Chapter 35
THIRTY-FIVE
HANNAH
BANG!
My eyes pop open to a loud noise.
Blinking, it takes a minute to figure out where I am.
An old gothic chandelier hangs above, the sunlight making it sparkle right into my eyes. My blurred gaze moves to the black velvet-draped window. The glass bar. The hockey accolades on the concrete walls.
Then it hits me, a rush flowing through me as my eyes widen.
I’m in Rye’s room.
Reaching my hand over, I expect to feel a warm, hard body. Instead, I touch soft, silk sheets. Looking over, the other side of the bed remains untouched. Sitting up, there’s no trace of him, and I know this wasn’t a dream.
Yesterday rushes back as a sinking feeling hits my chest. Flopping back on the large, soft mattress, I stupidly hoped he’d be here with me. He was my hero.
But that was yesterday.
After we all took a nap, we spent the day watching movies and recovering from SOL and the changes within our families. I meant to text Ember if I could crash. I don't even remember falling asleep, but here I am waking up in his bed. Without him.
“I’ll figure it out.” A voice comes from outside the bedroom doors. One that makes my tired insides flip.
Pushing back the sheets, I climb out of bed, Rye’s old shirt swallowing my frame. My feet hit the warm wooden floor before they patter towards the door.
“The best thing might be to leave,” he says, his voice flowing down the hall.
I follow it, passing large windows overlooking their massive yard. My feet move quicker, but his voice moves further, like he’s walking somewhere.
“What else am I supposed to do here?”
Following his voice brings me all the way down the grand stairs and through the foyer.
My feet slow when I approach the kitchen, which looks more like a showroom.
It's sleek with concrete features and sharp lines.
There's hardly a cooking utensil in sight, save for the stove in the long concrete island.
A sharp pang rips through my chest when I see him standing in front of the fridge in a black silk robe. His back to me, he rummages through the shelves while his phone sits on the island.
I move closer to him as he keeps talking. “I’ll let you know what I decide,” he says, before he pulls the earbud out of his ear.
“You’re still going to leave?” I ask.
His body stills, his shoulder rising to his ears before he turns around and locks those deep, dark eyes on me.
His eyes drag around my frame, landing on my lips before they meet my gaze again.
He pauses like he’s unsure of what to say as my eyes wander his chiselled pecs and abs that peek out of his robe.
“Why do you walk like a ghost?" he asks.
That puts a smirk on my face. “Or a zombie.” I refer to the movie last night. The one where I found it impossible to focus on with him next to me. I was looking for a distraction, but all I could think about was what he risked for me. Now I’m reminded it didn’t come without a cost.
“Zombie vampire,” he corrects with a smile. Seeing this softer side to Rye is weird, but part of me hopes it stays. “Speaking of zombies, you were out all night.”
My eyes move to the clock on the shiny gas stove as he turns towards the fridge. It’s already noon. “Did you sleep?”
He shakes his head, reaching for a bowl in one of the sleek, grey cupboards. “Couldn’t.”
“Is that because you’re planning to run away?”
“I don’t have a choice.” He places the bowl on the counter. “My father’s dead. The headlines are crazy. I’m still not on the team. Could be time for a fresh start.” He avoids my eyes as he cracks an egg into the bowl. “Omelette?”
“God, stop being such a little bitch boy.”
He hovers a cracked shell over the bowl. “Come again, Alfonso?”
Folding my arms, I stand my ground. “You’re a little bitch boy,” I repeat, this time slower so he catches every word. “You’re running away. What about Krystal?”
“She’ll be fine.” He tosses the shell over his shoulder and into the sink behind him. Always precise. “She has her own following now. She’ll survive the scandal.”
“You think she wants to be here without you? And what about me?”
His eyes lift to mine, and I wish I could suck those words back in, my cheeks burning. “Thought you’d be happy about me leaving.”
“I’m not happy with you giving up.” My chest feels heavier and heavier the more I think about it. How hot is it in this house? “I didn’t give up, no matter what you threw at me. You don’t just get to do that. My family is in this scandal, too. And we're not the only ones. Don’t be such a pussy.”
His eyes wander around my face, narrowing. “You didn’t give up because you’re attached to The Hill and SBU. You won't leave your posse. You worked too hard to do that.” He reads me like a book he's read a thousand times. “I don’t even have hockey anymore, thanks to you.”
“Fuck those clout-chasing cunts,” I respond, my voice rising.
“And you're so sad you can’t knock a puck around with your stick?” I mock, his jaw tightening.
“You’re not so innocent, and you know that.
We fucked each other in a way no one’s fucked us before.
” That hard stare softens into a smirk, but I continue, my words falling out of my mouth.
“Then we fucked our families.” I wince. That one sounds more problematic.
“We became a team, and we took that power back. We controlled this shit together. Don’t leave me to pick up the pieces alone. ”
Rye stares at me with those laser eyes as I stand in his kitchen feeling more naked than ever. The silence is deafening, squeezing against my heart.
“And if I leave?”
“Simple.” My feet move towards him, the answer hitting me like something I always knew. “I’d leave with you.”
“Why?” He moves toward me, the air in the kitchen thickening by the second.
“I don’t want you to leave.” The words startle me, a tremble in my voice.
“It’s just that—just don’t make it worse.
For you. For everyone. You still have power here.
” The more I talk, the more I realize he still has power over me.
Not the kind of power he once fought for.
A softer, protective power that I’m not ready to let go of.
Not yet. “Don’t underestimate what you can do.
I’ve been on the receiving end of what you can do, and god, it’s a force. You’re a force.”
He steps closer, my heart pounding with every step. “Say that again.”
“You’re a force."
Somehow, he comes even closer, the tip of his socks against my toes. His scent overtakes me. Overwhelming and comforting at the same time. “Not that.”
I search his eyes, laser-focused on mine. “Don’t underestimate what you can do?”
“Not that either.” He moves even closer, his warm muscles pressing against my body in a way that makes my breath hitch. “Try again.”
My ass hits the island, my back next to the bowl he cracked an egg into. He traps me against him. “You still have power here.”
“Not that.” His words land against my skin before his finger does. A shockwave to my heart.
I swallow hard as he lifts my chin towards him, forcing me to fall into those deep, dark eyes.
“I-I don’t want you to leave.” A smile spreads on his face as he lowers his head to mine.
His soft lips brush my skin. It’s like flames in the living room on a snowy night.
Hot. Comforting. Peaceful. And it pulls the next words right out of me. “I-I want you. Rye, I think—”
His warm lips cut off my words as he presses them against mine. The room spins as my eyes close, and I fall into his kiss. I fall into him.
A soft moan escapes me as that fire erupts inside me again, and I don’t want him to stop. Ever. He claims my mouth as his hands move to my face like I’m no one else’s. Like he’s possessing me. Me and me only.
“I want you,” I breathe against his lips. “I-I think I need you.”
“Oh, Kitten, didn’t I tell you?” He speaks against my lips, brushing a strand of hair behind my ear. “I own you.”
And that’s it. That’s enough to break any further space between us, and our kiss turns into something else.
Obsession.
He parts my lips while my hands ride up his abs to his pecs, my fingers dragging along every ripple of muscle. Then I aim for his robe, pushing it off his shoulders and fuck… weeks without hockey and he still looks like this? Like a monstrous masterpiece. One I'm determined to keep for myself.
“Then act like it,” I moan against his mouth, his hands moving up my ass, lifting my shirt. His shirt.
“You want it sharp, Kitten?” he asks, his teeth sinking into my lobe. It makes me push harder against his growth as I exhale a ragged breath. “I know how much you like to mess with danger.”
His words bring a searing heat to my face, his velvet shaft pressing against me. Teasing me. “I want you in any way I can have you.”
A gasp escapes me when he spins me around before my stomach presses against the cold concrete of the island.
“See that, Hannah?” He kisses down my spine, a heatwave coming with every tender one.
He’s a mix of firm and soft, and I love it when both sides come out to play.
“You’ve always had the power.” With every kiss, he moves my shirt up further, peeling up the fabric like I'm a gift he's careful to open.
“You always had control, but you fucking love when I take it. "
“I need you to take me.” I don’t care that I'm begging. “Please take me.”
He chuckles, one hand pulling me against him, his hardness throbbing in time with my heart. “You’re going to be quiet for me,” he groans his command, his lips returning to my ear. “Understand?”
That reminds me, Krystal is… somewhere around here, but I really don’t fucking care. My mind is so far gone.
He kisses along my neck, that spot in the centre making me push my ass harder against him. “Yes.” My voice is as needy as I feel. “Please!”