Chapter Three
Emilia
" Y ou know I can drive, right?" I ask Nash, smiling as he bundles me into the passenger seat of his oversized truck and then leans across me to latch my seatbelt.
"You've been drinking." His hand glides down my thigh, sending heat ripping through me. I practically squirm in the seat, fighting the urge to whimper. The fact that I'm not wearing panties doesn't help. There's a whole flood happening down there right now.
"You weren't?" I ask.
"I had a quarter of a beer."
"Oh. I didn't drink much, either. I'm okay to drive."
His eyes come to mine, his expression somber. "Doesn't matter how much you had, princess. I'm not letting you get behind the wheel."
"Because of your parents," I whisper, my heart clenching as understanding dawns.
He jerks his head in a tight nod, his jaw pulsing as my seatbelt clicks into place. Even in the quasi-dark of the parking garage, there's no mistaking the grief and pain lingering in the depths of his eyes.
I reach up, placing my hand on his scruffy cheek.
His eyes come back to me, settling on my face.
"I'm so sorry you lost them, Nash," I whisper.
He gently grabs my wrist, pulling my hand to his lips to kiss my palm. "Me too," he says simply before settling my hand in my lap.
I watch as he slams the door and then circles around the truck before climbing in beside me. He's…tense in a way he wasn't before I brought up his parents.
"I'm not going to ask you to talk about them if that's what you're worried about over there," I murmur, trying to reassure him. "This isn't a visit in my office to talk about your feelings. You don't owe me answers, Nash."
"I appreciate that." He glances over at me, his expression still clouded. "I don't mind talking about them. The way we lost them fucking sucks, but it's always nice to remember them. Most people are afraid to even bring them up around me. The only time I ever hear about them is from reporters." His lips pull down into a frown. "I'm just trying to figure out what the fuck the rules are here."
I hate that reporters are the only ones who talk about his parents. But I kind of love that he's just as confused by all of this as I am. A week ago, I was determined to stay away from him. Now? Well, it's not so simple. My willpower has been slowly eroding all damn week. Seeing him in the bar tonight wiped out whatever little bit remained.
I like him, far more than is good for him. Judging by the way he acts with me, I'm not the only one who feels the insane pull between us. But this is foreign territory for both of us.
So…maybe we say screw the rules and make our own.
"Um, I think we broke the rules about four exits ago," I tease to lighten the mood.
His lips lift slightly, one brow winging toward his hairline as he starts his truck. The engine rumbles to life, vibrating the entire cab. "Pretty sure we broke them as soon as we met, Emilia."
"True. You did kidnap me from a locker room at the speed of light."
"You're working hard on that revisionist history, I see."
"Glad you noticed my effort."
His smile grows, banishing the shadows from his eyes as he puts the truck in reverse, backing out of his spot. I watch him out of the corner of my eye for several minutes before I feel compelled to speak again.
"Since we broke the rules already, how about we ditch the rest of the rulebook, and make our own?" It's not a novel concept, but it is a dangerous one. If my dad finds out anything about this, he's going to lose his proverbial shit. It doesn't matter that I'm twenty-four. He's still my father. He's also Nash's boss for all intents and purposes. And he's rungs above me on the ladder around here, too. This could end in disaster.
"What are your rules, baby girl?" Nash asks, cutting his eyes at me.
I think quickly, not entirely sure I have any. At least none I'm not willing to let him break.
"No more doing what we did tonight," I decide.
A growl of displeasure rumbles from his side of the truck.
"Oh! I don't mean the stuff in the hall. Definitely do more of that. Please do more of that. I meant the whole making a public spectacle thing," I quickly clarify. "We need to at least try to be professional when we're at the arena. I don't want to be labeled as a puck bun–" I break off, wrinkling my nose. "Have I mentioned yet how much I dislike that term?"
"Puck bunny?"
"Yes!" I cry. "Bunnies are prey. They're innocent little creatures hunted by predators. Hockey players aren't predators, and the women who sleep with them aren't prey. I know it's meant to be an insult, but it's honestly kind of infantilizing in a way not intended, as if they're not fully involved in their decisions to sleep with hockey players."
He glances over at me again. "What would you call them?"
"Sexually liberated women hockey players like to fu–"
"Do not finish that sentence," he growls, making me laugh.
"You asked."
"I regret it already."
I fall back against the seat, smirking at him. "I don't remember what we were talking about now."
"You were telling me how you don't want to be labeled a sexually liberated woman a hockey player likes to fuck," he says, deadpan.
"Just one, huh? Smooth, Whatley. Very smooth."
"Didn't even have to try." He shoots me another look as we roll through a green light. "I hate everyone you've ever seen naked."
"So…just your teammates, then." I grimace. "And Chad."
"Who the fuck is Chad?"
"We went to college together. He's the reason I didn't know sex was magical until…" I pretend to look at my phone. "Twenty minutes ago."
"What the fuck did he do to you, Emilia? I'll end him," Nash says, his voice dropping so low it sounds like thunder rumbling across the cab of the truck.
"Whoa. Make that sound again. That was hot."
"Start talking, princess," he growls.
"He didn't do anything to me. Well," I amend. "That's not entirely true. Sexual harassment is sexual harassment. It shouldn't be trivialized."
"You are not making me want to rip his head off and shove it up his ass any less right now," Nash warns, his tone black.
"We were lab partners my freshman year. He decided to whip his dick out in the middle of a study session and try to shove it in my hand."
"Jesus fucking Christ."
"If it makes you feel better, I punched him in the throat."
His lips curve into a wicked smile. "That does help. I still want to shove his own head up his ass, but good girl. Never let some asshole put his fucking hands on you without permission."
My stomach flutters at his praise. I do not hate when he calls me that.
"Anyway, he spent the rest of the year telling everyone I assaulted him. He left out the part where he pulled his dick out and tried to force it into my hand," I mutter. "He was popular. I wasn't. It was a very isolating experience."
"What a little prick."
"It was actually. And weird looking."
Nash doesn't laugh.
"I think he's the reason I decided to declare as a psych major, honestly. My mental health needed serious work that year." I tuck strands of hair behind my ear. "I don't want to end up in that same headspace because everyone thinks I'm sleeping my way through the team. It may surprise you, but I'm actually pretty good at this mental health thing."
"Not a damn thing about that surprises me, Emilia." He pulls to a stop at a red light, glancing over at me. "Why would it?"
"I can be a lot for some people," I say, shrugging. I'm not ashamed of it, but it's the truth. I was raised by a single father who spent his whole life on the ice, surrounded by hockey players. I've never been appropriate or well-behaved. I'm not entirely sure what either of those things even look like.
I say what's on my mind. I give as good as I get. I rarely ever back down. And on most days that end in Y, I'm a whole damn mess. But that's the beauty of knowing who you are and what you believe in. It's the joy that comes with having a parent who embraces every loud, messy part of you and wants you to thrive exactly as you are. No one ever tried to pour me into a mold and chip away the edges that didn't fit.
I was always allowed to just…be.
I want the same exact things for the people who come to see me. Everyone deserves that freedom. I can't talk people through their issues and coach them into being their authentic selves if I'm not authentically myself.
I can't help but worry that the team and management may be expecting someone…a lot less like me, though. Most people do. I do not want to add to any preconceived notions by getting a reputation right out of the gate. People accuse women of sleeping their way to the top every day. I don't want to be one of them, especially when I'm already going to be judged because my father is the head coach.
I leave out the part about my dad threatening to send Nash down to the minor league team to make an example out of him. I don't want to hide it from him. I just…really don't want him to decide this isn't worth the risk.
Can't I have one night before being the Coach's daughter ruins it? That's been the story of my life. I don't want it to repeat itself this time. Not with Nash.
Maybe that's selfish and unfair of me. I don't know. But I want Nash badly enough to accept those labels.
"Yeah, well, they weren't the right people then," Nash mutters, reaching over to touch my cheek. "Professional doesn't mean you have a stick up your ass. I've known doctors who have wheelchair races in the halls and scientists who pilfer supplies to make dick molds."
"Of their own…?" I stare at him with wide eyes.
He shrugs. "People are who they are. Professional means you know your shit and know when to act like you have it together. It doesn't mean you've gotta walk around with a superiority complex seven days a week."
"Wisely spoken," I murmur.
He winks at me, slowly sliding his hand away. "I'm a wise motherfucker on occasion, baby girl."
"Only on occasion?"
"I willingly spend about half my time in a locker room that smells like ball sweat and swamp ass, Emilia. Wisdom is definitely an occasional thing over here."
I throw my head back, laughing loudly.
"What other rules do you have?"
"No talking about Fight Club?"
He shoots me a look, making me laugh.
"I can't think of any right now. You?"
"You make the rules, Emilia. I'll follow your lead."
"You may regret saying that, Whatley. Never give a girl all the power. She may use it to tie you up in the Sin Bin. Just saying."
His lips quirk into a smile. "Bring it on, baby girl."
We don't speak again as he navigates through Penn Town toward Columbus Heights. Once he parks outside of my townhouse, he looks over at me, his green eyes full of curiosity and something far deeper that sends a thrill twisting through me.
It should be criminal to want this man as much as I do. And yet…I'm swimming in a pool of evidence over here. My heart freaking pounds every time I look at him. He's nothing like I expected, and somehow precisely what I expected. I feel like a kid in a candy store, trying to decide which pieces of him I want most when, in reality, I want it all.
"Come in with me," I blurt before I can talk myself out of it. I can be sensible and rational and slow this down again tomorrow. But for tonight, I don't want to be or do any of those things. I want him all over me.
"That's a bad idea."
"Why?"
His grip on the steering wheel tightens, his eyes not deviating from my face. "Because if I come in, you'll be coming all over me again."
"I mean, that was kind of the plan, Whatley." I arch a brow, unable to resist challenging him. I think he loves it. I think he thrives on it. And I think it drives him freaking wild when I don't do what he expects. "Unless you don't think you can keep up?"
His eyes immediately narrow, something hot and wild rolling through them as a groan tumbles from his lips. Before I can even move, he's reaching for me. My seatbelt vanishes, and then he's hauling me across the console onto his lap.
"You want to say that again, princess?" he breathes, his lips inches from mine.
"Sure. You probably couldn't hear me since you get hit in the head with pucks all day," I say sweetly. "I said, maybe you're afraid you can't keep u–"
His mouth crashes down on mine, stealing the words from my lips. His kiss is as hot and wild as the look he gave me, as if he's trying to brand my lips as his possession.
My hands sink into his hair, holding him to me as I kiss him back the same way, pyroclastic clouds of desire raging through me.
"You're going to fucking own my big ass, aren't you?" he groans against my lips.
"Yes," I whisper back, the truth spilling from my lips without conscious thought. "That's exactly what I want. To own you. To rule you. To drive you so crazy all you can think about is being inside me."
The truth should scare the shit out of me…and yet it doesn't. He makes me feel bold in a way I've never felt. The way he sets me on fire makes me brave in a way I never knew existed. It's terrifying and freeing at the same exact time.
He growls wordlessly, pulling me closer. He's all sex and sin and control as he devours my mouth, annihilating any defenses I had against him…if I ever had any at all. I'm beginning to think not. This man is potent, intoxicating magic. And all six foot three inches of him is wrapped around me like he can't get enough of me.
"Nash," I whisper, not entirely sure what I'm trying to ask him. For more? For him to get me inside before I burst into pieces? I have no idea. But as soon as I say his name, he growls, dragging his mouth from mine.
"Fuck," he groans, burying his face in my throat as he pants for breath. "You can't say sexy shit like that, Emilia. I don't have any self-control around you."
"You started it," I mumble.
He squeezes my thigh, sending a jolt through me. "Get in the house before the neighbors hear you screaming my name."
Disappointment flows through me. He's not coming in with me.
"But…"
He touches my bottom lip, his eyes dark. "Hell, maybe they'll hear you anyway. I doubt those walls are going to stifle that sweet voice much once I'm inside you."
My core clenches so hard I think I have a mini-orgasm. He is staying.
Glory, glory, hallelujah!
I practically launch myself off his lap, eager to get inside so he can…get inside.
My plans go up in smoke when he growls like a wild beast behind me.
His hand comes down on my bare ass, trapping me across the center console.
"Goddamn. It's right here in my face," he mumbles, pure agony in his voice, as if he's going to lose it any minute.
Hearing that tone from him? Goodbye, ovaries.
I don't even think about it. I just wiggle my hips, shaking my ass at him…teasing him because I can't help it, not when he sounds that damn sexy just looking at it.
Best. Decision. Ever.
The sound he makes vibrates through me like a gong striking against my soul. He moves like a panther, all coiled muscle and sexual aggression. I bite my hand to stifle a scream as he pries my cheeks apart and buries his face in my pussy from behind.
"Goddamn, baby girl," he groans against my skin before licking me from top to bottom. "You taste so fucking good." He licks me again. "I'm breaking your rule, but I can't stop now. I need to know what you feel like coming all over my face."
I sob his name, rocking back against him as he licks and sucks, eating me like I'm the best thing he's ever tasted. Pleasure rips through me in intense waves, leaving me babbling and pleading for mercy.
He has none for me. He just holds me in place across the console and devours me. I'm pretty sure the neighbors can hear me moaning his name. I'm also pretty sure I don't care as he forces his tongue inside my hole, fucking me with it.
"Please, please," I chant, trying to crawl away as an orgasm bears down on me. I'm going to scream the whole neighborhood awake. I know I am.
"Nu-uh," he growls, hooking an arm around my waist to keep me right where he wants me. "If you didn't want me eating it, you shouldn't have waved it in my face, Emilia. Fucking come on my tongue."
I shatter apart immediately, exploding into nothing. Choking on the scream I try like hell not to voice.
He doesn't stop. He keeps eating me, ruthlessly demanding another orgasm. But I can't give it to him. I freaking know I can't. Not without the whole neighborhood hearing me scream.
"Come again," he snarls, flicking his tongue against my clit in rapid strikes.
And even though I know I can't give him what he wants quietly, my body bows to his wicked tongue and those honey lips. They're weapons of destruction employed against me, obliterating me so completely I'm left gasping for air as I crack apart with a shout of ecstasy.
I shake and tremble and moan, riding a current of pleasure so intense I can't breathe.
"Good girl," he murmurs, running a gentle hand down my ass as he peels himself off me. Before I can even miss his heat, he's bundling me into his arms, tugging my dress down so the whole neighborhood doesn't see my ass. He climbs from the truck, striding toward the door with me tucked against his chest as if I weigh nothing.
"What's the door code?"
"12496," I mumble, still floating.
He punches it in and then waits for it to whir and click before he carries me inside.
"Bedroom?" he asks.
"Last door on the right."
He immediately locks the deadbolt and then turns toward the hall. Calming lavender wafts toward us, lulling me toward sleep. His lips against mine as we cross into my room bring me wide awake.
I groan, tasting myself on him. Maybe I shouldn't like it. Maybe I should pull back and pretend I don't want more. I don't know. But…I do like it. I do want more. The fact that my taste is all over this man is intoxicating as hell.
I slip my tongue into his mouth as he drags me down to the bed beneath him. We sink into one another, kissing like we can't stop as he yanks my dress up over my head.
I drag his shirt off over his.
"Fucking hell," he breathes, heat blazing in his eyes as he flings my bra off the side of the bed and then bends down, dragging my nipple through his teeth. "Every inch of you is stunning, Emilia."
"You aren't so bad yourself, Whatley." His body is every bit as incredible today as it was last week. Somehow, I missed the hockey-inspired tattoo inked on his left shoulder.
His lips curve into a smile against mine as he rolls us until I'm straddling his chest, my breasts against his pecs. And good lord, I thought he felt amazing pressed against me when he was in his boxers and I was fully clothed, but that was nothing compared to the way he feels against me right now.
He leans up, chasing my lips as he grinds against me. "Fucking hell. I want to feel you dripping all over my cock right now."
"You should definitely do that then," I gasp.
"Yeah? You want it?"
I bravely reach between us, settling my hand over his straining erection. "What do you think, Nash?"
He groans like he's in pain, arching into my touch. Is this agony for him like it is for me? Does every inch of him ache right now like I do? God, I hope so. I want him as wild and desperate as I am…and right now, I feel like I might vibrate apart at the freaking seams if he isn't inside me soon.
I dip my head, my lips landing against the tattoo over his heart. I lick and kiss a trail down his stomach, teasing him until he's growling beneath me like an unruly beast.
"Take my fucking cock out, Emilia," he snarls, his eyes on fire with need.
"Or what?" I blink up at him, pushing him because I can…because he needs to be pushed. He's so damn bossy, so in control. I want all of that unleashed on me.
"Or maybe you choke on it before I let you come again."
"Don't threaten me with a good time, Whatley," I breathe, inching down his body until I'm eye level with the massive bulge in his jeans. I hold his gaze as I reach for the zipper, tugging it down as slowly as humanly possible.
"You're desperate to feel my hand against that gorgeous ass, aren't you?"
"Haven't you figured it out yet?" I ask, slowly peeling his jeans down his legs. "I'm just desperate for you. Have been for a week already. You're even haunting my dreams."
"Oh, yeah?" His lips curve into a deadly smirk. "How hard do I fuck you in them, Emilia?"
"Depends on how sexually frustrated I am when I go to bed."
I delve my hand into his boxers, wrapping it around his cock. My mouth goes dry as I pull it out. Lord have mercy. He's going to split me in two.
"Jesus Christ, Nash," I breathe. "You win the dick measuring contest." I glide my hand up the shaft, fascinated that it can be so damn hard yet so soft and smooth at the same time. It's…beautiful in a way I didn't expect. It looks nothing like a one-eyed dehydrated lizard. He's a beautiful monster, purple veins running up the underside, the broad head glistening with precum.
I flick my tongue out to taste him.
"Fucking hell," he growls, hips arching from the bed again as his tangy taste hits my system. One hand fists around my ponytail, his fingers clenched against my scalp as he loses it beneath me.
The sight of him like this—eyes blazing with heat, cheeks flushed, panting for breath— damn . A girl could get used to this.
I lean forward, sucking him into my mouth.
"Ah, goddamn, baby girl," he moans. "That fucking mouth is heaven."
I have no idea what I'm doing, but I keep going anyway, taking my cues from him. When I suck, he groans. When I run my tongue around him, his hand spasms against my head. I roll his balls between my fingers and his hips lift from the bed again, a string of curses flying from his lips. And when I try to take more of his cock and choke on it, he has me on my back so fast my head spins.
His wild eyes meet mine, the emerald of his irises so dark they're almost black. "Did you have fun ruining my life with that perfect fucking mouth?"
"Yes," I whisper, licking my lips. "I had a ball. Two, actually. You?"
"Best goddamn five minutes of my life," he says. "I'm never going to get another thing done. For the rest of my life, I'll be jerking off every minute of the day, thinking about you choking on my cock."
"RIP to your career."
He drags me closer, yanking my legs up over his hips.
My head falls back, a moan tumbling from my lips as his cock slides through my folds.
"Jesus, look at that," he growls, tipping my head down.
I whimper as my juices smear across his cock, soaking it.
He rocks his hips so his cock slides back and forth. Neither of us says a word, both too focused on the sight of us together like this. There's something downright sexy about it. Beautiful, even.
Waves of heat rip through me when he reaches between us, using two fingers to close my lower lips around his cock. He rocks his hips, pumping between my lips as if he's inside me already.
"Goddamn," he rasps, his gaze tangling with mine. "You feel that?"
"Yes," I moan.
"It's going to feel even better when I'm inside you."
"Then get to that part," I cry, clinging to the sheets as if they'll root me to reality. They don't stand a chance against him though. He's liquid sex above me, driving me out of my mind as if that's his only reason for existing in this moment.
"Not until you come just like this."
I whimper a protest.
"I just found my rule."
"W-what rule? You said you had no rules."
"Things change." He dips his head, brushing his lips against mine. "You don't get to come on my cock until you've got it nice and wet for me just like this. And I'm not coming anywhere except for in this perfect little cunt." He drags my bottom lip through his teeth. "You better not spill a drop once I do. If you do, I'm putting it back in. Or you are."
Oh. My. God.
His filthy promise sets off a detonation in my womb. I cry out, my body bowing from the bed as the wave rolls through me, igniting every nerve ending.
"That's it," Nash practically purrs above me, rocking his hips so the head of his cock strikes against my clit with every pass, prolonging the pleasure. "Just like that, princess."
My toes curl. A kaleidoscope of bright light swirls behind my eyelids. It's bliss, pure unadulterated ecstasy.
It barely even ends before a whole new type begins. He presses the head of his cock against my opening. "Eyes on me, Emilia," he rasps. "I want to see how good you feel when you're wrapped around me."
I peel my eyes open, focusing on him… trying to focus on him. But he does not play fair. Every time he presses forward, he grinds his thumb against my clit, keeping me tangled in a web of pleasure. I feel him stretching me, feel the burn…but if there's any pain, it's so subtle the intense pleasure overrides it within seconds, leaving me writhing beneath him.
"You're taking me so fucking well," he groans. "Goddamn, baby girl. This perfect body is going to make me work for every inch, isn't it?"
"Yes." I wrap my legs tighter around him, clawing at the sheets. It should be illegal to feel this damn good.
He chuckles, dipping his head to kiss me. As soon as our tongues tangle together, he snaps his hips forward, impaling me on his cock.
I shout into his mouth, coming unglued beneath him.
"Fuck!" he roars, ripping his mouth from mine as my inner muscles clamp around him, fluttering wildly.
I claw down his back, sobbing his name. I can't stop writhing, can't stop whimpering. I'm just a bundle of wild sensation, vibrating at a frequency so far beyond anything I've ever felt before.
I rock beneath him, taking what I want from him.
He doesn't stop me or tell me no. He plants an elbow on the bed beside my head, driving into me so deep I think he's trying to fuck his way into my soul.
The headboard taps the wall with each powerful thrust, singing a counterpoint to the slap of his skin against mine—to the sound of his grunts and curses and my sobs and pleas.
"Come on my cock, Emilia," he growls. "I need to feel it right fucking now, baby girl."
"Yes, yes," I chant, willing to give him anything if he keeps fucking me like this.
He slams into me again, his teeth closing around my nipple in a sharp bite. The sting of pain sings along my nerve endings, adding to the wildfire of sensation threatening to consume me.
The coil in my belly cinches tighter, everything balancing on the head of a needle.
"Christ, princess. I want to fuck my way into your soul," he groans against my chest, leaving a litany of love bites in his wake. "Think you'll be able to breathe without me inside you then?"
I sob his name, exploding apart with a scream of surrender. If he wants my soul, I'll give it to him. Hell, right now, he could ask for just about anything and I'd willingly hand it over.
"Ah, god, yeah," he groans. "Soak me, princess."
I do, detonating around him again and again as he goes wild above me, driving into me so hard and deep that I know I'm still going to feel him tomorrow.
Within seconds, he goes rigid above me, my name leaving his lips in a loud crack of sound. He comes hard, his cock jerking inside of me as he spills into me in hot ropes that leave me trembling and moaning beneath him.
He collapses a moment later, rolling to the side so he doesn't land on top of me. His dick slips from my body, and we both groan.
I feel his seed leaking out of me and remember what he said about keeping it inside.
Apparently, he has the same thought. He gently grabs my hand, sliding it down my body. "Put it back inside," he rasps against my ear. "Every drop."
"Nash," I whimper, knowing damn well this is a dangerous, dangerous game. But I don't tell him no. I do exactly as he commanded, scooping his cum up and pushing it back inside while he watches, heat blazing in his eyes.
"Good girl," he breathes when I'm finished, brushing his lips against mine in a sweet kiss before he pulls me into his arms. I land against his chest with a sigh, my head over his heart…and my heart tangled in knots over this fierce, beautiful man in a way I did not see coming.