15. Chapter 15
Chapter fifteen
~JESSICA~
Bass thumps through the floor, up my legs and into my chest, rattling my ribs in time with the lights.
Red and blue strobes cut through smoke, catching flashes of skin.
It’s been at least an hour since we got here—long enough for my head to feel light, my body loose, and my thoughts pleasantly unguarded.
I’m tipsy. The kind of tipsy that comes with warmth pooling low in my stomach and a sweet, aching soreness between my thighs that I’m painfully aware of every time I shift on the velvet couch.
It’s not uncomfortable. It’s the opposite—a quiet, delicious echo that makes my heart kick every time I think about it.
And I keep thinking about it .
Dom hasn’t left my side once. Not really. Even when he’s talking to someone, even when his attention looks elsewhere, I feel him: his hand at my back, his knee angled toward mine, his presence like a wall I can lean against without asking.
I take a slow sip of my drink, ice clinking softly, and try not to smile into the rim of the glass. My head is full of questions I don’t have answers to yet—about last night, about what changed, about whether the way he looks at me now means anything more than lust.
Dom leans in, murmurs something about the VIP bar, about Jace waving him over. His mouth brushes my ear when he speaks, and my heart does a little jump again.
“I’ll be right there,” I tell him.
“Don’t be long.”
Dom steps away, drawn toward the VIP bar where Jace is already holding court, gesturing with his drink like he’s conducting an orchestra.
I watch him talk to Jace, then notice who he’s talking to next.
The goalie .
Zed.
I’ve seen him on the ice—hard to miss—but this is the first time I really see him. He’s a lot: massive, black clothes, heavy tattoos crawling up his arms and neck, black hair falling into a face that feels like a trap.
The man is beautiful, no denying it, but there’s an edge that makes your instincts itch. His eyes are unnaturally light, his brows sit low, giving him a permanent, intimidating intensity. Even standing still, he looks coiled.
There’s something else, too. Something…wrong—not bad, but hurt. Pain sits behind his eyes, something broken and sealed. I catch it for a second when he looks down at his drink; it’s gone as fast as it appears.
All night I’ve noticed women trying to approach him—brave, given how unapproachable he seems. They lean in, touch his arm, smile, say things I can’t hear over the music. He never reciprocates; they drift away, bruised egos if nothing else.
His teammates, though, come and go with claps and jokes. The only person he actually talks to? Dominic. When Zed turns his head toward Dom, something shifts; his posture loosens a fraction.
I look at Dom again, and my heart stutters.
The man who’s been barking at me for weeks like I’m his personal hell. The reigning captain who treated my presence as an inconvenience at best.
And last night he was mine. I know how his muscles ripple when he braces himself over me. I know what it feels like to be underneath all that power.
It doesn’t feel real. And yet I still feel it in the ache between my thighs.
My traitorous eyes flick down to his crotch, uninvited. My brain supplies a highlight reel and my thighs press together in reflex.
Absolutely not.
This is not the place to start dripping over Dominic. I’m in public, surrounded by people.
Zed leans in toward Dom to tell him something and Dom’s eyes slide sideways until they meet mine from across the room.
Are they talking about me?
I glance at the goalie once, enough to catch his gaze .
If Dom’s not going to introduce me, I’ll do it myself. Time to push some buttons.
I slide out of the booth and weave through bodies. Zed towers over the VIP bar beside Dom like a dark angel against the swirl of neon. Even though instincts tell me to stay away, I’m standing in front of him with my back to Dom.
“Hi, you must be the goalie,” I say, smiling, offering my hand. “I’m Jessica. Pleasure to finally meet you.”
He looks down at my offering for a second, then his large, tattooed hand wraps around mine. His grip is warm and firm as he gives a single shake.
“Zed. Likewise,” he says simply, and lets go.
There’s something oddly formal about the way he says it.
“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you celebrate with the guys before,” I say, trying to keep the tone light.
Zed glances sideways, then back at me. “Not big on the party scenes.”
His voice is deep and gruff, not needing much to be heard over the noise.
“Fair.” I let out a breath of laughter .
He looks past me, gaze landing behind my shoulder, and I already know who he’s looking at. Amusement passes through his expression and his lips twitch.
He looks back. Pale eyes meet mine. “Enjoy your night, Jessica” he says, bowing his head fractionally, almost old-fashioned. Then he nods at Dominic and walks away.
A silent heat and mass press behind me. Dominic steps up, palm sliding around my waist as he pulls my back to his front. His mouth dips to my ear.
“You seem pretty eager to talk to my goalie,” he murmurs, low.
I lean into it and pretend to look around the club. “Well,” I hum, “you wouldn’t introduce me to him. And you did leave me all alone. A girl’s gotta entertain herself somehow.”
“I was gone for three minutes.”
“Three minutes too long, Captain.” I shrug.
His grip tightens slightly; the tips of his fingers skate dangerously close to my pelvis. I smile and lean back enough to glance up at him through my lashes. His gaze drops to my mouth.
“Are you jealous? ”
He dips his head, lips brushing the shell of my ear. “You trying to make me jealous?”
“Maybe.”
“Don’t start something you can’t finish.” His hand slides lower, palm ghosting over the swell of my ass.
I suck in a breath and lean my head against him. “What if I want to start something?”
His other hand comes up, grazing my hip, pulling me closer. The club fades—the people, the noise, everything.
“Then I’ll finish it.”
I blink up at him, lips parted. “What, right now? In front of your teammates?”
“Don’t tempt me.” His mouth tips into a wicked grin.
His hand glides around my waist, low and commanding, pulling me flush against his chest as his hips start to move, grinding into me.
“Look down,” he murmurs.
“What?”
“Over the railing,” he says, guiding my gaze with his voice. “Third table from the left. By the DJ booth. See them? ”
I do.
Three men in pressed button-ups, one holding a drink, another holding his phone at a very suspicious angle. So is the third.
“Press,” Dominic murmurs.
Adrenaline flutters in my stomach.
His hand tightens, pulling me back against the hard line of his cock. He’s already hard and I’m already wet.
“You love being bold, don’t you?” he asks.
“Maybe,”
He drags his lips down the side of my neck, heat pulsing from every point of contact. “Maybe I should let them catch something worth their time.” His hand skates down over my hip, stopping just under the hem of my dress, holding the fabric like a warning.
My knees nearly buckle at the idea.
He shifts his hips again, grinding into me harder.
“Lucky for you,” he says in my ear, “I don’t share. Even if they only get the view.”
I suck in a shaky breath, heat pounding between my legs and my heart thudding against my ribs. I turn to face him. His cock presses into my stomach as I move. My hands slide up his chest, over that perfect black shirt, my arms looping around his neck. I start rolling my hips against him slowly.
Hands snap to my waist, gripping tight, almost punishing. His jaw tightens so hard I see the muscle in his cheek jump.
I lean in, lips brushing the edge of his smile. “Maybe I want to give you a show.”
His nostrils flare. Reaching behind me, he grabs his drink, tips the glass back to finish it off, and then sets it down on the table behind me.
“We’re done here,” he breathes into my ear. “Go get your purse.”
The Uber and elevator ride blur.
Dom doesn’t touch me once, but he doesn’t have to. His presence alone feels like pressure—quiet, heavy tension.
The hotel door clicks shut behind us and the air changes.
I stumble a little, courtesy of the drink I insisted on finishing, and laugh under my breath as I head toward the balcony.
The huge glass doors glint with city lights and paparazzi flashbulbs below.
I press my hand to the cool glass and look down at the sidewalk.
Cameras and people wait like wolves for anything remotely scandalous.
“Think they’ll stay all night?” I ask, not turning.
“Probably.” Dom’s voice comes from behind me, low and unimpressed.
I finally turn.
And…Lord.
He stands beside the king-sized bed, massive and still, dark eyes fixed on me. His black shirt hangs open at the top, sleeves rolled to his forearms.
He’s unfairly handsome, almost painful to look at. I don’t realize I’m biting my lip until his eyes flick down to my mouth and a grin curves over his lips.
I clear my throat. “We should ask for an extra bedding set.”
“For what?” One brow lifts.
“So you can sleep down there.” I nod toward the floor, all sweet.
His eyes flick to the carpet, then slowly back to me. Amusement deepens .
“You want me to sleep on the floor?”
“There’s only one bed.” I shrug, playing innocent.
“There is.” he agrees, stepping towards me slowly. “And you think I should sleep on it after a game like that?”
My pulse spikes. “Well, when you put it that way…”
I pretend to think about it.
He takes another step until he’s right in front of me. His hand comes up, grazing the curve of my waist.
"Let me put it another way," he says, nothing gentle in his voice. "You're getting my cock tonight, Jessica. Whether I sleep in the bed with you… or by myself on the floor."
My breathing turns shallow, thighs squeezing at his words. Silence stretches between us. His eyes drop to my mouth, then he steps into me, forcing me back—one step, then another.