Chapter 43
Josephine
Hunter deemed everything in my closet too basic for this weekend’s events. So naturally, we spent most of Saturday shopping.
Kylian whipped his credit card out of his wallet and held it out to me when I told him about my plans for the day, which annoyed me as much as it thrilled me.
I guess I’ve never put much thought into what he does for money.
He doesn’t have NIL deals like the other guys, but I assume he earns a stipend from the team.
I turned him down, even though it pained me to have to transfer money from my savings account to my checking account when Hunter insisted I had to have three of the outfits she styled. Leave it to her to turn me into her own personal Lake Chapel Barbie.
Tonight I’m rocking an off-the-shoulder body-con bandage dress in vibrant Crusader red. The look screams for attention, which is so not me, but it fits my mood tonight.
We make our way down the stairs together—Hunter spent the night last night, and between shopping and party prep, she’s been with me ever since—and pause so Corbin and the other security bro can unhook the velvet rope to let us through.
As soon as we step into the kitchen, I sense eyes on me. I scan the room until I meet Kendrick’s intense, angry gaze.
“What’s his problem?” Hunter scoffs.
Based on the way Kendrick’s scowl deepens, her comment carried across the room.
“Ignore him,” I murmur, looping my arm through hers and guiding her out of the kitchen.
It’s early yet, but people have been partying for hours. I talked to Kylian this morning, and texted with Locke a bit, but haven’t really kept up with the guys for most of the day.
I don’t intentionally set out in search of him, but I once again find myself scanning the party for Decker. It doesn’t take long to track him down.
Hunter and I step out onto the upper deck and make our way to the rail to look down on the beach and across the water. It’s clear why Decker favors this spot. Almost the entire beach is visible from up here, and it’s easy to see the ferries coming and going.
Control. Power. Dominance.
Everything I used to hate about him makes more sense now. His need to protect his people makes him who he is. He has legitimate excuses for being unreasonable. At least some of the time.
I turn in time to catch him staring. He’s surrounded by teammates—a few guys I recognize and several more I don’t. He’s leaning against the opposite side of the deck instead of lounging on the love seat like usual. To my relief, the women who usually surround him are absent tonight.
I raise one brow, and his onyx eyes darken at the challenge. He wants me to come to him. He’s willing me to his side without a word. I have to fight my body’s natural urge to obey. The tension between us is palpable.
He cocks his head, and that’s all it takes to make my willpower slip a fraction. I want to be closer. I want to know what he’ll say or do in front of his teammates. I straighten my spine and lift my chin, readying myself to step toward him.
But I’m stopped by a strong arm that wraps around me from behind.
“Hot Girl,” Locke grunts into my ear, his embrace tightening as he sidles up behind me. “You are living up to your name tonight.”
I smile, then melt in his arms without a second thought.
Hunter mutters something about a refill and heads back inside, obviously trying to give us a modicum of privacy.
Except there’s nothing private about the way Locke is wrapping his arms around me and folding his body over mine. It’s a claiming. Half the team is out here on the deck with us.
Unease washes over me as I remember where we are and who I was just eye fucking.
Shit.
I dig my fingernails into Locke’s forearms, silently pleading with him to ease up when I look over and confirm that Decker’s focus is still fixed on me.
“He wants you, you know,” Locke murmurs in my ear, sending a shiver coursing down my spine when his lips brush against my skin. “Decker’s used to getting what he wants.”
Chest heaving, I swallow thickly. I’m so wrapped up in all things Locke—literally—I can’t catch my breath. Damn this ridiculously tight bandage dress.
“But tonight, you’re mine.” He nips at my earlobe and grunts in approval when a shudder racks my body in response.
One of his arms loosens, and for a moment, I think that maybe he’s going to let me go.
Instead, he slides that arm up between my breasts and gently grips my throat in a clear show of possession.
“Locke—”
“Joey,” he growls with a squeeze. My name vibrates through his chest and reverberates to my core.
I clasp my thighs together, desperate to ease the ache as he runs his hands over my body while Decker looks on.
“I want you. He wants you. The only question now is, what do you want?”
Him.
Them.
I want it all.
My body hums with need. My clit has its own pulse as it aches with desire. But even as I try to focus on his words, I can’t tear my eyes away from Decker’s.
“Tell me you want me, too.”
There’s a quiver to his words that gives me pause. Reality barrels into me like a freight train as I wrap my head around the gravity of this moment.
I want him. I want him so badly I ache. And he deserves to know that. To be picked first. To know without a doubt where things stand between us as we try to make our way back to what we shared that first night.
“I want you,” I hum, closing my eyes and letting my head loll back against his chest.
I’m done fighting this. I’m done punishing him. I’m ready to begin again.
“Yeah?” He squeezes my throat slightly, and my eyes shoot open to land on Decker.
I nod, not trusting myself to speak.
“Show me,” he challenges with another caress along the column of my throat. “My room. Now.”
“Pantry?” I counter, breathless and so worked up I’m not sure I can make it up the stairs.
“No way, Hot Girl. We need a bed for what I want to do to you.”
He releases me and stalks off the deck and out of sight.
I stand there, stunned, my hand instinctively gripping my throat to replicate the heat of his skin pressed to mine.
I blink once, then again, willing Decker to look away. Wishing it was less obvious what I’m about to do.
But he never drops my gaze.
His eyes bore into me still when I turn and follow Locke into the house.
The door is cracked open for me, but I knock softly anyway.
His scent overwhelms me within seconds of entering the space. Fresh mint and sugar cane: clean, sweet, and so deliciously Locke.
My desire surges at the sight of him. He’s already removed his shirt, because he knows damn well what tats do to me. Joke’s on him, though, if he thinks I need some sort of preamble to what’s about to happen. I already drenched my panties when he was touching me as Decker looked on.
“You came,” he rasps, rising from the bed.
“Not yet,” I tease, sauntering closer.
He laughs, and it’s the most joyful sound. His presence alone makes me feel lighter—like his very essence has the power to unlock this carefree, playful side of me I rarely feel safe enough to access.
Locke wraps his arms around me and brushes the gentlest of kisses over my lips. The barely there connection is enough to make me shudder. “You will. I told you that first night I wasn’t anywhere done with you. Time to make good on that promise.”
Big hands cup my ass, then we’re moving. He carries me to the bed but doesn’t let me go right away. Instead, he shifts me in his arms as he peppers kisses up and down my neck.
“What do you want?” he asks, his voice low and dripping with desire. There’s no question he’s into this, but those simple words have a meaning far deeper than they convey on the surface.
“I want you,” I assert, acknowledging my reciprocated desire because I know he needs the verbal affirmation. And in case I’m not making myself abundantly clear, I clench my thighs around his waist and rub my core against him.
He pulls back, watching me with hooded eyes.
“Say it again.”
I pushed him away. Hard. Then I held him at arm’s length for weeks. Given what I know about his past and his upbringing…
I cup his face with both hands and look him in the eye.
“I want you, Nicholas Lockewood. I want you so bad I ache. I want you buried deep inside me. I want you to make me forget my own name.”
“Fuck yeah.” He lowers me onto his bed and follows me down. “What are you gonna scream when I make you come, Hot Girl?” He sits back on his knees and works his way out of his pants while I eye fuck him to within an inch of his life.
His gauges and eyebrow piercing. The tats. He’s my every punk-rock fantasy come to life. Hard and jaded on the outside but so damn sweet underneath it all.
“Nicky,” I guess.
His eyes blow out. He looks absolutely feral.
Pushing down his boxer briefs, he reveals his gorgeous cock, hard and leaking at the tip below the glimmer of his pubic piercing. He fists himself and regards me on his bed, grinning the most devilish grin.
“Wait—” I rise up to sit and put one hand on his chest. “I want you to use a condom.”
“Absolutely,” he promises, reaching toward the nightstand.
“And one more thing…” I breathe out, second-guessing myself. It’s stupid. But my anxiety won’t allow me to focus unless I’m sure.
“Anything,” Locke replies as he tears open the condom wrapper.
“This might sound weird…”
“Joey.” He captures my chin between his thumb and forefinger, tilting my face until I’m forced to look him in the eye. “Anything.”
I know him. I trust him. And if I’m lucky, he won’t push for details.
Pulling in a shaky breath, I search his face. “Are there any cameras in here?”
He narrows his eyes and frowns.
“Like, surveillance or security cameras?” I push.
He shakes his head resolutely. “No. There’s a security camera in the hall, and more throughout the house, but none in the bedrooms.”
“And where’s your phone?”
His eyes widen in surprise at that question, but he responds quickly and earnestly. “Plugged in by my computer.” He tips his chin toward his desk.