Chapter 12
Gray
“I’m going home to change,” I text Celena after tugging my dress down for the third time in two minutes as I walk through the casino Saturday night.
The bouncing blue dots appear to indicate she’s typing.
Celena
No, you’re not. You’re going to go in there and rock that dress in front of those professional hockey players like the smoking-hot goddess you are.
I roll my eyes. Celena is good for my self-confidence, even if she’s full of shit.
Gray
What if one of my students sees me?
Celena
And what? Realizes you’re an adult woman with a life beyond school?
I don’t have time to reply before her next message comes through.
Celena
Putting my phone away now. Just go.
I sigh. I really wish Celena could’ve come tonight, but she never would’ve made it past the slot machines.
I pull out my ID and show the bouncer at the entrance to the club. He takes a quick glance at it, then at my outfit before he waves me inside.
I’m wearing a tight-fitting black dress that has half sleeves and dips low across my chest to show some cleavage. It comes down mid-thigh, and although I’ve already seen women wearing shorter skirts, I feel practically naked in it.
I do look good in the dress, but I’m not used to wearing something like this. I only own the thing because Celena made me buy it a year ago, and I’m only wearing it now because she made me promise to. It’s the dress’s inaugural outing.
I head toward the back of the club to where Ash said the VIP areas are, and I see the guys sitting on a set of couches in a far corner. I walk toward them, but another bouncer stops me before I get anywhere close.
“I’m with the Hydra,” I shout to him over the music.
He looks me up and down slowly, his gaze lingering on my breasts. “No bunnies yet,” he says.
My brows shoot up. “I’m a friend of Ash Gunnarsson.”
The bouncer laughs. “So not just with the Hydra. You’re with their star player?” he says. “You should’ve shot lower. I might’ve believed you were with one of the rookies.”
I tamp down the urge to knee the man in the groin, and I pull out my phone instead. I show him Ash’s name in my contacts, but he gives me a dubious look. I consider showing him our text chain, but at least parts of it are protected by the NDA.
I grit my teeth and send Ash a message to let him know I’m here but that the bouncer won’t let me in.
I watch Ash across the room, but he’s busy talking and doesn’t notice he has a message.
None of the guys are looking this way, so I bite the bullet and call him.
Again, he doesn’t acknowledge his phone is ringing.
He either doesn’t have his phone on him, or the ringer is off.
I leave a quick message when his voicemail picks up as I glare at the bouncer, then I head back to the main bar. I’ll have one drink, and if Ash hasn’t messaged me back by the time I finish, I’m going home.
I manage to slip up to the packed bar just as someone else is leaving, but it’s still another couple minutes before one of the bartenders comes over and I can order a Sauvignon Blanc. I’ve just gotten my drink when I hear a painfully familiar voice.
“Gray?”
I nearly spill the glass of wine as a lead ball forms in my stomach.
Please, no.
I turn to see Drew standing behind me at the bar. Drew, who I haven’t seen or heard from in a year. Drew, who strung me along for weeks before I finally couldn’t take it anymore. Drew, who still looks really good, despite that I want to feel repulsed by him.
Why? Why do I still carry a torch for this man? We weren’t even together that long, and by the end he was treating me like absolute shit. How can my body still react this way when I see him?
Shame wells up, nearly drowning me. It’s followed by the inevitable spike of anger. Anger at him for being such a jackass. Anger at myself for missing him despite it all.
“Drew,” I manage to say. I give silent thanks my voice doesn’t shake. “It’s been a while.”
“It has,” he says. “You look good.”
His eyes run up and down my body, and I fight back the shiver of pleasure I feel as I remember how he used to look at me that way. I refuse to let myself get sucked back in by him.
“How have you been?” he asks.
Really? We’re doing the pleasantries thing? We’re going to pretend I didn’t leave a tearful breakup message on his voicemail, and he never called or texted me again?
“I’m fine. You?” I say, then sip my wine. I’m a big girl. I can do this.
He steps closer and leans in to be heard over the blaring club music, and I’m torn between jerking away and leaning toward him.
“Not bad,” he says loud enough to be heard. “I got a promotion at work, and the car is looking good. I’m almost done with her, but it was touch-and-go for a while.”
Drew has been restoring a classic Corvette Stingray, and he launches into a story about the trouble he had finding some part. I nod along, not really listening.
I’m wondering how rude it will be of me to turn and walk away when a large hand lands on my hip, making me jump.
A masculine scent I half-recognize winds its way up my nose, and I turn to find Ash behind me.
My stomach somersaults as he presses his body to mine, and I feel the warmth of his hand even through my dress.
“Everything okay?” Ash asks as he looks over my shoulder at Drew.
I’m nearly sandwiched between the two of them right now, and my body threatens to combust. Moreso when Ash tugs me gently back against him away from Drew. If I didn’t know any better, I’d call the gesture …possessive.
Drew’s eyes widen. “Oh my God. You…you’re Ash Gunnarsson.”
I had no idea Drew followed hockey, but he looks totally starstruck.
“I am,” Ash says over the music. “And you are?”
“I’m Drew,” Drew says. “I’m a huge fan of yours.”
“Thanks,” Ash says. “Do you and Gray know each other?”
“We dated briefly about a year ago,” I jump in. I give Ash a meaningful look, hoping he gets the message that this is the guy I told him about.
“Ah, I see,” Ash says, and I can tell he does.
“You and Gray know each other?” Drew asks, looking between us.
I start to explain but realize I’m again handcuffed by the NDA the university’s lawyers couldn’t get fully removed. I can only discuss parts of my work with Ash if and when Mr. Kaladin determines Ash is ‘cured’ of his trash talk issue.
“We just started dating,” Ash says as his hand slips further around my waist, and I think I stop breathing. Butterflies explode in my stomach, and my mouth drops open as I look up at him, but he just smiles at me.
Drew must notice my shock because he asks, “Does…she know she’s dating you?”
“Yes,” I say before Ash can answer. “I just didn’t think we were telling anyone about it yet.” I look pointedly at him. “You being a public figure.”
He shrugs. “I’m not announcing it to the media or anything, but the cat’s pretty much out of the bag with you being here tonight, hanging with me and the guys.”
Ash gestures to their private area in the corner, and Drew’s eyes widen as he looks at the two couches of pro NHLers near the back of the club.
“Holy shit,” Drew says. “Is that Kingston? And Petruck? Wow, that looks like a fun time.”
As loud as it is in here, I still hear the longing in his voice. He’s hoping for an invite to come hang out or at least meet the players.
“It is,” Ash says. “Good to meet you, Drew. Come on, baby.”
Ash turns us around and shepherds me through the crowd with his arm still around my waist. I can’t help giving the bouncer who wouldn’t let me through a snide look as we pass, then chide myself for acting like I’m twelve.
“Sorry,” Ash says as he leads me toward the couch. “I couldn’t hear my phone. I just got your messages.”
“No problem,” I say. “I was getting a drink.”
“Found her,” Ash says to the group as he rejoins them, and the guys all greet me warmly with shouts of “Hey!” and raised drinks.
I’ve gotten to know many of them over the last few weeks, and they’re a good bunch.
Mack, Fig, Kelsier, The Don, and Bouchard are all sitting on the couches, plus two rookies and another big guy I haven’t met before.
The last has black hair, piercing blue eyes, and the most chiseled face I’ve ever seen on a man.
My brain kicks in a second later, and I realize this must be Kingston, the Hydra’s elusive goalie.
“Looking hot, teach,” Mack says, his tone slightly surprised. “Glad you could join us.”
I pull the hem of the dress down again. “Thanks for having me. It’s been a while since I’ve been out to a club.”
Ash sits down, and I dare a glance back to where Drew sits with a group of friends, including some women. He’s still looking our way.
I put my wine down on the table and start to sit, but I yelp as Ash grabs my waist and tugs me down so I’m sitting across his lap. His hand lands on my thigh near the hem of the dress, and heat spreads through my body as he pulls me against his chest.
“Whoa, Gunny, what’s up with you and the doc here?” Fig asks.
“Guys, we’ve got a Code Ex,” Ash says as he trails his fingers down my arm, making me shiver involuntarily with pleasure.
A murmur of understanding passes through the group. The music isn’t quite as loud back here, so it’s easier to hear.
“Yours or hers?” Mack asks.
“Hers,” Ash says.
“Code Ex?” I ask, although I can guess from context what it is.
“It’s a warning there’s an ex in the house,” Ash says, his face entirely too close to mine. “It puts certain protocols into action.”
“Protocols?” I say, unable to do anything but parrot back his words. Ninety-five percent of my attention is on the way Ash’s hand strokes my thigh lightly, and the other five percent is on the feel of my nipples peaking against my bra.
“Number one,” Kelsier says, “the ex is off-limits to everyone on the team. Doesn’t matter if they’re a super model, a porn star, or the God damn President of the United States. No one touches them. No one engages with them other than polite comments, and only if necessary.”