Chapter 18
KENDALL
The morning after Philly, we don’t talk about what happened the night before because Patterson slips through the connecting door before dawn, and we fuck like we’re trying to prove something to ourselves, though it absolutely does not work.
He doesn’t sit by me or look at me during breakfast. Callan and Smiley take seats several spots down as he shovels eggs into his mouth. I drink coffee at a table with some of the support staff and pretend we didn’t spend the last hour trying to screw out our frustrations.
On the bus to the airport, Patterson drops into the seat beside me before I can react. I tense immediately because we don’t usually acknowledge each other in public, and that’s the entire point of this arrangement. Everything outside of the bedroom stays exactly the same.
“We need to talk,” he says, low enough that only I can hear, but I’m aware that his teammates surround us.
I continue looking out the window. “No.”
He leans in like he didn’t hear me, even though I know he did. “This needs to stay in New York. Starting now.”
I should feel relieved because he’s being sensible and smart, and he’s protecting both of us. Instead, I feel rejected.
“Perfect,” I say. “Might find me a one-night stand tonight.”
“I fucking dare you.” He gets up and moves to a seat somewhere behind me, leaving me to sit in my turmoil.
After we get on the plane, I spend the flight staring out the window and telling myself this is for the best. When a tear threatens to spill because I’m so pissed that I even care, I pull my hoodie over my head and pretend to sleep.
When we land in Chicago, it’s gloomy and cold, the kind that seeps into my bones regardless of how many layers I have on.
When I make it to my room, I know Patterson is on the other side because the W kept my request, and now I wish I hadn’t asked because the restraint I’m forced to keep is brutal.
I press my palm against the door that separates us and hate myself for wanting him to knock.
At dinner, he sits at the opposite end of the table and doesn’t look at me once, but I know exactly where he is at every moment because his presence is like a low hum beneath my skin.
By the time dessert arrives, I excuse myself early and take the elevator alone.
When I get to my room, I slide into the shower, wanting to feel something other than the constant buzzing he’s left me with.
Why do I care if our arrangement stays in New York?
My phone rings while I’m toweling off.
“Hey, stranger,” Addison says, and I put it on speaker. “How’s the road trip treating you?”
“Exhausting.” I slide on the hotel robe, then move to the fluffy bed, lie back on it, and stare at the high ceiling. “Right now, I’m running on caffeine and spite.”
“Aw.” I can hear her smile through the phone. “At least you’re getting good reference shots, right?”
“Yeah, the photos have been great.”
“And my brother? Is he behaving himself?”
My breath catches. “Which one?”
“Patterson, obviously.” She laughs. “Unless you’ve chatted with Jameson again.”
I swallow hard, almost forgetting that I spoke with Jameson.
“I haven’t really talked to either of them.
” It’s technically the truth because Patterson and I don’t discuss much when we’re together and alone.
“Also, right now, Pattycakes and I are keeping our distance. If I don’t see him for the rest of the trip, great. ”
“You know, this morning, I told him to stop being such a dick toward you.”
“What?”
“Because you’re my bestie and I know how he gets around you. He can only keep it together for so long before he loses his shit.” She pauses. “Oh, before I forget, I’m keeping tabs on him.”
I sit up straighter. “Um, why?”
“He’s acting weird. I’m convinced he’s secretly seeing someone, and I need to find out who.”
“What else is new? He’s always seeing someone,” I tell her.
“No. Like someone regularly. He and Jameson both do this thing—I can’t explain it. Not to mention, he’s being cagey when I ask about his love life. Something’s definitely up.”
“Who knows? Maybe you’ll get a sister-in-law soon,” I offer.
“Ha. Doubtful.” She pauses. “But I do hope when either of them starts dating again, it’s someone I actually like. You would be perfect.”
My face heats. “Yeah, well, that didn’t work out, did it? Guess we’ll have to stay besties forever.”
She laughs. “If you see anything, will you tell me? If I had to guess, I’d think it’s Mila. He was photographed kissing her a few weeks ago. Um, she works for Bellamore, I think.”
“The fashion company?” I ask.
“Yeah, I realized the other day that he’s gone on more than one date with her. At least seven times over the past two years. That’s not typical of Patterson.”
I dig my nails into my palm. “No?”
“No. Not at all. Maybe the sparks between them are real.” She yawns. “I know he’s a one date and it’s over type of guy. Once he gets bored, he pulls away. Classic Patterson move.”
I exhale. “Can we talk about something else? I really don’t give two fucks about him, and this entire conversation is pissing me off.”
“Of course,” she says. “Sorry. You know how invested I get. Sometimes, I forget you two wish the other didn’t exist. I’m going to let you get some sleep because I know how cranky traveling makes you.”
“I’m sorry,” I say with a stifled laugh. “I’m in a mood.”
“I already told you what would solve that. Great D!”
This actually makes me smile. “Maybe I should go find someone to entertain me tonight.”
“I approve,” she tells me. “Lunch when you’re back in the city?”
“Absolutely!”
“Love you, babe,” Addison says.
“Love you too.”
The line goes dead, and I curl my hands into fists.
A light tap on the connecting door makes me jump.
I don’t move because I don’t want to face him right now.
Another knock, softer this time.
“Go away,” I say.
“Open the door, Ken Doll.”
“No.” I cross the room and press my palm flat against the wood. “Talk to me in New York.”
“Open. The. Door.” His voice is low, rough.
I sigh and turn the handle, opening it. “Why?” I try to sound unbothered, but I fail miserably.
He’s standing there in gray sweatpants and nothing else, his hair still damp from a shower, and the look on his face is something between furious and wrecked.
“I heard you,” he says.
“And?”
He steps forward, and I step back, the door swinging wider between our rooms.
“Were you serious?”
“You told me this stays in New York.” I lift my chin. “What I do in Chicago is none of your business.”
“Wrong fucking answer, babe.”
“It’s the only one you’re getting, Pattycakes.”
He keeps advancing until my back hits the wall, and his arms cage me in on either side, but he doesn’t touch me. He’s close enough that I can feel the heat radiating off his bare chest. If I breathed too deeply, my breasts would brush against him through the thin robe.
“You want to make me jealous?” His voice drops. “Is that what this is? I don’t care who you kiss. Or touch. Or flirt with. The moment some other man is inside you … this is so fucking over. Also, didn’t realize you had it in you to lie to your bestie. I’ve underestimated you, Ken Doll.”
“You sure have,” I snap back. “But what would you want me to say? Hey, Addy, funny story. I’ve been fucking your brother senseless for weeks, and I can’t stop even though I know it’s going to destroy everything good in my life?
” I shake my head. “That would go over great. She would tell me to dump you. Immediately. And maybe she’d be right. ”
He smirks, his eyes narrowing. “Maybe she would. But the truth is, you don’t care about anything right now, except yourself.”
He steps closer to me, and it’s hard for me to look into his eyes. He’s right; I’m choosing myself and the way he makes me feel over my friendship with Addison and ultimately my relationship with my dad.
“Don’t read into it,” I say quickly. “I’m protecting myself too. It will be easier to walk away.”
He’s closer now, close enough that I can smell his soap and feel the heat radiating off his bare chest.
“Should we end this?” His hand finds my jaw, tilting my face up until our gazes meet.
I study him. “When you touch me, I forget every reason why I can’t stand you.”
His thumb traces my bottom lip, and I grow breathless.
“That wasn’t my question.”
“You said this stays in New York,” I say. “Can’t this discussion happen there?”
He backs me toward the bed. “Answer.”
“You’re weak.”
“When it comes to you?” His jaw tightens. “Abso-fucking-lutely.”
I don’t have a response because it’s the first time he’s admitted something like this. I should shove him out and lock the door and pretend this conversation never happened, but his hands are already finding the tie of my robe, and my body is already craving him.
“This doesn’t mean anything,” I say.
“Obviously.”
“I still don’t like you.”
“The feeling is so fucking mutual.”
He yanks the tie loose, and the robe falls open. His eyes drag down my body, and I watch his expression shift, that coldness giving way to hunger.
I reach for the waistband of his sweatpants. “You say you’re done, and yet here you are.”
He catches my wrist before I can touch him. “Tell me to leave.”
“Absolutely not,” I say. “You were right about one thing, Pattycakes. When it comes to you and this, I am selfish. And I don’t care.”
He’s on me before I can respond, his mouth crashing into mine as he walks me backward until my knees hit the mattress.
I fall onto the bed, and he follows me down, his weight pressing me into the sheets.
There’s nothing soft about the way he kisses me.
Our aggression, need, and pure want are barely contained.
“I hate that I can’t stay away from you,” he growls against my throat.
“I hate it too.”
He bites down on my collarbone, hard enough to make me gasp.
“We eventually have to stop this.”
“I know.” His hand slides between my thighs, and he growls, feeling how soaked I am.
He pushes two fingers inside me, and I arch off the bed. He curls his fingers and hits that spot that makes my vision blur.
He reaches down to shove his sweatpants off, and then he’s pressing against my entrance, not pushing in, just teasing. Then he rocks his hips enough to let me feel him. He’s thick and hard and right where I need him.
“More.”
Because he never gives me what I want, he pulls out.
I want to kill him. I want to wrap my hands around his throat and squeeze until that smug expression disappears. But I want him inside me more, and we both know it.
“Tell me something real, Ken Doll,” he says.
“I hate it when you call me that nickname,” I admit.
“Because my brother gave it to you?”
He slams into me, and my next words dissolve into a moan.
He fucks me like he’s angry, like he’s trying to punish us both for being here when we said we wouldn’t. I give it right back, biting and scratching and calling him every name I can think of between moans. This is war, and every thrust feels like a battle neither of us is willing to lose.
“Harder,” I demand, feeling the orgasm building so fast.
He drives deeper until I’m seeing stars.
“I want more,” I say, knowing he’s filling me so full that I feel like I might split in half.
He pulls out completely and flips me onto my stomach before I can protest, yanking my hips up and slamming back in from behind. The new angle makes me cry out, and I bury my face in the pillow to muffle the sound.
“Be a good girl and keep quiet.” His voice is ragged now, that composure cracking.
“How about you fuck me like you hate me?” I ask.
He reaches around to find my clit. “I already am. And you know it.”
I can’t form words anymore. He’s playing my body like he’s memorized every weak point, every spot that makes me fall apart. When I come, it tears through me without warning, and I lose my grasp on reality.
Soon, he’s losing himself with a groan, his hips stuttering against mine before I collapse below him. We lie there, breathing hard, his weight pressing me into the mattress, and for a moment, neither of us moves.
Then he’s pulling out of me, reaching for his sweatpants before I’ve even caught my breath.
“This really shouldn’t happen again.”
“Tell that to your dick,” I say with a smirk.
He pauses at the connecting door, his back to me. I can see the scratch marks I left on his shoulders, red lines against tan skin. His teammates will see that. It will only confirm that he was with someone while on the road.
“We need to figure out what the fuck we’re doing.”
“Following our arrangement,” I say. “That’s what we’re doing. Do you need a reminder of what that is?”
“That wall you put up is real cute, Ken Doll. There are cracks in it though.”
He turns to look at me, and for a second, I think he’s going to say something else. His expression shifts, and I see something vulnerable flash across his face before he walks away.
Instead, he shakes his head. “You’re going to be the death of me.”
“Likewise, Pattycakes.”
The door clicks shut behind him.
I stare at the ceiling, but I’m smiling in sheets that smell like bad decisions.
My phone lights up on the nightstand, and I reach over and grab it.
Chef
I throw a pillow at the connecting door and hear him chuckle. And somehow, I fall asleep thinking about him.
The next morning, I’m sore in places I forgot existed, and I have to wear a high-necked sweater to hide the marks Patterson left on my collarbone. Breakfast is awkward, and though we’re on opposite sides of the room, it’s difficult to pretend like the other doesn’t exist.
My dad corners me as I’m refilling my coffee.
“You look tired, sweetheart.”
“Hotel beds.”
He studies me with that coach’s eye, the one that misses nothing. “You’re doing great work on this trip. Dennis called me last night and said the action shots you’ve been sending him are exactly what he wanted for the auction.”
“That’s good to hear,” I say, knowing my dad has a close relationship with him. Dennis is the team's owner.
“He mentioned featuring some of them at the awards ceremony.” Dad takes a sip of his coffee. “You’ll be there, right? I forgot to ask.”
“Of course I’ll be there.”
“Good.” He squeezes my shoulder. “Bringing a date?”
“Dad.”
“I’m just saying. It’s a nice event. Black tie. Might be fun to have someone with you.”
Across the room, Patterson laughs at something Hunter said. A reminder that he’s always there, like a daydream.
“I’ll think about it,” I say.
“See you at the game tonight.” He heads back toward the coaches’ table, leaving me standing there with my coffee going cold.
The problem is, the only date I want to go to the awards ceremony with is off-limits. He’ll undoubtedly have a gorgeous woman on his arm, playing the part of a charming playboy while I sit alone, stewing in jealousy.
That’s exactly what’s going to happen, and the thought makes me want to throw something.
My luck? He’ll ask Mila.