Chapter 6 #2
At home, I'm quick to make the excuse that I have to shower.
To be fair, I do smell like the worst dirty gym socks ever.
Turning on the three heads of my high-pressure shower, I stand under their spray and try to fucking relax.
God, I need this cabin getaway. Having other people around to dilute Mollie's presence will be a relief.
This feeling that I might be losing my fucking mind goes all the way back to five years ago, when I first laid eyes on her.
It was during a winter exhibition game, at halftime. The championship figure skaters came in to show off their skills and wow the slightly tipsy crowd. And I, a team vet but not captain, figured I would just stay in the locker room and give them room to do their thing.
Then I happened to follow Beck out to watch a petite redhead in a sparkly lemon-colored costume take the center ice.
She moved so gracefully, with such confidence and pure joy. I've never paid much attention to figure skaters. But this one had my attention. I could feel my heart pounding against my ribcage as I drifted forward, drawn to her.
When I was a kid, my dad gave me a compass. I always loved how it pointed straight north, no matter which way you turned it.
At that moment, I was a compass, and she was my north. It was like I was under a spell, watching her swoop and glide across the ice. Such power, exercised so elegantly.
Beck leaned toward me. "My sister's really something, huh? She just won silver at the National Championships.”
“That’s your sister?” In an instant, my stomach is in freefall.
He gave me a quizzical look. “Yeah, dude. Figure skaters aren’t regularly invited to skate at hockey games.”
He was right, of course. I rubbed my hand over my mouth. “She looks… uh… talented.”
“She is.” His eyes narrowed on my face and he shook his head. “Don’t try to work your charm on her. She’s just a kid.”
I raised my hands and lied right to his face. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”
But I have. I’ve dreamt about touching her and kissing her in every imaginable place for five fucking years. I told myself I’ve been managing it, burying it under hookups, hostility, and distance.
But this past year, I finally stopped pretending. Other women weren’t helping, so celibacy was the only option. Every year, my feelings for her deepen, every year Beck trusts me more. And the gap between what I feel and what I’m allowed to feel gets wider.
That’s a pretty long way of saying that I’m completely fucked.
When my water starts running cold, I turn off the shower and dry myself off. You know what I need? A little sauna time. Pulling on a pair of boxer briefs, I walk through the bathroom and pull open the sauna door.
Mollie looks at me, her eyes as large as dinner plates, and she gives the most-ear rending shriek. Then her eyes drop to my junk.
The volume of her scream crescendos.
Backing out of the sauna, I grab a towel and wrap it around my waist.
Mollie has moved to the far corner with her towel hitched securely around her chest.
"Well?" I demand. "What are you doing in here?"
"Trying to relax and rejuvenate after I busted my ass on the ice following your bad advice."
"Hm." She catches me off guard with that one. I take a seat opposite her and let my eyes rove over her damp skin, the hairband that captures her hair, and the bright pink scars around her left ankle. She clears her throat and tucks her feet up underneath her.
"That was unfortunate," I murmur.
We both avoid eye contact. This sauna was advertised as a 4-person affair, but it gets nice and snug once you put one person of my size in it. We are less than three feet apart; I could easily reach out and touch her hair or thigh.
There's more tension than heat in here right now.
She has no idea how long I've been watching her from the ice while she films. No idea that I follow her home more times than not, just to make sure she gets through the door of that building safely.
She thinks I barely tolerate her. But I'm the only person who has read her medical file cover to cover.
We are operating with extremely different amounts of information.
I settle back on the bench, close my eyes, and roll my neck. The heat is dense and wet, the cedar walls releasing their smell under the steam. The bench is narrow enough that if either of us shifts our weight, we’ll touch.
A bead of sweat tracks down the side of Mollie’s neck. It’s very hard to look at the ceiling instead, so I close my eyes.
There's a knot in my right shoulder, just out of my reach. Normally, I would have a trainer or massage therapist around every day, but they are on break the same months as we are. I'll have to wait until my monthly appointment with the non-team-provided masseuse to have it worked on.
Feeling Mollie's eyes on me, I open mine a crack, just enough to see her. Her head is tilted to the side, her gaze traveling over the flushed, bare skin of my chest, arms, and trunk. Every inch is covered in tattoos. I'm sure that's what she's looking at.
But it's nice to feel like she's checking me out. Hell, she did ask me to take her virginity. She probably thinks I'm hot, like all the other girls I've flirted with.
I can't decide if I should feel turned on or a little sad.
Not to be too much of a whiny dick, but I'm more than meets the eye. More than the Havoc's golden boy. Deeper than the surface-level image I allow my fandom to see.
She sighs and shifts, pulling her legs down from the bench and flexing her toes in a way that I shouldn't find adorable. Her toes are painted lime green, like her fingernails, and that's cute too.
"Nice polish." I nod at her toes.
Mollie admires them, her eyes sparkling. "I was feeling especially like Toxic Sludge." She pauses. "That's the color."
I can't help the smile that response pulls from me. "It suits you."
"Are you calling me toxic, Alexander Thorne?"
The sound of my first name on her lips makes something tighten in my stomach. I answer honestly, "Nah. You're nice to most people. I get the feeling that you save all your spite for me."
"I really do." She grins crookedly. "It's a special thing."
"Yeah? You're not out there trying to reel in every guy by being incredibly cruel to them?"
She flutters her eyelashes. "Wouldn't you love to know."
Even though I made up this scenario, an arrow of hot jealousy pierces me all the same. The idea of her with anyone makes me want to break something.
I look her up and down, pursing my lips. "You're too good for anybody. As Beck's closest friend, I've taken it upon myself to screen the guys who hang around you. And I haven't seen any I've liked."
She rolls her eyes. "You and Beck are both such dorks. Like I bring the guys I actually like around to meet you two."
"I've been paying very close attention, Squeak. More than you know. If you had a boyfriend, I’d know it as soon as you did."
"Yeah, right." She snorts. "I'm crafty."
"You're not crafty, Mollie. You're completely transparent. I can see right through you."
I lean in, taunting her. She swallows, tossing her hair and lifting her chin. A challenge. She runs her tongue over her bottom lip.
Belatedly, I realize that I'm close to grabbing her, pulling her onto my lap, and kissing her as hard as I feel like.
Yeah, I need to cool off.
I sit back, then stand up a bit awkwardly, seeing as I'm sporting a semi from just thinking about her lips.
The girl fucks with my head.
"I should go." I shuffle toward the door that I came in. "And you should ice that ankle. It always looks a little swollen."
Mollie gasps as if I'd just tossed a bucket of cold water on her. "It's none of your business, Thorne."
And she's right. There are a ton of other women in this world. Any one of them might be for me. A lot of them even come to my games and openly lust after me.
So why am I so fucking fixated on my teammate's little sister?
Unable to respond to her without voicing these thoughts, I say instead, "Don't stay in the sauna too long, Squeak. It's dangerous."
Then I close the door and rush out of the bathroom. The first thing I do is find a clean towel in my laundry basket and bury my face in it.
The house smells like her. Her shampoo, something warm and a little sweet, and underneath it, whatever candle she's been burning in the guest room.
I stand in my own entryway and register this before I can stop myself.
This was my house. Now it smells like her.
My dog has chosen sides, her shoes are multiplying by the front door, and I am in serious trouble.
I need to chill out. What the hell is wrong with me? I splash my face with water from the sink, then head back to the clean laundry. My maid, Amara, does a load every few days. I sift through the sweatpants, looking for a particular T-shirt.
But I spot a little scrap of white lace instead. Holding my breath, I fish a tiny white thong out of the basket and hold it between two fingers.
It's Mollie's, mixed in with my laundry by mistake. I should wait until she's gone and leave it on her bed. Or hand it back to her, maybe.
But I don’t. I close my fingers around it and bring the little piece of lace to my nose, giving it a deep sniff. It doesn't smell like anything but clean laundry. Duh. But then my lizard brain takes over, and I rub the lace against my face.
I'm going to hell for this. But I can't do anything else. Walking over to my bed, I drop the towel, leaving me in my boxers. Then I stretch out across my bed, put her thong on my face, and smell it a bit more.
It smells like strawberries and cream. God damn. I growl and palm my aching cock through my boxers. He likes the thought of Mollie's pussy on my face.
A lot.
I shove my boxers down in the front, letting my cock spring free.
Long and thick, my cock slaps against my stomach.
Usually when I jerk off, it's quick and efficient.
No nonsense. But now I use my left hand, shut my eyes, and picture Mollie seeing my cock for the first time.
Exploring it with a hesitant touch. I grunt, thinking of how I would show her to touch me.
Fuck, maybe she'd even need me to teach her how to suck my dick.
That thought is my trigger. My balls tense up. "Fuck. Mollie..."
A few seconds later I'm coming, milky white jizz exploding from the tip of my cock. Stars burst behind my eyes and I groan something unintelligible as I fuck my hand, spurting until I'm dry.
"Shit!" I collapse back and pull the panties from my face, panting. Looking down, I see I've painted hot lines of cum over my groin and stomach. "What the fuck?"
I glare at the thong, as if it's to blame for my coming like a damn freight train.
Yeah, I'm definitely going to hell. Because I not only jerked off with my teammate's sister's panties, but I'm not giving them back either.
I picture my dad's easy and untroubled expression. He has the face of a man who has never once talked himself out of something he wanted. I try so hard not to be like him.
But I still tuck her panties in the bedside drawer, wondering if the flames of hell will be as hot as my fantasies about Mollie.