Off Season (Off #6) (3 page)

Yes, we talked about
it all… taking breaks in between our colloquy to start kissing
and caressing again, punctuated with deep groans and satisfied smiles
when it was all said and done.

Damn, but I’m
feeling all out of sorts when it comes to Zane Kavanaugh. My
well-laid plan to get in, get laid, and get out doesn’t seem to
be working.

I click on his email
and open it up.

To:
[email protected] (Cady Dunne)

From:
[email protected] (Zane Kavanaugh)

Subject: Regrets
Are Subjective Anyway

Date: August 29,
2014

Cady,

I realized
shortly after you left that maybe there was, in fact, one regret that
I might have. And that was in not asking for a way to contact you. I
know that sounds weird, seeing as how I live in the States and you
live in Ireland, but I figured… we might not be able to see
each other, but why can’t we remain friends and keep in
contact?

While I fucking
loved having my face between your legs and being buried balls deep
inside of you multiple times, I also realize that I really liked
talking to you. You’re a cool girl, Cady Dunne, and as such…
my only real Irish friend. If that makes me sound like a girl, I hope
that doesn’t turn you off. If instead it makes me seem very
mature, and you’d like to keep up with each other, I say let’s
go for it.

The hockey season
will be starting soon, and life will be crazy for me. I don’t
have any real close friends outside of my teammates, and my time is
always limited between practices, games, and travel, but I know I’d
always have some time to keep up with how you’re doing.

So yeah…
regrets are subjective, and I’ve decided to wipe out that one
regret I had. I got your email from Linc and so I am reaching out.
Ball is in your court, Irish Lass. You now have my email. If you ever
get adventurous, my cell phone is 602-555-1448. Your sweet Irish
accent would not be hard to listen to.

Take care,

Zane

As soon as I finish
reading, I realize my palms are damp with sweat and my adrenaline is
spiking through me. How can I feel such a moment of thrill and
elation just from reading an email?

My cheeks heat as I
read back through it again, imagining the way his face was, in fact,
between my legs. He went down on me as soon as he shut my bedroom
door and divested me of all my clothing. He was like a tornado, his
hands whipping all around me as he pulled everything off. He was
still fully clothed when he pushed me down onto the bed, spread my
legs, and brought his mouth to me.

It was the first,
but not the last time, that I had screamed out, thankful that Linc
and Ever’s bedroom was on the other end of the house. Zane
growled in approval over my vocal demonstration and attacked me with
his lips and tongue. I came for the second time supremely fast, my
thighs clamping onto his head and probably strangling the poor man as
he gently licked at me as I fell off my high.

God, he was amazing
in bed. I’ve never been with another man before that was so
focused on a woman’s body. If we weren’t actually
fucking, and if we weren’t talking, Zane’s mouth was
always busy on my skin. Kissing or licking… sometimes, just
rubbing his cheek over my skin while he hummed with approval and
murmured, “So soft.”

Sex with Zane
Kavanaugh was unparalleled.

It won’t be
able to be reproduced.

I’ll never
have that again in my life.

We live on different
continents, and we won’t have anything between us but talk.

No touch…
just conversation and friendship.

It takes me less
than a second to click on the reply button—my mind made up. I
may not be able to have with Zane what I really want, but I will take
the friendship he is offering. I like him… a lot. As a person,
as a friend, but sadly again never as a lover.

But this would be
enough. It would have to be.

To: Zane
Kavanaugh

From: Cady Dunne

Subject: Who
Needs Regrets

Date: August 30,
2014

Shock probably
isn’t a good enough word over seeing your email in my inbox,
but you’ll be happy to know that it was a good kind of shock.
You know… like the type you receive when you walk into your
house unsuspecting that your family is throwing you a surprise party
for your 21
^st
birthday. You first get that
jolt of surprise, followed by a moment where your stomach bottoms
out, which precedes a sharp scream that tears out of your throat,
then supreme joy over realizing what was going on.

Not that I have
any experience with that.

That’s
certainly how I felt when I saw your email.

Yes, I would love
to continue on a friendship with you. I can imagine your schedule is
hectic, but I’m here to listen to any tirades over a loss (not
that I expect you’ll be losing many games) or if you want to
dish about the latest celebrity gossip. I’m really not sure
what a friendship with you would entail, seeing as how you would
officially be my very first
male-friend-that-I-had-sex-with-before-I-decided-to-become-friends-with-him.
It puts you in a solely unique category, and I figure this will
evolve over time. Who knows… maybe I’ll be able to piss
and moan to you over my period cramps and you can confess to me your
secret love of romance novels or something. I’ll be your
confidant so to speak.

Well, I’m
off to get some dinner and then head back to bed to sleep off this
jet lag. Classes start tomorrow, and I have to appear somewhat
intrigued by what the professors will be talking about.

Cheers,

Cady

I sit back in my
chair and sip at my tea, letting my eyes roam over my response a few
times. I want it to sound friendly… because that’s what
this is. A friendship.

But I don’t
hit the
send
button yet because a part of me is a bit
dissatisfied with what I’m not saying. Zane clearly had no
problem referencing the intimacy we shared. He just laid it out
there… the fact that his face was between my legs and he was
balls deep inside of me. Those images flit through my mind, making my
skin feel warm and flushed. He wants a friendship, but he shared
intimate memories.

Perhaps I should do
the same… just so he knows that I very much loved everything
that we did together that night.

I may end up driving
myself crazy by engaging in this foolishness, but I just can’t
help myself. I start typing.

P.S. I remember
fondly and in a totally squirm-in-my-seat kind of way what you did to
me with your face between my legs. It was transcendental, and I will
be revisiting that memory on many a cold and lonely night.

My lips twitch, and
then I smile full blown. Let him think on that and consider what I’m
feeling right now. A friendship across this distance, after what we
shared with each other, is going to be difficult.

It’s going to
be interesting, but damn… there’s going to be
frustration.

Zane

September

I hear the chime
indicating the plane has reached above ten-thousand feet, so I reach
down to my backpack under the seat in front of me, pulling out my
laptop. Turning it on so I can log onto the airline’s
complimentary Wi-Fi, I patiently wait for it to boot up while letting
my mind wander.

To Cady.

We’ve kept up
a steady stream of emails back and forth to each other the last few
weeks, and every time I hit the button to send her another
communication, I find my patience wearing thin waiting for her
response.

Somewhere in our
decision to become email friends, I discounted the fact that I would
grow closer to her the more we got to know each other. It never
occurred to me that even with Cady sitting across the Atlantic Ocean,
I would start to feel something for her despite the distance. In
fact, I never really thought this “friendship” would
amount to anything when I first suggested it. I wrote to her that
first time because I was still caught up in the amazing after-effect
feelings of a fantastic fuck.

Correction…
fucks… as in plural.

Because I hit that
more than once, each time better than the time before.

Yeah… I
started this stupid idea of maintaining a “friendship”
with her, but I never really thought it was going to last. I figured
the next piece of ass that came my way would have my mind cleared of
Cady’s soft skin and the delicate Irish lilt in her voice. I
knew the next time I got in a girl’s panties, I would forget
all about the numerous times I blew my load on that one perfect night
with Cady. I was absolutely positive that she’d never be able
to hold my interest for very long, especially when I couldn’t
touch her… kiss her… fuck her. That’s what I
needed and that’s what I wanted, but yet… I wait each
day, wondering what her next email to me will say. And the truth of
the matter is… I haven’t been with another woman since
she left.

It’s fucking
with my head… the way my feelings are starting to morph and
distend into something that I don’t even recognize about
myself.

Whereas Zane
Kavanaugh basically liked to fuck his way through women, the man that
looks back in the mirror at me now finds pleasure in hearing about
Cady’s day, or the crazy antics of her best friend, Teagan, who
is apparently like a female version of me… or so Cady says. I
want to hear all about the pathetic guy that sits beside her in her
Educational and Social Policy class, and whether or not he’s
grown a pair of balls big enough to ask out the girl that sits on the
other side of him. He apparently whines to Cady about it quite a bit,
and it’s hilarious the way she tries to buck him up to no
avail. She’s made it her mission to fortify his backbone this
module—they call them modules, not semesters—and get him
a date.

My home screen
appears on my Mac, and I quickly hit the mail icon. It’s not
until my breath gushes out in relief over seeing an email from Cady
that I realize I had needed to hear from her a little too much. So,
in order to prove to myself that my entire existence isn’t
focused on hearing from the black-haired, blue-eyed temptress, I
purposely ignore her email and scroll through the others.

That lasts all of
about thirty seconds. Then I’m clicking on IrishLass1990, so I
can get my daily dose of Cady.

To: Zane
Kavanaugh

From: Cady Dunne

Subject: Victory
At Last

Date: September
12, 2014

I am pleased to
inform you that my meek little classmate has finally built up enough
nerve to approach her. God, Zane… my heart was pounding as I
watched him walk up to her after class, repetitively wiping his hands
on his pants because you and I both know how sweaty they were, right?
I swear… his face was actually a shade of green when she made
eye contact with him. But it went off better than expected. His
stutter was to a minimum and even though he kept glancing at me for
emotional reassurance, he got the words out. I think it was something
like, “Wouldyoupleasegooutwithme?” He practically
screamed it at her and it came out so fast, I couldn’t
understand what he said, and I know she didn’t either.

I thought for
sure he was doomed but then he took a deep breath, which is exactly
what I advised him to do if he got nervous, and tried again…
this time a little slower, and a little clearer. It must have been
said with a great deal of charm too because before I knew it, she was
smiling at him and giving him her number.

Score!!!

My work is done,
and now I feel complete.

So, what are you
up to? I’m thinking you are probably on the plane right now.
Right? I bet you are so excited to see your family. I can’t
even imagine living so far from mine, especially as close as we are.
And, because I do know, in fact, how close you are to your parents
and your “bratty little sister,” who I am quite positive
is not bratty at all despite how many times you tell me that, I can
guess how you must feel living so far away from them.

My advice is to
relax and enjoy these last few days you have off before training camp
starts. Because your ass is getting ready to get super busy.

Okay… have
to run. Teagan’s here and we’re going out tonight. I hope
she doesn’t keep yammering at me to go out with her co-worker.
You know, the one I told you about. I might just have to give in so
she’ll shut up. Have you ever been on a blind date before? The
thought of it makes me nervous, but maybe I’m being silly.

Okay, I’m
really out…

Have fun visiting
your family! Talk soon.

Cheers,

Cady

My stomach dips and
rolls, not having a damn thing to do with a turbulent flight. She had
mentioned in her last email to me that Teagan was trying to set her
up on a date with some dude. An architect, apparently, which I’m
betting makes him an uber douche.

I sort of just
ignored that little piece of information she had handed out to me.
I’m not even going to mention it when I write back. I won’t
mention it because my heart wants me to tell her not to do it. There
are a million reasons I can throw out to her to dissuade her from
going out with this guy, but my fears are keeping me silent. I don’t
want her to think this is anything more than a friendship, and if I
ever admit to her that my blood boils with jealous thoughts over the
mere idea of her going out with someone, she’d think I am
certifiably crazy.