Chapter 26
PATTERSON
The flight back to New York drags because all I can think about is Kendall and how she sounded on the phone with me last night. Then she flooded me with all those water-drop emojis. She has no idea what I plan to do to her the second I walk through her door.
I smirk, thinking about it.
I’m scrolling through my phone, half watching highlights from last night’s game, when a Page Six notification catches my eye with her name in the headline. I click before I can stop myself.
The photo loads, and my smile fades away.
Damien Blackwell has his hand on her waist. His body pressed against hers. And that filthy fucking mouth of his is on her cheek in a way that looks like he has permission to touch her. I stare at the screen while the cabin noise fades to nothing.
Last night, she texted me water-drop emojis and didn’t say a word about this, whatever the fuck this is.
I scroll through more photos and see him leaning close, his fingers wrapped around her arm.
“You good?” Callan asks from across the aisle, watching me. “You look like you’re about to fucking combust.”
“Feeling constipated.”
“Fuck, me too,” he says, leaning back in his chair. “It’s why I hate traveling.”
He actually makes me laugh.
The rest of the flight, I stare out the window and try to convince myself there’s a good explanation for this. But the photos are real.
The flight lands, and I skip the team bus. I take a cab straight to her apartment in my travel clothes with my bag over my shoulder. I don’t text or call, just show up with a knock.
She answers in leggings and a tank top, hair piled on her head. The smile that breaks across her face makes it worse because she looks happy to see me. Like she’s been waiting for me while I’ve been losing my mind for three hours.
“You’re early.” She steps back to let me in. “I thought your flight—”
“When were you going to tell me?”
The smile dies. “Tell you what?”
I hold up my phone with the photo on the screen and watch the color drain from her face.
“Patterson, that’s not—”
“Why were you with him last night?”
“It’s not what it looks like.”
“Then explain because from where I’m standing it looks like Damien fucking Blackwell had his mouth on you while I was jerking off to thoughts about you.”
“Look.” Her voice goes angry. “Addison dragged me to the gallery, and he approached me.”
“And you let him kiss you?”
“I didn’t let him do anything.” She’s pissed now, which I can work with. “He threatened me, and someone took a photo right as he went for my mouth. I turned my head so he got my cheek instead.”
“He threatened you? I don’t understand.”
“He knows about us.” She takes a deep breath. “He had breakfast with Jameson that morning the photos came out of you leaving my place.”
Her eyes meet mine.
“And?”
“He has a time-stamped photo of when he was with your brother. Damien is pissed that I used him to get to you.”
I narrow my eyes at her. “So, you did go out with him to piss me the fuck off.”
“That’s not really the point of this conversation.” She glares at me. “Oh, and he’s going to tell my dad the truth with proof. Not to mention, he called me a puck bunny, sloppy seconds, and demanded that I give him a real chance.” She shakes her head.
Kendall doesn’t lie to me, not about things that matter. But something’s still crawling under my skin.
“I need to know something,” I say, sucking in a deep breath. “When you went out with him, did you fuck him?”
She blinks. “What? Are you serious right now?”
“Answer me.”
“No, Patterson, I didn’t fuck him.” She laughs, but there’s nothing funny about it. “We went on two dates. After the New Year’s party, he tried to get me off and couldn’t.”
I stare at her, nostrils flaring at the thought of his hands on her at all.
She crosses her arms over her chest. “Why do you think I ghosted him?”
A laugh escapes before I can stop it, then another, and suddenly, I’m bracing my hand against the wall because Damien Blackwell, the guy who talks more shit than anyone in the league, couldn’t get her off.
“It’s really not funny,” she says, but her mouth twitches.
“It’s hilarious.” I wipe my eyes. “How long did he try?”
“Like, twenty minutes.”
“Holy fuck.”
“It was awful.” She’s fighting a smile. “I faked an emergency and left.”
“Kendall.”
“What!”
I cross the room and pull her against me, still laughing into her hair. She smells like home, and the tension that took over when I saw those photos lets up. She’s stiff for a second before her arms come around my waist, and she holds me tight.
“I was going to tell you today, to your face, what happened. I didn’t realize the gossip magazines would pick that up,” she says against my chest.
“Next time someone threatens you, I want to know immediately.” I pull back to look at her. “I don’t care if I’m on a plane or in the middle of a game or what time it is. You are never a bother. Watching that fuck with his hands on you is.”
“Okay. Know that I have zero reason to lie to you about anything.” She reaches up and touches my jaw, her thumb tracing along the stubble there. “I want you to trust me.”
“I do trust you. I don’t trust him.” I grip her hips and pull her closer until there’s no space between us. “Those photos made me fucking crazy.”
“I noticed.”
“I saw his mouth on you, and I wanted to kill him.”
“Don’t be dramatic,” she says.
I kiss her, and it’s possessive and desperate and fueled by everything I’ve been swallowing since the last time we were together five days ago.
She gasps against my mouth, and I swallow the sound.
My tongue slides against hers while my hands find warm skin under her tank top.
She arches into me, and her nipples harden through the thin fabric.
“Patterson.” She’s already breathless.
“I need you.” I’m walking her backward toward the couch, my mouth never leaving hers. “Right now.”
“Yes.”
The back of her knees hit the cushions, and I push her down, covering her body with mine. She yanks at my shirt, and I pull it over my head then I’m on her again. My mouth is on her neck, her collarbone, the swell of her breasts above her tank top.
I tug at the fabric, and she lifts up so I can pull it over her head.
I take one of her hard nipples into my mouth while she gasps.
I suck, then scrape my teeth across the peak while my hand finds her other breast. She’s writhing underneath me, her fingers digging into my shoulders, grinding against my thigh.
“I need to feel you.”
I kiss down her stomach, hooking my fingers in her waistband, and drag her leggings down her thighs. No underwear. The scent of her arousal makes my cock throb.
“Expecting me?” I ask, running one finger through her wetness.
“Always.”
I slide two fingers inside, and she clenches around me, hot and tight.
“Always so fucking ready.”
“Because of you.” She rocks her hips against my hand.
I think about her coming ten times yesterday and how she texted me after each one.
I want to know all the ways she touched herself.
And then I think about Damien’s hands on her, his mouth on her cheek, and how he tried for twenty fucking minutes and couldn’t give her what I can give her in seconds. My head is all over the place.
I need to be inside her.
I pull my fingers out, and she whimpers at the loss. I shove my pants down and free my cock, pushing into her before she can catch her breath. With one hard thrust, I’m all the way in to the hilt. She cries out, and her nails rake down my back.
“This.” I pull back and slam home again. “This is what he could never give you.”
“No one can.” She’s clawing at me, trying to pull me deeper.
I fuck her hard, all the jealousy and fear and relief pouring out with every thrust. The couch creaks beneath us, and her moans fill the living room.
I can feel her tightening around me already because she’s been waiting for this, aching for this, thinking about me while she made herself come over and over again.
“Who owns this pussy?” I demand, grinding against her clit with every stroke.
“You do.” She’s gasping, her head thrown back. “Only you.”
I reposition one of her legs over my shoulder, and the new angle makes her scream. “Only me.”
I feel her getting close. Her walls flutter around my cock, and her breath comes in short gasps.
She shatters.
Her pussy clamps down on my cock as she screams my name. I fuck her through it, drawing out every spasm, and when she stops shaking, I let go. I bury myself deep and spill inside her with a groan.
We stay like that, both breathing hard, my mouth and face pressed against the softness of her neck. I’m still inside her, and I don’t want to move. I want to stay here forever, connected to her, feeling her heartbeat slow against my chest.
“Holy shit,” she whispers.
“Yeah.” I kiss her slower this time. “I don’t know what you’re doing to me.”
I pull out and grab my shirt to clean her up. Everything is gentler now that the desperation has faded. She watches me with heavy eyes and something soft in her expression that makes my chest ache.
“Get dressed,” I say.
She blinks. “What?”
“I’m taking you somewhere.” I kiss her nose, glancing at my watch.
“Where?”
“You’ll see.”
“I hate surprises.”
“You’ll like this one,” I tell her, tucking loose strands behind her ear.
“You promise?” she asks.
“Yes,” I tell her.
After stealing a kiss, she disappears into her bedroom. “What should I wear?”
“We’ll be outside, and you’ll want to be able to move.”
She goes to the doorway and tilts her head at me. “What does that even mean?”
“You’ll figure it out. I’ll be back to pick you up in exactly two hours,” I say, grabbing my bag.
“I hate you,” she hollers from her closet.
“Hate you too, babe.”
I take a cab back to my penthouse for a quick shower and to get dressed. Everything is exactly how I left it. I grab the bag that I packed for this moment last week.