Chapter 13 #2
"No." His smile falls a little. "But it would've been less lonely."
I reach out to him, squeezing his hand. "I'm sorry you felt that way."
"That's life." He shrugs. "How about you? What was it like grow up with a sibling?”
I can't roll my eyes hard enough. "How could anybody see me when there was a talented hockey player in the room?"
Thorne looks a little surprised, which is hurtful, if I'm honest. "Really? Beck isn't even that full of himself. Comparatively, anyway."
"Beck is fine. He's super supportive. He’s just very, very overprotective. He made it to every figure skating championship and every swim meet and every mock trial that he wasn't out of town for. He has always had a heart of gold."
"Then who didn't make the effort?"
"Our parents. I'm just lucky that Indie's mom came to all our practices and tournaments when Indie was still skating. If Mrs. Washington didn't adopt me, I think I would still be sitting, waiting outside the rink. My parents forgot me that often."
"That's wild. You are really good. Like, the ‘top twenty in the country’ good."
My lips twist. "I was that good. Now I'm... not. But it's interesting that you know my stats."
Thorne licks his lips, his eyes darkening for a moment. "I know everything about you, Mollie."
His words make my heart skip a beat. What does he mean by that?
Probably not. I've had a lifetime of people telling me one thing and then not living up to their words.
I wince as my ankle hurts again. But before I can react, I get a very tired-looking little girl tugging on my shirt.
"Bunny book!" Rosie screams, pouncing on me and giggling. “Read!!”
Gotta give it to kids. They don't care about your adult problems at all.
"The bunny book?" I ask. Throwing a look over my shoulder at Thorne, I ask my niece, "Want to show me which book you mean?"
"Yes!" She half-drags me toward her room. "Here."
"Two books!" I say as she grabs them off her bookshelf. "Is that what your Daddy normally does?"
Rosie climbs in her bed and looks at me with a pout. "Please?"
I laugh. "You're crazy. You know that?"
Thorne and I each read her a book. By the time I'm done with the second, she's out like Hypnos, the Greek god of sleep.
We turn Rosie's kitty cat nightlight on and stealthily leave the room. "Mission accomplished," I whisper.
"After forcing me to do a full range of silly voices, sure." Thorne smirks.
"If you're going to read a kid's book, you gotta do the voices—" Pain lances through my foot, and I start to fall, hard. "Ow! Fuck!"
I stepped on a fucking Lego and the pain in blinding.
Thorne catches me. "Watch out, there are random bits of Lego on the floor."
I flush at his tight grip under my arms. But when he tries to set me upright, I put weight on my bum ankle and pain radiates up my leg.
"Shit!" I grab his hands and wobble.
"Here, let's get you to the couch." He scoops me up as if I'm weightless, holding me tight against his chest as he carries me into the living room. I use the moment as an excuse to splay my hands against his muscular chest. Ankle? What ankle?
"Mmm, your shirt is soft."
"Feeling me up, huh?" he teases.
"Shut up." I bat his shoulder as he sits me down. Thorne kneels and checks my injury out, running his hands over my ankle. "It seems like you just twisted it."
"I could've told you that."
He stands up. "Luckily, you're at a hockey player's house. I bet Beck has all the ice and ankle wraps your heart could ever desire."
I heave a sigh. "Maybe just start with an ice pack, please."
Thorne retrieves two ice packs and props my foot up on a pillow, then wraps the ice packs around my ankle. His touch is so gentle and solicitous. Is this really the same man that whispered dirty words in my ear as I rode his cloth-covered cock? Because right now, he's in caretaking mode.
I recognize this mode. And it's ridiculously swoony.
"Hey." I stop him, kissing his lips ever so lightly. "Thank you, Alex."
He freezes. "I love the way you say my name."
He zooms in closer, stealing another kiss. I roll with it, loving the unhinged way he's inhaling my scent and gripping my waist. Before long, though, he eases back.
"We'd better not get carried away. Rosie's asleep just down the hall."
I smooth the collar of Thorne's shirt. No, I correct myself. Alex's shirt. "Don't want to be bad babysitters."
"No, we wouldn't want that." His lips curve up.
The next hour drags on while we both wait for my brother to return. Thorne —Alex— turns on the giant TV, flipping between channels. I expect him to settle on some baseball or soccer, but instead he goes to a new-ish Tonya Harding documentary that I haven't seen yet. I sit up, eyes widening.
"Interested?"
If this wasn't my brother's house, I'd grab the material of his shirt and proceed to make out with him. Hard. No one other than Indie ever asks what my taste in movies is. Definitely not any of the boys I've dated so far.
But Alex Thorne is all man. And he asks. Not just about this, but about all sorts of things. How I take my coffee. When I get up in the morning.
He notices things about me that no one else bothers to see.
"Yes," trips off my lips. "I don't have this channel."
He sits back, throwing his arm along the back of the couch. His fingertips brush my nape. "You can watch it whenever you want at the house."
The house. Not his house. Interesting.
Am I reading too much into this? Yes. Am I almost definitely building Alex into some monolithic man that he can't possibly live up to? Possibly.
But it's nice to have a crush to do that to, period.
Beck comes in about twenty minutes into the doc, and Alex is quick to move away from the couch. But after a tense conversation with Beck, he comes back over.
"Beck's in a mood. You want to get out of here?"
I hear Rosie's door open and close down the hall, and I nod. "He's never really been good at handling his anger."
"Sounds like his ex is really fucking him." Alex pulls a face. "I told him you'd catch up with him later. Are you ready to be carried like a princess?"
The nickname makes me gasp a little. "Y-yes."
"Good." He picks me up off the couch and carries me out to his truck.
"Wait, what about Car-di B?" I gesture toward my car.
He rolls his eyes. "I'll come back for it tomorrow."
"And what if I need to drive somewhere tonight?" Bratty, I know. But Alex thinks he has everything figured out, always. It's mildly infuriating.
He closes the passenger door, coming around to start the truck. "You'll be fine. I'm your white knight, here to rescue you. That includes going wherever you were going to go."
“And… what’s next? For us.” I hesitate. “Like, with bedroom stuff?”
“What do you want to be next?”
I almost can’t look at him when I say, “I’m hoping that you take my virginity.”
He smiles. “I want to take my time with you, Freckles. I don’t want to rush things.”
“Oh.” I pout. “But soon?”
“Soon.” Alex’s fingers on my thigh turn teasing. “I have to get up early tomorrow, but after the charity ball on Friday, I should be free for the whole weekend.”
"What if I said that was too long for me to wait?" I ask.
I've never seen what the combination of a glare and a smirk looks like, but that's the look that he gives me. Throwing his truck into drive, he announces, "Then I would say you're being a bad girl. And what do bad girls get, Freckles?"
He leans over, putting his big hand on my thigh. Not teasing. More like he's reminding me who's in charge.
And it's not me.
I shiver and lick my lips. "I don't know."
"They get punished." An evil grin springs onto his face.
"Oh?" I squirm. "Punished how?"
He shrugs. "It depends. Sometimes it's a spanking. Sometimes it's orgasm denial."
I scowl. "You would do that?"
"Until you cry, Freckles. I could spend a few days working you up and then denying your pleas..."
"Alex." I hope I sound more horrified than desperate for him to touch me.
"That's not going to be a concern, though. Right?" He squeezes my thigh. "Because you are a good girl."
I suck in a breath. "And good girls... get rewarded?"
He grins, his eyes never leaving the road. "Yes they do, sweetness."
I take a cue and shut up, sitting back and letting him drive me to his house without further comment.