36. Ella
Thirty Six
Ella
The suite was packed tight with players, agents, and wannabe influencers, each one radiating ego like toxic waste.
Hunter guided me through the swarm, his hand just grazing my back, that trademark silent intensity simmering under his calm.
I brought one of my best dresses for this — a slip of black silk with a high thigh split — and for once I got to wear the matching heels too. In a room filled with football players, even a girl standing over six feet could wear heels without standing out.
Fucking score.
Hunter was dressed in black-on-black, his shoulders broad enough to make furniture nervous. His clean-shaven jaw was sharp enough to cut glass, and right now, it was locked hard enough to break teeth.
“Rhodes,” a familiar voice said, low and smooth.
We both turned. Colt was leaning against the bar, stoic as ever, and yet more at ease than he used to be when I first met him. Hailey was at his side, her presence sharp and confident.
I threw my arms around my friends, having to bend even further with the bigger height difference. “Fancy seeing you here.”
She smiled, eyes sparkling knowingly. “Thought I’d come check on my favorite troublemaker.”
Hunter gave me that look again, like I was seriously testing his patience with this dress.
“You said to pack something nice,” I said, grinning like I wasn’t acutely aware of the way he was looking at me.
Like he was debating whether to throw his jacket over my body or simply throw me over his shoulder and get me the fuck out of here.
“I did,” he growled.
I tilted my head. “And?”
“I meant sweatpants.”
A laugh burst out of me, loud enough for a couple of suits to glance over. Hunter wasn’t laughing, though — he looked like a man performing mental murder.
Even Colt snorted, which earned him a look of betrayal from his best friend.
Colt held up his hands placatingly. “Come on, bro. As if anyone would dare talk to her with all that,” he gestured up and down Hunter’s menacing form, “standing next to her. You’re like a next-level bodyguard.”
“Yeah, right. Like you aren’t the same about your girl,” Hunter grumbled.
“Riiiight.” Hailey nudged me. “Come on, girl, bathroom break. We need a serious chat.”
The guys shared a quick glance before wordlessly escorting us to the bathroom. Seemed like they weren’t taking any chances, and I was fucking here for it. Zero complaints.
Once we were alone in the bathroom, the door securely locked behind us, Hailey got right to it.
“So spill.”
I sighed, pushing my hair back, feeling the weight of it all press in.
“About what?”
She leveled me with a stare. “Don’t play dumb. You and Hunter. The way he’s looking at you? Like he wants to set this hotel on fire and keep you as the only survivor. What is going on?”
My hand flew up to my hair, itching to twist one of the strands between my fingers, but then dropping again because I didn’t want to ruin my perfect waves. “Okay, so yeah. We started with an agreement of sorts.”
She raised an eyebrow. “An agreement?”
Slashing my hand through the air, I waved her off. “Details to follow, the story is way too long.”
Hailey tilted her head. “I’m still trying to wrap my head around the whole touching part. I’ve known Hunter for years, and no one was ever allowed to touch him.”
I shrugged, trying to find the words. “Something about us just works. We click. I don’t know how to explain it. I’m not even sure if he could. But it’s real.”
Hailey smiled knowingly. “That’s rare.”
“It’s more than rare.” I glanced down, fiddling with the hem of my dress. “Anyway, I thought it was just an agreement, and I tried my best to act like it, but eventually … well, I guess inevitably lines started to blur. I know he feels it, too. That’s not the problem.”
Hailey’s eyes softened. “Then what is?”
I blew out a breath, closing my eyes for a second.
“The problem is me. I spent so long craving validation and getting hurt for it, I sometimes wonder if I even know how to love properly. I built this whole world in my head instead, where the fantasy was safer than the real thing. Hunter is terrifying, obsessive and to be honest, impossible, but he’s real .
He wants this, he wants me, and I just keep thinking, what if I screw it up? ”
Hailey tilted her head. “You think you’re the problem?”
I shrugged, trying to find the words. “He’s steady and controlled, and I’m still the girl who second-guesses everything and is all over the fucking place. What if I’m not enough for him? Or worse, what if I drag him down with all my baggage?”
Her lips stretched into a gentle smile. “Ella, he doesn’t look at you like you’re baggage.”
I bit my lip. “I know, and ironically, this almost makes it scarier. Because this feels too good. Too monumental. Like, if I get it wrong, I lose the one thing that finally feels right.”
Hailey stepped closer, dropping her voice to a whisper. “Ella, sometimes the scariest thing is the most worth holding onto.”
“Why does it always have to be the scary thing?” I groaned.
“Don’t ask me,” she quipped. She and Colt hadn’t had an easy journey, either. “But I know doing the scary thing can pay off big time.”
I squeezed her in a tight hug. “I’m so fucking glad you’re here!”
“Same.” Hailey beamed. “Okay, now let’s get out of here. We blocked this bathroom long enough.”
My pulse was still buzzing from the confession I had just made when we left the bathroom.
At that moment, the guy drenched in cologne and lacking common sense blocked our path.
“So,” he said, sliding up with a bourbon and a level of confidence it was almost cute. “What’s it like dating the next NFL star?”
I blink at him. “Wow, you practiced this line in front of the mirror, didn’t you?”
He laughed, apparently under the delusion I was flirting back.
Idiot .
Before I got the chance to torch his ego, heat scorched the length of my spine.
Hunter.
He moved in behind me, silently, so big and close I felt every hard line of his chest through my dress. A massive hand curved around my waist, slow and possessive, fingers pressing low like a warning.
Then his mouth dropped to my ear, and his voice was low enough to make my pussy clench. “Smile at him again,” he rasped, “and I’ll fuck you against this wall.”
My drink nearly slipped out of my hand. The idiot couldn’t get away fast enough, he basically evaporated like he smelled the murder vibes. Good call, buddy.
Hunter straightened just enough to look almost civilized again, but his hand stayed on my hip like a brand. I glanced up at him, and my brain short-circuited. His eyes were filled with pure darkness and threat.
Oh, fuck.
***
Once we left the party, we barely made it through the door before I decided to poke the bear.
“So,” I said sweetly, kicking off my heels and pretending I wasn’t still shaking from the little stunt at the party, “what did the scouts say? About Robot Boy?”
Hunter didn’t smile or speak; he just moved.
One second I was feeling smug, and the next my back hit the wall. His forearm was braced beside my head and his body was caging mine in, like the world had just become small and dangerous.
“They said,” he murmured gravelly, “I’m the most controlled player in the draft.”
He dragged his mouth over my jaw, slow and sinful, like he owned every inch of me. His breath was hot, his restraint a thin, snapping wire.
“Help me prove them wrong.”
Oh.
Hunter’s mouth crashed into mine like he’d been starving for years. All that control — the ironclad, legendary, unshakable discipline scouts couldn’t shut up about — detonated.
His hands gripped my hips so hard, I gasped into the kiss, nails digging into his neck.
One arm hooks under my thigh, lifting me like I weigh nothing. My dress rides up, and the cool press of the wall kisses the back of my thighs while every scorching inch of him brands the front.
“Hunter,” I gasped when his mouth left mine, his tongue dragging a fiery path down my throat. He bit my collarbone hard enough to make me gasp and licked over it like an apology that wasn’t one.
The hotel room smelled like him already, like cedar, sweat, and the faintest trace of his cologne. Dim city lights filtered through the curtains, painting us in silver and shadow.
His hands were everywhere, rough palms sliding down my sides, gripping my thighs, his fingers digging into my hips.
“You think you can wear this ,” his voice was a low growl as his fingers fisted in the silk, “and not pay for it?”
“Maybe I wanted to see if you’d break,” I shot back, breathless, nails scraping down his back as he walked me to the bed like I weighed nothing.
He looked like temptation personified. Golden skin gleaming under the soft hotel light, wavy blond hair falling over those gray eyes screaming All-American perfection. The way he looked at me now, though, was sin, unrepentant and hungry.
I bounced on the mattress as he tossed me onto it, and a surprised, breathy giggle escaped me. He ripped off his shirt, his muscles flexing as if he were carved out of summer heat and hard work.
The clean-cut image was gone in a heartbeat as he tore my dress down the middle with one vicious pull.
“Hunter—”
“Shut up,” he rasped, crawling over me, caging me in with those massive arms as his mouth found my throat.
Teeth dragged along my skin and a nip made me arch my back, but his tongue soothed the pain. His hands framed my jaw, tilting my face up so I couldn’t look anywhere but at him.
“You know what you do to me, Ella?”
“Apparently make you forget how to use buttons,” I gasped, half-laughing, half-wrecked as his mouth crushed mine again, swallowing the sound.
His hips slammed into mine, the thin lace between us soaked, useless, as his hard length ground against me through his pants. Every thrust dragged a strangled moan from my throat, but I wasn’t giving him the satisfaction. Not yet.
“Who owns who here, baby?” he snarled in my ear, hips pounding, relentless.
My nails dug into the sheets, knuckles white as I stared up at him, defiant even as my body trembled. “You wish it was you.”
That earned me a growl so low it vibrated through my bones. “Oh, I don’t need to wish.”
His free hand slid around my throat, fingers curling tight enough to make my pulse roar in my ears. Not choking — just issuing a warning, making a promise. “You’re mine. Say it.”
“Make me.”
The click of his belt unbuckling and the sharp zip of his pants sliding down filled the room, sending a jolt through me. His eyes went molten as he kicked his pants off, leaving nothing between us.
Then he closed his fist around my thong, ripping the last barrier with a brutal swipe. He thrust into me so deep my back bowed off the mattress, a cry tearing from my lips.
He fucked me like he had something to prove, like he needed the whole goddamn world to know exactly who I belonged to.
Each thrust was a brutal, claiming stroke, driving me higher, harder, deeper until I could barely breathe, until the only word I could find was his name falling from my lips in desperate gasps.
The headboard slammed the wall with every snap of his hips, a pounding rhythm accompanied by the sounds of my sloppy pussy taking him. His grip on me was savage, fingers digging so deep I knew I’d wear the bruises for days, and fuck, I wanted every single one.
“Look at me,” he growled as one massive hand caught my jaw, forcing my eyes open when instinct tried to roll them back. “Eyes on me when I fuck you.”
God, I loved the way he took charge of me, how completely in control he was.
“You feel so fucking good, baby,” he rasped against my ear as his hips pistoned forward again, forcing a cry from my throat.
“So pretty, taking my cock like such a good girl. So fucking mine.” His hand slid between us, rough fingers finding my clit and circling with ruthless precision, making me thrash under him, “This is mine too. Say it.”
“You—” I choked on a moan as he thrust harder, pumping so deep I swore I could feel him in my fucking stomach. “You wish it was yours.”
His answering laugh was dark, dangerous. “Oh, fuck that.”
His hand slid up to my throat again — possessive, commanding — as he buried himself to the hilt and stayed there, grinding slowly and deeply enough to make me see stars.
“You’re already mine. Every smart-mouthed word, every pretty little sound …” His teeth grazed my jaw before biting down hard, marking me. “All mine, Ella.”
And then he moved again. Harder now, rougher, ruining me completely. My nails clawed his shoulders, dragging jagged lines down golden skin as I clung to him like he was the only thing anchoring me in this world.
His name spilled from my lips again and again, each one punctuated by the savage slam of his hips.
“Say it,” he growled, his breath hot and ragged against my ear, pounding into me harder, deeper, until the bed frame groaned in protest. “Say who owns this tight little pussy, or I’ll fuck you until you can’t walk straight tomorrow.”
I was a mindless, trembling mess. “Hunter—”
“That’s right,” he snarled, hips hammering like a man possessed. “Fucking scream for me. Let everyone know who you belong to.”
And then I came, shattering into a thousand pieces as he drove me over the edge, orgasm tearing through me like a tidal wave. My body clenched around him so hard he cursed as he followed me down, thrusting deep one last time.
“Take my cum, baby,” he rasped before collapsing against me, sweat-slick and shaking, his lips still pressed to mine like he couldn’t let go.
When we both caught our breath again, Hunter leaned down, lips at my ear. “Told you I own you.”
***
Morning sunlight sliced through the blinds. Eyes still closed, I stretched my legs only to wince. My thighs were fucking aching, and my neck felt like it’d been mauled.
I rolled over, sliding my hand under the pillow, when my fingertips bumped against something hard and unfamiliar. Cracking one eye open, I pulled the object out and held it close to my face.
Why was there a guest pass tucked under my pillow?
I figured it out why almost instantly as I examined it more closely.
Scrawled across the front in black Sharpie, it read, Property of Hunter Rhodes .
I snorted and tossed it on the nightstand before flopping back against the pillows.
“So subtle,” I muttered to the ceiling, but a smile stretched my lips.