Chapter Ten
I’m the first one on the ice the next morning, and I take full advantage of the quiet. The rink always seems bigger when I’m alone. It reminds me of when I was a kid. Back then, it felt like I was flying, like I was invincible, when I skated the length of the ice.
But of course my whore of a mom ruined that pretty fucking quickly. After dropping me off, she’d hide somewhere nearby with one of her many affairs. At first, I didn’t know exactly what she was doing. I just knew it was wrong. But when you hear your mom moan and beg for cock, you don’t remain oblivious for long.
Shaking my head, I push those thoughts away, and instead focus on turning faster, angling my stick one way, feigning another turn that never comes. I know unpredictability on the ice is my greatest advantage, and I’m not about to let bitter childhood memories take that away.
I pick up speed, skating the length of the rink when I sense movement out of the corner of my eye. But all I see when I turn my head is a perfect ass and red hair disappearing through the door. There’s no mistaking who it belongs to, and I’m not sure I like knowing Lucia is around. I’ve never thought much about her presence before. She’s always just been one of many people buzzing around the arena. But now… I fucking hate that I’m noticing her. Fuck, I even hate the way I discreetly look for her when she isn’t nearby.
Something happened with her yesterday, and at the most inconvenient fucking time as well. I was just about to bust a nut when she… I don’t fucking know. Froze up? No, the look on her face was pure, unadulterated panic. But what the fuck could make her act like that? All I did was ask how she tasted. Hmm, maybe she’s not as sexually open as she wants me to think.
I let out an annoyed breath when my dick stirs to life. “This isn’t the fucking time to wake up,” I mumble to myself.
“Dude, are you really talking to yourself right now?” Soren’s amused voice rings out as he comes onto the ice.
“What can I say? Sometimes I need to talk to someone intelligent.” I shrug and shoot him a shit-eating grin.
He chuckles. “Whatever you need to tell yourself to feel better.” He looks around, wanting to make sure we’re still alone. We are. “So…”
“So what?” I shoot back, already knowing what he’s fishing for.
He rolls his eyes. “You and Lucia. Don’t we get an update? Because it seems you’ve been busy since Friday.”
I should be happy it looks that way because that’s exactly what we want it to seem like. “We made a deal,” I smirk.
“What kind of deal?” Mickey asks, as he joins us.
This is why I’ve dodged their calls and made sure not to be alone with them for the past few days. It’s one thing to live the charade, another to talk about it. It sounds stupid when I say it all out loud, and believe me, I’ve tried.
“Dude.” Soren interrupts my thoughts. “What’s the deal?”
That’s a good fucking question, and I’m still not entirely sure. Sighing, I decide to start at the beginning. “She made it seem like she didn’t know Tom had already picked her. She wanted to convince me to make her case with our GM.”
Soren whistles and tilts his head to the side. “Really? So why did she chase off the blonde if she didn’t know?”
I shrug. “Fuck if I know. But I promised her I would talk to Tom if she blew me.”
“You fucking didn’t?” Mickey sounds equal parts surprised and impressed.
Nodding, I confirm, “I did. And I did call him after—”
“What are you three standing around gossiping like little girls for? Get fucking moving.” Coach’s voice rings out, sharp and impatient. “I want every one of you on the ice with your stick in your hand within the next ten seconds. Anyone who isn’t ready shouldn’t be on the fucking team. Go.” As soon as he blows his whistle, people start moving.
Fuck me, I hadn’t noticed that we’re no longer alone. Luckily, no one else was close enough to hear our conversation, which is a fucking relief. I still should have paid enough attention to notice everyone has arrived.
Practice is fucking brutal, but in the best way possible. It’s forcing my mind to stay on the puck, and not wonder why the hell Lucia is here this early. What is she doing? Was she serious about letting me use her body? Those are all things I’m definitely not considering.
Coach blows his whistle. “That’s what I’m talking about. You recovered nicely today, but next time, show up with this goddamn energy from the beginning instead of wasting my time. Now get the fuck off my ice. You’re dismissed.” He blows his whistle again, looking mighty satisfied with himself. Which is to say he isn’t scowling. The man only has two expressions; a big scowl and a smaller scowl. That’s it.
We all file into the locker room and hit the showers. While we’re getting dressed, Soren asks, “Are you bringing Lucia to the event this weekend?”
I curse under my breath, hating the reminder that I have to wear my suit again while parading around and shaking the hands of sponsors. “I guess,” I reply. Looking around, I notice the other teammates aren’t close enough to overhear our conversation. “Tom mentioned it earlier. But we have an interview tomorrow, so I guess it’ll look weird if she isn’t there with me this weekend.”
“Speaking of,” Mickey says. “What deal did you make with her?”
I swallow harshly. “She wanted more time than just the season.” They open their mouths, probably to assault me with more questions. “She made a compelling argument, so when she made me come in less than two minutes, I agreed to recommend her to Tom and to extend the arrangement to thirteen months.”
“What the fuck?” Mickey asks, incredulous. “Are you telling me she played you with a blowjob?”
“It was one hell of a blowjob,” I clarify. “Mind blowing, really.”
Soren grins. “Must be if you agreed to almost double the time together with her.”
Running my hand through my wet hair, I gather it into a bun and wrap my elastic band around it. “Here’s the thing. I only agreed because I wanted to see how far she was willing to go at first. But the more I think about it, the better it sounds.”
“She is hot,” Mickey agrees like that’s all it takes.
I shake my head and punch his shoulder. “That’s not why. She was right in saying that marking our imminent breakup by a memorable date like the season ending seems sus as fuck.”
The guys exchange glances that make it clear they think I’m losing my damn mind, and maybe I am. Because the logic makes sense to me, and it gives me even more wiggle room once the season is over. I can spend that time hooking better endorsements, and…
“So basically you’re going to be celibate for over a year?” Mickey asks, shuddering like it’s the worst possible thing that could happen.
“Not exactly,” I smirk. Taking my time, I pull my hoodie on and tie my boots before answering them. “She offered up her body and promised me free access if I gave her the extra time.”
Should I feel bad for talking about her this way? Probably. Am I feeling bad? Fuck no. Lucia is a grown-ass-woman and she ran her own negotiation. Yet, even as I think that I do feel a twinge of guilt. Especially after her panic whatever-the-hell that was.
“No fucking way,” Mickey gasps. “Well damn. I’d sign away thirteen months of my life to fuck her.”
Soren laughs. “I’m not so sure. Lucia’s nice looking and all, but she’s so fucking cold I wouldn’t be surprised if her pussy gave me frostbite.”
I throw my head back and laugh. “Unlike you, you big coward, I’m not scared of her pussy.” As much as I hate admitting it, I am intrigued by her. Whatever happened last night it wasn’t her working an angle, it was real. And now that I’ve seen a glimpse of what’s going on beneath her polished exterior, I want to know more.
Before either of them can retort, my phone vibrates with an incoming text.
Lucia: We only have one more day to get ready for the interview.
Me: I know.
Lucia: So what’s your big plan?
Me: Are you still at the arena?
Lucia: Just about to leave.
Me: Meet me at my car in ten.
Holding up my phone, I look at my friends, speaking louder than I need to. But I want to make sure everyone hears me. “Gotta go. The little missus wants me.”
Mickey grins. “Pussy whipped already.”
“Don’t pout, Mickey boy. One day, a woman will want your pickle as well,” I say with a wink.
“Have fun,” Soren calls at my retreating back. “And don’t forget to rubber up. No one wants mini ‘yous’ running around.”
I flip them off as I leave, heading out to meet with Lucia. It doesn’t matter that I don’t want to, I can’t postpone it much longer. We do need to have our stories straight with how we met, which I assume will be easy. The first date is tougher since no one will have seen us together.
The cool air hits me as I step out of the arena and make my way toward my car. As I approach, I notice Lucia already waiting there, her posture rigid, and her expression guarded. She’s dressed in one of her signature office skirts, a blouse, her long coat hanging open. Her hair is pulled into a tight ponytail, and she’s wearing more makeup than usual. There’s an air of coldness around her, like she’s putting on an act.
As I take in the frostiness exuding from her, I decide not to ask about last night’s abrupt end to our call. It’s not like it would make a difference, anyway. Instead, I bark, “Get in,” motioning to the passenger seat.
Without a word, Lucia obeys, her movements stiff as she settles into the car. As I start the engine and pull out of the parking lot, I glance at her, noticing the tension in her posture and the distant look in her eyes.
“Want to go to your place?” I offer, trying to extend an olive branch.
Lucia’s response is blunt and distant. “No.”
I feel a growl building in my chest, frustration bubbling to the surface. “Fine,” I snap, irritated by her refusal. “Where then?”
She doesn’t answer, and the silence stretches between us like a chasm. I grip the steering wheel tightly, feeling the tension thickening in the air. It’s clear she’s playing games, but for the life of me, I can’t figure out why. And here I was at least somewhat worried about her. Yeah, fuck that shit.
“Where then?” I repeat, my tone sharp with annoyance.
“Somewhere neutral,” Lucia finally responds, her voice clipped.
I grit my teeth, trying to contain my frustration. “Like where?”
“The cafe downtown,” she says, her voice devoid of emotion.
Shaking my head, I bark, “I’m not fucking discussing this in public. Pick a place, Lucia. Your place or mine. Those are the options.” She can’t be stupid enough to think attracting attention is a good idea when we’re literally going to make up lies.
Lucia’s expression tightens, but she doesn’t protest. “Fine. Your place then.”
I catch the hint of discomfort in her voice, but I’m not in the mood to deal with her shit right now. We need to get this done, and I offered to go to her place.
We arrive at my apartment building, and I lead Lucia up to my place in silence. The tension between us is thick, and I can practically feel her reluctance with each step we take. It’s almost amusing. The feisty woman who seduced me with a blowjob just the other night is nowhere to be found. I’ve changed my mind because that’s not amusing, it’s disappointing.
As we enter my apartment, I gesture for her to take a seat while I grab us some drinks. Lucia sits stiffly on the couch, her arms folded tightly across her chest. I hand her a glass of water, and she takes it with a nod of thanks, but her eyes remain guarded.
I clear my throat, breaking the awkward silence. “So, let’s get down to it. We need to work out the details of our story for tomorrow’s interview.”
Lucia nods, her gaze focused on her drink. “Right.”
I take a seat opposite her, eyeing her expectantly. She’s the fucking PR wiz, so she should be the one to come up with something. “Got more for me than one-word answers?” I ask, annoyed she isn’t participating more.
She exhales slowly. “How about we say we bonded last season during some away games? You know, spending time together on the road, getting to know each other better.”
I nod slowly. “That could work. But that was last year, and this is now.”
Lucia rolls her eyes. “I know that,” she snaps. It feels like a win that she’s finally showing some real emotion instead of that robotic shit. “It still had to begin somewhere, and that’s as good a place to start as any.”
Instead of answering her, I wave my hand in the air, silently telling her to go on.
“Since I was working on your account and was at a few ad shoots with you, we can say we went out for dinner after one of the shoots—”
“Where?” I interject.
“At O’Jackie’s,” she volleys, making me shake my head.
“Jackie won’t lie for us. So that would be too easy to unravel.”
Lucia puts the glass down, hard. “What do you suggest then, Sawyer? Tell me your brilliant plan.”
I flash her my teeth in a smile. “Easy. You invited me home, and I said yes, which fits my image. And after dinner we—”
“No,” she holds her hand up. “We didn’t sleep together.”
“Of course we did,” I say. “No one is going to believe we didn’t.”
A smile grazes her lips. “And no one is going to believe you treated me like one of your puck bunnies. There has to be something setting me apart from your never-ending parade of willing pussy.”
Okay, so she’s got me there. It does need to be different. “Fine,” I relent. “So we dated privately. Why are we taking it public now?” She looks down at her fingers, and I only now notice they’re trembling. A part of me wants to ask if she’s okay, but I don’t. I don’t do that shit, and it’s not why we’re here. So I ignore it while waiting for her reply.
“Because,” she says, blowing her bangs away from her eyes. “We’re moving in together.”
I choke on my water. “Come again?” I cough.
She shrugs. “There’s no other logical explanation. It’s not like we were caught in public, so we don’t have that excuse.”
“Weren’t we?” I ask, arching my eyebrow. “We could say we were caught at O’Jackie’s.”
She shakes her head. “That doesn’t count. Technically we outed ourselves.” She lets out a deep breath. “Back to what I was saying. If we were about to move in together, it would make sense we tell the world before they spot the moving vans outside your apartment.”
This… she’s had this planned all fucking day. That’s why she’s been acting off. Fuck me, it’s probably why she hung up last night and then ignored my calls. She wanted to be in my head, and she succeeded because I’ve thought about her more than I care to admit.
Well then, Lucia. I hope you’re up for the fucking game you’ve started.
“Strip.” My voice is sharp like a whip, making her jump. “Now.”
“W-what?”
I shake my head. “I didn’t say fucking stutter, did I? I said strip.”
Getting up from the couch, with trembling fingers, she unzips her skirt and pulls it down her shapely legs. Her glare is frosty, but she doesn’t look away as she unbuttons her blouse and unclasps her bra. Her gaze doesn’t even waver as she kicks her shoes off before rolling her pantyhose down, stepping out of them. “Enjoying the show?” she asks with a flat tone as she hooks her thumbs into her thong and gets rid of that as well.
“Not particularly,” I answer honestly. She’s way too uncomfortable for it to be sexy. It’s an act of defiance, one she’s carrying out to show me she isn’t backing down. “But it seems fair I have something worth looking at while we discuss this. So be a good girl for me and sit back down with your legs spread so I can see your cunt.”
Her lips curl in distaste, but she still does as I say. Hmm, it’s not as satisfying as I thought it would be. “Happy now?” she hisses.
“Never been happier,” I lie, running my hand through my beard. I devour her body with my eyes. Her tits are an extraordinary fucking masterpiece. My gaze travels lower, reaching her… “What’s that?” I growl, moving so I’m crouched in front of her before I realize I’ve moved.
As I reach out, Lucia’s breath hitches, but I don’t stop. I trail a finger over the scars on her inner thighs. I count eight on each leg. “A reminder,” she mumbles.
“A reminder of what?” I ask. While the sight and feel of her marred skin should horrify me, all I feel is angry that someone else has marked her before I had the chance.
Is it possible Lucia craves the same thing I do? No, her reaction isn’t that of someone who suffered through it willingly. The scars don’t seem recent, but the way they’ve healed gives the impression they’re violent. How the hell didn’t I notice those last night?
“None of your damn business,” she hisses. She’s back to looking distant, like she doesn’t have a care in the world.
That she can look so aloof and bored while I’m this close to her exposed cunt and touching scars that penetrate deeper than her skin just cements the fact I can’t trust her. “Fine,” I agree, matching her tone. “You can move in here. But I have one rule.”
“Which is?”
“You don’t wear clothes in my apartment.”
“Never?”
I sneer. “Not unless I’ve given you permission.” She presses her lips together and folds her arms over her chest. “Do we have a deal or not?” I ask.
Tilting her head to the side, she looks at me through green eyes that flash with so much anger it’s amusing. “Fine,” she says. “But I want something in return.”
I expected this much. “What?”
“Do you promise?” she asks, hopefully.
Laughing, I let go of her thighs and stand back up, towering over her. “Not until I hear your terms.”
“Never ask me about my scars again. Not any of them.” Her tone makes it clear she isn’t kidding around.
Though I’m even more intrigued now that I know she finds it more uncomfortable to talk about her scars than be naked, I say, “Deal.”
The marred flesh is like a fucking beacon, making it impossible to look away from it. So many questions swirl around in my head. And, to my surprise, pure rage at whoever did this to her. It’s one thing to force her to be naked, another to scar her so badly she’s clearly still suffering from whatever happened to her.
I know I shouldn’t care, but I do. I really fucking do, and I don’t like that some jerk put their hands on my bunny.
Motherfucker!