For Pucking Keeps: A Hockey Romance (The Seattle Vipers Series Book 1)

14. Tor

FOURTEEN

Ask me to recall our conversation during the car ride to my penthouse, and for the life of me I can’t. I’m sure I answered Jaz’s enthusiastic questions about the location of my place. I kept everything very casual, not wanting to venture too deep until we were behind closed doors. The entire drive I thought about what I wanted from her. I went over my plan all day, trying to block out coach Lennox’s warnings and my own warring thoughts until I came to my final conclusion.

I want us.

Plain and simple. I can help her with her book, but I don’t want it to be the only reason to see her. I want to make that clear. I want to make a lot of things clear. She is mine. I’m not going to hold back. Oh yes, what I can remember, see even my thoughts had thoughts. What I can recollect is the pounding of my heart in my ears, the sound of my breathing, Jaz’s soft hums to Destin Conrad’s Same Mistake, playing on the radio. The rightness of her hand in mine, the connection between us, the highlight of my night. Not even our winning streak compares, well, maybe me publicly claiming her in front of the world and an audience full of fans may be a close second. All the sensory details of our journey will be etched in my memories forever. Every moment I’ve spent in this woman’s presence has been monumental.

I haven’t let her hand go other than to usher her in my SUV. As soon as I climbed into the driver’s seat, my hand sought out hers, and she didn’t hesitate to take it. I’m still holding it as we pass through the large front atrium of my building. The cream and silver marble floor gleams underneath the vaulted ceiling. Large windows line the front fa?ade of the building, giving a partial eye-level view of Elliot Bay and beyond. Jaz remains quiet beside me, taking it all in, making her own observations of this place, I’m sure.

“Good game, Mr. Bailey,” Lucas calls out from behind his security desk. We come to a stop in front of the desk, five monitors line the inner console with a central keyboard, Lucas has eyes everywhere. It’s the reason why I bought this penthouse, it doesn’t hurt that the man protecting this place is ex-special ops either. He keeps the press and paparazzi at bay, and it’s why I feel comfortable enough to bring Jaz here tonight. After the win we had tonight, everyone will be out wanting to catch a glimpse of the team, little do they know I encouraged my teammates to go home on nights when we have to travel the next day. Hopefully no one does anything ridiculous.

Lucas comes around the desk and extends his hand to Jaz. He smiles warmly as she returns the gesture. I bite back a grumble when he places his hand over hers, instead of giving her a generic handshake. His smile widens as I shift from foot to foot; he knows he is getting to me with this unnecessary show of affection. “You must be Miss Starr. I’ve heard a lot about you. Welcome to Pike Tower.”

Jaz looks up at me in surprise, eyes wide, lips pursed in disbelief. Then returns her gaze back to Lucas. “Really, and what exactly has Mr. Bailey told you?”

“Only good things, I assure you. It is not like him to bring anyone?—”

I cough, cutting Lucas off before he goes straight into my life story before I’m given a chance to open up myself. “I just made Lucas aware that you will be around sometimes and added you to my guest list.”

Lucas looks genuinely confused but I can see his hidden amusement as he smirks in my direction, “Sir, you don’t have a guest list.” He winks. This man. If he wasn’t so good at his job and his wife didn’t cook her ass off, there might be an unmarked grave in his near future. Okay, maybe that’s taking my reaction to my embarrassment a little too far. I give Jaz a little tug, not willing to stay here any longer than we need to. I don’t need Lucas and his intentional loose lips giving more away.

“Night, Lucas,” I say abruptly, pulling Jaz along behind me.

“It was nice to meet you too, Lucas.” Jaz offers a quick wave before we round the corner, stopping in front of a series of elevators. She doesn’t comment on our speedy exit as I punch in a four-digit code to my private elevator, situated at the end of the alcove. I’ll have to remember to give her the code later. To say I have an agenda tonight is an understatement.

Once inside, the elevator climbs to the top floor. Jaz squeezes my hand, her grip firm and sure, the press of her palm to mine, a silent reassurance that she too is waiting for this time alone as much as I am. The tension between us is as live as an active volcano, the pressure is building, until it will finally spew over, rolling slowly like molten lava eating away at the ground beneath it. I wouldn’t say it’s destructive, but I don’t call her Supernova for nothing. The crazy slow burn is maddening; the anticipation, the best foreplay I never thought I needed until now. Until her. If she made me wait, I would gladly keep burning, waiting patiently for her to ignite and catch the flames of desire as fervently as I have. I can’t describe it, all I can do is feel. I glance down into Jaz’s eyes, a kaleidoscope of brilliant colors, and I fall even further, captivated, forever under her spell. I want to open up and tell her how I feel. In a short amount of time I’m completely enraptured. She might not feel the same, in fact, she might run for her life after tonight. But I’m no longer worried about waiting. I open my mouth to confess, but the opening of the elevator doors has my lips slamming shut.

Jaz releases my hand. The absence of her touch has me wanting to reach out and snatch it back. She steps into the small foyer pausing to take in the massive expanse of the ground floor of my open plan penthouse. I hold back as she steps down into the living room, but she walks straight past it all. A modern clean design, with its free-standing fireplace that takes up the center of the space. She ignores the plush U-shape navy blue couch surrounding it, with a massive flat screen television mounted from the ceiling that gives the illusion of it floating mid-air. No, her feet carry her past the gleaming black and white kitchen, to the floor to ceiling windows that wrap around the penthouse on three sides. Another thing we have in common, just like the second floor of her home that I’ve yet to see. It seems Jaz and I both enjoy a spectacular view. Elliot Bay spreads wide in front of us, with Pike Place Market and the Seattle waterfront so close, it feels as if you could reach out and grab it. The shadowy silhouette of the Olympic Mountains in the distance.

Jaz whistles, her hands both splayed wide against the window. I chuckle as she presses her face into the glass and gasps in awe. “This is something, Mr. Bailey. Now this is a view to wake up to,” she whispers, and I can’t keep my feet from taking me closer to her as I eat up the space between us. I watch her watching me through the reflection of the glass as I stop mere inches away. We both freeze. Suddenly, my words fail me. Shoving my hands into my pockets anxiously, I realize I’m a bumbling mess as I spout facts about the penthouse, like I’m a realtor trying to sell the place. The confidence I wear as a second skin on the ice, around my teammates, and every other aspect of my life eludes me. Standing so close, her head tilts up at me, her lips spread wide in a contented smile, she listens to me talk. I’m acutely aware that my truth, my feelings for her, may be too much, too fast, too soon. My bravado seeps out of me with every nervous intake of breath.

“There’s a second floor, with three bedrooms and bathrooms, my gym, office, etc. Oh yeah, there’s a restroom down here, if you need it. Are you hungry? It’s not too late for food, I can order us?—”

“Tor.” The sound of my name, the soft alto of her voice slides over me like a warm soothing blanket. I close my eyes, savoring the comfort. Does she sense my spiraling thoughts, my churning nerves? Does she realize she grounds me just by saying my name?

“Alexis.” Her eyes widen and her mouth falls open at the sound of her real name. To call her anything but who she really is right now feels wrong.

She shakes her head slowly in understanding, as if she is grasping the gravity of the situation brewing between us. She turns her gaze back up to me, smile slowly fading. “You know, when you didn’t take me home, I went with it.” She shrugs, then lifts her hand, tapping one finger against her lips as she begins to pace in front of the window. The shift in the mood throws me but I don’t interrupt, too intrigued to see where this may lead. “So, I thought, he’s taking me to his place, but why?” She snaps her fingers, a true Sherlock Holmes moment if I’ve ever seen one. Fucking adorable. “Then I thought, he is going to hold me hostage in his high-rise penthouse, and I will develop Stockholm syndrome and fall deeply, madly in love with him.”

My mouth opens in protest, but she holds up a finger and stops me.

“Or is he going to tie me to his bed, strip me naked, fuck me, claim me, giving me no choice in the matter.” She turns lost in thought and it’s my turn to stand there in shock.

“What in the hell? Your mind woman?—”

“I’m not okay with non-con tropes. Dub-con, maybe, it depends, but damn the triggers of this entire situation can be endless.” She pauses and I try to keep my face neutral and not let my horror show on my face. My mouth is opening and closing, at a complete loss of the English language, my hands are folding and unfolding over my chest. I’m clearly uncomfortable, but not in the way I think she thinks. Her playful suggestions hold some merit, but I won’t let my darkness show, I’m not that man, but hell, slippery slopes. Then she laughs, not a chuckle, but a bend over, slap your knee type laugh.

“Your face.” Jaz points, then wraps her arms around her stomach with gleeful tears in her eyes. “I’m sorry, Tor. I’m trying to lighten the mood. A little dark romance humor. You seem so anxious. I wanted to shake you, but. . .” She takes a deep breath, then straightens.

“But.” I slip my suit jacket off and let it fall to the floor. In two strides I have her pinned against the windows.

Jaz gasps, her hands press against my chest, her eyes searching mine. I wonder what she sees. “Tor.”

Leaning down until my lips skim over the shell over her ear, I let my body press into hers. My growing erection should be evident as she begins to squirm beneath me. Oh, she can feel it. “Is that what you want, Alexis? Do you want one of Jaz’s books to play out in real life? All those dark, dirty thoughts of yours made reality,” I whisper as I let my lips brush over her ear. I nip at her flesh, making her jump in surprise. Smiling, I pepper soft soothing kisses down the side of her face and jaw slowly, until there is nothing left but her lips before me.

Jaz’s breath hitches and I know I’ve shaken her with my actions. I love turning the tables on her, she thought she had me. I don’t take bunnies home. I don’t have a woman warming my bed nightly. But I know what I want, how I want it, and I know for damn sure I’m not shy about it. “I was just?—”

“There has to be some truth to what you were saying. A secret desire, perhaps,” I say against her lips, kissing her lightly. Jaz shudders, and an excited thrill shoots through me at how responsive she is. “Tell me. Remember, I expect nothing but the truth from you, Miss Starr.”

“It wasn’t my intention, no,” she says breathlessly. “I really was trying to lighten the mood, but holy shit, Mr. Bailey, I’m at your mercy.”

I press my lips to hers again, teasing, chaste even. I pull away just as quickly and she groans with frustration. “I brought you up here to discuss us, Jaz. You and me. But I think I’ll just tell you right here, right now. You are mine, Alexis Rhodes. Mine. You can be Jaz all you want in public, but for me, you won’t hide behind a persona. I want all of you. I want Alexis. You. Do you agree to my terms?” I ask as I let my hands fall away from the window on either side of her head to wrap around her waist, bringing her even closer to me.

“I have a feeling you’re not going to let me say no.”

She narrows her eyes, gearing up for an argument, her arms pressing against my chest to push me away.

I tsk in disapproval at her action and hold her tightly against me. “Oh, you can say no. I want nothing but your consent in all things. If you don’t want this, I’m giving you a chance to walk away from me tonight. But if, like me, you feel the undeniable connection between us and you stay, then, you are mine.”

“Just like that?” she asks, the challenge in her tone makes me want to put this woman over my knee. “No other options? No questions about my past and how that may affect my decision? It’s either or? Well, Torrance Bailey, you are full of surprises.”

I lift my shoulder in a shrug unapologetically. “It’s why I wanted to talk about it. We both walk into this with pasts. This entire situation is unorthodox, especially to those who like to place a time limit on what constitutes a proper relationship. I say fuck that. There’s a reason why I don’t date. When I set my sights on something, Jaz, I give it my absolute focus. It’s why I’m so good at what I do. It’s why I don’t let women pull said focus. But you’re different, I can feel it.”

“So you’re saying we define who we are. Simple as that. No concerns about the press or what people will say on social media about us, especially about me?” I know she’s concerned about all the attention she’s getting, and I will do everything in my power to protect her.

“It’s you and me. The rest of the world doesn’t need to know what goes on behind closed doors. You’re Jaz for a reason, right?” I ask, and she nods. “I keep the same level of privacy. Let them speculate all they want. Only we know the truth.” I give her a minute to let it all sink in. I know this is not the in-depth conversation I thought it would be but I don’t think I can keep my hands to myself much longer. If she decides to walk away, that I’m too much, that I’m asking too much, then I will understand.

“I have my own terms,” she states with a huff.

“Name them,” I reply.

Jaz’s body relaxes, all defensiveness slides away as she reaches up and wraps her arms around my neck. “I think the talking part of the night is over, don’t you?” She lifts her brows suggestively, giving me that gorgeous smile of hers.

My hands slide down from her waist to palm her ass, and what a luscious ass it is. More than enough to hold on to, and I love the feeling of her in my grasp. I give it a generous squeeze, humming my approval when she sucks in a sharp breath.

“Tell me Miss Starr, are you going to let me fuck you, claim you, make you mine.” I lift her suddenly and she shrieks in surprise.

“Tor!” she shouts as I pin her to the glass. The Seattle nightlife continues below us, the sparkling lights of the Pier are the perfect backdrop to the display before me. Jaz, with her legs spread wide around my waist, the heat of her pussy pressing against me, the thin fabric of her leggings giving away all her secrets. She’s wet, ready, and so fucking eager.

“Use your words, Supernova.” I roll my hips, grinding into her, making her head tilt back as I give her a little taste of what’s to come.

“Yes, God, yes, To?—”

I don’t let her finish. Our lips collide and I devour her, I don’t plan to let her up for air until I have no choice but to let her go.

I gave her a chance to leave. She didn’t. She’s mine.