Chapter 34
GRAYSON
What the hell? I shoved Cruz away from me, glaring at him as I swiped at my mouth. The fucker just grinned unrepentantly at me.
“I think I found a new way to shut you up.”
I gave him the finger, ignoring my pounding heart and my hardening cock that was way too interested in the feel of his mouth on mine.
“I think you need to leave before I say something I’ll regret,” I said in a low voice. He instantly straightened up, his teasing expression disappearing as he tilted his head toward Micah.
“Micah?”
“Yeah, I’ll come with you.” Micah answered his unspoken question.
Curling his fingers gently around Ava’s jaw, he lifted her head, kissing her pouty lips.
She pressed into him, deepening the kiss, and my boner went from a semi to full mast. I turned away, studying the photos as I reminded myself that now was not the time. Fucking inconvenient erections.
“Ava, want us to swing by the sorority house first? You said you needed to get some books from there, didn’t you?” Micah murmured when he released her.
“I do…can you take me to the rink after? Gray, you can meet me there, can’t you?”
I nodded shortly, still facing the board. My fingers curled around the edge of my desk, white-knuckling the wood. “Cruz. Can I speak to you for a second? Alone?”
I was glad they could read me so well, because no one put up an argument. The door creaked, Ava and Micah calling out soft goodbyes as they left my bedroom and closed the door behind them, sealing Cruz and me inside.
I spun around to face him, jerking backward when I found him much closer than I’d anticipated.
“Don’t ever fucking kiss me again without my permission,” I growled.
“Why? Because I might give you another boner?” His eyes flicked down to the erection tenting my sweatpants, and he licked his lips.
“Don’t do that.”
He stepped closer, his dark gaze meeting mine. “Do what?”
“You fucking know what.”
“Cross. Shut the fuck up,” he said, and then he leaned in, sliding his mouth over mine.
Oh, shit. I wanted to hate it on principle, because it was Cruz fucking Martinez, but I didn’t hate it.
Okay…I did, a little. But only because he was a smug fucker who had been needling me endlessly until I cracked.
Needing to be proactive and to show him I wasn’t just going to stand there and passively take it, I grabbed him around the back of the neck like he’d done to me earlier, tugging him closer with a firm grip.
He hummed approvingly, nipping at my bottom lip until I growled under my breath and opened my mouth to him. When his tongue slid alongside mine, he pressed his hips into me, and— What the hell? I had Cruz Martinez’s hard shaft rubbing against my erection.
“Okay, that’s enough,” I gasped, shoving him backward again. He went without complaint, his eyes sparkling with annoyingly smug satisfaction as his heated gaze raked over me.
“You’re not a bad kisser…for a hockey player,” he said.
“How many hockey players have you kissed?” I didn’t even recognize my voice, it was so strangled with jealousy. Jealousy? No. That could not be jealousy. Fuck my life.
“Wouldn’t you like to know?” That annoying fucking smirk appeared again, and the only thing I could do at this point was to kiss it off his mouth.
“Tell me.” I bit at his jaw as he raked his fingers through my hair, cupping the back of my skull.
“Shit, Cross. Hockey players aren’t my type. You’re the only one.”
“Yeah?” My mouth found his again.
His lips curved up against mine. “Yeah. Now, let go of me so I can go get you some answers.”
“You started it,” I muttered, but I let him go, discreetly adjusting my erection so it wasn’t so prominent. He caught my actions, though, chuckling as he cupped his own bulge through his jeans.
“We’ll finish this later. After I’ve compiled your little cult dossier.”
Like fuck would we. I rubbed my hand over my mouth, watching him walk toward the door. He opened it, but before he could step into the hallway, I called out his name.
“Cruz. Stay safe, okay?”
“I will. You too,” he said.
The second the door closed behind him, I stalked across the room, flipped the lock, and then lay back on my bed, shoving my sweats down. I stroked myself hard and fast, barely managing to lift my T-shirt up and out of the way in time before I was coming all over my abs.
I gritted my teeth. Fucking Cruz Martinez.
I was laser-focused throughout the game, concentrating only on my immediate priority, which was to win.
With two minutes left on the clock until the end of the second period, the Barracudas drew ahead with a 3–2 lead, when my rebound shot sailed through the netminder’s legs to give me my second goal of the game.
I exhaled, grinning and exchanging congratulatory fist bumps and backslaps with my teammates.
For a moment, I almost forgot about real life.
It only lasted for a moment, until the period ended and I glanced up to catch a flash of blonde hair behind the player benches.
My eyes connected with Ava’s, and the fear in them stopped me in my tracks, a chill trickling down my spine.
Pulling my helmet off, I mouthed, What’s wrong?
She shook her head, mouthing a reply. Nothing.
There wasn’t even a tiny part of me that believed her. I skated off the ice with my teammates, unease churning in my stomach. When we were in the locker room, I powered up my phone, checking to see if I had any texts from Ava, Cruz, or Micah.
Nothing.
I tapped out a quick message to Ava, asking her what was wrong again.
“Texting your girlfriend, Cross? Or is it your boyfriend?” Miller nudged me, and my head flew up, my heart pounding and my eyes wide. His brows rose. “Why are you so jumpy, bro?”
Rubbing my palm over my face, I counted to five in my head before I turned to face him, pasting on a smirk. “Jumpy? Me? Do we need to talk about the time you screamed like a fucking banshee when Smith hid in the pantry?”
“Fuck you, Cross,” he mumbled to whistles and jeers from our teammates. It descended into good-natured ribbing, and I exhaled, relieved that he’d bought it. Slumping back on the bench, I clasped my phone in my hand, willing Ava to reply.
My phone remained silent.
All too soon, it was time to return to the rink.
Ava never replied.
We filed back onto the ice for the final period amidst the deafening cheers of the home crowd, and I reminded myself that I needed to stay focused and get through the rest of the game.
If I even allowed myself to think of anything else, even for a second, I’d risk falling apart, and that could never happen.
I was the captain. People were relying on me.
Ava was safe right now. I’d made sure to get her a seat front and center, right behind the player benches, and she was surrounded by her sorority girlfriends.
She was highly visible, and to me, that was the safest way for her to be at the moment, especially after we’d taken the initiative with our stalker last night.
We’d shown our hand and they now knew we were onto them.
Twenty minutes. That was all I needed to get through.
As I took my position, I became aware of my thigh throbbing, reminding me of what I’d been through.
I hadn’t been lying when I’d said I’d had worse injuries playing hockey, though.
It was easy to put the pain aside, with the knowledge I’d have to deal with it later, and I pushed myself harder, flying across the ice.
Somehow, I made it through the final period.
Although the Barracudas didn’t score again, we managed to hold our lead.
When the game ended, I showered and changed at lightning speed, ignoring Coach Pierce calling after me as I burst out of the locker room on a mission to get to Ava as quickly as possible.
I spotted her among the crowd of students milling around near the doors, and I strode over to her, wrapping her in my arms. “What’s wrong?” I murmured, dipping my head to her ear.
“Not here,” she whispered. I nodded, taking her hand and leading her out to the parking lot. When we were safely inside my SUV with the doors locked, I turned to her, cupping her chin.
“Tell me what’s wrong.”
Her lip trembled as she held up her phone. “I-I already texted Cruz, and his guy is tracking the number.”
“Tracking what number?” I said slowly, taking the phone from her unresisting grip. I already knew the answer, but when she spoke again, I exhaled harshly.
“I got another text.”
My gaze dropped to the screen, and my eyes widened, nausea churning in my stomach.
No.