Chapter 17
BLAKE
“What the fuck has gotten into you? And what the hell did you do to your hand?”
Trey stood in front of me, hands on his hips, glaring.
On the ice, our team was in the middle of a bag skate. More than one player had paused to puke.
It was only 7:00 a.m., and I’d called for an emergency practice at 5:00, citing disappointment in their performance. It was complete bullshit. I was angry—mostly at myself—and decided to take it out on the team. It was a dick move, but it was a day of dick moves for me.
If I shut my eyes, even for one moment, I could picture Lucy asleep in bed, her head nuzzling the pillow I’d been using, dreaming peacefully—probably expecting I’d be there in the morning when she woke.
I could just as easily picture her yawning, stretching, reaching for me—only to realize I wasn’t there.
I was an asshole. But staying would’ve been worse. I’d been so caught up in the smell of her, the taste of her, and seeing another man with his hands on her, that I’d temporarily lost my mind, lost all control, and behaved heinously.
What the hell was I doing, fucking someone half my age, taking a young woman’s virginity, hurting her with my demanding body and cock, making her bleed and bruise, covering her with my own blood, and taking advantage of the one person I was supposed to protect?
Shouldn’t I be protecting her from disgusting men like me?
“Are you going to answer me?”
Trey watched my face, shaking his head. He wasn’t backing off.
I shrugged.
“It’s good for the team. And don’t worry about my hand.” I’d cleaned it again and re-bandaged it. It stung a little, a reminder of how unhinged I’d gotten the night before.
“Is it good for the team?” he rolled his eyes. “Or do you have demons you can’t exorcise so you’re trying to take them out on these kids? Because they’ve been running drills for two hours and today is supposed to be a day off for them.”
“There aren’t days off when we need to win,” I pointed out, even though his words hit their target.
I was taking my demons out on these kids. I was frustrated, I wanted to be back in bed with Lucy, I wanted to be the kind of man who didn’t care about the consequences of my actions. But I did, and I wasn’t, and so here we were.
Trey shook his head, opening his mouth to retort, when we heard whistling.
I turned my head toward the noise and froze.
Because there she was.
Whatever a walk of shame was, this was the opposite. It was like everything had stopped in time, and there was only her. I started from her feet and scanned up, partially to reassure myself she was okay, but mostly because I wasn’t ready to look her in the eye and see how much I’d hurt her.
Her toes peeked out of those flip flops I hated—a dare, a fuck you.
Her legs were bare, shapely, solid, and as my eyes traveled up and up, I saw one hip jutted out, covered—just barely—by a short pink, orange, and white plaid skirt which barely hid her pussy from me.
From everyone. I caught the growl in my throat.
Her stomach was a bare, pale gold, and even though I’d seen her in crop tops so many times, seeing naked skin reminded me of last night in the bath, her skin wet and shining, when she’d been wrapped in my arms in the tub.
Skin I’d pressed kisses all over. A little crop top—of course—covered her tits, but she wasn’t wearing a bra, and I could see her areolas through it. Rose-colored. I knew now.
And if I could see them, so could every other goddamn person on the rink.
This time, I couldn’t contain the growl.
Trey’s head whipped toward me. Hell, everyone’s did—the growl echoed so loudly through the arena, the only sound that had been made since trouble came walking back in.
I continued my perusal, up past her breasts—breasts I hadn’t paid enough attention to the night before, and damn, did I want to rectify that now—to her neck.
My eyes lit on something, and breath whooshed out of me.
A hickey.
I’d given her a fucking hickey.
And she wasn’t even hiding it. I’d claimed her there, and all I wanted was to bite all the way around her neck until she wore a collar of bruises from my teeth, a signal to every other man in the universe to stay away.
The hickey was a proclamation. Not that she belonged to me, no. That she wasn’t ashamed of what had happened the night before. But when did Lucy ever feel shame? She was the opposite of me in that way, and I’d always admired her for it, even if it made me want to rip my hair out at the roots.
It was the look on her face that did me in. Her lips, succulent and sweet and begging for my cock between them, begging me to kiss them, were quirked in a small smile, like she knew something I didn’t.
Like that something she knew was me.
And her eyes, oh her eyes. They swallowed me up and spat me right back out. I was lacking, a coward, and didn’t even deserve retribution and rage. No, I was too below her for that.
I see you, they said. And I think you’re full of shit.
And she, the goddess, was right. No one that young should be that wise, but Lucy had always seen through people’s bullshit, and today the bullshit was mine.
She looked like a naughty student seducing her professor. She looked like any man’s wet dream. She looked like jailbait.
Trey whistled, and my hand fisted at my side. It was the only way I could keep myself from punching my assistant coach in the fucking throat. I’d kicked enough men’s asses as it was.
Control, Blake. Control. Your middle fucking name, and don’t you forget it.
Flanking Lucy was her entourage: Leslie, my center’s fiancée, with her dark hair and bemused eyes, stood to one side.
Tovah and Aviva, two troublemakers-in-waiting at our rival school, Reina University, stood on her other, arms crossed and grinning.
Tovah whispered something in Aviva’s ear, and shit, these girls knew.
As much as that could fuck with my entire career, I was glad that Lucy had friends to confide in. That she wasn’t alone.
Alone like you left her early this morning, my brain supplied.
Finally, Lucy opened that delectable trouble of a mouth.
“Hi boys,” she called. “What did I miss?”
There were catcalls in response.
“Coach is trying to kill us,” Emory said.
“Did you ever find that panty stealer?” another one of my players called.
I tried not to fist my hand in my pocket. I’d been carrying her panties around for days—like they were my good luck charm.
“No,” she said, laughing. “But I appreciate the concern.” To me, she pursed her lips. “Don’t you think you’re being a little…hard on them?”
Her “hard” sang in the air, and even though no one else picked up the implication, I did.
“It must be…frustrating,” she added. “And a little bit cruel.”
She shrugged her shoulders and tossed that long, blonde hair. Hair that had been spread out on a pillow beneath me as she’d whimpered, moaned, and cried out my name last night.
Hair that I suddenly wanted to cover up so no one else could see the gorgeous golds and yellows. Once again, I fantasized about convincing her to wear a wig so no one could see her hair but me.
“It’s okay, boys,” she said. “I believe in you. You’re all tough and brave men, and you can handle this. In fact,” her eyes turned wicked, and she winked—at me. “I’m happy to give a massage to whoever stays standing the longest. No puking.”
There was a chorus of “yes ma’am” and whistles, and then my team started skating harder, longer, faster, wanting to impress the blonde vixen in front of them who was trying to kill me with her disdain and disinterest.
“No massages,” I barked. “No fraternizing, you all know the rules.” Or I’ll kick you off the team or kick your asses.
“Oh, but Coach,” she said sweetly, her eyes promising pure hell. “Rules are made to be broken.”
She blew a kiss at the team. With my eagle eye vision, I spotted it, a tell: One nail—just one—looked bitten to the quick, the only sign that she’d been upset. Lucy had bitten her nails as a kid, and I’d thought she’d broken the habit, but she wasn’t as unaffected as she seemed.
I had hurt her. I’d abandoned her this morning and no matter how brave and strong she was being right now, the truth of what I’d done to her was a hard pill to swallow.
“Bye, boys. Have a good practice, and I promise I’ll see you later,” she said, unaware that I’d spotted it.
With that, she pivoted and walked out, skirt molded to her ass, hips swaying, her friends trailing after her.
It took every ounce of restraint to not move toward her, throw her over my shoulder in a fireman’s carry, take her to my office, and swat that ass bright red until she begged for mercy and promised to never get near my players ever again. Then I imagined tying her down and eating her pussy again…
I stopped my daydream just in time. Before I destroyed her reputation, and mine.
“Oh, that’s what’s going on,” Trey observed. “Fuck.”
I didn’t answer him.
Even though “fuck” was right.