Chapter 11 #2
Jack stepped into the room. He was wearing a dark hoodie, the hood pulled up, looking like the grim reaper’s sexier brother. He pushed the door shut and locked it.
He pushed the hood back. His eyes were glowing faintly in the semi-darkness.
"Had to wait for Silas to pass out," he murmured, walking toward me. "He’s been patrolling the hallway like a warden."
"Dedicated," I said, standing up.
"Annoying," Jack corrected.
He stopped inches from me. He didn't touch me yet. He just inhaled.
"You smell like ice," he said.
"And you smell like trouble."
"I am trouble."
He closed the distance.
The kiss was explosive.
We hadn't touched in twenty-four hours. The deprivation made us feral.
Jack backed me up until my legs hit the bench, and I sat down hard. He moved between my knees instantly, his hands tangling in my hair, tilting my head back to devour my mouth.
"I missed you," he groaned against my lips. "It’s a sickness, Eloise. I can't think. I can't focus. I missed a pass in practice today because I was thinking about the noise you make when I bite your neck."
"Jack," I gasped, my hands finding their way under his hoodie to the hot skin of his back. "Shut up and kiss me."
He complied.
His hands were everywhere—roaming over my sweater, my jeans, squeezing, claiming. He was rougher tonight. Desperate.
He pulled my sweater up. I wasn't wearing a bra.
"Fuck," he hissed, seeing me in the dim light. "You did that on purpose."
"Maybe," I breathless.
He lowered his head, his mouth finding me.
I arched off the bench, my fingers digging into his shoulders. The sensation of his hot mouth on my skin in the freezing cold locker room was a contrast that made my head spin.
"Jack," I moaned. "Someone could come in. The janitor..."
"Door is locked," he muttered against my skin. "And if he comes in, I’ll eat him."
"You can't eat the janitor," I giggled hysterically, the adrenaline mixing with the lust.
"Watch me."
He unzipped my jeans. He pulled them down.
He didn't take his clothes off. He just unzipped his fly.
"Quick," he rasped, lifting my hips. "I need to be inside you. Now."
"Yes," I nodded. "Yes."
He thrust into me.
It was hard, fast, and unpolished. The bench creaked loudly under our combined weight. My back hit the metal lockers behind me with a clang.
We froze.
"Shh," Jack whispered, biting my ear. "Quiet mouse."
"You’re the one making the bench squeak," I whispered back.
"Then hold on tight."
He lifted me up. I wrapped my legs around his waist. He braced me against the lockers, supporting my entire weight effortlessly.
He moved with powerful, deep strokes. I buried my face in his neck to muffle my sounds, biting down on his shoulder.
It wasn't romantic love-making. It was a frantic, necessary connection. It was refueling.
"Mine," he growled, his rhythm increasing. "Mine. Mine."
"Yours," I sobbed into his skin. "I’m yours."
The release hit us both fast. Explosive. Shattering.
I slumped against him, my heart hammering so hard I thought it might crack my ribs. He held me there, pressed against the lockers, his breathing ragged.
"We are terrible people," I whispered after a minute. "Desecrating a place of athletic excellence."
Jack chuckled, kissing my temple. "I think we just consecrated it."
He let me slide down until my feet touched the rubber matting. He helped me pull my clothes back together. He fixed my hair, his big hands surprisingly gentle.
"You okay?" he asked, searching my face.
"I’m great," I admitted. "Which is terrifying."
He kissed my nose. "Come on. I’ll walk you to the edge of the quad."
We parted ways near the statue of the Founder. A quick, shadowed kiss, and then he melted into the darkness of the pines.
I walked back to Halliwell Hall, trying to fix my sweater and look like I hadn't just been ravaged in a locker room.
I swiped my key card and walked into the lobby.
"Eloise."
The voice was cold. sharp.
I froze.
My father was sitting in one of the lobby armchairs. He wasn't alone. Sitting next to him was a woman in a sharp business suit holding a tablet.
My stomach dropped to the floor.
"Daddy," I managed, clutching my skate bag. "What... what are you doing here?"
"Waiting for you," he said, standing up. He checked his watch. "It’s midnight. Practice ended two hours ago."
"I... I was working on my edges," I lied. The lie tasted like ash this time. "I lost track of time."
He stared at me. His gaze raked over my disheveled hair, my flushed cheeks, the slight swelling of my lips.
He knew.
He didn't say it. But he knew.
"This is Martha Lewis," my father said, gesturing to the woman. "She is a scout for the Olympic Development Program."
The woman stood up and offered a tight smile. "Eloise. I’ve heard great things."
"Hi," I whispered.
"She drove three hours to see you skate tomorrow morning," my father continued, his voice tight with suppressed rage. "She wants to see if you have the discipline for the National Team."
He stepped closer to me. He smelled of scotch and disappointment.
"Discipline," he repeated, looking pointedly at my messy hair. "Do you have it, Eloise? or are you throwing it away for a... distraction?"
"I have it," I said, my voice shaking. "I’m ready."
"We’ll see," he said. "Be at the rink at 6:00 AM. Sharp. And Eloise?"
"Yes?"
"If I see that boy anywhere near the rink... if I see him look at you... I will ruin him. I will have his scholarship revoked before the Zamboni finishes the first cut. Do you understand?"
I felt the blood drain from my face.
It wasn't an idle threat. My father had connections. He could destroy Jack’s future with a phone call.
"I understand," I whispered.
"Goodnight."
He walked out, the scout following him.
I stood in the lobby, alone.
The high from the locker room was gone. The warmth of Jack’s touch was replaced by a chilling realization.
I was playing a dangerous game. And I wasn't the only one with something to lose.
I pulled my phone out. A text from Jack.
Wolf: Home safe? Already miss you.
I stared at the screen, tears blurring my vision.
I couldn't tell him. If I told him about the threat, he would do something stupid. He would challenge my father. He would fight. And he would lose everything.
Me: Home safe. Need to sleep. Big practice tomorrow.
I sent it.
Then I turned off my phone.
I walked to the elevator, feeling the weight of the secret crushing me.
We thought we were hiding. But the lights were about to come on. And there was nowhere left to run.