been a success. It’s Saturday evening, the team has won both games, and no one has been injured. Everything has been running smoothly. Everything except for my relationship with Nash, which is going as smoothly as a spike belt.
To celebrate the team’s winning streak, Coach Ward and Christina take everyone out for a team dinner. I have no appetite, but it didn’t seem possible to decline without seeming rude or raising a red flag. Reluctantly, I sit near the head of the table with Preston and Julianna; as strained as things may be between me and Preston, they’re a million times better than they are with Nash. Even seated on opposite ends it’s impossible to completely ignore each other. He keeps catching me looking at him, and I keep catching him looking at me.
As we’re ordering our main courses, Nash pulls out his phone and checks the screen with a frown, evidently declining a call. He does the same moments later. A few seconds tick by, and he glances down at his phone again. His entire body visibly tenses, and he gives a near-imperceptible shake of his head. He snatches his phone off the table and pushes his chair back, wordlessly stalking out of the dining room.
“Violet,” Christina says, leaning closer. My attention snaps over to her and concern overtakes me. Did she notice me staring at him? “You did a great job assisting Coach Ward with the dynamic warm-up this morning.”
I force a smile, reaching for my glass of ice water. “Thank you.”
We discuss shop talk while we wait for our main courses to arrive, including a new ACL rehab protocol Christina learned about at a conference, but it’s only a partially effective distraction. Worry swirls in me, growing heavier the longer Nash is gone. He doesn’t return until well into our meal; my steak is half-eaten, stuffed potato nearly finished. Was it a girl? Who else would be calling him over and over like that? I hate that I don’t know. I hate that I want to know. I hate this situation, period.
***
When we get back to the hotel, there’s a team bonding event at the hotel pool. Should be easy enough to avoid Nash doing that. Jules and I change in our rooms and meet at the elevator to head downstairs together.
The only snag? In addition to our team, the hotel is hosting several groups attending a cheerleading convention nearby, and they’ve also opted to make use of the pool facilities. I like to think I’m reasonably comfortable with my body but sporting a string bikini in a room full of toned, perky competitive cheerleaders would give most women at least some degree of insecurity.
Coach Ward stands off to the corner, talking to Christina while they supervise the raucous scene. Along the periphery, the enormous pool deck is surrounded by lounge chairs and tables with umbrellas, people lounging about. The aqua-tiled pool is filled with athletic bikini- and board-short-clad bodies playing beach ball, tag, and other thinly disguised excuses to flirt. Our team is in heaven. The ratio is heavily in their favor.
“Come on,” Julianna says. “I see a free table we can put our stuff at.”
Trailing beside her, I scan the festivities, covertly looking for Nash. I come up empty-handed until my eyes land on the hot tub, and my stomach implodes. There he is, sitting with Connor—and four drop-dead gorgeous girls.
One downside of having dated Nash before is that I know exactly what most of the single (and some of the not-so-single) guys do when they’re on the road: hook up. And I’m scared I might be looking at it right now.
I avert my eyes and return my attention to Jules. “Want to swim, or just relax?”
“Let’s go swim with Marcus and Preston.” She juts her chin to the far corner of the pool. “They’re over there by the waterslide.”
Preston greets us with a warm grin, utterly oblivious to my fragile state of mind. For a while, I manage to fake having fun to a convincing degree, playing keep-a-way with him and some of the other guys. But he ducks out early to discuss tomorrow’s off-ice warm-up plan with Christina and Coach Ward, leaving me with a bunch of athletes I don’t know very well while Jules and Marcus are caught up in their own world.
My attention keeps swinging back to the hot tub like some form of twisted self-torture. One girl in particular seems to have taken an interest in Nash. A blonde; she’s pretty, with bigger boobs and a whole lot less cellulite than I’m sporting. Every time I glance over, she’s moved a little bit closer. Now, she’s nearly sitting in his lap, batting her eyelashes up at him. When she throws back her head, laughing, and touches his forearm, nausea mows me over, followed by a sudden desperation to escape. I can’t be here. Can’t watch this. Can’t pretend everything is okay.
“Jules?” I catch her eye, fighting to steady the wobble in my voice. “I’m going to call it a night. I was up super early to go for a run with Claire yesterday, and I’m still feeling it.”
She throws me a wave, squealing as Marcus scoops her up and hoists her onto his shoulders. It seems like nearly everyone in the pool is paired up or pairing up, which cements my decision to leave.
My pulse thunders in my ears as I dry off and wrap the towel around my chest, stepping into my sandals. I yank open the glass door without looking back, a little afraid of what I might see if I do. Flip-flops slapping my heels noisily, I stalk over to the bay of elevators and hit the “up” button. To my relief, the metal door springs open with a cheerful ding. I press “4” for my floor, then jab the “door close” button repeatedly to move it along.
In the mirrored wall next to me, my hair is wet, bare face tired. I look reasonably composed, but my mental state is hanging by a thread. Luckily, in a minute or two, I can have a breakdown in the privacy of my hotel room. Maybe I’ll hit up the vending machine on my way so I can cry into a bag of potato chips and chase them with some chocolate.
Just before the door shuts, a large hand reaches out and trips the sensor, forcing it to slide back open. My inhale catches when Nash appears in the doorway, his dark hair wet and muscled torso bare, a black T-shirt and white hotel towel slung over one shoulder. A fire ignites in his dark green eyes when they lock onto me, and he storms inside, smashing the close button on his way by.
He continues forward, forcing me to shuffle back to keep a buffer between our bodies. I bump into the handrail along the wall, and he takes another step, eliminating the cushion of space. Behind him, the door slides shut again at a glacial pace. My heart hammers, striking my ribcage so hard with every beat that I’m certain he can hear.
The instant the elevator car jerks upward, his hands land on my bare waist. He yanks me against him, a shocked gasp slipping through my lips.
“There could be cameras in here,” I remind him breathlessly, skin heating beneath his claiming grip. I wish being in his arms didn’t feel so good.
He gives me a dark grin. “Do you think I give a fuck what the front desk sees?”
From experience, I know the answer to that is no. Nash isn’t an exhibitionist, per se; he doesn’t get off on the idea of being seen, he just doesn’t care.
“What if someone we know is waiting at the top?”
“Everyone’s still at the pool.”
I shoot him a warning look. With a sigh, he releases his grip, but he doesn’t step back.
“Fine.” He prods his cheek with his tongue as he considers me. “But we need to talk, and I’m not taking no for an answer.”
The angel on my shoulder says I shouldn’t do this. But the devil on the other side knocks her right off with a hockey stick, and I nod. “Okay.”
While I go to my hotel room, Nash hangs back under the pretense of going to his, making sure the coast is clear. I use the alone time to quickly comb out my hair, which is tangled and knotted from being in the pool. As I’m working out the last knot, there’s a quiet knock. Comb in one hand, I hesitate for a second. I don’t know what I’m doing, but leaving him to stand out there and potentially be seen is not an option, so I snap to my senses and rush over to open the door.
Nash brushes past me in a wave of chlorine, much like I imagine I also smell. His broad upper half is still bare, taut muscles on full display, V-cuts leading to his deep blue board shorts. I linger in the doorway, momentarily incapacitated by his closeness and his near state of undress. His fingers wrap around mine and gently pry my hand off the door handle, pushing it closed.
He tosses his towel and shirt aside, pivoting to face me. Despite the gentleness of his touch a moment earlier, he’s clearly pissed. What’s his deal? Why is he mad when he’s the one who’s been ignoring me for the past week?
“Why did you just bolt out of there?” His dark eyes spear me, refusing to let me evade the question.
I shuffle away from him, and my heel hits the wall behind me. “Other than the fact that you won’t even look at me?” It’s a fumbled answer, the best I can land on with emotions running so high.
“Are you serious?” He takes a wide step back, incredulity stretching across his face. “I’m trying to stay away from you like you asked.”
“That’s not—”
“That’s exactly what you said.”
But it isn’t what I want. Seeing another girl all over him made that crystal clear. Maybe I’m the one playing games. That wasn’t my intention; I didn’t expect to get so tangled up in my feelings for him. Now that he’s standing in front of me, I want him more than ever.
Nash closes the distance between us. “What’s the real problem?” He places a hand on the wall above my head, peering down at me with a knowing look. A welcome contrast to the chill from my damp bathing suit, waves of warmth roll off his body, urging me to nestle in the crook of his neck. I catch myself about to lean in, and stop before I do.
“Violet.” An edge creeps into his voice.
My cheeks flare with heat, a byproduct of frustration and embarrassment. I’ve cornered myself and I don’t know how to get out, short of telling him the truth.
“You were flirting . . .” with that girl downstairs. The words wither on my tongue, an admission that I care more than I want to let on.
A smirk plays on his lips. “You know, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you get jealous before. It’s hot, for the record.”
“I’m not jealous.”
“You’re a bad liar, Vi. Always have been.” His pupils dilate as he traces the string of my turquoise halter top with his finger, leisurely traveling back and forth from my shoulder to my neck. “We can set aside the fact that I had to put up with Preston drooling all over you in this bikini. I wasn’t interested in that girl. I was playing wingman for Connor so he could hit on her friend.”
I know he’s telling the truth—and I feel stupid for it.
“Then why did you leave?” I ask, trying to ignore my nipples hardening beneath my bikini in response to his touch.
“Because you looked upset, and I was worried about you.”
A boulder forms in my chest, climbing into my throat. “After the way we left things between us last time we talked, I thought you might be moving on.”
His hungry gaze rakes over my body before lifting to meet my eyes. The tension between us winds tight, binding our bodies closer together until he’s sandwiched me flush against the wall. Liquid heat pools between my legs, my breaths coming out in shallow pants. With only my tiny bathing suit and his thin board shorts between us, I can feel everything; every sculpted muscle, every hard angle, and every thick inch of his erection pressing into my bare stomach.
“I said I was giving you space. Not that I was giving up.”
“I don’t like space,” I whisper.
“I fucking hate it.” His large hand slips around the small of my back, and he ducks his head, lowering his mouth until it’s hovering above my own. My pulse careens as our breaths mingle, anticipation surging to a new high. Instead of his lips finding mine like I expect, he hangs back. The kiss I’m waiting for never comes.
His eyelids hood. “You come to me, Vi.”
I already know this is more than just a kiss; this is everything.
And when it comes down to it, I would risk a hundred heartbreaks to have him again.
I rock onto my toes and place my hands on his broad shoulders, pressing my lips to his. Nash draws in a jagged breath, wrapping his arms around my body as his tongue slides against mine. Beneath the desire, there’s an undercurrent of relief. We’re finally giving in to what we both want.
Cupping my ass, he lifts me up against the wall with a thump. My arms circle his neck, legs wrapping around his waist. He kisses me until I lose my breath, my bearings, and my awareness of anything other than the two of us.
“Fuck, I want you.” He palms the flesh of my backside, pulling me against him in perfect rhythm with the sway of his hips. Energy thrums between us, growing by the second as barely tethered power courses beneath the surface of his skin. “Need you.”
My head falls back against the wall, and my eyes drift shut. “I need you, too.”
Need isn’t a strong enough word to describe it.
Slowly, he eases me onto my feet. Dark hair tumbles over his forehead as he snags the tip of his tongue between his canine teeth, studying me with pure, unadulterated desire across his face. Nothing compares to the way he looks at me. It’s raw and feral, passionate and filthy.
Nash angles his head, and his gaze coasts down my body, lingering on every dip and curve. A blaze ignites in his dark eyes. “Four bows.”
“Four what?”
His gaze snaps up to mine. “That’s the only thing standing between me and your naked body. Two bows on the top, two on the bottom.”
My breath stills as he reaches up, playing with the tie at my neck, but he doesn’t undo it like I’m expecting. Sliding across my shoulder blade, his rough fingertips land on the tie at my back, gently snapping it against my skin. His rough palm surfs down the side of my ribcage, sending a thrill through my entire body. A single finger slides between my bare left hip and the bow, dipping beneath the waistband of my bikini. Goosebumps erupt on my skin as he leisurely drags his fingertip along my lower stomach, all the way to the bow at my right hip.
I’m so turned on, it’s a miracle my bikini doesn’t take itself off.
Mesmerized, I watch him, waiting for him to continue and untie them, but he doesn’t.
Nash brackets my face with his hand, his grasp firmer than I’m expecting. “What’s our word, Vi?”
It takes a second to register what he’s asking. It’s been a long time since we used it. Since I used one, period. No one else I’ve been with shared the same proclivities, and even if they had, I wouldn’t have trusted them enough to try.
My pulse goes haywire. “Vanilla.”
“Good girl.” He releases my face, stroking my damp hair. “And if your mouth is full?”
“Tap three times,” I whisper, wondering what exactly he has in store for me.
“I’m in charge unless you safe-word me, agreed?” Nash raises his eyebrows, eyes searching mine for confirmation.
The thrill this gives me is out of this world.
“Agreed.”
From top to bottom, the ties go one by one, until I’m standing naked in front of him. Dipping his head, he lavishes my breasts while he glides a fingertip across my soaking folds, cursing softly about how wet I am. He thrusts a thick finger inside, followed by another, sending off fireworks in my core, and we both groan.
His thumb presses my sensitive bundle of nerves, delivering a sudden overdose of pleasure. I whimper, shamelessly writhing against his hand as the pressure in my core builds. He works me like an instrument he’s played his entire life until I’m overheating, completely at his mercy. I can’t see straight, can’t think straight, can’t focus on anything but what he’s doing to me.
When I can’t take it anymore, his touch idles, keeping me right on the precipice. Nimble fingers stroke me again, teasing me until I beg. I’m close, but we both know he’s not letting me get off yet. He’s just getting me so hot that my judgment is absolutely incinerated before he gets me near the bed. And it’s working.
“Please,” I whimper. My back arches off the wall, hips pressing into him needily.
He tsks, slowing his caresses even more. “When do you get to come, Violet?”
“When you say so.”
“That’s right.”
Nash withdraws his fingers, leaving me achingly empty. Grabbing me by the waist with a sudden ferocity, he hoists me up, effortlessly tossing me over his shoulder. The wind knocks out of my lungs, and the hotel room turns upside down.
“Put me down.” It’s a breathy, halfhearted demand, one that we both know I don’t really mean.
“Will do.” In a few long strides, he covers the distance to the bed. His large hand slides between my shoulder blades, supporting my upper body, and he flips me right-side-up. Setting me down, he places an elbow on either side of my head, hovering over me.
His green eyes lock onto mine, dark with desire and sinful promises, but his mouth tugs into a playful half-smile. He’s always been a study in contradiction. Rough but gentle; hard but soft; hot but cold.
I regain my ability to breathe normally. “You still like throwing me around.”
“You still like it when I throw you around.”
I try to shift beneath him, but he’s got me fenced in, pinned between a mattress and a wall of solid muscle. “I forgot you were big enough to crush me.”
His expression softens. “I won’t.”
Maybe not my body; my heart is a different story. It’s about to get steamrolled. Again.
Burying his face in my neck, he trails his nose along my skin, sending a wave of goosebumps cascading down my arms. He inhales deeply like he’s trying to savor me, letting out a growly exhalation.
“What’s wrong?” I comb my fingers through his damp hair, confused by the way he’s suddenly come to a halt.
“I’m a mess over you,” he murmurs. “You don’t even seem to realize it.”
My throat pulls tight at his unexpected confession. “Based on how I rushed out of the pool earlier, I’m not exactly the picture of stability.”
Nash lifts his head, and when our gazes meet, my heart thumps against my ribs. “You don’t need to worry about other girls, Vi. I want you so bad I can’t fucking see straight.”
“You’ve got me now.” In truth, he’s had me all along.
“Yeah.” He grins, lowering his mouth to mine. “I do.”
