Chapter 18 #2
I grab him by the collar and crash my mouth against his, hard enough to bruise. He groans into me, biting back, but I don’t let him win this time. My teeth sink into his lower lip until he gasps, and I shove him down onto the couch.
“You want me to use it?” My voice is rough, breaking with heat. “Fine. I’ll fucking use it.”
Phoenix sprawls there, chest heaving, eyes dark and hungry. “Do it, sweetheart. Show me how angry you are.”
Something snaps inside me. All the anger, all the frustration—it floods out in the way I shove his knees apart and fall between them. My hands tear at his sweats, yanking them down hard enough he curses. He doesn’t stop me. He just spreads wider, cock already thick and heavy against his stomach.
I don’t even start there. I grip his thighs, force them wider, and bury my face lower. Phoenix jolts when my tongue drags over him, rough and hungry. I don’t take it slow. I eat him out like I’m starving, tongue pressing deep, lips sucking hard enough to make him moan my name.
“Fuck, Lee—” His voice cracks, hand flying to my hair, but I don’t let him guide me. I pin his hips down with one hand and keep going, devouring every sound he makes. He tries to buck up, but I hold him there, ruthless.
My fingers press in next, two at once, sliding in slick from my spit. Phoenix curses loud, the sound tearing out of him as his back arches. “Jesus—”
“Shut up,” I growl against him, pumping my fingers rough and fast. He shudders, thighs trembling, cock leaking against his stomach.
I pull out of him just long enough to spit down over my fingers, working them deeper, curling until he’s gasping like he’s going to fall apart.
My mouth goes to his cock, swallowing him down while I keep fingering him open.
He thrashes under me, one fist knotted in my hair, the other clawing at the couch cushions.
When I pull off him, he’s wrecked, chest heaving, sweat beading on his forehead.
“On the floor.” My voice is harsh, almost unrecognizable to my own ears.
Phoenix blinks, dazed. “What—”
I grab his wrist and drag him down off the couch, shoving him onto his knees on the carpet. He laughs, breathless and cocky even now. “Carpet burn, huh? You’re a mean bastard.”
“Shut up,” I snarl, already lining up.
He looks back over his shoulder, grin wild. “Do it then. Break me.”
And I do.
I slam into him in one rough thrust, and his laugh rips into a groan, head dropping forward. The sound of our bodies meeting is obscene, wet and sharp, my hips snapping forward again and again without mercy. Phoenix claws at the carpet, shoulders flexing, his voice breaking open.
“Fuck, Lee—harder—”
I give it to him, every ounce of frustration, every ounce of rage. My grip bruises his hips, dragging him back onto me over and over. His knees scrape against the carpet, red marks blooming, but he doesn’t care. He pushes back into me like he can’t get enough, like he wants me to destroy him.
My chest presses to his back, teeth sinking into the curve of his shoulder, biting hard enough he hisses and I can taste something coppery against my tongue. “Mine,” I pant against his skin. “Say it.”
His moan is ragged, desperate. “Yours, fuck—always yours—”
That does it. I fuck him until my vision whites out, until my own orgasm tears through me so hard I collapse over him. Phoenix takes it, groaning, his cock spilling untouched against the carpet.
For a long moment, the only sound in the room is our panting. My sweat drips onto his back, my hands still gripping his hips like I can’t let go.
Finally, Phoenix laughs hoarse and low, turning his head just enough to glance at me. “Feel better?”
I bury my face against his shoulder, still shaking, and mutter, “No. I need more.”
He chuckles, voice dark and wrecked. “Fine. But in the bed. My knees are shot to hell.”
And somehow, even through the anger, I laugh.
I’ve never been more nervous about walking into a house that I’ve already spent half my time in these past few months.
Normally, it’s just us—our laughter bouncing off the walls, our clothes tangled on the floor, the faint smell of coffee still lingering from his morning routine.
But tonight, with the counter cluttered with plastic cups and half a dozen liquor bottles, it feels like I’m exposing something private.
Phoenix notices. Of course he notices.
“What’s wrong?” His voice is calm, steady, the same voice that can command twenty guys on the ice without breaking a sweat.
I shake my head, shoving my hands into my hoodie pocket. “Just feels weird. The thought of all of them… being here. Seeing me in your house.”
Phoenix pauses, giving me that look—half amusement, half challenge. Then he walks over, brushing a thumb along my jaw until I’m forced to meet his eyes.
“Our house,” he corrects. “You’re here more than your own apartment. You sleep in my bed, your toothbrush is in my bathroom, your gear is piled up in my laundry room. Just move in already, Leander. Stop wasting money on rent you don’t use.”
My chest squeezes. He says it so casually, but there’s weight in it. A permanence. I’ve never lived with anyone before. Never had someone ask me like it’s the most natural thing in the world.
“I’ll...think about it.”
He grins and kisses my shoulder. “Okay, baby.”
Our house.
That’s what he called it, and the word won’t stop shaking my blood in my veins.
Jax shows up first, carrying a bag of chips and a case of beer like we’re still in college. He helps Phoenix set up in the kitchen, blasting music through the speakers, and for a while it feels almost normal. Just teammates, friends, noise and laughter filling the house.
I catch myself straightening the pile of mail on the entryway table, tugging my jacket off the hook where I always leave it.
I know where every drawer in the kitchen is.
I know which squeaky board in the hallway to step around when we sneak in late at night.
I know the exact sound the bedroom door makes when it closes behind us.
And now the team is coming here, walking through, looking at me as if they’re just realizing I don’t look out of place.
For the first time, I don’t feel like I’m sneaking around in Phoenix’s life. I feel like I belong. And I’m proud—proud enough that my chest tightens with it.
A couple of the guys glance at me when I hand out beers from Phoenix’s fridge like it’s second nature.
One of them even mutters, “Guess rookie lives here now.” They probably meant it as a jab, but it hits me like a badge of honor.
I don’t care if they know. Let them see me in his space. Let them see me with him.
Phoenix, of course, is cool as hell about it. He moves through the house like he always does—commanding, easy, grounded—and every time his eyes land on me across the room, there’s this softness there, like he’s telling me without words, yeah, I want them to see you here too.
When Jax laughs and throws an arm around both of us in the kitchen, teasing Phoenix about finally settling down, I don’t even flinch.
For once, I don’t want to hide. I want them all to see that Phoenix Locke—captain, star, legend—chose me.
And that thought steadies me through the waves of tension, through the sidelong looks, through the awkward silences.
Because for all the noise in my head, I’m proud. Proud of him. Proud of us.
By the time the rest of the Wolves start showing up, the drinks are flowing and the air is loose. Even the guys who’ve been cold to me at practice are cracking jokes, leaning against counters, grabbing beers from the fridge. Alcohol is a good equalizer.
Phoenix waits until everyone’s packed into the living room before calling for attention. He doesn’t have to raise his voice much; people just quiet down when he speaks. Captain energy.
“I just want to say something real quick,” Phoenix starts, standing in front of the fireplace with a bottle in his hand. “I know this season’s been… complicated. We’ve had the media crawling all over us, rumors, headlines, all of it. And part of that’s on me.”
He glances at me, just for a second, before looking back at the team.
“When Leander and I started… whatever the hell this was, I treated it like a fling. I liked the rush, the secrecy. I didn’t think it’d turn into a relationship. But it did. And I should’ve been honest with you guys sooner. I owe you that apology.”
There’s a murmur through the room, some guys exchanging looks, some rolling their eyes, but Phoenix keeps steady.
“I’m asking you to forgive us. To forgive me—for hiding it, for the distraction. This team is family, and I’d never do anything to hurt it. You don’t have to like it, but I hope you’ll respect it.”
For a heartbeat, it feels like maybe this could work. Maybe the alcohol and Phoenix’s honesty will smooth everything over. Then Eric scoffs, loud enough to cut through the quiet.
“Save the speech,” he sneers. “You’re still a shit captain. You risked the whole team’s reputation because you couldn’t keep your dick in your pants. Some leader.”
The room goes tense. My blood goes hot. I see Phoenix’s jaw clench, but he doesn’t rise to it.
“I hear you,” Phoenix says evenly, taking a drink. “But this isn’t about—”
“No,” I snap, stepping forward before I can stop myself. My fists clench, my pulse hammering in my ears. “You don’t get to talk to him like that.”
Eric smirks, clearly enjoying this. “Oh, look, guard dog’s here. You gonna bite me, sweetheart?”
“Try me,” I growl, and then I’m shoving him, hard, before anyone can get between us.
It explodes fast—Eric swinging, me dodging, fists flying. Someone yells, Jax’s voice booming for us to knock it off, but I’m too far gone. Too pissed. Phoenix shoves between us, trying to break it up, and for a second I think it’s over.
Then Eric shoves back.
Phoenix stumbles, his head cracking hard against the tile of the entryway. The sound is sickening. He crumples, blood blooming against the floor.
The whole room freezes.
“Phoenix!” I drop to my knees next to him, my hands sticky with his blood.
He doesn’t respond. His eyes are closed, blood running down his temple.
“Call 911!” I scream at no one in particular, my throat raw. “Now!”
My mind refuses to focus—panic drowning rational thought. He’s not supposed to be hurt like this. Not because of some petty fight with a teammate. Not because I allowed them to disrespect him. Not on my watch.
“Phoenix! Wake up! Look at me!” My voice cracks, probably too loud, but I don’t care. I can feel the eyes of the team, the whispers, the shock—they’re all frozen on us—but nothing matters except him.
He groans softly, and my chest squeezes in relief, but then he opens his eyes, blinking, still dazed. Blood streaks his hairline, dark and sharp against his skin. I feel bile rise, a mix of rage and fear.
Jax is crouched behind me, fumbling for his phone, probably dialing 911 with shaky fingers. I can hear him giving the dispatcher the address while I stay pressed against Phoenix, murmuring his name like a mantra.
“Stay awake, you hear me? Stay awake.”
Johnny brings me a hand towel to press against to stop his head to slow the bleeding.
He squeezes my hand weakly, a small smile curling at the edge of his lips. “Lee…” His voice is hoarse, strained. “You—don’t… panic.”
I shake my head, almost crying. “I am panicking! You’re bleeding everywhere! You’re…” My words break. I can’t even finish the sentence. “You’re supposed to be fine. You’re supposed to be here with me.”
He laughs, low and ragged, and it’s like a lifeline. “I’m fine… Don’t… baby me.”
“Fine?!” I shout.
Phoenix groans, but he’s alive, and that’s all I can hold on to. I press closer, trying to keep him steady, my heart hammering like I’ve run a marathon.
The ambulance sirens cut through the night, a piercing shriek that finally pushes the team back to reality. A couple of guys step forward, Eric standing frozen, guilt plastered across his face, but I can’t even look at him. I only see Phoenix. Only care about Phoenix.
Paramedics are kneeling down, taking over. I’m shoved gently to the side, but I don’t move far, staying right beside him as they load him onto the stretcher. He keeps reaching for me with weak, bloody fingers. “Baby… stay…”
“I’m not leaving you,” I snap, climbing into the ambulance as they secure him.
The ride is a blur of red lights, sirens, and my own racing heartbeat.
I’m pressed to his side, hands on his chest, leaning close so he can hear me breathe, hear me whisper, “I’ve got you.
I’ve got you. I won’t let anything happen to you. ”
He’s groaning softly, drifting in and out, and I feel panic flare again. “Please don’t do this, don’t fall asleep,” I whisper fiercely, tears streaking my face. I’ve never felt so helpless, so aware of how fragile the world can feel when it comes to the people you love.
“Lee…” he murmurs weakly, voice rough, “you… always… here.”
“Yes. Always,” I choke out. “And you’re mine. Remember that, Captain. You’re mine.”
On the ride to the hospital, the sirens wailing in my ears, I fumble for my phone with shaking hands.
My vision swims as I hit dial.
“Silas,” I choke out when he answers, my voice breaking. “It’s Phoenix. He—he’s hurt. He’s bleeding. I don’t know if he’s—please, I don’t know what to do—”
And then I can’t say anything else. Just sobs, my body curled around Phoenix’s limp one as the ambulance races through the night.