Chapter 33
KNOX
“Tell me why we have to go to this thing, again,” I demand, while pulling on my bow tie in the back of the limo.
“Because letting you hide in your tower of solitude alone makes me jumpy,” West says.
“And why are you even going? You hate these things,” I point out.
He shrugs and looks over at Sawyer.
“Ah, so she pulled your strings, and you start to dance. I don’t understand what this thing is between the two of you, but it’s toxic,” I snap.
I know I’m being an asshole, but I don’t seem to be able to rein it in.
That will teach them for forcing me out of my apartment.
I wasn’t hurting anyone holed up there alone.
Sawyer turns her green eyes on me. “You’re right, you don’t know what is going on, so don’t make assumptions. Also, you’re one to talk about toxic relationships considering a few weeks ago I had to practically pick your girlfriend up off the floor.”
“You also don’t know what happened, so for once keep your nose out of other people’s business,” I say back.
“You’re great company tonight,” West grumbles.
I turn to face out the window. “You should have left me at home.”
“With your stash you mean,” he pushes.
“Fuck you. I’m not an addict. I know I messed up that night, but it wasn’t intentional.
Why do you think I’ve asked Coach to play Bishop more?
I’ve got a torn labrum in my shoulder. I’ve tried everything non-surgical to treat it, but it’s getting worse.
” They know I’m having issues with my shoulder, but this is the first time I’ve told anyone besides Sloane what is wrong with my shoulder.
“And if you have the surgery, you’re done,” West concludes.
I nod. “Pretty much. I wasn’t trying to use to get high, or anything like that.
The trip to Toronto had my shoulder on fire, and the altitude combined with being a little dehydrated combined with one pill too many and I passed out.
I know I scared both of you. I scared myself too, but she fucking left before I could even try to fix it. ”
I can see Sawyer’s anger fade to a look of sympathy.
“I don’t think it’s hopeless, for what it’s worth, but it isn’t just the fact that you scared her one time.
I knew there was something bothering her, and I thought it was because you were being a bossy, sex crazed, asshole.
I can see now I was wrong. She was stressed watching you continue to abuse your body for a game. ”
“It’s more than a game, and you know that,” I shoot back.
“There are other ways to stay part of the game without destroying your body,” she says.
“I’m all ears,” I say as the limo pulls up in front of a red carpet.
“Later,” she says, right before the driver comes around to open the door.
I don’t get another word out as flash bulbs go off, recording our arrival to the gala.
It’s the same well-heeled crowd that attends all of these functions.
The only difference is that this one actually serves a decent cause, scholarships for underprivileged teens.
There’s a silent auction with donated goods and services.
Things like deep sea fishing excursions, box seats at the philharmonic, and weekend excursions at various private vacation homes.
As usual there’s a band playing some kind of soft jazz.
They’ll pick up the tempo later when they want to encourage people to dance.
For now there’s waiters roaming around the room filled with either glasses of champagne or little canapés.
At least they didn’t go over the top with champagne fountains made out of ice sculptures.
Instead there are displays set up around the room with information about the organization, what happens with the funding, and success stories from former recipients.
Sawyer goes straight to networking with some other owners of sports teams. My jaw clenches when I see her talking to Carson Wright, the owner of the Portland Wolves. This is the connection she used to help Sloane get away from me.
West puts his hand on my good shoulder and squeezes. “I know you don’t want to be here, but try to look like you don’t actually want to murder the other guests.”
“I’m fine,” I say through clenched teeth.
I swear I can feel her here in the room. It’s probably wishful thinking. Why would someone bring a publicist, fresh out of college to a fancy charity gala?
I’ve been able to pick up bits and pieces about what she’s doing.
It wasn’t hard to find out that she went to work for one of the players for the Wolves.
It’s all some of the other assistants have been talking about.
No one has mentioned which one, only that she’s a personal publicist for a football player.
Still doesn’t mean she’d be here. And yet I can’t shake the feeling of her eyes on me, something I haven’t felt since the morning she left.
I look around the room to reassure myself that she’s not here.
That’s not what happens though, because she’s here, sitting at the Wolves table with none other than West’s favorite player, Ford Shaw.
I take a step forward, but West pulls me back. “Woah, cowboy. What do you think you’re going to do, drag her out of here in front of the who’s who of Portland?”
“Let go of me,” I hiss through clenched teeth.
“Not until you calm down. You can’t just run over there and make demands. She doesn’t belong to you,” he says, close to my ear.
“The fuck she doesn’t.”
“You go storming over there, in front of the people she works with now, and you will lose her forever,” he insists.
That gets through. I stop fighting him and relax. I feel his fingers twitch on my shoulder. “I’m good, you can let go,” I reassure him.
I hear her laugh at something Shaw says, and it feels like a knife to the heart.
I made her do a lot of things, but now I’m not sure if I ever made her laugh.
I make a promise to myself that when I get her back, and there is no other option, I will give her the world.
More importantly, she will never be my secret again.
Sawyer comes back over with some important businessmen in tow.
Gerald is always doing some kind of business deal, and we come along to shake hands and sweeten the deal.
A lot of these guys are lured in by the prospect of socializing with athletes.
Personally, I wouldn’t base how I spent millions of dollars on whether or not I got to shake the hand of someone who gets paid to play a game, but maybe I’m harder to impress these days.
By the time dinner is over and the band finally starts playing something that can be danced to I feel like I’m strung tight enough to substitute for one of the cellos. I doubt I’m doing a good job impressing the people Sawyer keeps introducing West and I to. That’s not my problem.
My issue is the tall, scary looking motherfucker currently dancing with Sloane. This time West isn’t close enough to keep me from going to her.
When I finally get close enough to speak to her, my voice comes out in a rough whisper. “Mind if I cut in?”
He doesn’t immediately back away, which annoys me, but I force myself to at least display patience. Instead he asks her, “What do you want me to do?”
“It’s okay. I’ll dance with him. I’ll meet you guys back at the table in a bit,” she says.
I clench my teeth. She’s letting both of us know that whatever she has to say to me won’t take very long. No matter, I’ll use whatever time she’s willing to give me. I didn’t fuck up in a few minutes, so it’ll take me just as long to make up for it. If she allows me to, that is.
One of my hands goes on her waist while the other clutches her hand close to my chest. She looks up at me, and for a moment there’s nothing outside of the stormy clouds in her eyes.
“How have you been?” I ask her, finally breaking the awkward silence.
She laughs, but it doesn’t have the same lightness it did when she was laughing with her new group of friends. “Really? That’s what you want to ask me?”
“It’s been weeks since I’ve talked to you. Of course, I want to know how you’re doing. Not to be completely predictable, but my follow up question is going to be asking about Xander.”
She visibly relaxes a little. “He misses you, but he’s doing okay. He’s hanging out at the Shaw’s house tonight with an Olympic athlete, which he’s pretty happy about.”
“Upstaged by a medal. I see how it goes,” I say, only slightly joking.
“He’s pretty distracted by Ford’s championship ring too,” she adds, rubbing salt in the wound.
“Are you?” I know she can hear the insecurity in voice.
“Seriously? I thought you knew me better than that. Maybe we didn’t have anything at all if that’s what you think of me.”
She starts to pull out of my arms, but I hold her tighter. “Please don’t go. The song is almost over, and I don’t know when I’m going to get you to talk to me again.”
“Give me a reason. That’s all I want,” she says so quietly I almost don’t hear her over the music.
“Can we go some place more private to talk?” I ask her.
She sighs. “What for? Seriously, what good will it do?”
“You asked me to give you a reason. I’m trying to do that,” I tell her.
I take her hand and we weave through the crowded dance floor. Down the hallway, past the restrooms dedicated to the gala, there’s a small office. I pull us inside and turn the lock on the door.
Every moment we’ve been apart fills me with this aching void. I don’t know how else to explain to her how much I need her, but I’m hoping I can show her. I try to kiss her tenderly, but the moment my lips touch hers I turn into a beast.
Devour is the only word that can be used to describe the way my lips move against hers.
As she usually does, she melts into my arms. My hands blindly search behind her back for the zipper of her dress.
It releases with a metallic hush. Pushing the thin straps off her shoulders I watch the silky material slide down her body, revealing lacy lingerie I have never seen her wear before.
“We’re going to get caught,” she says against my mouth.
“Then I guess this will have to be a quickie. I need you, baby girl.”
I pick her up, and she wraps her legs around my waist. It’s three steps from where we’re standing to a desk set in the center of the room. I set her down on the mostly empty desk and step back to slip her lacy panties down her legs.
She leans back with her arms behind her on the desk as I fumble with the button on my slacks.
“I need you too bad to be gentle,” I warn her.
“I don’t want gentle. I want you,” she says, raising her chin, challenging me.
My mouth takes hers, tongue plunging in, mirroring the way my cock thrusts inside of her. The desk squeaks against the tile, but I don’t give a shit about the sounds it makes. Not with her clawing at the fabric of my jacket. I wish I could feel her nails scrape against my skin.
Later, I promise myself. I hope there will be a later. Even in my sex-crazed brain, I know this isn’t enough to fix what’s broken between us. That doesn’t stop me from trying to imprint myself so deep inside of her she’ll never be able to carve me out.
Her breathing picks up, and I can feel her pussy start to squeeze my cock. I’m drilling into her, hitting that spot deep inside that makes her wild. In a short amount of time I’ve learned to master her body. She moans into my mouth, and it nearly makes me come.
I stop kissing her long enough to speak against her mouth. “Come for me, baby girl. I need to feel you soak my cock.”
She moans, and I swallow the sound. Not that I care at this moment if someone hears, but her pleasure is mine. She is mine.
When her legs start to tremble against my hips, I let go and fill her with cum.
“You are mine. You’ll always be mine,” I breathe against her neck.
My words have the effect of a bucket of ice water over her. She pulls back, and looks at me with more sadness than I thought her eyes were capable of conveying.
“I love you,” she says, but it sounds like she’s saying we’re over.
“Why does that sound like goodbye?” I get up the nerve to ask her.
She gets off the desk, and moves around me, silently gathering her clothes. She starts to dress without answering my question, which irritates me.
“Sloane, why does it sound like you’re telling me goodbye?” I repeat.
When she turns back to face me she’s frowning.
“Because I can’t do this. I can’t be the only one who feels this—” she bangs on her chest “—ache. I’m always worrying about you, and you’re too busy mourning the loss of a game to notice.
I think I love you more than you love yourself.
And, despite how sexy people think sneaking around might be, nobody wants to be kept as a secret. ”
I open my mouth, but I’m not sure what to say.
I know I feel strongly for her. I want her with every fiber of my being, but I’ve told women I loved them before, and it still fizzled out.
What I feel for her is so much more than what I’ve ever felt before.
How can I recycle those words to describe this feeling for her.
I take too long trying to find the right words, hell, any words to explain things to her. They still elude me when she slips out of the room.
I know I should go after her. Beg her to give me a chance, but she’s right that she deserves more. I want her to have everything. Someone who won’t hesitate to tell her how perfect she is. She definitely deserves someone who is willing to set aside everything else for her.
I just don’t know how to let go of the things that have kept me going up until now. I just don’t know if I don’t love her enough, or if she’s right and it’s myself that I’m punishing.
The sad fact is that I’m pretty sure I do love her, but I’m not sure I deserve to have that love returned. The only relationship I’ve ever had that has given me as much as I’ve put in is with hockey. Even as it slowly destroys my body, I still can’t seem to let it go.
So instead of admitting that it’s time to let go of the game, I stand and watch the best thing in my life walk away.