If You Hate Me: Chapter 18

“Hey, Stiles, come to my office when you’re showered, yeah?” Coach says as the team heads for the locker room.

“Yeah, sure. Is everything okay?” I had a good practice, and last game I scored a goal and an assist.

“Yup, just want to have a word.” His smile is tight, though, which worries me.

Flip claps me on the shoulder. “Stay out of your head, man. You’ve been killing it on the ice lately. I’m sure it’s good news.”

“Yeah.” But I can’t shake the heavy feeling in my stomach as I change out of my gear and shower.

Flip offers to wait for me, but there’s a free lunch buffet, so I tell him I’ll meet him up there. I knock on the door to Coach’s office and wait until he tells me to come in.

He and Jamie Fielding, the GM, are sitting at his small conference table, papers strewn across it. He shuffles them into a pile and slides them into a manila folder. “Have a seat, Tristan.”

I drop into a chair and try not to fidget. “What’s up?” I don’t love their expressions. It’s like they’re trying to keep them neutral.

“We wanted to talk to you about the starting lineup for the opening game.” Coach taps his pen on his knee.

I glance between them. Yeah, this isn’t reassuring. All my gains from last season are slipping through my fingers. My value to the team isn’t where I want it to be. “You’re starting Hollis, aren’t you?”

Coach raises his hand. “It has nothing to do with your performance on the ice. Your preseason play has been top tier, and you’re on track to have a great season if you keep it up.”

“So why aren’t I starting the game?” I cross one leg over the other, then uncross them. I’m restless and frustrated.

“Hollis is strong at the beginning of the game,” Coach says.

“He’s been out for almost an entire season, and he’s been playing for Toronto for nearly half of his career,” Fielding adds.

I can read between the lines. It’s good for team morale to start Hollis on the first line for the opening game. He’s a fan favorite, and he’s part of the fabric of this team. He’s taken the Cup home twice. I nod slowly. “So I’m second line opening game?”

“We’ll put you on first line for the second game of the season,” Coach says.

“Okay. You know what’s best for the team.” My mouth feels full of cotton. “Is that all?”

“That’s all.” Coach and the GM exchange a look. “This isn’t a reflection of your on-ice performance, Tristan.”

“Yeah. I get it. I can go?” I do get it, but it rattles my confidence. What’s coming at the end of the season if this is how we’re starting?

“You can go. Get some rest. Tomorrow’s a big day,” Coach says.

I leave the office feeling worse than I did when I went in. I want Bea. I want to lose myself in the feel of her under me. I want her to look at me like I’m a fucking god. It’s Friday. She should be home in an hour. I can get inside her and release some of this tension.

I’m on the way out of the arena when I run into the last person I want to see.

“Tristan! Hey, man, can I have a word?”

I turn to face Hollis. “Now really isn’t a good time, man.”

He raises his hands. “I know you’re upset about tomorrow. You have every right to be.” The empathy on his face makes me want to punch him. “I know it’s shitty for you, and you deserve to start this game, but you’ve got a lot of great years of play left, man. Lots more opening games of the season to start. This will be a rock-star year for you. Just know this isn’t about you.”

“I get it. See you tomorrow.” I walk away. I know I’m being an asshole, but it’s the best I can do right now. I understand their reasoning, but it doesn’t make it suck any less.

Flip messages to let me know he’s meeting a “friend” for some pre-game stress relief. That means he’ll probably be occupied for at least a few hours.

I slide into the driver’s seat and message Bea.

I compose and erase the message three times.

When I get home, Bea is in the kitchen. She’s wearing a pink lace bra and a matching lace thong. And that’s it. Her hair hangs over her shoulder in a long braid. She leans against the island, gripping the edge, her head tipped to the side as I stalk across the room. I stop before my body collides with hers.

“I’m not going to be nice,” I grind out.

“I gathered that from the text messages,” she says softly.

I clench my hands into fists. I should walk away. She doesn’t deserve this side of me. “You’re not going to like this version of me.”

“Maybe it’ll be my favorite.” Her eyes flash.

I hate how much I want her, how much I don’t want her to see me like this, how I don’t want to be this person with her anymore. I could fuck everything up. If she sees me at my worst, she’ll probably end this, and maybe she should. It would be better for her. I’m barely tolerable on a good day, let alone boyfriend material. I’m so pissed off that I need her, and she’s still standing here. “Last chance, Beat. You should really fucking run.”

“But I don’t want to.” Her voice wavers.

I reach out and trace the contour of her bottom lip, murmuring I’m sorry. But I’m out of control. My career is hanging in the balance because of someone else’s legacy. I’m lying to my best friend, betraying him every fucking day. And I’m putting Bea at risk every time we do this. She has nowhere else to go, no apartment to move into because I keep asking her to stay longer. And worst of all, I’m lying to myself. Because it’s not just about the sex. It’s about her. About the way she makes me feel. But I don’t want to stop. I can’t.

I spin her and curve my hand around the back of her neck, pushing her down until her cheek meets the counter. I slap her ass with my free hand, and she gasps and moans. “God, I love that fucking sound.” I unbuckle my belt and pop the button on my jeans, yanking the zipper down to free my erection. “You sure this is what you want?” I kick her legs apart. “To get fucked?”

“Yes.”

She sucks in a shaky breath as I slip my finger under the thin strip of fabric. “Tell me to stop.”

“I don’t want you to,” she whispers.

“You will.” I follow the strip of satin down between her thighs. I skim her clit and she moans. This shouldn’t be happening. I shouldn’t be doing this. She should be tapping out. I push two fingers inside her and pump twice, then withdraw to slap her ass again. “How about now?”

“I want more,” she rasps.

I lean in, sliding my cock between her ass cheeks. “So fucking filthy. Feel how wet you are for me.” I wipe her juices on her cheek, then lick over the spot as I push my fingers between her lips.

They close around them on a greedy moan.

“Such a dirty girl.” I pull my fingers free, grip my cock, and bite her earlobe as I line myself up and push inside her on one hard thrust. “So ready to be fucked.”

“Oh, God,” she whimpers.

“Tap out, Bea.” I’m almost begging. This could be the last time she lets me inside her. I could ruin it all right now. “Tap the fuck out.”

“No. I want you.”

I pull my hips back and slam in. She moans, and her legs tremble. She tries to snake a hand between her thighs, but I release the back of her neck, spear her with my cock, grab both of her wrists and fold her arms behind her back, holding them with one hand to keep her in position.

“Still want me now?” My breath is ragged, heart hammering, waiting for her to tell me she’s done. For good. To quit me. She should. I’d quit my demented ass if I were her.

“Don’t stop. I’m so close,” she pleads.

“You think I’m going to let you come?” I pull out to the ridge and spit on my cock before I thrust. “You haven’t even asked nicely yet.”

“Please,” she moans.

“Not good enough. Try again.”

“Please, Tristan.” She whimpers and tries to roll her hips.

She grunts her displeasure when I pull all the way out. “Please what? Please stop?”

She shakes her head. “No. Please don’t stop.”

I keep her on the edge, close to coming, never going over. Her legs shake and juices coat my cock and drip down the inside of her thighs. I come all over her ass and keep fucking her. Keep pushing. Keep pleading for her to tell me to stop. But she doesn’t. She just keeps taking it, keeps asking for more, keeps begging me to let her come.

But I don’t.

It’s fucking cruel. I know it is. I hate this version of myself, when I feel too fucking much and don’t have control the way I should. I hate that I need her. Want her. Can’t get enough of her. But she doesn’t tell me to stop.

It isn’t until I’m close to a second orgasm that I pull out. I slide a hand under her and pull her to standing, quickly wrapping my arm around her waist because her legs are too weak to hold her up. She’s a rag doll as I spin her around and set her on the counter. The cheek that was pressed against it is red. I wrap my hand around the back of her neck as her head lolls.

Her eyes are glazed and unfocused. Her hands glide down my chest and rest limply on the counter. “Hey, hey.” I cup her face in my palms. “Bea, baby? Tell me to fucking stop. Tell me you’ve had enough.”

“No.” She shakes her head. “You need this, and I need to come.”

I step between her parted thighs, line myself up and push back in. Her eyes roll up when I brush her clit with my thumb.

“Please, please, please,” she whimpers.

I rub circles on her clit, and she jerks and shudders, eyes flaring before they roll up again.

“Oh, God, oh my God…” She makes a low keening sound, and her body quakes with the orgasm. Her pussy clenches around my cock, and she sobs as sensation rockets through her. I hold her hips, pounding into her as she cries out, the orgasm relentless as it drags her under. I don’t pull out when I come this time.

She sags against me. We’re both covered in sweat. Her body convulses every few seconds, and she makes these little hiccupping whimpers when it happens.

I cup her cheek again, my hands shaking. My stomach feels like it’s bottoming out. I pull back so I can see her face. She looks beyond exhausted. Tears leak out of the corners of her eyes.

“Fuck, Bea.” I brush them away, panic taking hold. “Why didn’t you tell me to stop? I didn’t want to hurt you.”

Her tongue drags along her bottom lip. “You didn’t hurt me.”

“I made you cry again.” Every time it makes me want to stab myself in the eye.

Her hand brushes over her cheek and drops to her lap. “Not hurt tears. Orgasm-relief tears.”

“Oh.” I smooth them away, still not liking their presence. “Fuck. I thought I pushed you too far.”

She shakes her head. “I knew you wouldn’t.” Her fingers drift along the edge of my jaw. “I would like you to kiss me now, please.”

I slant my mouth over hers and wrap my arms around her. This kiss is penance, languid strokes of tongue. A soft apology. Eventually I pull back. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Absolutely okay. But walking might be a challenge for the next couple of days, so I guess it’s good your first game is an away one.”

I laugh, relieved, and cover her mouth with mine again.

She hums and runs her fingers through my hair.

That she’s gentle with me after I was so rough makes me feel like an even bigger asshole. “I’m sorry.”

“I’m not. I would have told you to stop if it had been too much, but it wasn’t. I’m glad I could be what you need.”

“I don’t deserve you.” I drape her arms over my shoulders and pick her up.

“Says who?”

“Says me.”

“Where are we going?” she asks against my lips.

“Shower. I want to clean you up.”

Half an hour later, we’re up in the loft. After the shower, I got Bea settled in with water and a huge glass of fresh-squeezed OJ. Then I ran across the street to the convenience store to buy treats. Now we’re cuddling on the couch. As someone who hasn’t experienced a whole lot of cuddling, I find I kind of like all this closeness. Especially when it’s Bea, and she’s all warm and smells like my favorite things.

“So what prompted the rage-fuck?” she asks, taking a bite of an Oreo Drumstick. I recently learned she loves them.

“Hollis is starting the game tomorrow. I’m second line.”

Her brow furrows. “But you’ve been kicking ass in preseason. You’ve scored the most goals and have the most assists on the team. Hardly anyone in the league has better stats than you.”

“Yeah.”

“So why…” Her eyes close and her lips purse. “Because it’s good for team morale.”

“How do you know that?” I ask.

“Hammer overheard her dad and Hollis talking the other day.” She props her cheek on her fist. I’m grateful the red spot has disappeared. “That’s so shitty, Tris. First line belongs to you.”

“I get why they’re giving it to Hollis.” And I do. But it makes me question where I stand and what’s coming at the end of the season.

“Doesn’t make it suck any less.”

“Not really, no.”

“Well, you’ll just have to play your fucking ass off and show the hockey-watching nation why you should always be in the starting lineup. And of course, my pussy is always available for a rage-pounding when shit’s unfair.”

I kiss her on the cheek. “I can’t believe you didn’t tap out.”

“I trust you. You might keep me on the edge, but you’d never hurt me. I honestly thought I was going to die if I didn’t have an orgasm soon, though. When I finally did, holy fuck.” She makes the mind-blown gesture at her crotch. “Best orgasm ever.”

“Don’t tell me that. I don’t want the green light to be an asshole like that again.”

Every time I think I’ve pushed her past her limit, she steps right up and takes what I give. It makes me want to keep her, take care of her, even though I know I can’t. But how long can we reasonably keep doing this?

She shrugs. “You were rightfully upset, and you came to me for what you needed. If it had been more than I could handle, if you had been, I would have told you. I’ve seen all your sides, Tristan. None of them scare me.”

“Come here.” I pull her into my lap, wrap my arms around her waist, and shove my face into her hair. I’m so glad to have her, but everyone leaves eventually. It’s the story of my life.

I do exactly what Bea says. I play my fucking ass off. And Hollis is rotated out in the third period, so he doesn’t tax his knee, and I take his place. It puts things in perspective. I may not have started the game, but I finished it with a goal.

For once, Flip doesn’t bring bunnies back to the room. Not by choice. Hemi is on him, and milk is one bad press statement away from pulling his endorsement campaign. Dallas is also trying to stay under the radar. His campaigns aren’t at risk, but he doesn’t want to give Hemi a reason to dress him up like a clown again. That’s why we’re all here in our hotel room, like it’s some kind of slumber party.

“You kicked some serious ass tonight.” Dallas clinks his beer bottle against mine.

“We all did,” I say. “It’s a great start to the season.”

Flip nods. “It really is. I wish I was celebrating balls deep in a bunny, but losing a million-dollar endorsement over sex seems stupid, even for me.” He tips his bottle back and drains half of it.

We stopped at the liquor store to grab a case. We also stopped at Walmart to grab snacks. It’s a Flip thing to do. Room service is pricey.

“You should probably slow your roll now that the season has started,” I suggest.

“Seems like I’ll have to, no matter what, at least until the milk campaign settles. Or I’ll have to rely on a few regulars to get by. Although too many repeats gives them ideas.” Flip taps his temple.

“You could try dating someone for a change,” Ashish offers.

“I’m not interested in commitment.” Flip polishes off his beer and grabs another from the fridge.

I shake my head. “You have this great stable family, parents who have been together for more than three decades, and you’re more relationship averse than even I am.” I trade my empty for a full one, too.

“They’re part of the reason I’m relationship averse,” Flip admits.

“They love the shit out of each other, don’t they?” At least they seem to. As a kid, I couldn’t believe how nice they were to each other. They didn’t have a lot of money, but every Friday, Flip’s dad brought his mom a bunch of wildflowers in the summer. In the winter, he’d bring her a single rose. I could do something like that for Bea. Bring her flowers. She loves peonies. I used to steal one from my neighbor’s garden every once in a while for her when she was a kid.

“Yeah. Exactly. I can’t get in that deep with anyone. Not now. It’s too much pressure.”

“Too much pressure how?” Dallas asks.

“It’s someone else to worry about. You know what that’s like,” he directs the comment at me. “I already have my parents and Rix. I can’t add another person to that when I’m focused on my career.”

“Why are you worried about Bea?” She’s got it together; she has a good job and nice friends. Not much to worry about apart from the one thing we’re hiding from him.

“You saw where she was living. She’s used to shitty neighborhoods because of how we grew up. But small town and big city are different. I want her somewhere safe, but she refuses to take money from me, and she’s super paranoid about not having enough of a cushion. That roommate situation must have been way worse than she’s admitting for her to end up at our place.”

“Why would you think that?” Once we got her out, I didn’t think much about it.

“Rix doesn’t do anything without a plan. She organized her university pathway starting in grade school. She figured out how much she’d have to save every year, how much she’d need in loans, and how long it would take to pay it all off once she had a full-time job. She even calculated things like inflation, trajectory, and how quickly she could reasonably climb the ladder with the right company. It takes a lot for her to go off, and she’ll put up with a lot of shit before her fuse gets lit,” Flip says.

“Huh.” I sip my beer, considering. Maybe that’s why she won’t say anything to Flip about his fuck-a-thons. She’s already had to get herself out of one shitty situation. Maybe this is the lesser of the two evils. Or maybe if we weren’t going behind his back she would say something, but she feels like she can’t.

“Huh, what?” Ashish asks.

“Eh?” I give Ashish my attention.

“You said huh. Huh, what?”

“I seem to be able to light Bea’s fuse.” In more ways than one.

“And she lights yours. Although you’ve been fighting less lately,” Flip says.

“I wonder why that is.” Dallas eyes me from the side.

“What was that?” Flip asks.

“We should check out the New York game,” Dallas says. “See how they’re playing so we know what we’re in for later in the season.” He flips through the channels until he finds replays of tonight’s other game.

My heart is pounding, though the guys have moved on. It seems Roman isn’t the only one who’s noticed.

The hall leading to our condo smells like pumpkin spice. My mouth is watering by the time I open the door, and not just because the house smells like freshly baked pies. Bea is standing in the kitchen wearing a pair of ridiculous socks, shorts, an oversized T-shirt, and an apron. Her hair is fixed on top of her head in a knot, and she has smudges of flour on her neck.

“Damn, it smells good in here.” Flip drops his bag and heads for her.

She turns around, a wide smile on her face, and accepts a brief hug. I look away, jealous that he can do that and I can’t. Not being able to touch her when other people are around is wearing on me. I crave those stolen moments when Flip disappears into the bathroom or his bedroom and I can hug her from behind and bury my face in her hair. It makes me wish we hadn’t started this with a pact I don’t know how to get out of.

“Your timing is perfect!” she says. “I made an extra pie. I figured waiting until dinner tomorrow night would be torture. Come sit down, and I’ll cut you both a slice. I also made too much filling for the pecan pie, so there are tarts. You can try those, too!”

There’s a bottle of red wine on the counter and a mostly empty glass beside it.

She grabs plates from the cupboard and rushes back to cut slices of pie. She tops them with fresh whipped cream and pushes them toward us.

Flip drops into the chair opposite her, and I take the one next to him. He digs in, shoveling a huge bite into his mouth. “This is so good,” he mumbles. After he swallows, he asks, “Grandma Madden’s recipe?”

I slide my fork through the pumpkin and pastry, gathering whipped cream before I take a bite. It’s incredible. But then everything Bea makes is.

We eat the entire pie, and Flip passes out. Thanks to his food coma, I take Bea to my room. I’m soft with her. Gentle, because last time I was hard. I don’t want to be too much for her. I want to give her a reason to stay, not leave.

The next day, we wake up and get ready to drive over to my dad’s for Thanksgiving dinner.

“I have an idea,” I say once we’ve loaded Flip’s car with pies, sweet potato casserole, and the gift Bea picked up for my brother, since we’re also celebrating his birthday. She offered to make a cake, but Brody only likes ice cream cake, and my dad has taken care of that.

“What’s that?” Flip asks as he closes the trunk.

“Bea should drive my brother’s car over. That way, he’ll think it’s hers, and it’ll be more of a surprise.”

“Uh…” Bea pushes her lips out. “I haven’t driven to your dad’s place like…ever. And this is a brand-new car. I don’t want that kind of responsibility.”

“How about I drive most of the way, and we switch spots when we’re around the corner?” I suggest.

“Yeah, okay. That would work,” Bea agrees.

She rounds the passenger side of my brother’s soon-to-be-birthday present, and Flip frowns. “Why doesn’t Rix drive with me until we get close to your dad’s? Don’t want you two killing each other before we even get there.”

Because I want half an hour to huff Bea’s shampoo before we have to spend the rest of the day behaving. “Sure. That works.”

When we’re two streets away from my dad’s place, Flip pulls over, and Bea hops out of his car and into my brother’s birthday present.

“I saw what you tried to do there,” she says as I tell her where to turn. My dad lives in the same house my brothers and I grew up in.

“I thought we’d get half an hour without an audience.”

“So you could get a car handy?” Bea glances at my crotch before she turns right.

“Mostly so I could tell you all the dirty shit I want to do to you later. But I wouldn’t have been opposed to a car handy.”

She rolls her eyes and smiles. “Brody will be so excited when he realizes this car is his.”

“Yeah. He’s been drooling over this one for a while. He only works one shift a week because of hockey, so saving has been hard,” I say.

“You’re a great brother.”

“Eh, I do what I can. Our mom sucks. She hasn’t called him or sent him a card on his birthday in a few years,” I admit.

Bea reaches over and squeezes my hand. “I’m so sorry. That’s beyond shitty.”

“It is what it is. That’s why we make such a big deal about birthdays. Try to take the sting out, you know? He was only four when she left, so he doesn’t remember her much. Mostly she’s been an occasional voice on the phone and someone who sends him a card once a year.” This isn’t something I talk about, mostly because it makes me feel like garbage.

“It still sucks for all of you.” Bea pulls into my dad’s driveway. “Oh wow. It’s the same, but different.” She puts the car in park.

I spot my brother in the window, and a second later, the front door opens. His smile falters as Bea gets out of the driver’s seat.

He schools his expression and comes down to greet us. “Sweet ride.”

“Right?” Bea tosses me the keys and bites back a smile.

Flip parks on the street.

I wait a moment before I toss the keys to Brody. “Happy birthday, buddy.”

He catches them, eyes bouncing between me and Bea. “Are you fucking serious?”

Nathan and my dad appear in the doorway.

“Yup. It’s all yours.”

“It’s a smooth ride. You should check it out.” Bea pats the hood and steps aside.

“Rix, right? My dad said you were coming. I haven’t seen you in like…a long time. You’re like…” His gaze moves over her, and his cheeks flush pink. He’s all over the place. Trying to be polite while freaking out. “Yeah. Holy shit. It’s nice to see you. This fucking car, man! Sorry about the swears, Dad.”

“Why don’t we take it for a spin?” I suggest.

“Can we?” Brody looks over his shoulder. “Is that okay, Dad?”

“Yeah, of course it’s okay.” Dad turns to Bea and Flip. “Beatrix, it’s wonderful to see you again. You remember Nathan.” He squeezes my brother’s shoulder.

“Hey! Hi!” Nathan wipes his hand on his leg and holds it out. “It’s been a long time.” His eyes are wide, and he looks shocked.

“Hey. It’s good to see you.” She grins and shakes his hand, then nods to us. “You should probably go for a ride, too.”

“Come on.” I beckon him over. “We’ll be back in a few.”

Nathan climbs into the back, and I take my place in the passenger seat while Brody gets behind the wheel.

“This is so sweet. I can’t believe this is my birthday present. Like, dude…” Brody is vibrating with excitement.

He drives it around the block and hops on the highway for one interchange, but it’s slow going thanks to the holiday weekend, so he exits and drives back to my dad’s.

Nathan checks his reflection in the rearview mirror before he gets out.

“What are you doing?” I ask.

He gives me a look. “Making sure my hair isn’t a mess.”

“Why? Who you looking to impress?”

“Dude, did you see Flip’s sister? She’s hot.”

“You have a girlfriend.” Unless something has changed in the past few days. Lisa was supposed to come for Thanksgiving, but she has a midterm paper to finish, so she had to bow out.

“I can still make a good impression.” He sniffs his armpit.

I roll my eyes. “She’s involved.”

“Oh yeah? With who? Is one of your teammates brave enough to date her?”

“It’s none of your fucking business. Don’t flirt with her. She’s Flip’s sister, and she’s off-limits. Got it?”

He raises his hands. “Geez. Don’t get your panties in a knot, Tris. I wasn’t gonna flirt. I just want to make sure I don’t have shit in my teeth.”

Bea’s in the kitchen with my dad when we get inside. I’m unsurprised to find that she’s taken over food prep. I’m also unsurprised when both of my brothers suddenly want to help. Nathan’s right. She is fucking gorgeous. She’s smart, and fun, and funny. She has an infectious smile and a laugh I can’t get enough of. And watching her with my family makes me wish for things I shouldn’t. Like permanence. Which is impossible.

She’ll stick around for the sex, because I’m good at giving orgasms. But I’m not the kind of guy anyone wants long term. Ask my mom about that.

Flip hands me a beer. “Thanks for inviting us, man. Rix needed this. She’s missing Essie and our parents, even if she doesn’t want to admit it.”

“Yeah, of course.” Essie is another piece of the Bea puzzle I can’t ignore. There’s always a chance she’ll end up where her best friend is. Those two are tight. And Essie is the stability Bea needs, emotionally and otherwise. I can’t give her that.

And anyway, we’re just supposed to be fucking.