“Mm-hmm.”
His grip tightened, tugging in a way that pulled me deeper into him, into the ecstasy he created. At my ear, he murmured, “You take it so well for me.”
Chase thrust harder, changing the angle and sending the pleasure past the limits of what I could tolerate. My vision turned fuzzy, and I buried my face in his shoulder to quiet myself.
As I hit the peak, he angled my face up to his and planted a scorching kiss on my lips, muffling my cries. My nails dug into his skin as pleasure spilled over in a wave. It was bright, blinding, all-consuming. I lost awareness of everything but what he was doing to my body.
Just as it was starting to recede, he thrust into me harder. Both of his hands flew to my waist, and he pulled me against him. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”
Then he stilled, dropping his forehead against mine. Drawing in a shaky breath, I placed my palms on his chest, feeling his heart pound against his ribcage. While not all that risqué, it was the most public thing I’d done—ever. And I’d liked it.
Pulling back, he studied me, biting his knuckle with a grin. “You look freshly fucked, baby.”
“You might want to look in the mirror before you get too cocky there, Carter.”
He glanced at his reflection and laughed. “Good point.”
OceanofPDF.com
CHAPTER 44
OceanofPDF.com
SURE DOES
Bailey
On the way home a few hours later, I curled up against the passenger door, eyelids heavy with looming sleep. But that didn’t stop Chase from grilling me about my run-in with Luke.
As we drove, the streetlights cast flickers of shadows across Chase’s profile. Reluctantly, I gave him the whole story, including the part where Luke called me a slut. The more I spoke, the more his face clouded over with anger. Not just anger—rage. His grip on the steering wheel got tighter and tighter, the cords in his neck tensing to match.
“Then he drove away,” I finished.
“Fuck!” Chase smacked the steering wheel with his open palm. “I’m going to snap his neck like a twig.”
He drew in a breath and let out a low growl. “Maybe break his legs first,” he muttered, shaking his head. “Or his fingers. One at a time. Pull out some teeth with pliers too.”
After his verbal rampage, he fell silent for several moments. I stole a glance at him but didn’t know what to say. He was on a precariously short leash, especially given that he was operating a motor vehicle. It wasn’t that he was flying off the handle. Just the opposite. An eerie, overly quiet calm had settled over him. The kind that meant something lethal was brewing beneath the surface.
“I hope you know I’m not mad at you,” Chase said quietly. “Just at him and what he did.”
“I know.” But part of me felt strangely guilty that he was so upset.
“Has he texted you since I wrote him back from your phone?” His tone was unnaturally even. “I need the truth.”
“No.” Chase’s threats tended to put Luke off temporarily. It just never stuck.
“Are you sure?”
“Promise. I can show you if you want.”
“You need to block him, baby.”
“Good call.” I yawned. “I will now that I’ve moved.”
Chase added, “Better yet, change your number so he can’t contact you from someone else’s phone. And for the love of god, no more attending games alone. Please.”
“Deal. On both counts.”
Getting a new number would be a hassle, which was why I’d been resistant initially, but Chase was right—Luke wasn’t above using other people’s phones to contact me. I knew that from experience. A clean slate was worth the inconvenience.
The game thing might be trickier, but I would make it work somehow. I wasn’t eager to live through a repeat of what Luke did, either.
Chase turned onto the freeway entrance ramp. After shoulder-checking, he merged into the middle lane. I closed my eyes, snuggling against a black hoodie that I’d snagged from the back seat and folded into a makeshift pillow. It smelled like him. He probably wasn’t getting it back. Sorry, Carter.
A few more seconds of silence passed, then he sucked in a sharp inhale. “I’m sorry, I can’t get past this. Why the hell didn’t you call me? What if he’d hurt you?”
“A few reasons,” I said, eyes still closed.
“Like…”
“I guess part of me feels like it’s my fault.”
My fault for dating Luke in the first place; my fault for not handling him correctly and provoking him; my fault for going to the hockey game alone.
“James.” His voice softened. “That’s not even a little true.”
“How is it not?”
“You’re not responsible for anything that fucker does.”
It didn’t feel that way.
“That and I don’t want you to get yourself into trouble,” I said.
“One of these days I’m going to have to make good on my threats to him or they won’t mean anything.”
“Can you limit beating him to when you’re on the ice so you don’t go to jail?”
“Trust me when I say that I am trying very, very hard to do that. Counting down the days until I can demolish him,” he said. “But if he pulls something like that car thing again, he’s leaving in a body bag.”
“Chase.” I groaned.
“Don’t worry,” he said. “I can afford a top-notch lawyer. Call it self-defense or something, whatever.”
He paused. “Or maybe I should hire a hit man. It would be money well spent.”
I couldn’t tell if he was serious.
OceanofPDF.com
CHASE
Bailey dozed off after she spilled the ugly truth, which gave me fifteen minutes to breathe deeply and cool down before we got home.
Or at least to shift into quietly planning Morrison’s dismemberment while attempting to behave like a normal human, outwardly speaking.
I wasn’t upset with her—especially after she told me she felt like it was her fault. That admission had guilt smashing me in the face like a slapshot.
I hated him that much more for making her think that.
And I really fucking hated him for scaring her.
Tomorrow was supposed to be my rest day, and now Morrison had fucked that up too, because I had serious amounts of aggression to work out on the ice or in the gym. Maybe both.
Or I could find his address and take it out on the source…
Also planned to consult Ward and Ty about orchestrating the most damaging on-ice hit possible that wouldn’t land me a suspension or expulsion from the league. Still needed to mull that one over. Maybe get out the whiteboard and draw up some diagrams evaluating potential plans of action, optimizing speed, and leveraging angles. Watch some videos online, like compilations of the NHL’s most devastating hits. You know, research that shit and really get it right.
I pulled into the visitor parking for Bailey’s apartment building and shifted into park. As I did, the truck lurched slightly, causing her to stir. Bailey let out a tiny, adorable groan and pushed herself upright, stretching sleepily.
“Sorry,” I said quietly. “We’re home.”
She unbuckled her seat belt and turned to me, still bleary-eyed with sleep. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah, I’m good.” I had to put the Morrison thing on ice for the time being. I wouldn’t let that creep ruin my night with her.
We headed upstairs to change and get ready for bed in a pattern that was nearly automatic by now. I knew everything down to the color of her toothbrush. She even had her own drawer at my place. I didn’t recognize myself, but that was a good thing.
Climbing under the covers, I threw an arm around Bailey, and she nestled against me with a hand splayed on my stomach. She was wearing one of my shirts; she had a rotation of them now, and it was, as always, fucking adorable. And her blond hair smelled faintly of her fruity shampoo, which, oddly enough, was a turn-on for me. Probably because it brought about visions of her naked and wrapped around me while I pulled it.