Chapter Twenty
Clay
She catches me off guard.
One second, I’m walking out of the tunnel toward my office, running through what we need to fix before the next game—and then she’s there.
“Tessa.”
Her name comes out rough, more growl than word. She doesn’t blink. Doesn’t even flinch.
“Clay.”
The way she says my name hits hard, like a check I never saw coming.
I try to shut it down—to let the cold from the rink numb whatever this is—but it doesn’t work. My eyes drag over her anyway, down to the flush in her cheeks, the way her breath catches before she steadies herself. Every piece of her comes back like muscle memory.
A door slams behind me. Someone calls down the hall. None of it registers. She doesn’t look away, and neither do I.
The tension in the air was tight, vibrating with everything we weren’t saying.
“You shouldn’t be here,” I manage, shoving my hands into my pockets before I do something I’ll regret.
She lifts her chin in defiance. “I could say the same to you.”
I should have seen that one coming.
For a second, all I can do is stare at her. Neither of us says a word. No small talk can fix this—not with the heat of anger rolling off her.
“I’m not leaving until you talk to me,” she says, arms crossed, eyes locked on mine.
Her voice is calm, but it’s the kind of calm that should come with a warning.
We can’t have this conversation in the middle of the hallway—not with the guys still filing out of the locker room after practice.
My pulse kicks harder. She doesn’t care. I know better than to think she’ll back down.
“Not here,” I say, jaw tight.
“Then where?” she shoots back, stepping closer. “Because all you’ve done since Christmas is pretend I don’t exist.”
Those words crack something in me that’s barely been holding together. The anger, the guilt, the ache of missing her—all of it twists up inside me.
Before I can think, I grab her wrist. Not rough, but enough to stop her in her tracks.
“Clay—” she says my name again.
I don’t let her finish. I tug her with me down the hall, my stride too quick, her shoes clicking against the floor as she tries to keep up. She resists for a second before matching my pace, her skin warm against mine.
The closest place is the team meeting room—the only one besides my office that’s empty.
I shut the door behind us. The space is dark, except for the light filtering through the narrow windowpane beside the door.
It smells like coffee and disinfectant. Rows of chairs face a whiteboard at the front of the room, with half-erased plays and the schedule for the upcoming week written out.It’s not where I want her, but it’s the only place I can control the surroundings at the moment.
“Talk,” she demands, jerking her wrist free.
A dry laugh scrapes out of me. “You think I wanted to do this here? I have half my team just down the hallway.”
“You should’ve thought about that when you disappeared,” she fires back. Her voice cracks, but she steels her spine. “When you left me asleep in the bed we shared as you snuck out and boarded a flight out of town. Back to the same town I’d be coming home to, without even a damn word or warning.”
I turn from her, my hand slamming against the back of a chair hard enough to send it crashing to the floor. “It was easier this way.”
She laughs. “Easier for who? Because it sure as hell wasn’t easier on me.”
I spin around, chest tight. “You think I don’t hear it?
Every whisper? Every fuckin’ headline calling me reckless, washed-up, a screwup who can’t hold his shit together to save his own life?
That reporter at the Christmas gala wasn’t wrong.
Kolmont must’ve been desperate if they’d give a prick like me a chance.
If they think I’m distracted, if they know I was screwing my brother’s ex-girlfriend, this would be over before it even started. ”
She steps in, close enough that I can feel her heat through the cold air.
“Is that all I was to you? Just your brother’s ex?
” Her voice shakes, words tumbling out faster than she can catch them.
“So that’s it? You wrecked us just to protect your damn reputation?
You tossed me aside so the noise wouldn’t get too loud?
” She laughs, and it comes out bitter and broken.
“God, you can be such an arrogant jerk. News flash, Clay—your silence hurt worse than anything they could’ve written. ”
The pain in her voice makes my chest ache. I inhale a slow breath, trying to calm my nerves.
She’s right there. Close enough for me to touch. I can smell her damn shampoo that has haunted me since we were snowed in at the cabin. Even then, I’ve been fighting the urge to touch her.
When I didn’t say anything, she shook her head and turned away like she was ready to give up and walk out. Something about it snapped the last thread holding me together.
One second, we’re trading accusations, and the next, I have her pinned over the edge of a table. Papers scatter everywhere, fluttering to the floor while my hands grip her hips, keeping her trapped against me.
Our mouths crash together in a kiss so hungry I can’t tell where the anger ends and our need for each other begins. The kiss burns more than it soothes. When she bites my lip, I growl and press my forehead against hers, tasting my blood.
“Damn you,” I mutter against her lips. My fingers tangle in her hair, tugging her closer when I should’ve been pushing her away. Her gasp cracks something in my chest, feeding the fire already tearing through me.
She fists her hands in my shirt. I can’t tell if she’s fighting to hold me closer or if she wants to shove me away. But I don’t care because I want both.
Everything around us fades, including all the whispers playing on a loop in my mind. All I can hear now is the sound of our mixed breaths and my pulse pounding in my ears.
Every reason I told myself to stay away from her disappears along with it.
“This doesn’t fix anything. It doesn’t change anything between us,” she breathes. The words crack, and something about her soft voice nearly undoes me.
“No,” I rasp, lifting her onto the table in one rough motion. The legs groan from the impact, papers sliding and crumpling beneath her as I step between her knees.
Tessa leans back on her elbows, her long blond hair spilling over the edge of the table. Her head tips back, her throat bare and begging.
I’m terrified by how much I want her, how deep this need for her runs.
With her skirt bunched high around her hips, I drop to my knees in front of her, spread out for me. I don’t bother being gentle when I swipe my finger over her wet entrance and then tear her panties away, revealing her glistening pussy for me.
“What the hell, Clay?” she retorts. “You could’ve just taken them off, ya know.”
I don’t bother with a reply, leaning forward to inhale her sweet scent. She wiggles beneath me when she hears me, and the sight of her writhing before me has my cock jerking in my pants.
When I swipe my tongue through her slit up to her clit, she lifts her hips for me, like she’s desperate for more.
“Mmm, fuck, Sug,” I groan, going back for more. “You taste so fuckin’ good. So sweet, so mine.”
She reaches her hand for me. Sliding her fingers through my hair, she tugs on the strands, pulling me closer.
“Stop talking,” she groans, as she grinds against me. “I’m not yours. I don’t belong to anyone.”
I chuckle, which only gets under her skin more.
“I guess we’ll see about that, won’t we?” I hum, right before I flick my tongue over her clit again.
Leaning away, I trace my finger through her pussy until I’m lined up right at her opening. I swirl the tip inside her, pulling away to suck the digit into my mouth.
“God, I could bury my face between these thighs all fuckin’ day. Do you know that? I could fuck you until neither of us knows our name. Until nothing else outside this room exists.”
“Please,” she mutters, lifting her hips again.
“Please, what?” I ask, bending forward to replace my finger with my tongue, fucking her with it like it might be the last time.
It could be the last time, and if it is, I want to remember every second. Every sound. Every tremor.
“Goddammit, Clay, stop teasing and fuck me.”
“Only under one condition,” I say when I pull back, her juices covering my chin. I’m seconds away from coming in my pants just from going down on her.
My belt jingles as I unhook it, unzipping my jeans, desperate to release some friction right now. I’m ready to take my sweet time, though, even with the thought of us being caught, if it means waiting her out.
If it means hearing her say the words out loud, that even though we keep walking this line, that no matter where we are or who’s around, it’s always been her and me.
That she’s always been mine.
“What?” She lifts her head, staring down her body at me.
Her eyes burn into me as she reaches for the hem of her shirt, pulling it over her head, followed by the tank top she was wearing underneath. It dawns on me now that she wasn’t wearing a bra when her breasts jiggle free.
She tosses her shirts on the floor with the papers, then cups her breasts in her hands and swipes her finger over her nipple.
I’m so dazed watching her that I don’t even realize she’s asked me a question.
“I want to hear you beg for it,” I murmur, leaning forward to swipe my tongue through her folds again, wrapping my firm grip around my length.
“I’m not begging you,” she fires back, and I smile against her. “I’m not yours, Clay. And you’re not mine. You’ve got me spread out on this table, and if you don’t intend to fuck me…” She releases one of her breasts and slides her hand down her stomach between her legs.
She flicks her hand at me, motioning me away.
“If you don’t want to fuck me, then I guess I’ll take care of matters myself.”
My nostrils flare as I push to my feet, shoving my pants and underwear down to free my cock. When she sees me with my hand around my length, my eyes zeroed in on where her fingers are leisurely brushing over her clit, she sucks in a sharp breath and exhales a low moan.
“You love to get under my skin, don’t you, Sug?”
“I’d rather be pinned beneath you right now, but not if it means begging you. Don’t you think you’ve taken enough?”
My eyes snap up to meet hers, and the look on her face hits me hard—the pain, the hurt. It tears right through me.
Without a word, I step between her thighs again. She jerks her hand away, moving to grip the edge of the table when I move her legs until they’re over my shoulders. In one swift motion, I thrust inside her until I’m buried to the hilt.
A low growl escapes my chest, vibrating through me with such intensity I can see Tessa’s throat bob with the force of her swallow.
“Tell me again you’re not mine, Tessa.”
I pull out of her, thrusting in so hard that the table slams against the wall. I don’t even care anymore if someone hears me. Hears us.
“Clay—”
“Say it. Tell me you’re not mine, and I’m not yours. I want to hear you say it.”
She shakes her head, and I throw my head back, pistoning my hips into her. Each thrust pushes me closer and closer to the edge.
“I can’t. I’m not—” She breaks off, her hands clawing at my arms, desperately reaching for me.
I bend her legs farther until her knees are pressed against her chest. She wraps her arms around my neck, holding me closer as her mouth slams against mine.
It’s punishing. It’s not until I pull back that I see a tear slip from her eye.
“Don’t cry, Tessa baby. I’m yours, and I’ve always been yours. Even if you don’t want me. Even if you’re not mine.”
She chokes back a sob, my mouth on hers again as I fuck her into the table. The force of our lovemaking has me wondering if I’ll end up breaking the damn thing.
This isn’t slow. This isn’t careful. It’s raw—two people who’ve been holding back for too long, colliding like it might be the last time.
The office smells like sweat and bad decisions. We don’t stop until we break—both of us raw, shaking, breathing like we’ve run straight through every line we swore we wouldn’t cross.
Then it’s over, and the silence that always seems to hang over us follows.
Tessa sits up slowly, shoving her skirt down, her hair falling into her face. Her hands tremble, and I hate that I know why.
I want to say something—anything—but there’s nothing that won’t sound like another lie.
“Shit,” I mutter, dragging a hand down my face. The shame hits hard.
She keeps her eyes down, jaw tight, every breath sharp with anger. The space between us is filled with everything we didn’t say.
I reach for my shirt. She hops down from the table and swipes hers, quickly pulling hers over her head. The sound of her shoes on the floor is louder than any words we could say.
When I finally find my voice, it comes out low. “Tess—”
“Don’t,” she cuts in, voice rough. “We’ve already said enough. We’ll just consider this a heat-of-the-moment thing.”
That one lands clean. I had it coming.
I shove my hands into my pockets to keep from reaching for her again. “You should go.”
She lets out a bitter laugh, with a fake smile that doesn't reach her eyes. “Yeah. I should.”
By the time she passes me, the air feels heavy. She doesn’t look back when the door slams.
I stand there a second, trying to catch my breath, but it’s useless. Everything smells like her.
When I finally step into the hall, the cold air hits like punishment.
Two players are loitering by the locker room, laughing over something on a phone. Their voices dip when they see me.
“Hothead Barlowe.”
I don’t need to see their screen to know what they’re watching. With my jaw tightened, I turn away from them and keep walking.
Pretending I haven’t just wrecked everything. Pretending the ache in my chest isn’t because I can feel her slowly slipping away from me, and I don’t know how to fix it. How to get her to wait for me, to hold on.
I tell myself to breathe.
To move on.
To let her go.
But my hands are still shaking, and I know damn well I won’t.