“Thanks, B.” Noelle didn’t look up from the newspaper layout she was finalizing. When she was in the zone, she didn’t switch gears for even a second. She raked a hand through her blunt, midnight bob, thick hair falling perfectly back into place.
I reached over and grabbed my now-cold coffee and gulped the rest of it back. I’d pushed through the week fueled by excessive caffeine, sheer determination, and copious amounts of unhealthy food. Probably pushing the upper limits of safe caffeine consumption at this point, but I needed to be functional for a few more hours.
I could start healthy habits another time—like after graduation.
Checking the time, I did a quick mental calculation and determined I could submit my internship application before Chase arrived. I already had a current resume because of the scholarship package, so all I had to add was a quick cover letter. After writing that up, I crossed my fingers and held my breath, then submitted it to the email address listed. Then I let out a heavy sigh, trying to calm my nerves. Between the internship and the scholarship, maybe one of them would work out.
Before I knew it, an innocent kiss hello turned into a full-on make-out session in the parking lot.
Chase tangled his fingers in my hair, pulling me closer. My chest fluttered as his lips slanted against mine, the kiss turning heated and demanding. He pushed deeper into my mouth as he grabbed me by the hips and picked me up, placing me on top of him.
I was literally straddling him, complete with the steering wheel digging into my backside. And something else digging in between my legs. It was exceedingly cramped, not to mention incredibly public.
I didn’t care.
We were parked in the back corner of the lot, at least.
Mouth still latched to mine, he slid his palms down my sides and gripped my ass, crushing my body against his. The pull between my legs intensified, pleasure curling through my core. I dug my fingers into his shoulders, clutching the firm muscle to steady myself. Every touch, every movement he made, ramped up my desire, making me lightheaded, almost dizzy.
I only snapped back to reality when his hands slid under the hem of my shirt and crept up along my bare skin.
“Carter.” I giggled and pulled back, grabbing hold of his large wrists.
He ducked his head, capturing my lips with his again. “Sorry,” he murmured against my mouth, nipping at my bottom lip and releasing it. “Forgot where I was for a minute.”
We pulled apart, and I studied his face, including the bright red gash above his eyebrow. Carefully, I cupped his chin and turned his head to find a fresh bruise blooming on the right side of his jaw. I caressed his skin with gentle fingers, afraid to push too hard and inflict more pain.
I winced. “Do those hurt?”
“A little.” He gave me a lopsided grin. “But not as much as what I did to the other guys, probably.”
“You didn’t tell me you got into a fight.”
Chase could definitely throw down gloves—and he didn’t back away from it when someone else did—but he didn’t fight all that frequently. He was more prone to trash talking and rattling the other side so they missed shots and made other stupid errors. Occasionally, he engaged in the odd shoving match or a scrum, generally falling short of an altercation.
College hockey was strict, which meant full-on fist fighting didn’t happen nearly as often as it did in the NHL. If this was a glimpse into the crystal ball, I was a little worried about the future. I’d never seen him look so ragged after a game.
“Got into a few,” he said. “But I figured you’d do the math when you saw me.”
“Why? What’s going on?”
“Nothing.” Chase lifted a shoulder. He was being evasive. “I didn’t start most of them.”
I tried to fight a smile and failed. “You mean you didn’t throw the first punch.” We both knew fights started long before that.
“Close enough.” One hand slid up the side of my neck, drawing my lips to his again. I melted a little, desire unraveling within me. “Maybe I was going through James withdrawal. I hear it’s very serious. Life-threatening, potentially.”
My heart stuttered. He knew how to work me inside and out.
“You’re changing the subject,” I said between kisses. “And it’s working.”
After another minute and another failed attempt of his to start removing my clothes, we grew too impatient to stay in the parking lot.
“Let’s go home,” I whispered, leaning my head on his shoulder. “Then we can pick up where we left off.”
“Deal.”
I climbed off him and buckled my seat belt while he adjusted himself before shifting the truck into reverse. At least I wasn’t the only one who was hot and bothered.
“By the way,” he said, glancing down at the backup camera, “did you get hit on while you were walking over to the truck?”
I shrugged. “I guess.”
Chase laughed and shook his head. “And you said you never get hit on. What did that guy say?”
“He asked if I knew CPR…because I took his breath away.” I rolled my eyes.
“Psh. Weak pickup line.”
It was. You could tell the guy was just roaming campus, throwing that out to every solo girl he encountered.
“You’re one to talk, Mr. Wannabe Air Traffic Controller.” I reached over and poked him in the ribs.
He flinched and caught hold of my hand, placing it palm-down on his thigh. My mind instantly traveled back to our kiss moments ago and all the things that would happen in about twenty minutes.
“Hey, that kept you talking to me for a solid couple of minutes. Better than getting shot down out of the gate.”
“Pretty sure I did shoot you down,” I said, squeezing his leg. “You just kept talking. And talking.”
“Which worked, because you fell for my charm.”
Cocky bastard. Hot, cocky bastard. Yet he wasn’t totally wrong.
“I believe my words to Zara and Noelle were something like ‘he’s a hot jerk.’”
“You also threatened to stab me with a cocktail stirrer.” He smirked. “And yet you came back.”
“True. But with the number of metaphors you threw out on the spot, I should have known you had a dirty mind.”
He lowered his voice, his eyes raking over me and leaving a trail of heat across my body in their wake.
“When it comes to you? The dirtiest.”
I bit my bottom lip. “Yeah? Prove it.”
“Famous last words, James.”
OceanofPDF.com
CHAPTER 46
OceanofPDF.com
THE FILTHIEST
Bailey
At some point during the drive back to my place, the mood shifted from playful to solemn. Something was weighing on Chase’s mind, and whatever it was could probably explain his multiple altercations in the game earlier tonight. I was tempted to ask, but when he was reticent like this, prying wouldn’t get me anywhere, so I held out.
After a few minutes of silence, Chase spoke up. “Have you talked to Derek lately?” He signaled and pulled onto my street. The veins in his forearms bulged as his hold on the steering wheel tightened. Suddenly, he was tense, and now I was too. We rarely discussed my brother, for obvious reasons.
“About what?”
“I met with him the other day.”
Alarm bells sounded in my head. When Chase was vague about details and slow to get to the point, it was a fishing expedition to determine what I already knew. Which, in this case, was nothing, as I was taken completely by surprise by this revelation.
Though Derek had acted strangely when we last spoke.
“Why did you do that?”
Chase parallel parked against the curb and killed the engine. He unbuckled his seat belt, turning to face me, wearing an unreadable expression. If I had to guess, I might have said he looked nervous, which was a look I was unfamiliar with on him. Chase was always sure of himself, almost always forthcoming.
A wave of uneasiness engulfed me. Please tell me they didn’t have some kind of argument about me or Luke.
He dropped his gaze to the steering wheel, his brow lowered. “I may have loaned him some money.”