looks bored, his gaze flicking in the same direction mine wants to go every few seconds.

Nothing like attending a party sober and celibate.

Then again, I’ve had sex tonight plus a beer I downed before coming over here, and I’m currently miserable.

“You good?” Conor asks, paying more attention than I’d like as I lean against the counter next to him and help myself to another beer.

I nod, then take a sip. Glance at Rylan. Brennan is still standing over there.

Hart’s still studying me.

I didn’t take the time to do much more than toss the condom and fix my pants before leaving the bathroom, and it’s probably obvious exactly what I was just doing upstairs. He has seen me look a lot worse, though.

“You’re sleeping with Rylan Keller, huh?”

I choke on another sip of beer. Cough. Clear my throat. “Yes.”

My candid answer surprises both of us. Conor clearly expected me to deny it, and I wasn’t planning on discussing Rylan with him—ever. I didn’t think there would be anything to discuss, and I was wrong.

He shakes his head. “Phillips…”

I glance at Rylan. Brennan is still over there. “Who told you?”

“I’ve had sex at a party before, man. You two disappeared when we got here, came back down around the same time. She cleaned up better than you, but you both look a little, uh, rumpled.”

“I won’t let it fuck up the championship.”

There’s a pause, then, “Do you like her, or it is just sex?” Conor’s taking this better than I would have expected, considering I just admitted to hooking up with our coach’s daughter.

I can tell myself Rylan is an adult all I want, but the truth is, I know Coach Keller would not be happy if he found out. Not only did he arrange for Rylan to tutor me so she could help me graduate, not get laid, but students aren’t the only ones who gossip on campus. I’m any father’s worst nightmare for his daughter. If Coach finds out, I don’t think he could—or would—actually kick me off the team. We only have one game left. But it would result in some extremely awkward dynamics, ones that could cost the trophy.

I sneak another peek at Rylan, watching as she taps the fingers that were just wrapped around my cock against her red plastic cup. “It’s not just sex.”

“So…why are you over here scowling?”

I scowl more. Sip some beer. “I don’t think it’s more to her.”

“Really?” Conor sounds surprised, which I guess I should take as a compliment. “What did she say?”

“What did she say about what?” I down more beer, because Brennan is still standing over there and it’s slowly driving me insane.

“What did she say when you told her you like her?” Hart enunciates each word, like I’m an idiot.

“Nothing.”

He whistles. “Ouch. Okay, never mind—”

“I mean, I haven’t told her.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t know if I want a relationship, or whatever. I don’t think that she does. Her ex was an asshole and—”

“Are you hooking up with other girls?”

I finish my beer, then tell him the truth. “No.”

Conor nods, like that was the answer he was expecting for some reason. “Then you’re basically already in a relationship, Phillips. Is she hooking up with other guys?”

“I don’t know,” I admit.

I would be surprised if she is. But I don’t know. Brennan is still hanging around, so she hasn’t shut him down.

“Tell her how you feel, Phillips,” he advises. “Ask her to officially be your girlfriend. If you’ve stopped sticking your dick into every hot girl at this school and if that”—he nods in Rylan’s direction again—“bothers you, then tell her how you feel. Or else forget about her and don’t hold this against Brennan. She’s not your girl; he can flirt with her all he wants.”

I suck in a deep breath, studying Rylan. She’s laughing and nodding along to something Brennan is saying, looking like she’s having the time of her life.

I’m not sure how she feels about me. I know she loves the sex, because the rest of her body can’t lie to me the way her lips can. And I think she enjoys our banter, even if she’s never admitted it.

But me, excluding my mouth and dick? I have no clue. It might make me a coward, factoring her feelings into my own. But it’s also human, I think, to not want to get shot down. I’ve never asked a girl to be my girlfriend.

And I’m not even sure if I’m capable of a relationship, not just if I want one. With Parker, it wasn’t a heavy conversation. It was hooking up, then going to dances together, then her calling me her boyfriend. I could have fought it, but I didn’t, and then it blew up in my face.

Looking back, I’m not even sure if I loved her. Maybe I loved some version of her, or maybe we were just familiar and easy. Maybe what I thought was heartbreak was actually a bruised ego.

“I’m headed out,” I tell Conor.

He appears disappointed, which surprises me. I assumed he’d be warning me away from Rylan, telling me to focus on hockey and my grades.

But he says nothing else, just nods and holds out a fist for me to tap.

I leave the kitchen and head down the hallway. Out the front door. It’s not that cold tonight, hovering right around freezing.

I don’t make it down the front steps. Our final practice before the championship game isn’t until tomorrow afternoon. My final hockey practice—ever. Heading home and helping myself to some of the vodka in the freezer before crashing sounds very tempting.

But…she walked here.

And there’s no way I’ll be able to sleep—no matter how much I have to drink—not knowing if she made it home safely.

I lean against one of the porch balusters, debating what to do. Text her? Stand out here like a stalker?

Before I can decide anything, the front door opens, and Rylan steps out. She stills as soon as she sees me standing here, glancing behind her once before stepping outside and shutting the door behind her.

“I thought you left.” She said the same thing to me after our first tutoring session. She looks as uncertain now as she did then, watching me with a wariness I’m not sure what to make of.

I shrug a shoulder. “You walked.”

Emotions flash across her face too fast for me to register any one of them. Then she walks forward until our bodies press together, her floral smell surrounding me as she clutches the front of my sweatshirt and rises up to kiss me.

We make out for a few minutes, until we’re both breathing heavily. And it feels so right. So reassuring, after watching her from across the kitchen. She’s here, in my arms.

“I’m not into him,” she whispers when our lips separate. “I had no clue who he was until he came up to me tonight and mentioned my dad.”

“Okay,” I reply, relief rushing through me.

That only solves one of my problems, though. Tonight, I realized I’m unsatisfied with our arrangement. That sex with Rylan isn’t enough.

Conor made it sound simple—just tell her how you feel, ask her to be your girlfriend—but it’s not simple. And I witnessed how badly he fucked up things with Harlow. He’s not exactly a romantic expert to take advice from.

“Can I walk you home?” I ask. Maybe I’ll come up with the right words during the two blocks.

It sucks when she shakes her head.

But then she says, “I’d rather you walked me across the street,” and my heart returns from its trip to the porch floor.

I live across the street.

She’s wanting to come back to my place. Back to my bed.

Hope sparks in my chest, contemplating that maybe she does care. Maybe this does matter to her. We already hooked up tonight, and she was leaving right after me.

“I mean, if that’s okay,” she says, and I realize she read into my silence. “If you don’t—”

“Of course it’s okay,” I reply.

I grab her hand, and her expression looks startled. Have we held hands before? Maybe not, I guess. It’s nice, though, having her warm fingers wrapped around mine. I can feel her bracelet where it’s slipped down her wrist. I sized it for mine, so it’s way too big on her.

But she’s wearing it. She’s been wearing it.

Hand in hand, we cross the street to my house. To the place where I never take girls.

And it feels just as right as kissing her did.