Chapter 5
Nadia
Oh fuck.
What have you done?
That’s the first thought when I wake up to the weight of an arm circling my waist. A male arm. He’s warm. Comfortable. And, well, from the steel rod stabbing into my backside, hard as fuck.
And big. Really big.
I don’t have to look to see who’s got me tucked into his body. Yet, I carefully lift the sheets and peek underneath to confirm. Yep, no doubt about it. The tattoos are a dead giveaway. No mistaking the owner of the dark ink that covers his muscular forearm all the way down to his hand. From this angle, it’s a jumble of designs and symbols, but it”s the letters on the knuckles that turn my gut to stone: YOLO.
Axel.
His fingers graze my lower belly, right at the edge of the elastic band of my panties. Butterflies swirl in my gut as the morning fog clears and the memory of the night before comes rushing back. Last night was…
An epic fuck-up.
Jesus, we didn’t even last two hours.
“Axel,” I whisper, shifting to get his hand to a less dangerous spot. Unfortunately, he shifts with me, sliding his hand to my breast and cupping it.
“Five more minutes.” He buries his face in the back of my neck. “No morning skate today.”
I roll my eyes, because of course this guy has my tit in his hand and all he can think about is sports. I definitely have a type. A type I swore off, yet here we are.
I’d love to say I didn’t know how it happened, but that would be an outright lie. Axel and I were at the Badger Den, toasting with water about how we were going to get our shit together. Unfortunately, once the hot wings and fries were gone, sitting around the bar while everyone else partied and partnered up was lame. Which is why when he offered to walk me back to the house, it seemed like a good plan. The smart, responsible, plan.
I start to rise, but he holds me tight, and I sigh.
“You need to get up,” I start, but outside my room, I hear footsteps on the hardwood and the bathroom door open and close, followed by the hum of the fan turning on. Damn it. Twyler must have slept here last night, which means–
“Axel,” I whisper more urgently, pushing at his handsy hands, “get up now.”
He groans, but rolls away, rubbing a wide hand over his face. “What’s wrong?”
“Shhh!” I sit, pulling my tank down from where it had pushed up over my tits. His sleepy eyes track my moves. “And what do you mean what’s wrong? You’re in my bed. Half-naked!”
He lifts the sheet, which is already tented, and looks underneath. A smirk lifting the corner of his mouth. “More than half, T.”
“Oh my god.” I drop my face to my hands. “What the hell have I done?”
Next to me, Axel’s hand shifts beneath the sheet, clearly adjusting himself, and then he stretches back, propping an elbow behind his head. I peek over at him and get an eyeful of the ridiculously hard-packed muscle that makes up his upper body. Last night wasn’t the first time I’ve seen him shirtless, but it was the first time I knew what all that smooth skin felt like under my hands. What it tasted like.
No.
“Are you talking about us fucking?” he asks, drawing that hand out from under the sheet and resting it on the tattooless spot on his lower abdomen.
“Don’t say that.” I wince and hop out of the bed. “Please don’t say that ever again.”
“That we fucked? How come?” His eyes roam over my body and I get the distinct feeling he’s remembering what I looked like bare as much as I am about him. I lunge for a pair of flannel pants on the floor and tug them on quickly. “It was pretty awesome, right?”
“Wrong,” I say, keeping my voice low. If Twyler finds us…
Epically fucked, times a million.
“It was a mistake, that’s all. A complete lapse in judgment.” He’s been sweet. I was vulnerable. And yes, I agreed to it. I wanted it, but… I grab his jeans off the floor and toss them to him. “Get dressed. Quietly.”
“It didn’t feel like a mistake when you were getting a mustache ride last night, T.”
My lady parts tingle at the memory and I really wish the flare of heat didn’t rush to my cheeks, but my mind isn’t in control of my body right now. Obviously. “Can you just not? And get up. You have to go.”
He shrugs, but he’s wearing that smug expression that says he knows I think he’s hot. And dammit. Of course I think he’s hot. Who wouldn’t? I throw his T-shirt at him as he slings his bare legs over the side of the bed and stands. I turn away, but not before I catch sight of his rock-hard ass. Damn. I bet I could bounce a quarter off those cheeks.
“Why are you freaking out?” he asks, fumbling with fabric. “We’re two extremely hot, completely sober, consenting adults that had a little bit of fun.” I hear his zipper and determine it’s safe to turn around. I was half right. His pants are on, but he’s got his shirt in his hand, and my knees wobble. I grip the back of the desk chair as he lifts the shirt over his head and continues. “I asked for a chance to prove myself to you and I think I did a pretty damn good job of it.”
Too good of a job, I think, but don’t say.
“I don’t get what’s the big deal,” he continues, “I mean, if anything, we should get back in bed and do it again.”
“It’s a big deal because last night I–no, we–toasted to not fucking up anymore. And part of not fucking up for me, is doing this.” I wave my hand in a vague motion between us. “Chasing jerseys. Sleeping with athletes I barely know.”
Betraying a promise to my best, and only, friend.
“You didn’t chase me, T.” He lowers the shirt down his body, covering up the tats and muscle. I toss him his shoes, one after the other and he deftly catches them mid air, before sitting on the end of the bed to put them on. “You wanted to take back a little control and I gave you that opportunity.” He wedges his foot into one shoe. “And we know each other a hell of a lot more than anyone would realize.”
“Which makes it worse for me,” I blurt. “If I could make you black that out, I’d be good with it.”
“Why?” He ties the second shoe and stands.
“Because it’s humiliating,” I admit, picking up his hockey jacket from off the messy pile of clothes on the pink chair in the corner of the room. “You’ve seen me at rock bottom. You’re a witness to the lowest, most embarrassing moment of my life. Every time you look at me, it’s filled with pity, and it makes me feel like shit all over again.”
Before he can respond, I hear the fan shut off, and the bathroom door open. I hold up my hand and give Axel a pleading look. His mouth forms a thin, hard, line but he stays quiet.
“Nadia, you here?” Twyler’s voice is followed by a soft tap on the door. The handle turns, but it catches. Thank god I had the awareness to lock the door.
“Yeah, I’m up,” I call, stomach twisting with the fear of being caught.
“Oh good, I’m out of the shower.”
Her shadow shifts under the door and this is just too awkward. Twyler asked one thing of me when she started working with the hockey team–to leave the guys alone so it wouldn’t make it awkward for her. Although she isn’t working with them anymore, she is dating the captain, and the rule still applies.
I give Axel a hard look and gesture for him to be quiet, then unlock the door and crack it open, filling the space with my body. She’s in Reese’s team hoodie, with her hair wrapped up in a towel.
“Reese and I are meeting at the dining hall for breakfast, if you want to come join us.”
“Yeah, that sounds good. Let me get ready.”
“Twenty minutes?” her head tilts in question. We both know it’ll be thirty, but I nod in agreement and shut the door. I exhale, and turn, pressing my back to the door. When I look back at Axel his arms are crossed over his chest and he’s staring at me.
“What?” I say. “She’ll flip out if she finds out about you.”
His teeth run over that piercing in his lip and he says, “You think I pity you?”
I blink and push off the door. “I know you do.” Why wouldn’t he? “Look, I don’t blame you for what happened last night. You’re right. We both consented. But I have to stop hooking up with guys–athletes–because it’s easy and makes me feel good for a few minutes.”
His eyebrow lifts. “So you admit it was good.”
Better than good. I’m not used to the men I’m with making me feel like that.
“I admit it was a mistake. One I’d like to forget and one we never, ever, tell anyone, especially Twyler and Reese, that it happened.”
His jaw sets and there’s a dark flicker in those green eyes. He walks over to me and the room suddenly feels too tight–too small. My body reacts instantly to his proximity, because he’s right, even if I won’t admit it to him, the sex was fantastic. His mouth and hands, and fuck, his cock, were all way better than any of my other hook-ups lately. He was confident and respectful and made sure I came before him.
Both times.
“Let me make one thing clear,” he says, sliding his hands into his pockets. “Again. That shit that went down with Reynolds and McMichael? That’s reflective of them. Not you.” The muscle in the back of his jaw tics. “When I look at you, it’s sure as fuck not with pity. All I see is a ballsy, sexy, kickass woman, who’s fun to hang out with and also makes my dick hard. You’re Twyler’s best friend and she’s dating my best friend, which means you’ve got to be pretty fucking awesome.” He eyes me carefully. “But if you want to forget this, we can forget it.”
“I want to forget it.”
He swallows, Adam’s apple bobbing. “Done.”
“Thank you.”
He starts toward the door. “Axel,” I grab him by the arm, “wait.”
He looks at me, eyebrow raised and I swear I see a glimmer of interest in his eyes. “Yeah?”
“You can’t go out there. If Twyler or Reese see you…”
“Oh.”
I turn and lean over the pink chair, flipping the latch on the bedroom window. “It’s a short drop.”
He laughs, but crosses the room, leaning down into the open space. “I haven’t had to sneak out of a girl’s room in a long time, T.”
“Tell me something,” I say, once he’s worked his body through the opening and he’s standing on the other side. He leans back in, his shoulders nearly as wide as the frame. “What’s the ‘T’ for?”
“It stands for what I think of every time you walk in the room.”
“What’s that?”
He smiles, that one that I know he uses to get what he wants and winks. “Trouble.”