Chapter Six #2
I'm ready to give up guessing when Trent presses a glass of spiked cocoa into my hands. "Drink up," he orders, then wraps his arms around my waist, pulling me into him. "They're doing white elephant in the den, and you're going to need it. It'll be a bloodbath."
I down the cocoa in one gulp and follow him, letting the sugar and expensive liquor burn a path straight to my stomach.
Even though he warned me, I am not prepared for the chaos of the den.
The room is full of hockey players, all yelling over each other and stealing gifts from one another like overgrown children.
The gifts are, predictably, a mix of gag and actual luxury.
There's a heated toilet seat, two different gaming systems, an expensive watch, tickets to Bali, a Speedo that looks like a crocodile's mouth, fart spray that seems to be a hot ticket item, and a literal ham.
Trent and I settle on the couch, with him perched behind me, his arm draped over my shoulders like he's staking a claim. I try to focus on the chaos, but every time I look up, someone is staring at us—sometimes grinning, sometimes smirking, but always staring. It's disconcerting as hell.
But it's not until I stand to get another drink that all those looks finally begin to make sense, shaking my world on its foundation.
"Yo, Kirk!" Paxton Hill, one of the rookies, shouts across the room. "How'd you finally manage to convince Dani to go out with you?"
I freeze in the doorway.
"You've been following her around like a puppy for months," another of the rookies adds, laughing. "We were taking bets on whether she'd figure out you were full of shit and take out a restraining order on your big ass."
Wait, what? They knew that he was faking an injury just to spend time with me?
Trent just laughs in response. "She couldn't say no after she nearly killed me."
"Ah, so you're blackmailing her," Karsen says. "Sounds about right. You've been threatening to maim us for months if we smiled at her wrong."
"He threatened to beat me with my own damn skate if I even looked at her," Cale mutters.
"You still aren't allowed to look at her," Trent growls, his eyes locked on me with an intensity that leaves me breathless. "She's mine, and I will end you."
The entire room hoots and catcalls. But I just stand there, my Solo cup clutched in one hand and my heart hammering as the intensity of his declaration sears through me.
My mind spins, trying to fit all of this new information into place, but I don't even know where to start.
I mean, I've been half convinced that he's been high as a kite for the last twenty-four hours and would eventually snap out of it.
But…he's been threatening the entire team about me for months .
They all know how he feels about me. This isn't just something he decided yesterday.
This isn't a result of his brush with death or a residual effect of the drugs they gave him .
He wants me. Apparently, enough that he's told everyone. Literally, the whole damn team knows how he feels about me.
The revelation is so huge, I actually have to sit down.
"You good, Sunshine?" he asks when I plop beside him, my knees weak.
The man I've been obsessed with…has been a little bit obsessed with me, too.
"Yeah," I say, my mind still reeling. I'm not just good, though. Right now, I'm freaking great.
N early an hour later, the den descends into another round of chaos, but Trent barely notices.
His eyes are locked on my face. And even with the team erupting around us while one of the rookies in an elf suit does a festive striptease to Grandma Got Run Over by a Reindeer , I'm two seconds from launching myself at Trent.
I'm trying like hell to cover it with aggressive cocoa consumption, but that's only making me hotter. All I can think about is the fact that everyone knows how he feels about me. All I see is the way he's watching me like he's desperate to get me alone.
When I'm ready to burst, he finally makes a move. Between one breath and the next, he's crowding into my space, his lips against my ear. "Let's get out of here for a minute."
I nod, not trusting my voice, and he instantly shepherds me out of the den. His hand low on my back sends heatwaves through my system.
We pass the tree, where a pair of teenagers are making out beside the stairwell, and a line of little kids fight over who gets to sit on the inflatable Santa's lap.
Trent finds a hallway I'm ninety percent sure wasn't there earlier, then leads me through a gallery of framed team photos and past a sideboard decked with Christmas nutcrackers and at least three candles labeled "Festive AF."
At the end, he pauses at a closed door, glances over his shoulder, and gives me a sly, unrepentant grin.
"What?" I ask, my heart pounding for reasons that have nothing to do with nerves or the amount of sugar I've consumed tonight.
He leans in, his nose brushing mine, and drops his voice an octave. "You looked too fucking beautiful, staring at me like you wanted to taste me, Sunshine."
"It's your fault," I grumble, my hands already tangled in his jacket, hauling him closer. His cologne wafts around me, woodsy and decadent, and the way my stomach clenches nearly kills me .
He doesn't say anything, just opens the door and tugs me inside. It's dark, but he finds the light switch within seconds.
It's a guest bedroom, bigger than my last four apartments combined. There's a king-sized bed, and a wall of snowy windows. The bedspread is white with red snowflakes, and the rug is so thick my boots sink into it like quicksand.
The second the door latches, Trent is on me.
He slams me gently against the wall, both hands flat on either side of my head. His Santa hat tilts sideways and slides down, obscuring his eyes.
"Been wanting to get you alone all night," he growls, the words rumbling from deep in his chest.
I have about one second to respond before his mouth is on mine. The first kiss is slow, deliberate, like he's reminding himself that I'm real and here and his. The second is hungry—lips, tongue, teeth, all of it, like he's trying to make up for lost time.
He drags his hands up my sides, over the ridiculous fur trim on my dress, then cups my face and kisses me so hard I nearly melt through the wall.
I should probably be fighting this, but the truth is, I don't care where we are. I want it even more than he does right now.
I wrap my arms around his neck and open for him, kissing him back with everything I've got. He tastes like cocoa, vodka, and vanilla. His tongue strokes against mine, and I moan, which is apparently the only way I know how to communicate right now.
I don't think he needs words, anyway. He lifts me up, pinning me higher against the wall. My legs go around his waist, and my dress rides up. He's strong enough to hold me with one arm, which is good, because his other hand is busy sliding up my thigh.
"You drive me crazy," he murmurs against my throat, his voice so raw I feel it pulsing against my clit. "I've been thinking about ways to get my hands on you all night."
"You could have just asked," I gasp, already breathless and aching.
He grins, nipping my earlobe. "I'll remember that next time I want to fuck you senseless in a room full of people."
I'm about to reply, but he does something with his thumb that makes my whole body go electric. I arch into him, my head thumping against the wall.
His laugh is dark and smug.
"Shut up," I pant, clawing at his jacket.
He does not shut up, nor does he slow down. He pulls the Santa hat off and tosses it over his shoulder, then attacks my neck with his mouth, leaving wet, open-mouthed kisses all the way down to my collarbone.
"God, you're gorgeous," he whispers, almost reverent.
I'm not. I'm a mess—hair wild, lipstick smeared, ridiculously festive dress rucked up around my hips. But it doesn't matter, because when he looks at me, it's like I'm the only thing he's ever wanted.
"I'm so goddamn hard right now, Sunshine."
"I know. I can feel it. Are you going to do something about it?"
"Is that an invitation?"
"Do you need one?" I ask because I thought I was pretty clear already, but if he wants words…well, okay, then. I press my lips to his ear. "Fuck me, Trent. Right here."
He growls like a wild beast, sliding his hand up past my knee, and finds the waistband of my tights.
There's nothing slow about the way he rips them—literally rips them—before slipping his fingers inside my panties.
He strokes my clit, slow at first, then faster, reading my body like he's memorized every reaction already.
He keeps his eyes on me the whole time. The way he watches me is so intense that I have to look away.
"Hey," he says, catching my chin. "Look at me, Dani. I love watching you crack and fall apart for me."
I do…only to immediately whimper. The look in his eyes is pure possession.
He kisses me again, then bites my lip, just hard enough to make me gasp his name.
"Christ, I need you," he says, his voice rough as he grins against me, hard and desperate. "Now."
"Then take me." I have no shame left. With him, I'm not sure I ever had any to begin with.
He drops me onto the bed with a bounce, then follows, pinning me with his hips. He doesn't bother with my dress. He just yanks my panties down to my knees.
"Keep them on," he orders, his smile dark and wicked.
I shiver, more turned on than I've ever been in my life.
He unzips his pants, just enough to free himself, then lines up at my entrance, teasing me with the head of his cock. He drags it through my folds, getting us both slick. I'm squirming and desperate when he pushes in with a single, perfect thrust.
I nearly come apart at the first stroke.
He moves in deep, measured thrusts, watching my face intently. His hands are everywhere—my waist, my hips, my throat, my mouth. He kisses me every time he bottoms out, making sure I feel him everywhere.