Chapter 29
Twenty-Nine
KAI
I tell myself I’m just going to watch the game, that I’ll sit in the stands and keep my reactions appropriately muted, but the second I step into the arena, and the cold air hits my skin, I know I’m already in trouble.
The place is alive tonight, packed wall to wall with students and alumni all dressed in their VCU gear, music thundering through the speakers while skates carve sharp lines into the ice. The noise wraps around me like a current I can’t fight.
It’s been a whole ten days since I’ve seen Bass in person, which for me feels like a lifetime. But I needed a moment to collect my thoughts, get my bearings…and ask around. I sent the only person I trust on a mission (Sue), and she collected information about Gia and her history at the Ice House.
So, it was true that in the early days of Bass’s time at VCU, the two of them slept together, but eventually that arrangement faded, and she moved on to other players on the team.
Even so, according to Sue’s intel, she still felt as if Bass was her personal hockey player.
Her property. Maybe she fantasized about him being her man one day.
Whatever.
I don’t care.
Because while it’s true they’ve had a past physical relationship, I don’t believe that it was still happening last month, as Gia insinuated. And while he should have told me about his past with Gia on his own, I think I understand why he didn’t.
The reality is, I wouldn’t have been able to get past it and see him for who he really is. I’d never have given him a chance. And I would have missed out on getting to know a charismatic person, a fantastic hockey player, and the guy who very easily may be the future father of my kids.
I check my phone when it buzzes in my hand.
Sue: You good? Sorry, I couldn’t hang tonight.
Me: I’m fine by myself:) I’m a big girl.
Sue: Okay, good, because you know how I feel about the cold.
I chuckle to myself. Sue appreciates looking at hockey players but doesn’t care much for the temperature of the rink. I wasn’t a huge fan at first either, but it’s growing on me.
Me: Yep, I know:) And I appreciate you for even considering the sacrifice.
Sue: You’re welcome.So, have you seen him yet?
Me: Not yet.
Sue: No doubt, he’ll find you first. Text me if you need me.
Me: xoxo
I scan the rink before the team even comes out, because apparently my body has learned to locate Bass Morelli’s coordinates without my permission.
When the lights dim and the team explodes onto the ice, my breath stutters.
Bass skates hard and fast, shoulders loose, confidence radiating off him like heat, and when his eyes sweep the stands, searching out of instinct more than hope, they land on me.
He falters.
It’s subtle, barely a hitch in his stride, but I see it, and then his face breaks into the kind of smile that feels private even from halfway up the stands, like he can’t quite believe I’m real. I feel the heat of that grin all the way to my toes.
No words obviously pass between us, but my appearance in the stands says everything it needs to. I lift my hand in a small wave, my pulse racing, and the way his posture eases feels like I just made his night with nothing but my presence.
Bass plays like he’s possessed by something good instead of reckless, skating clean and controlled, choosing smart plays instead of flashy ones, and when he takes a brutal hit in the second period that makes the entire arena gasp, he pops back up grinning like he enjoys the punishment.
He scores less than a minute later.
The crowd erupts, and I’m yelling his name with everyone else, my heart pounding, my face hot, and when he looks up and finds me, he taps the glass with his stick like he’s marking his territory.
Mine.
The word curls low in my stomach and stays there. He’s used it several times before when we’ve had sex. Back then, I felt it was simply his brand of “dirty talk,” but now I feel the word in my gut.
He means that shit.
By the third period, the game is no contest, and Bass is undeniably the star, assisting, scoring, playing disciplined hockey that earns him a standing ovation when the final horn sounds.
I feel light, dizzy with relief and adrenaline, like something heavy finally let go of my chest.
I probably shouldn’t go to the locker room, but my feet disagree with the plan.
I linger in the hallway with the rest of the post-game crowd, arms crossed, trying not to look impatient. There are a few puck bunnies waiting with me as well, who give me a guarded glance or two, but the cool thing is that I don’t give a damn anymore. Let them talk.
When the door swings open and Bass steps out, still damp and buzzing from the win, he freezes when he sees me.
“This is a surprise,” he says, voice rougher than I remember. We’ve been casually communicating with each other for these past few days, but I hadn’t committed to any in-person contact.
“I figured I’d finally come to watch a game for pure pleasure instead of for research,” I tease, even as my chest tightens.
He laughs, stepping closer, stopping just short of touching me like he’s testing himself. “And was it…pleasurable to watch?”
His words are laced with sexual subtext, and my ovaries applaud.
“I’m still deciding.”
His eyes drop to my mouth, then flick back up. “You always do that.”
“Do what?”
“Pretend like you don’t already know the answer.”
I roll my eyes, but my lips betray me with a smile.
“I didn’t want to assume anything by you being here,” he says more quietly. “But I played like that tonight because you were watching.”
“Were you?” I grin. “Because you were definitely showing off.”
“Did it work?” he asks, voice low.
I step closer, close enough to feel the heat rolling off him. “It might have.”
His grin turns slow and dangerous. “Come to the Ice House,” he says. “There’s an after party.”
“Back to the scene of the crime?” I am only half joking at this point. I’ve got some great memories and not-so-great memories of my time in that place.
“Come,” he says in a tone that’s half pleading, half authoritative. “You belong with me, and that’s where I live.”
I hesitate just long enough to remind myself this is my choice, then nod. “Okay.”
The relief in his expression is instant.
The Ice House is loud and packed, music pulsing through the walls while bodies press close, and Bass keeps a hand on me like he’s forgotten how not to, fingers warm and steady at my waist, his thumb tracing idle patterns that make my skin buzz.
People are nice to me. They’re offering me drinks, snacks, and a lot of hellos as Bass and I move through the partygoers. Someone shouts his name across the room, and he answers without letting go of me, pulling me closer like it’s the most natural thing in the world.
“Careful,” I murmur. “People are going to think we’re together.”
He leans down, lips brushing my ear, his breath hot. “That’s exactly what every fucker in here already knows. You’re mine, and you’ve always been mine.”
My knees nearly give out.
“You’re so arrogant,” I tell him, trying to play off how his words affect me.
“And you love every bit of it,” he shoots back, smirking.
It’s incredible how this boy sees right through my tough girl act. I guess I’m not fooling anyone but myself.
We steal kisses in crowded corners, mouths lingering a second too long, his hand always checking, and every interruption earns a dramatic groan from him.
“This is harassment,” he mutters when Shane drags him away for a celebratory shot.
“You’ll live,” I say sweetly.
“Barely,” he replies, winking.
A girl I recognize as a friend of Gia’s approaches me, the moment Bass walks away, as if she were waiting to get a moment alone with me. My defenses go immediately up, while simultaneously vowing to myself that I’m not going to let some stranger ruin my night.
“Hi, Kai. I’m Brittney.” She takes inventory of what I’m wearing from top to bottom. “Cute jeans.”
I try not to roll my eyes at the compliment because it really isn’t one.
“Hey, Brittney,” I say dryly.
“Um, I just wanted to say that I’m sorry for Gia’s behavior last time we were all here. It was a bit over the top even for her.”
“Why are you apologizing for her behavior?”
“You know how it gets, girl. A couple of drinks and suddenly you decide to say or do things you wouldn’t normally do. I was one of the people who got a little drunk and encouraged her to confront you.”
Not surprising.
“And why would you do that?”
“We were just being bitches,” she says matter-of-factly. “You know how it is.”
She keeps saying that.
“No, actually, I don’t.”
Brittney purses her lips, then takes a sip of whatever is inside her red plastic cup.
“We’ve been hanging out with these guys for years, and you’ve only been here for a second. Now, suddenly, you’ve got the full attention and respect of one of the most sought-after players on the team. It was hard for me to watch, much less Gia, and I’m not the one who slept with him.”
Is she serious? This is the conversation she wants to have with me right now? Uh, no.
“So who else can’t I date in the house based on you and Gia’s…feelings? Because I heard there may be quite a few.”
Brittney’s eyes squint as if she’s seeing all of me for the first time. She didn’t expect me to get down in the mud with her, but I can get down there with the best of them. These hockey freaks must not know…I’m from Philly.
“Now wait a damn minute, are you calling me a whore?” she asks, careful not to raise her voice because people are listening.
“I’m just trying to understand the rules you and your girls have set up for who is hands-on and who is hands-off.”