Chapter 3
CHAPTER THREE
HEATH
Five days to prove our innocence. That was the deadline Cora Brooks gave us. Four, really, by the time the team filed from the club’s glassy black doors beneath the snarling chimera club logo emblazoned across the front of the building.
Or rather, where they didn’t exit today.
The first time I walked through those doors, I wondered if it took someone a full time job keeping them clean.
Now I knew the truth. Because apart from days like today, when the entire staff herded the team out through the back doors with their faces covered against the plethora of camera flashes like the bunch of criminals they weren’t, no one came through those front doors or stood outside them.
No one cleaned them more than once a week.
The pristine perfect facade was just that.
A fucking lie.
Which was what drew me to Cora Brooks. The same thing that made me want to work for Coach. Why I circled the ice hour after hour, doing drills before everyone else arrived each morning and training in the club’s custom built gym well after they left.
Because out here, where sweat rolled into every crevice and orifice my body possessed unchecked, I got a little bit dirty. A little bit filthy. Everything fucking ached. Muscles trembled as I neared the point of exhaustion, pushing both my body’s physical and mental limits.
Punishing myself for not being there. Not being fast enough.
For not seeing what I should have that night.
And I’d do it all over again tomorrow.
But when I stepped outside into the darkened parking lot and thought I was the only one left to lock up, I found I’d made a mistake.
Because Cora Brooks stood next to my bike, her eyes tracking over the matte black paintwork and back to me.
Her body was encased in black head to toe; black tights that showed off every curve of her body, and there were plenty of those, a black crop, and black zip hoodie open at the front, leaving a tantalizing glimpse of bare skin at her stomach.
Her feet pointed in one direction, her body in the other.
“Solace used to do that,” she said finally, breaking the all-pervasive silence that hung in the darkness like a shadow between us that refused to budge as she invoked the name of the Chimera’s prior goalie on hallowed club grounds.
“Stalk you?” I raised both eyebrows, wondering if the prior defender didn't need another busted kneecap.
She smirked, and fuck me if the way her lips curved didn’t send blood rushing south to a different part of my anatomy.
“I think he has a different female in mind for that. No,” she cleared her throat.
“Solace was always the last one out. Looks like you’re sticking true to form for your position.
” Her voice dropped an octave, warbled a little.
Well fuck me if Cora Brooks actually gives a damn about the players she tortures.
After the way she attacked the rest of the team, I nearly didn’t get her that damn coffee earlier, but I wanted to find out what her mouth felt like under mine more than I wanted to see her leave the building cussing and swearing.
Besides, there were other ways to punish a woman for fucking with what was mine in all ways.
Other ways to make her feel.
But somehow, I didn’t think that was her problem at all.
I rested my hand on the keypad, entering my code to lock up the building for the night without looking. “Good to know I make the mark.” I held my breath when she opened her mouth to make some smart assed rebuttal, but nothing fell out. “Are you catching the bus home?” I knew she walked.
Cora ran her fingers along the lines of my bike, resting her blunt cut nails on the leather seat. “Thank you for the food today. I never make it to the coffee place.” That last came out wistful.
I leaned my back against the harsh edge of the building, resisting the need to scratch my shoulder blades on it. “If it’s what you want, you should make time.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Are you telling me how to organize my day, Chimera boy?”
I watched her, letting my expression settle into something more neutral than interested and prayed she wouldn’t look down, otherwise we’d be having a whole other conversation. “You should run. Now.”
“There you go, telling me what to do again.” She huffed, and inched toward. “Why the hell do you think you can tell me what I can do, where I can go?”
Why aren’t you running?
Telling her where she could go hadn’t been the point, but I didn’t correct that misconception just yet.
“I’ll follow you, make sure you get home alright. It’s been hectic.” More than hectic.
A ground level office window bore a distinct crack that hadn’t been there this morning.
I suspected one of the media crew had attempted to gain access to the building while we were in a meeting earlier and gotten stuck.
That mob level violence was a terrifying thing.
Media weren’t my favorite people at this point.
Security had ordered a work crew for tomorrow, but that didn't stop the rest of the regular office staff from feeling shaken, and leaving early. Not Cora, of course. She hung out until she was good and ready to leave, which was well after everyone else. Hell, the only reason Coach went home for the evening at all was because he knew I’d stay to make sure she got home okay, even if I hadn’t cleared the bit of information with her first.
Cora kept creeping toward me, one small step at a time.
I held myself still, barely daring to breathe as she encroached on my space and finally stopped her advance a half foot in front of me.
If she took a deep inhale, her luscious breasts that her crop barely contained would brush my singlet beneath my own Chimera hoodie.
“What the hell makes you think I’d welcome you following me home, Chimera?’ she asked, her voice low and breathy.
I stared down at her. “Better me than a rogue camera man ready for tomorrow's four a.m. edition,” I stated plainly. That comment seemed to snap her out of it, but I wasn’t ready to let her go that easily. I held out my hand palm up. “Phone.”
“What?”
“Give me your phone, butterfly.”
“No.” She backed up a step.
I raised my hand and slid my fingers through her silky blonde hair to massage her nape. “Your phone.” I held my other palm out at her waist height, waiting for her to shriek and yank away from me.
She didn’t.
Something cold and heavy dropped into my hand. I nodded without taking my eyes off hers, still massaging her neck. She tossed her head restlessly, and batted once at my arm, but she didn’t push my touch away.
Good.
“Code, butterfly.”
“Why do you call me that?”
I waited as she blew out a breath.
“Four-seven-four-six-two-four,” she muttered. Her cheeks blazed as I entered the numbers as she spoke.
I frowned. “I’m guessing that’s not your birthday, butterfly.” I knew it wasn't.
“Itspellsgrinch,” she muttered, dipping her chin as her words ran together.
I stopped my massage, rearranging my hand to catch her jaw in my fingers and tip her head up to meet my gaze. “Say that again for me, Cora?” I heard her, but from the way color stained her cheeks, I had to get her to repeat it. What could I say? Sadism was one of my kinks.
“It spells grinch,” she confessed, her voice ringing clear as fucking day across the empty parking lot. “I hate Christmas, okay? Are you happy now?” She wrenched her chin out of my hand. “Can I go now?” Her eyebrows raised as she offered me a look of pure derision mixed with defiance.
Good that you know who holds the reins here.
I nodded thoughtfully. “Have your run, Cora. I’ll watch you.”
Her skittish look left me in a fresh dose of arousal as she bounced once on her toes and took off without stretching. That was partially my fault, but she’d wear the punishment for it at a later date anyway.
I saved the number I had airdropped from her phone to mine and sent her a text message.
HEATH: Your ass looks good when you run.
I walked to my bike, the seat still slightly warm from her touch, and started the engine. The sound shattered the silence as I pocketed my phone only to feel it vibrate as she responded to my poke about her form.
CORA: That’s sexual assault, Chimera. A policy you should be intimately familiar with by now.
I barked a hollow laugh. Hell, the whole night had been a sexual assault case in the making, and this was the first time she trotted that card out? Gutsy, but I was prepared for it. If my job was lost to that, then sure, I'd wear it. Not happily, but sure.
HEATH: I’ll make sure you get home safe no matter what, butterfly. You can fire me in the morning, if you like.
CORA: And if I told you to go to hell right now and not come anywhere near my home?
HEATH: Is that what you’re saying, butterfly?
CORA: …
CORA: …
CORA: Thank you for the coffee. It was my favorite. The bagel too.
HEATH: You’re welcome.
I pocketed my phone and pulled away from the office, heading to where she lived in a downtown apartment, alone.
Half a block back from hers I reversed into an alley, keeping to the shadowed side.
Making sure it was unoccupied, I turned off my bike a few moments before she rounded the block’s corner.
Hell, Cora must have sprinted that last few hundred meters to make it home that fast. Either I’d rattled her that much, or…
I’d rattled her in another way altogether.
I tossed my phone in my hand as she stopped out the front of her building, and turned in a circle, checking the streetscape. Her gaze lingered on the shadows where I stood, but she didn’t seem to see me, lingering for only a second before moving along.
I opened her messages and sent another.
HEATH: Run, Cora. I’m watching.
CORA: Why do you want to see me run?
HEATH: It’s my favorite game.
HEATH: One day I might even chase you.
Cora looked up from her phone, staring straight at me, I swore.
I pressed call as she backed up into the apartment building with its lit stairwell that wound up and up, all the way to the top floor. She picked up, her breathing ragged, but didn’t say anything. She knew it was me. For a minute, neither of us spoke.
Then I laughed, and she ran.
Winding her way up the stairwell, clutching her phone like a lifeline in full visual range of me as I laughed softly as she ran and ran and ran.
I watched until she exited the stairwell, the breaths coming fast, so ragged. Her keys trembled, rattling metal on metal as she fumbled the lock and swore. Her door opened and slammed. Her shattering breaths broke on a sob as she crashed against something heavy.
I imagined her pressed to the door or the wall inside her apartment, clutching her phone and her keys, an utter, sweating, dripping, panting mess.
My cock hardened as I gripped myself tight, willing myself not to cum as I held my ground. “Are you alright, Cora?” I asked softly.
She let out another sob, though her breaths were gentler now, less ragged. Breathier. “Yes, Valentine. I’m okay.”
“You’re inside? All locked up?”
“I—No. Wait for me?”
“I’m here.”
The lock rattled again. A chain, maybe. I counted the locks with her, humming softly when she swore.
“The locks are done.”
“Good girl,” I cooed. “I’m so fucking proud of you. That was hard. A really fucking long run, and you’re inside, all safe. Have some water. Do you want me to stay until you crawl into bed?”
She hesitated and I wondered for a moment if I’d lost her.
“Y–yes please,” she confessed in the barest whisper.
“It’s alright. I’m here,” I promised her. “Do you want to get water in the dark or do you need lights on?”
“Dark,” she whispered again, like she wanted to keep this secret between us, and the lights would blare it to smithereens.
“It’s okay, then. Keep a hand on the wall, Cora. Find the kitchen. Two hands for the glass. Put me on speaker,” I instructed her.
“Got it,” she mumbled a moment later, the sound of water filling a glass obscuring her voice.
“Good. Drink as much as you need. Shower?” I doubt she could think beyond her bed right now.
“In the morning. I’m exhausted."
“It’s been a huge day,” I murmured. “Where do you keep your nightdress?” I had no idea what attire she slept in.
“Nothing.” Material rasped on her skin, her breaths short again. “I don’t wear anything to bed."
“Butterfly,” I growled a warning. “Get the fuck into bed, curl up and tell me you’re safe for the night before I start knocking on doors to find yours.”
I knew which one was hers, but she didn't need to know that tonight.
“Sixteen B.” More material rasped against skin. The sheet. “Goodnight, Valentine.”
“Christ, Cora. We’re gonna have a talk about your safety habits.” I swore liberally, the speaker on mute for a few moments, and scared a stray cat.
“Tomorrow.” She yawned in my ear. “You can jog with me.”
I laughed softly. “Goodnight, Miss Cora.”
“Goodnight, Valentine. Hate me tomorrow.”
“I can do that,” I promised without venom.
I’d find plenty to hate about her tomorrow. But for tonight, she was the most incredible fantasy I’d ever fucking found.
Utter perfection.
For tonight, Cora Brooks was mine.
I waited in the shadows outside her building, listening to her fall asleep through the speaker until the battery died on her end, then headed home to rub my cock raw to the images of all the things I’d punish her for soon.
So fucking soon.
After we hated each other for a little longer. After she ran from me some more.
After I chased her a while longer.
But damn if we wouldn’t have a whole lot of fun together.