Mile High (Windy City Series Book 1)

A heavy arm holds me tightly to a firm chest as my eyes blink open from sleep.

Not that I slept much, if at all.

After our first round, Zanders and I hopped in the shower, which quickly led to a rough and filthy second round, regardless that we were trying to get clean. Then sometime in the middle of the night, when he woke up with my ass firmly nestled against his dick, the third round of soft and slow ensued.

Condoms were quickly abandoned when I told him I was on the pill, and even though the amount of sleep I got was slim to none, it was deep and restful thanks to Zanders’ expensive as shit mattress and the fact that my body was absolutely demolished by the defenseman next to me.

Zanders’ hand rests on my lower stomach as I sleep on my side, facing away from him. And I’m not going to lie, I sucked a sharp inhale when he first touched me there, but just as I’ve done since I met the man behind me, I let it go, remembering he really doesn’t give a fuck that I have a little extra on that part of my body.

“Morning.” His voice is hoarse and raspy but fucking beautiful to my ears. He swings one giant tree trunk of a leg around me, pulling me closer.

“Morning.” I turn around to face him, my naked body pressed against his.

Zanders’ smile is soft and genuine as he gently plays with my hair. “Your hair is amazing.”

I roll my eyes. “I don’t even want to know what it looks like. Curls getting wet in the shower then dried in bed is a terrible combination.”

“Don’t forget to add that they were wrapped around my fist too.”

“Ah yes, how could I forget.”

“I don’t know,” he sighs. His hand trails to my ass, taking a handful in his grasp. “I’m never going to forget anything about last night. In fact, I’m not sure I’ll be able to shut up about it.”

I hold on to his middle, resting my arm there. “You have to. This has to be a secret.”

His face falls slightly before recovering. “I know.” He grips the underside of my thigh, pulling me up to straddle him.

Clearly, we need to discuss this and figure out where our boundaries lie outside of Zanders’ penthouse, but all I can concentrate on is how much I wouldn’t mind round four with the beautiful naked man below mine.

Crossing my hands over his chest, I rest my chin there, my knees bent on either side of his hips. He continues to look at me like a whole new man. Soft and sweet, though I think maybe he always was this person. He just didn’t let anyone see.

“The amount of attention you get is overwhelming,” I mutter under my breath.

He tucks my curls away from my face before shooting me an apologetic smile. “I know.”

I shyly smile right back at him without saying another word because there really is nothing else to say about it. It’s who he is.

“For the first time, maybe ever, I wish no one knew who I was.” He grazes his fingertips along my bare back. “But, Stevie, just because we’re keeping it quiet doesn’t mean I don’t want people to know about you. If it weren’t for your job or my fucking contract re-signing, I wouldn’t shut up about you.”

I hide my stupid giddy smile in his chest.

“So don’t think for a second I’m keeping this quiet for any other reason than that.”

There’s a hidden meaning behind the words he’s saying, and I pick up on it right away, so I lean up and kiss him for that.

“I like having you in my bed.”

“I like being here.” I check the clock on his nightstand, letting me know that I’m going to be late for the video call scheduled for my dad’s birthday. “But I need to get going.”

I push my naked body off him, but he grabs me, keeping me in place. “Whoa, whoa, whoa. New rule. You’re not allowed to run away from me anymore.”

“I’m not. But I need to get home so I can call my dad.”

“Your phone is here. Call him here.”

“I need my laptop. It’s a three-way call with Ryan too.”

“I have a computer, Vee. Stay here. Please.” His tone is pleading, his eyes are begging, and I’ve never seen this arrogant man so desperate and needy. In fact, I have to keep myself from laughing at this unexpected side of him.

“Okay.” I melt back into his body. “I’ll stay.”

He takes two handfuls of my ass, pushing me into him. “Morning sex and breakfast.”

“Breakfast, yes.” I pat his chest, getting off him before starting something I don’t have time to finish. “Morning sex, no. I don’t have time.”

“I’ll be quick.”

A condescending laugh escapes me. Something tells me there’s nothing quick about the way Zanders fucks. Even when it’s “quick,” it’s most likely detailed and comprehensive, making sure every part of my body would be given his full attention.

And any other time, I wouldn’t dare complain, but Ryan is on the East Coast for work, and we need to get this call going before his morning shootaround.

“Fine,” he resigns. “Afternoon sex, then.” We both climb off the bed, his flawless tatted body pulling mine in, my back to his chest. “I bought you some clothes yesterday. They’re in the bottom drawer for you. Or if you’d rather wear something of mine, you can take anything you want.”

He places a soft kiss on my bare shoulder before quickly pulling on a pair of sweatpants. But before he leaves me alone in his room, one large hand lands firmly on my ass.

“For fuck’s sake, Vee.” He throws his head back in defeat before heading towards the kitchen. “Your ass is insane!”

Alone in his room, the realization begins to sink in. Did that really happen last night? My head is light and dizzy, and my chest feels like it’s filled with air, ready to pop. It’s as if I’m floating around, and my feet can’t touch the ground, but in the best way possible.

In the most amazing way possible.

I really like Zanders, and that’s terrifying. But being scared feels a lot better than not giving in to what I want.

Opening the bottom drawer of Zanders’ oversized dresser, I find multiple pairs of sweatpants, leggings, and cotton shorts. A few different sweatshirts, some with hoods, some without. A plethora of T-shirts and flannels, but the thing that every single one of these articles of clothing has in common is that they’re brand new with tags still attached.

It’s thoughtful as hell and not because he spent money on me. Zanders throws money around like it’s nobody’s business. But because he bought everything in about five different sizes. There are pants in here that I could never squeeze into in a million years, yet there are some that would be so big I’d be swimming in them. But the point is, he went out of his way not to guess my size and get it wrong. It’s happened to me before, and that shit is embarrassing. Instead, he got every size across the spectrum so I could pick what I feel most comfortable in.

It reminds me of the Christmas gift he got me. Three pairs of sweatpants in three different sizes. And the more I get to know Zanders, the more intentional I realize that was.

I’m not going to lie. I’m about two seconds from tears because I’ve never had someone understand the struggle of having clothes bought for them. Most of the time, it’s awkward when assumptions are made and things don’t fit correctly. Then there’s this guilt associated with being unable to wear said gift.

So, this, this makes me feel overwhelmingly seen.

I form a pile of the clothes that I’ll never be able to wear, either because they’re too big or too small, and put them to the side so I can make sure to donate them later today. I won’t be able to get use out of them, but someone else will, and Zanders doesn’t exactly seem like a “returns” guy.

Taking all the pieces and sizes I picked to keep, I replace them in the bottom drawer, claiming that small bit of Zanders’ penthouse. But instead of getting dressed in something he bought me, I hesitate. He gave me permission to wear something of his, which sounds nice.

I’ve never worn a guy’s clothes before. Not in a cute way, at least. I’ve never been able to because men’s clothing is cut straight up and down, but I’m all curves. Their shirts and hoodies always get too tight around my midsection, and their pants can’t get around my ass and hips. But Zanders is a huge man with thighs thicker than mine, so maybe it’ll work.

Rifling through his drawers, I find a T-shirt and a pair of basketball shorts, and I can’t even explain the little jolt of victory that flows through my chest when they slip on with ease. I’ll probably never tell anyone this because it seems so small and unimportant, but for the first time in my life, I feel the way all the other girls did when I was growing up, and they got to wear their boyfriends’ hoodies or jerseys to games.

I find Zanders standing shirtless over the stove, his gold chain and tattoos doing all sorts of things to me at this morning hour.

“Now, don’t get too excited about breakfast. I have no idea what I’m doing, nor have I ever cooked for someone before.”

I bury my head into his back, wrapping my arms around his waist. “I’ll be happy with anything.”

He gives me a soft grin over his shoulder, but when his stare finds his clothes on my body, that smile grows.

I grab his hand, spatula and all, holding it up to examine it. “You should probably take that off before you get in the shower again.” I nod towards the ring of mine he’s wearing on his pinky finger. “Mine aren’t as nice as yours. That’ll for sure turn your finger green.”

He turns his head, putting his lips on mine. “Sounds like I need to replace all yours one day.”

“That’s not what I meant. I don’t need you to spend money on me. I already have my brother doing it too much.”

I turn to walk out of the kitchen, but Zanders grabs me by the waist, pulling me into him. “Maybe you should let us. I’ve never had someone to spend my money on other than myself and the Maddisons, but it sounds nice.”

Turning to face him, I tilt my head. “I don’t give a shit about your money, Zee. I don’t want you to think that has anything to do with my feelings for you.”

I don’t want you to think another person is using you for your money the way your mom is trying.

He laughs it off. “Sweetheart, I fucking know that. You choose to wear secondhand clothes, and your brother makes millions of dollars a year. No part of me thinks you’re using me for my money.”

Rolling my eyes, I melt into him, realizing how ridiculous I probably sound.

“It’s actually one of the things that made me realize I liked you,” he continues. “I don’t give a fuck that your brother is famous, but it was nice to see that you weren’t impressed by anything material when it came to me. I couldn’t use that part of my life to impress you, and that was something I was used to doing.”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, you sap. Fine, you can buy me new jewelry. But I want the expensive shit.”

Zanders’ deep laugh echoes off the kitchen walls. “Deal,” he seals with a kiss. “My laptop is on the table for you.”

Opening his computer, I make myself comfortable at Zanders’ dining room table.

“You’ll come pick up Rosie with me today?” he asks from the kitchen.

“I don’t think I should. It’s her first day with you. I don’t want her to get attached to me when she’s your dog.”

That causes the giant shirtless defenseman in the kitchen to keel over in laughter. “Vee.” He pauses, unable to speak. “Rosie is obsessed with me. You’re old news.”

Mouth gaping in mock offense, I shoot him a deadly look, but unfortunately, he’s not wrong. “Asshole.”

He shrugs it off, finding himself hilarious.

“Regardless, I think your guys’ first day together should be just the two of you.”

“Fine. If you insist.” He makes his way to me, coffee in hand. “Holy shit.” He pauses at the dining room table. “I don’t even know how you like your coffee.”

My eyes crinkle with amusement. This is cute and a whole new side of him I get to discover. “With alcohol preferably, knowing my mother is going to be on this call.”

“Alcohol it is.” He comes back with a bottle of Baileys in his hand, pouring the creamy liqueur into my black coffee.

“I was kidding.”

“I wasn’t.”

While I sit in the waiting room of our video chat, my knees bounce with nerves. I no longer have the gold ring on my thumb I can spin, so instead, I awkwardly fiddle with the hem of Zanders’ shirt I’m wearing while my eyes bounce around the room.

I was in this room for quite a while last night, but I somehow missed the vase of red roses hidden in the corner by the window.

“Zee!” I call into the next room over. “Are those flowers for me?”

He peeks his head around the partition, eyes on the vase. “Oh no. Not for you because last night was not a date. Not in the slightest.” His cheeky smile is adorable.

“Morning, Vee,” my brother says, popping onto our video call.

Zanders shoots me a wink, calming some of my nerves and leaving me alone with my family.

“Happy Birthday, Dad,” is the first thing I say as soon as he and my mother pop onto the screen.

My dad is dressed down as they sit in their living room, but my mother is decked out with a full face of makeup, her hair perfectly styled, and her outfit smooth and fitted. I would expect nothing less, even at this early hour.

“Happy Birthday, Dad,” Ryan adds. “Sorry, I have to make this so quick. I need to catch the team bus soon.”

“No problem, I know you’re both busy. I’m just happy I get to see my two kiddos.”

“Ryan, are you ready for your game tonight?” My mother bursts with pride.

“I think so. It’s slotted for ESPN. Are you guys going to watch?”

“Of course, we are.” My mother beams. “We wouldn’t miss it for anything.”

“Vee…” My dad sits forward, eyes squinting. “Where are you? That doesn’t look like your apartment.”

My eyes dart to Zanders as he walks into the room with a plate in his hand, but he makes sure to stay out of view of the camera.

“Uhh,” I hesitate. Regardless of my parents being allowed to know who I’m dating, I don’t want them to. I don’t want my mother to ruin this. “I stayed at a friends’ place last night.”

That causes Ryan to choke on his own saliva, knowing I’m full of shit. I’d pay good money that he knows exactly where I am even though I didn’t tell him.

Zanders places my breakfast on the table behind the computer, so no one sees him before he gives me a shy, apologetic grin and heads back to the kitchen. That breakfast he was working on is nowhere in sight. Instead, two pieces of our deep-dish pizza from last night cover my plate, which works for me. Zanders might not be great in the kitchen, but where he lacks in domestic skills, he makes up in other ways.

The five-hundred-mile distance between Chicago and Nashville couldn’t be more needed as I feel my mother’s disapproving gaze through the computer screen. I can sense her blue eyes analyze my clothing and makeup-less face before they linger on my disastrous morning hair.

I chug my boozy coffee and stuff my face with cold pizza as she does.

The conversation is relatively quick and painless, keeping the attention on my dad and his plans for the day, but when my mom asks me to stay on the call when my brother needs to leave for his morning shootaround, the nerves kick into high gear.

“How are you doing?” she asks.

My brows furrow in confusion. This is weird. My dad isn’t even in the room anymore to fake it for. “I’m good….”

My mother sits up straighter. When it comes to me, I rarely see her beaming smile, but it’s on full display today. “Brett called me the other day.”

“Oh God.” I bury my hands in my face. “Why?”

“He was hoping I could talk to you about giving him another chance, and Stevie, I really don’t understand why you wouldn’t.”

That motherfucking fuckface. What a little bitch. He went to my mother of all people, who he knows I have a rocky relationship with, in order to use her to manipulate me into giving him another chance. Because for the first time ever, I said no to his games, so he went to my mother instead.

Dick.

“Mom, I didn’t like who I was when I was dating Brett, so that should be reason enough for me not to get back together with him, and I’d rather not explain all the sordid details.”

“Well, Stevie, you’re not getting any younger.”

Can she stop with that bullshit line? “Why the hell does age matter?”

Oh shit.

“Excuse me, young lady. Do not raise your voice at me. And age matters because of children and marriage and all the other things I would have hoped you’d accomplish by now.”

I can’t stop now, and I don’t care.

“Are you kidding me?” My voice is shaky and raised, causing Zanders to pop his head around the corner, checking on me. “Maybe I don’t want kids. Maybe I don’t want to get married. Maybe I don’t want to do any of the things you’ve expected of me.”

“Well, that’s clear. You certainly haven’t done a single thing I expected of you.”

“You’re right, Mom. I’m such a disappointment, aren’t I? Because I’d rather volunteer at a dog shelter than stay home and play Stepford wife. Or because I’d rather shop at a thrift store than wear whatever shit you and all your pretentious friends wear. Or maybe I’m a disappointment because I don’t want to marry the guy who used me for three years while he was bored. I’m sorry I don’t want to be his option anymore, Mom, but I’m done with both of you making me feel like I’m not enough. I’m really done with anyone who makes me feel that way.”

“Stevie, I—”

My mother can’t continue because Zanders quickly walks behind the computer and closes the laptop on her.

“What are you doing?!” I’m still fired up, the energy flowing through my bones. I want to keep going. I want to say everything that’s ever been on my mind. I have no idea where this is coming from, but now I can’t stop.

“I’m stopping her.” Zanders’ voice is calm and centered. “You said what you needed to say, and from what I could tell, anything she had in rebuttal, I wouldn’t want to hear. Until she learns how to speak to you, she’s not going to. At least, not in my house.”

I take a few deep breaths, calming myself. Or at least trying to.

“Are you okay?” he softly asks.

“She’s such a bitch.”

A laugh heaves from his chest. “Yeah, she is. But are you okay?”

I exhale a long deep breath. “Yeah, actually, I am. That felt good.”

“Hell yeah, it did. That’s my girl.”

I would like to say I don’t know where this newfound confidence came from, but that would be a lie. It’s thanks to a 6’5′ hockey player covered in tattoos and gold jewelry who doesn’t let me forget my worth.

“I just want her to accept me for who I am, and the fact that her approval, or lack thereof, bothers me so much is infuriating.”

“Not to get all preachy on you, Vee, but the right people, the ones who deserve to be in your life, they’re going to accept you for exactly who you are. That’s something I’ve quickly learned lately.”

My head tilts to the side, my expression softening and my previous anger dissipating. “I accept you for who you are.”

He scrunches his nose before taking the seat next to me and urging me from my chair, guiding me to sit across his lap. “I know you do.” That comes with a quick kiss. “And I accept you, but more importantly than all of that, at some point, you’re going to need to accept yourself.”

Ugh, this man. “Okay, Mr. Almost a Decade of Therapy.” I hide away in his neck, my voice muffled against his skin. “I do accept myself.”

He pulls away, forcing me to look him in his hazel eyes. “Do you?”

Nodding, I quietly add, “I do actually, yeah. I’ve started to accept that my body is different than the girls I grew up with, and that’s okay. And I’ve embraced my curly hair compared to what I thought I once wanted. I’ve just spent so much time with people who made me feel like I wasn’t good enough or I didn’t look the way they wanted me to that I didn’t think I was allowed to like it. But I’m starting to.”

The softest, most proud grin spreads across Zanders’ lips as he looks at me.

“Not all the time,” I continue. “There are a lot of days where I’m still uncomfortable in my skin, but that used to be every day. That’s not the case anymore.”

He moves the mess I like to call my morning hair away from my face. “Progress, Vee.”

“Progress,” I agree.

“One day, I hope you can fully appreciate the body you’re living in because, sweetheart, it’s smoking hot, and my dick has never been happier.”

“Jesus.” I fall back with a laugh. “You’re the worst.”

“You’re obsessed with me. Admit it.” He covers my neck and cheek with kisses. “Hey, I’m getting a new number, so I’ll text you with it later, okay?”

“Because of your mom?”

Zanders’ expression goes blank and rigid before he nods in agreement.

“Do you want to talk about yesterday?”

“Not really, no.”

I shoot him an understanding smile. “Okay.”

Zanders hesitates, searching my face before taking a deep breath. “I had a panic attack because I was so angry with her for everything. For calling me, for leaving me when I was a teenager, for trying to come back into my life because of my paychecks. I don’t have them often, but if I get really upset and I can’t think straight, sometimes I fall into them.”

I keep my arms wrapped around his neck.

“Does that freak you out?” he cautiously asks. “Maybe I should chill out on telling you absolutely everything. That’s a lot to put on you.”

My brows crease in confusion. “What? No, of course not. I think it’s probably the most attractive thing about you, your openness towards your mental health.”

“More attractive than my smoking hot bod, or, as you moaned multiple times last night, my award-winning dick?” His smile could not be more smug.

“Almost as attractive as your humble personality,” I deadpan. “And your mom is the absolute worst, Zee.”

“So is yours.”

I rest my head on his shoulder. “Look at us,” I tease. “Trauma-bonding.”

His body shakes below mine in a silent laugh. “Yesterday, I realized I think I’m mad at her for hurting my dad, and to be honest, I’ve never thought about it from his perspective before.”

“Have you talked to him?”

“Not since Christmas. Don’t get me wrong, I’m still angry with him, but not as angry as I thought. I’ve been selfish, thinking it was only me who got hurt when it was his wife who left him too. I’m confused about how I feel even as I say it.”

I lightly scratch the skin under his tightly faded haircut. “Progress,” I repeat his earlier words.

His hazel eyes shine in understanding. “Progress.”

He hides his face in my neck. “What do you think about maybe coming to my games?”

“Zee,” I tease, pulling his face away and making him look at me. “So official. Are you asking me to go steady?”

“Yes.” He pops a kiss on my lips.

“Do you really think that’s the best idea? I don’t want anyone to see me.”

“Maybe not, but I’ve never had someone to come cheer for me besides my sister, and it could be nice.”

Understanding floods me. “Then I’ll be there.”

“Yeah?” He beams with hope.

“Yeah, but I need to sit away from the ice where no cameras could catch me in the background. We need to be smart about this.”

“Okay.” His smile is giddy and childish, his perfect teeth unable to hide. “I’ve never had someone to give my season tickets to. I’ll make sure they’re away from the ice. You just make sure your sexy ass is wearing my jersey.”

“Eh, I don’t know about that. I was thinking about rocking number thirty-eight.”

“Rio? Fuck no! You’re only allowed to wear number eleven.”

“Bossy.”

“Oh, sweetheart.” His laugh is dark and condescending as he picks me up, carrying me back to his room. “You haven’t seen anything yet.”

“Eleven is just such a boring number.”

“You’re asking for it now, Stevie girl.” He tosses me on his bed. “Besides, nothing boring about being number one twice. Why do you think I picked it?”

An understanding laugh flows through me. “It’s all making sense.”

He lies down on the bed, patting the mattress next to his face. “Come here. Put your knees on either side of my head and sit right here.” A single index finger bounces against his lips.

“What?” I release a startled laugh. “Absolutely not. I will suffocate you.”

“Sweetheart, death by pussy is the only way I plan on going, so get over here. If I don’t make you come at least twice before my game tonight, I don’t think we’ll win.”

Playfully rolling my eyes, I contemplate for a moment before an excited smile takes over. “If this is your form of punishment, remind me to piss you off more often.” I get naked and quickly climb over him, my knees on either side of his head as I use the wall in front of me to steady myself, allowing me to hover over him.

“I love when you piss me off, and I said sit. Not hover.” He pulls my hips down, his mouth finding my clit. His talented tongue works its magic and the only thought that flows through my mind is, how the hell did I get so lucky?