Chapter 16 Bates
“Bates Finnegan.” My name leaves her lips, dripping with hatred and frustration.
But there’s a depth to the way she says it, an understanding that shouldn’t exist, not with the unmasked version of myself standing before her.
Her arms cross over her chest, making her tits bulge up in her dress. If I wasn’t trying to keep my secret identity under wraps, I’d already have her pressed against me, palming her breasts and claiming them with greedy flicks of my tongue.
My gaze can’t help but to flicker down at the thought, just for a moment, before meeting her stare again.
I find her even angrier than before, and my murmur is the match that lights her fuse. “So beautiful, Serena.”
She snaps, becoming unglued like I’ve never seen.
Striding forward, she pushes me, shoving my chest until I’m backed up against the door, her fingertips digging into my abs.
“Of course you’d follow me,” she spits out.
Shit. She knew I was trailing her?
Hopefully, that’s all she knows.
“I just wanted to make sure you weren’t lost.” I smirk, trying to play it off.
Something shifts over her, a tantalizing aura of sex appeal and confidence.
“Really? Are you sure you didn’t want this?
” Her fingers tiptoe down her hip, her eyes still glued on mine as her hand trails lower, finding the bare skin of her thigh, exposed from the slit in her burgundy satin dress.
“Are you sure you weren’t following me just to make a move? ”
Fucking hell. She’s toying with me.
I’ve never been happier.
Maybe this is it, when she starts to like the real me.
Then can we drop the act of hatred?
We both know we’re drawn toward one another. We have been since the beginning.
Hooking her finger into the crook of the satin, she tugs it up an inch. And another. And another until I’m nearly panting, my cock throbbing in my slacks.
Nope, we’re not lifting that another inch, or I’m going to bust the zipper.
My hand lashes out, pulling her dress back down, knowing damn well that I’m seconds from peeling it off her body if she continues.
“What are you doing?” My words are thick and heavy, accusatory.
She smirks, but it morphs into a sneer, her eyes darkening. “How could you?”
“What are you talking about?” I whisper, unable to ignore the hint of alcohol on her breath.
She was drinking before she got here tonight. The aroma is saturating the air, the way it does when it’s been building for some time.
It couldn’t have been too much because her speech is clear and precise, but her eyes are glossy enough to show it. I should’ve noticed it earlier. But I was far too distracted by the rest of her appearance tonight.
“You.” An accusation. A statement, matter-of-fact. All mixed into the declaration of a single word.
The ground beneath me begins to shake.
She steps forward, and her hand flattens on my chest, sliding up and wrapping around my jaw. “How could you do this? Huh?”
She must mean following her. She means pushing her boundaries. She doesn’t mean the stalking, the cameras, the letters, the mask. She can’t …
No. No. No. Don’t say it.
“Do what?” I’m not assuming anything out loud. She’s going to have to use her words. “I’ll leave you be. I was just checking on you.”
She laughs humorlessly, rising up on her toes and getting as close as possible to my face. “Bates . . . where’s your mask?”
“Fuck.”
I’m in shock.
Frozen.
Unable to form another word or even take in a gasp of breath. I’m stuck, pinned in place by her stare.
Shit!
This wasn’t supposed to happen like this.
She’s not ready.
I’m not ready.
The world seems to tilt on its axis, changing everything about the path ahead that I so carefully planned.
Maybe I can tell her one more lie, make her think she’s wrong. But I can’t even breathe, let alone form a sentence to convince her otherwise.
Frankly, I don’t want to gaslight or toy with her, not when she’s confronting me head-on. I’m not a coward.
The plans will shift, and we’ll adapt. Together.
With every second that passes, I thaw out, coming back into myself more and more, perhaps more than ever before.
I don’t have to pretend. I don’t have to keep the parts of my alternate persona separate in front of her. I don’t have to watch every glance or move I make, censor my words depending on who I am at the time—Bates, the hockey player she hates, or the masked man she’s falling for.
A switch flicks inside of me, the two parts combining into one.
Possession floods my veins in a way I didn’t know was possible, and suddenly, I realize that the mask wasn’t only bringing a side of me out to play; it was also keeping that version of myself—which has always been there, lurking beneath the surface—in its cage.
She sees it—that moment.
The shift in my stare, the straightening of my posture and shoulders. The shields coming down and the merging of our worlds, the one that only existed in private and the other that now stands before her.
Her confidence wavers as she rocks back on her heels, swaying ever so slightly. But she holds her ground, not backing away or averting her gaze.
There’s no point in continuing the facade.
She earned that.
“How’d you figure it out?” My voice is normal now, without the forced higher-pitched, and the recognition is clear in her eyes, widening with every syllable.
“What?” She crosses her arms tighter, and I don’t bother to glance down and enjoy the view. “You’re not even going to try to deny it?”
I shrug, stretching my arms up and hooking my fingers atop the doorframe, my palms facing the door at my back.
I lean forward, lowering my face closer to hers. “Why would I? You won. You figured it out. I’m not going to take that away from you or try to convince you that you’re crazy.”
Desperately, her eyes search mine, anguish in her blue stare, like she’s surprised I didn’t try to lie my way out of getting caught.
“Your team key chain. It broke and I found a piece in my closet.” She pauses. Her usually smooth voice is now raw and pained as she continues, pain lancing her face, “Was this all a game to you? Some sick, twisted bet between you and your friends?”
I wet my bottom lip, readying to respond, but I don’t get a chance before she continues to spew her hatred.
Every thought that has been building up since this started flows out from her red-painted lips, each point emphasized with a jab to my chest.
“Why did you do this? You knew I had boundaries. You knew I didn’t want to date my dad’s players, but you pursued me anyway, manipulating my fantasies to get your way into my pants.
” She gasps for air, unaware that she’s drifting closer to me, closer to never being able to escape when I wrap my arms around her and remind her who she belongs to.
But I refrain and let her continue.
“Am I just a toy? Entertainment for you and your friends? Was it fun getting over my walls and invading my space for shits and giggles? God, I can’t believe I fell for this trick!”
Her bottom lip quivers with anger, and she lightly slaps my chest in frustration.
If she wants to take her anger out on me physically, I don’t blame her, but there are other ways we’re going to be doing it, and it involves far less clothing.
“I actually believed that you—masked you—really cared for me. That you were falling for me or loved me. But you were just using me for your entertain—”
I cut her off, my hands flying out from my sides, one going around her throat, the other on her mouth, careful not to smear her lipstick. But even if I do, I don’t care. It would show everyone else in the room out there that she’s mine, her lipstick on me like a brand.
I’ve had enough of her berating speech. We need to get a few things straight before she keeps going, if she even wants to by the time I’m done.
Her eyes widen as I yank her toward me, both hands flattening on my chest by instinct. She doesn’t pull them away.
Dropping my face to hers, I sink lower, pressing my lips to her collarbone, the base of her neck. Flicking the tip of my tongue up to her earlobe. She whines in protest, and I groan, pressing my lips to her ear, breathing heavily.
My voice is threatening, the same huskiness she’s used to with her secret admirer. “You think just because the mask is off, our dynamic changes?” It falls to a haunting whisper. “You’re wrong.”
She’s not scared.
She doesn’t want me to leave.
If she did, I would.
But she doesn’t.
Her chest is rising and falling heavily as she breathes through her nose, quick, shortened breaths. The blacks of her eyes are shot, nearly filling the pretty blues swirling around them.
The softs of her cheeks are flushed with a hue of light rose, part of which could be due to the alcohol, but the rest is because of me—because even though she knows she shouldn’t, she wants me without the mask just as badly as she does with it on.
She just might not be ready to admit it. But we’ll get there. I’ll help her to see that not a goddamn second of this is what she thinks it is.
“Serena.” I exhale her name like I was always meant to, my forehead rolling against hers, my hands still secured over her throat and mouth.
She doesn’t push away or protest as I ease my hand from her lips. The second I do, the warmth of her breath intertwines with mine.
Peace. Calm. Heaven.
It lasts about a second before she steps back, and her hand collides with my cheek. My eyes slam shut at the contact, and my dick hardens. She attempts to wiggle from my grasp, but my hands tighten around her waist, keeping her in place.
The sting fades rather quickly, but to be fair, I’m used to fighting, and compared to a grown man’s punch, her slap is a little tap. But that doesn’t mean she gets to get away with it.
“Are you done?” I ask her genuinely, opening my eyes with a blank expression.
She shakes her head from side to side, and I act before she can manage a bratty word, crashing my lips to hers. She fights me for a second, pinching my abdomen with how tightly she’s clenching onto me, but I power through.
She’s a silent statue as I kiss her, telling her how wrong she is between each peck.
“You were never a joke to me.”
Kiss.
Again, she’s frozen.
“Or a game or prize to be won.”
Kiss.
Her grip softens on my torso.
“You are so much more than that.”
Kiss.
The purse of her lips relaxes.
“And to be clear, I don’t fucking share when it comes to you. My friends were nothing more than support.”
Kiss.
She inhales a breath of need and desire.
Her body is already reacting to me before she lets herself fully melt into my touch.
The second she does and she grants me access, I plunge my tongue into her mouth, kissing her with abandon.
I need to feel her, bury myself inside of her with no boundaries between us, no secrets. Prove to her what she means to me.
Leaning back, I break the kiss, my hands traveling lower on her body—one finding her hip and the other finding the slit of her dress, a perfect opening.
“You’re still mine, Serena. Every breath. Every emotion. You belong to me, and I, to you, just like before. Maybe even more than then.” My fingers disappear beneath her dress, and she whimpers, almost a high-pitched exhale, as I brush against her core. “Fucking hell.”
She’s not wearing any panties, and she’s soaking fucking wet, just like I knew she’d be.
“No panties? With a thigh-high slit in your dress?” I growl into her mouth, our lips brushing together. “My dirty little slut.”
I can see the war playing out in her, the push and pull in her eyes and strength in her body.
Should she? Shouldn’t she?
Back and forth.
I’ll help her decide.
I rub my fingers across her clit, and she gasps sharply, her lips parting with a breathy moan.
Her body is begging for me, but just as she starts to open up even more, her legs falling apart, she stops me dead in my tracks with a single, stern declaration. “No.”
I freeze immediately, pulling my hand from her dress as terror wreaks havoc through me. She wants this, us—I know she does. Right? Maybe she’s not as ready as I thought.
I’m not going to push her, not when it comes to this. We like to play, hopping over the gray line of enthusiastic consent, but that doesn’t include this moment.
She said no, and that means no.
“Okay,” I murmur softly, showing her that no matter what, I’ll never force her to do anything she doesn’t truly want.
She’s panting, breathless, her chest heaving and lips parted. Her legs are open, the dress still hiked up from my touch. Every sign is telling me that she’s choosing to listen to her brain right now rather than her heart.
Her pussy is exposed, glistening in the light, and she does little to hide or shrink herself away.
Maybe this is her way of tormenting me—forcing me to look at the woman I want and love, to touch her but not enough and then have to walk away.
It’s not a game between us—it never has been—but right now, I’ll play hers.
Lifting my hand, I brush her cheek. She doesn’t flinch or move away, looking up at me with big, emotional eyes.
I can see her heart on her sleeve, the love in her gaze. I can feel it in the silence between us as our hearts race in sync together.
But I’ll give her what she wants.
For now.
She stutters, struggling to maintain her confidence, “I’ll—I’ll tell my dad. You’ll get kicked off the team.”
My thumb brushes across her bottom lip. “Are you going to tell him how you also begged me to fuck you with a knife pressed to your throat? Or are you going to leave that little detail out?”
“I hate you,” she states matter-of-factly, but then her body betrays her when her eyes drop to my lips, reigniting the fire in my soul.
“No, you don’t, Little Cupid.” I smirk. “But we can pretend—for right now—that you’re the one with the power.” I trail the back of my fingers down her chin, along her jaw, down her neck, and to the top of her collarbone.
“Take the time you need to come to terms with us.” I wrap my fingers around her throat, stroking the side with my thumb, tightening, just the way she likes it. “Be aware though: the longer you keep me on a leash, the more feral I’m going to become.”