Chapter 14
Chapter fourteen
Bryce
“Stop trying to break the vending machine. It’s not going to give you free Sour Patch Kids just because you’re scowling at it.”
Dex says it like he’s bored, but he’s grinning like an idiot.
“I’m not scowling,” I mutter.
Colby looks over. “Oh you’re scowling. You’re giving full ‘brooding villain who hates joy’ energy.”
Eli chimes in without looking up from his phone. “Zero out of ten. Would not approach. Looks like he eats people.”
I flip them off without looking.
Dex whistles. “Yup. There it is. The international sign for ‘I’m pissed and emotionally compromised.’”
I grab the damn Sour Patch Kids with a little more force than necessary.
We’re still in the visiting arena hallway after a brutal overtime loss.
One stupid rebound. One stupid half-second hesitation. One stupid missed opportunity.
And I’m still thinking about Annabelle. Still wanting her. Still replaying her voice.
She’s here on this trip because it’s mandatory. PR oversight, sponsor alignment, brand management.
She’s pretending I don’t exist. And fuck, she’s good at it.
Professional. Polished. Ice-queen level controlled. Except every time our eyes meet, something cracks.
I see it. So does everyone else.
Coach Hale steps into the hallway and claps once. “Team dinner in twenty. Don’t be late. And Dex, if you flirt with another flight attendant or hotel employee tonight, I’m zip-tying you to the luggage cart.”
Dex salutes. “No promises.”
Colby laughs. “I’m bringing the zip ties.”
We start walking toward the exit.
Annabelle is ahead with staff.
Her hair is down. Her coat fitted. Her walk confident.
I’m staring. Not subtle. Not smart. Not sorry.
She feels it. I know because her shoulders tense and she picks up her pace.
Dex spots it immediately because the man can sniff out drama better than a bloodhound trained on bad decisions.
“Ohhh my god,” he mutters. “She’s running from you.”
“She’s not running,” I say.
Eli chimes in. “She’s speed-walking, which is basically emotional running.”
Colby smirks. “I give it three hours before one of you snaps and someone gets pushed against a wall again.”
I ignore them.
Mostly.
***
The restaurant is dim, warm, and upscale. Long tables are set for us. The wine is poured and the team is already loud.
I sit across from Annabelle.
No accident.
She looks up. Freezes for a fraction of a second. Then forces a polite smile.
“Bryce.”
“Annabelle.”
Dex drops into the seat beside me and whispers loudly, “Subtle. Real smooth.”
I kick him under the table. He kicks back.
Dinner happens. Sort of.
Coach rips into our defensive breakdowns. Eli reenacts a play in the middle of the aisle. Colby tries to barter dessert before dinner with a waiter.
But I’m only half in it. Because every time she laughs and looks away…
Every time she sips her drink and licks her lips gloss…
Every time her gaze glances toward me and immediately darts away...
Want hits harder.
It’s not just physical anymore. It’s worse. It’s everything.
"Vargas, looks like you did a belly flop trying to block that last goal. Very graceful, man." I say to distract myself.
"I thought it was kind of sexy," Mia adds.
"See, Blackhorn, I did it for my lady, so you can kiss my ass. And if I remember correctly, it was effective."
Dex, of course chimes in. "Yeah, Eli, the ice is water, but it's not for swimming."
"Really, Dex? You spent so much time in the penalty box today, that I thought you just wanted to be alone."
"I like the sin bin sometimes. It's quiet."
"What are you doing in there, adjusting your jock strap?" Bobby McDermott jokes.
Janie interjects with a smile. "Who are you kidding, Bobby? You guys always have your hands in your pants, especially when watching TV."
“Busted!” Colby smirks and raises his glass to toast her.
Just then Erwin Hacker stands up with his glass.
"Before this conversation goes downhill any further, I just want to say I am proud of this team this season.
Despite our loss today, we are in good standing.
Let's put this behind us and move forward.
Next week we face the last place team. It should be a sure win.
So, I toast to the Nashville Outlaws. Keep up the good work. "
We all raise our glasses.
***
Eventually the plates are cleared and the group disperses toward the hotel. Annabelle walks ahead. I fall into step beside her.
She doesn’t look at me. “Bryce.”
“Belle.”
Her breath stutters. She hates that it does.
“We can’t,” she says quietly.
“Yeah?” I ask. “Then why does it feel like we already are?”
She stops walking. Eyes sharp. Voice low.
“This isn’t sustainable. You’re a player. I work for the organization. My father owns the team. He's here. This isn’t just impulsive, it’s reckless.”
I step closer. Subtle, but not gentle.
“You think I don’t know all that?”
She swallows.
“I’m trying to protect both of us.”
“No.” My voice drops. “You’re trying to run before you have to feel anything.”
Her silence answers for her.
Someone calls from behind us. The spell breaks.
She steps away first.
***
At the hotel, the front desk clerk hands out our keys.
"Bobby McDermott, you are in room 1010. Eli Vargas room 915, Bryce Blackhorn 1218, Colby Hayes, 921, Gabriel Shelly 1200, Gregory Mills, 1021, Dex Miller 917, Ryder Hale 1019, Annabelle Hacker, 1219.
Wait...1219...right next to mine. Does she realize that?
***
We ride the elevator in thick, suffocating silence. Dex yells “HAVE FUN, CHILDREN” as the doors close, and I flip him off as they shut.
Annabelle stands on the opposite side of the elevator like if she breathes too close, we’ll spontaneously combust. My pulse hasn’t slowed once since dinner.
The bell dings for our floor.
We step out. Walk down the hall. Stop in front of our side-by-side rooms.
She slides her key into 1219 and pushes the door open. I do the same with 1218.
And then I hear it. A soft metallic rattle.
I glance at the wall we share. Then at the door inside my room. The adjoining door. The lock plate is tilted. The deadbolt… broken.
“Seriously?” I mutter.
Annabelle appears in my doorway a second later, holding her own adjoining door half open.
Her expression is a mix of disbelief and doom. “Is your lock broken too?”
I nudge mine with a knuckle. It swings open three inches.
“Yep.”
We stare at each other through the gap like two idiots caught in the world’s horniest architectural flaw.
She exhales hard. “Well isn't this ironic?"
“Absolutely,” I say. “But I call it fate.”
She tries to shut her side. It doesn’t latch.
Finally she meets my eyes. Resigned. Flustered. A little breathless.
“And we’re adults. We’re handling this professionally.”
“Sure.”
“And no...”
I step closer. Close enough she feels my breath. Close enough thinking stops.
“No, what?” I ask.
Her voice goes weak.
“No… complications.”
I trace my knuckle along her jaw. Slow. Deliberate. Claiming.
“Too late.”
She exhales like I’ve undone her spine.
“Bryce…”
“You don’t scare me,” I murmur. “Losing you would.”
Her eyes close. Her body leans. Her restraint snaps.
She grabs my shirt and pulls me in. Our mouths crash. Heat. Nails. Breathless urgency.
I walk her backward until her spine hits the wall. She gasps. I swallow it.
My hands grabs her ass. She moans into my mouth and I damn near lose it.
Her voice breaks between kisses. “This is a bad idea.”
I grip her hips. Hard.
“Then we’ll be bad.”
She laughs once, wrecked. Then pulls me back in.
Clothes start coming off. Buttons popping. Breathing uneven. Hands everywhere. Want building so strong it borders pain.
She pulls back just enough to whisper, desperate:
“Bed.”
I lift her. Her legs wrap around me. She bites my lip.
I carry her to her bed.
And everything after stops being rational.
I lay her down on the mattress and she looks up at me with that wild, wanting fire that ruins every ounce of discipline I used to have.
My body is already there, already hers, before either of us says another word.
Her hands slide up my chest, fingers tracing muscle like she’s memorizing me again… not rushed, not hesitant, but claiming.
She exhales, voice barely sound. "I shouldn’t want this as much as I do."
"Yeah?" I settle over her, bracing my weight so she feels me everywhere but isn’t crushed. "Then stop wanting it."
She huffs a breath that sounds like a laugh and a curse tangled together. "Impossible."
"Good," I murmur, kissing her again, slow this time, deep and consuming.
I begin to take off her clothes with my teeth, teasing her skin with my tongue as it begins to be revealed.
"Bryce, you're driving me crazy." She starts to take her own sweater off.
"Slow down, Annabelle, we have all night."
As soon as I have her nipple in my mouth, she starts to pull my shirt off and her hands reach for my crotch. I unzip my pants and she pulls me out and I am hard as a rock.
"Happy to see me, I see."
"I'll be happier to feel you around me."
Her thighs part under my hands and her breath catches like I’ve hit a wire inside her. I drag my palm along her inner thigh, slow enough she arches before I even touch her where she’s desperate.
"Bryce…"
"Say what you need."
She swallows hard. "More."
It comes out ruined and raw and perfect.
So I give her more.
My fingers slide between her legs and she’s already wet, already there, already trembling. I tease her slowly at first, circling her clit with my thumb while I watch every reaction she can’t hide.
Her hips lift. Her eyes flutter shut. Her lips part around a soft, choked sound.
"Beautiful," I whisper against her jaw, moving my fingers just right, controlled but filthy. "You feel everything and try to pretend you don’t. Drives me crazy."
She grabs the back of my neck, pulling me closer, kissing me like it’s the only answer she has. When she breaks away, she’s breathless.
"You ruin my logic."
"Good. Logic was getting in the way."