Chapter Fourteen Skye
Chapter Fourteen
Skye
For half a second, I considered telling Paige to deal with Rissa. Violet’s fingers were curled in the front of my shirt as her long, wavy hair fell over her shoulders. I can still taste her skin on my tongue when I trailed kisses along her collarbone.
I had finally stopped thinking like a team captain, being the one who was always steady. I started thinking like Skye.
Violet has that effect on me.
By the time I drop her off in her hotel room and close the door, my expression is reset. I’m captain again, and not the girl who was just kissing someone like I’m starving.
Inside Rissa’s room, the air smells wrong. Paige is looking at me as I step inside, and a few of the other girls are on her couch, lined up like they’re waiting for a lashing.
They fucked up.
Half of them are piss drunk, and I don’t even know what to do. I could call Coach and tell her what happened, but the last thing she needs is a mess to clean up. She brought us here to get the gold medal, and they’re lapping up liquor like they just turned twenty-one.
Liv, one of our defenders, points toward the bathroom, and I start walking in that direction.
Rissa, my assistant captain who never lets anything get to her, is hunched over the bathroom sink looking miserable and defeated. I feel the anger spike again, but not at Rissa. It’s at the interruption. The fact that I had something good for once, and it was yanked away.
“Hey.” My voice is low and steady as I toss my hallway-braided hair over my shoulder. I try not to point out the fact that puking in the toilet is a lot easier to clean up than the bathroom sink.
Too late now.
My movements are automatic as I get her a glass of water and a cold washcloth. I gather her discarded gear off the floor and get irrationally angry as my braid keeps slipping forward over my neck while I clean.
Rissa is mumbling an apology, but it sounds more like she’s writing a drunken love song.
I exhale but try to keep it quiet. “It’s fine,” I say, even though it’s not fine. “Hydrate. Small sips.”
My mind keeps flashing back to Violet, the way she was looking up at me.
What could have happened had we not been interrupted?
The muscles in my jaw tighten.
This is what I signed up for.
Captain means I show up even when I don’t want to. Especially when I don’t want to.
I clean the sink, change out the washcloth, and make Rissa sit on the edge of her bed, still sipping water. I check the clock and calculate how much sleep she’ll get before morning practice.
Once everything is settled, I get the team back in their own rooms with instructions to hydrate and take Tylenol. When Rissa is horizontal and breathing steadily, I allow myself a second to lean against the wall.
I close my eyes, and just for a moment, I let myself feel the bitter frustration. The intense moment that I had to walk away from, and the fact that I didn’t get to choose.
Reaching up, I undo my braid and let my hair fall over my shoulders.
I’ll stop at my hotel room and then go back to Violet. I always finish what I start.
The hallway feels longer on the way back. I walk with the same steady stride I use on the ice before puck drop, but inside I’m still simmering. The captain mask is back in place, yet the frustration hasn’t burned off. It’s still sitting low in my chest.
I knock once on Violet’s door.
I hear footsteps before I hear the click of the lock.
When the door opens, I completely forget every speech I half-prepared on the walk over here.
She’s standing before me in a tiny white tank top and pink shorts that barely cover her ass. Her bare toes are curling as she stares at me, and I can’t help but notice that she’s either cold or turned on as her nipples stand at attention.
Violet looks like she’s been thinking too much. Waiting, but pretending she wasn’t. There’s a softness in her eyes that hits me harder than a body check ever has.
I exhale.
“Rissa’s fine.” I try to make it sound like I was focused on my ailing teammate and not thinking about jumping back in where we left off.
I step inside and hear the sound of the door shutting behind me. The room feels warmer than the hallway, and the air in here feels different. Calmer than where I just came from, but radiant at the same time. Almost like it too, has been waiting for me.
“I’m sorry,” I tell her as I drop a few things on her foyer table, the piece of paper Violet dropped on the floor of my room still in my hand. I step closer, giving Violet the option to move away if she wants, but she doesn’t. “I didn’t want to leave.”
I’m used to discipline and restraint, so this urge to be absolutely reckless is like a cocktail of adrenaline.
My fingers brush lightly against Violet’s wrist, like I’m checking to make sure I actually came back.
I step in fully, closing the distance.
“I’m here.” She leans into me.
I hand her the contract and lock eyes with her. A silent way of telling her that I noticed her signature at the bottom.
She takes it from me but never breaks eye contact. She knows that I know she signed it.
And she grins at me.
That’s when I feel every wall inside me come crashing down, and I know exactly what I’m going to do.
I tuck my finger under her chin and tip her lips upward to linger only an inch away from mine.
“I’m going to test every bit of patience you possess,” I whisper against her mouth.
When she doesn’t answer me, I run my fingertips up her bare arm.
“Are you still in agreement with what you signed?” I don’t want to make the same mistake twice, and really hope she says yes.
She inhales on a shaky breath, and I can’t ignore the thought of her kneeling in front of me.
“Yes.”
That one word is all I need to pick her up and walk her to the bedroom. When I lay her down, there’s a look in her eyes, and I can’t tell if it’s fear, excitement, or a combination of both.
But when she grins at me, I know she’s ready.
And so am I.
“Wait here. Don’t move.”
Her obedience is immediate. Not even moving enough to nod in understanding.
Fuck.
I head back out to the table where I left the things I grabbed from my hotel room. I begin to pick them all up, but then reconsider. I think I’m going to focus on one thing at a time and start small. So, I head back into the bedroom with only two things in my hands.
My practice jersey and a bag of grapes.
When I get back to the bedroom, she’s in the exact same spot I left her. I smile when our eyes meet and feel the heat in my belly rise at the fact that she’s waiting for instruction.
Trying not to let the past ruin this for me, I decide to treat this like a VHS tape.
Let’s re-record those memories and turn them into moments I want to relive over and over again.
Her gaze leaves mine to look at what I’m holding in my hands, and I stare at her for a second to see if she’s going to speak.
She doesn’t.
The urge to praise her is almost overwhelming, but I want to learn her limits tonight, so I need to save the positive reinforcement for later.
She’ll need them.
I place the bag of grapes on the nightstand and hold up the other item I grabbed.
“My jersey,” I say as I fold it over itself a few times, “is going to be the main part of our game tonight.”
I hold it out, but not in a way that tells her to take it. Her eyes meet mine like she understands I want her to take it, but waiting for permission to do so.
This girl is going to be the death of me.
“Feel it,” I tell her.
She listens, stroking her fingers lightly over the fabric, the rest of her remaining still.
“You’re using one of your senses to feel the practice jersey,” I begin, leaning toward her and wrapping the jersey around her head to cover her eyes. “And I’m going to take away your ability to see, which will heighten your other senses. Do you understand?”
“Yes,” she breathes.
“Good. Now, lie back on the bed.”
She does so without any questions, and I find myself watching her every move. Her hands find the headboard, and her long legs stretch out in front of her as she settles into position. Then, she lets her arms rest at her sides.
I walk around to the side of the bed and watch as her head shifts slightly from left to right, almost like she’s trying to look around. My favorite part of this experience is watching her realize just how much she relies on sight.
The bag of grapes makes an odd sound as it hits the blanket beside Violet, and her head whips in that direction.
Reaching forward, I feel her jump as my fingers find hers.
Touching lightly and then letting her go.
I move to her collarbone, remembering where I’d peppered kisses and tasted her skin for the first time.
It makes me want to lick her from head to toe, but this exercise of sensory play is testing my patience just as much as it is hers.
Lifting my hand again, I move to her foot, tickling the sole lightly before dragging my fingers up her calf and toward the inside of her thigh.
Her breath hitches, and I smirk, loving that this is already getting to her.
I shift to the other leg and do the same thing, but when I don’t get the same reaction, I find myself dragging my fingers higher, toying with the base of her pink shorts.
The satisfaction hits hard when I notice her chest rising and falling a little faster than it was before.
I crawl onto the bed, straddling her body and watching her arms lift but fall almost immediately as she remembers I didn’t give her permission. I’m disappointed at the idea of not feeling her touch. But I absolutely love it all at the same time.
I lean forward, placing a hand on either side of her head and gently press my lips to hers, tasting her kiss like it’s the first time back at the hockey arena.
I want to savor this moment, having complete control of every part of her.
And simultaneously losing control of myself as my tongue sweeps over hers.