by Ciz, Alley
See what I mean? T-M-fucking-I.
“Oh, wait.” Remote in hand, Jake pauses. “Bro code mandates I give you a heads-up.”
I groan. “I don’t need to hear about whatever new position you found that helps you do my pregnant sister, thank you very much.”
Jake’s emerald eyes flash with humor. This, this right here is the side of him that chose Tucker as a childhood friend. It’s trouble. Trouble, I tells ya.
“As much fun as it is for me to watch you squirm when I do”—I want to take shots at him without his goalie gear for the grin he shoots me—“that wasn’t what I was gonna say.” He points to Maddey. “And don’t you start with it being research.”
She holds up her hands in surrender. We are all accustomed to seeing parts of our lives show up in her books.
“Pregnancy brain may have made her forget to say anything, but earlier Jordan was cursing you from here to LA for your Throwback Thursday post.”
I shrug. Personally, I think my post was awesome. Who doesn’t want to see an Olympic gold medal? So what if I tagged Bastard Bishop in it and went all Borat on him saying, “You’ll never get this. You’ll never get this.”
“Look, bro, it doesn’t matter to me either way. You piss her off, I get the perk of angry sex.” Gag me. “But she was muttering stuff about changing your passwords so you can’t ramp up the beef between you and Bishop before the All-Star Game.”
Melody is still fucking tense under my hold and I fucking hate it.
“All right, I’m out for real. Deuces.” With a two-finger salute, Jake ends the call.
With one half of the inquisition gone, I rearrange Melody, draping an arm over her shoulders, tucking her tight to my side, letting my thumb drift along the skin of her upper arm exposed by her slouchy sweater. She resists the embrace at first, but eventually she nuzzles in. Right where she belongs.
“Not that I’m not happy to see you or anything, Madz, but what are you doing here?”
“I’m doing a popup signing at an indie bookstore here tomorrow, and if I didn’t get out of Jersey, there was a very real chance you would no longer have an older brother.”
I bury my face in Melody’s bubblegum hair at the laughable suggestion.
“What did Ry do now?”
“He’s just being his typical overprotective self. I keep reminding him we are no longer a couple and he needs to stop worrying about me.”
Over the last couple of months, she has received a handful of odd “gifts.” Ryan isn’t the only one concerned; he’s just the most vocal about it.
“Madz, you and I both know that will never happen. It may not be in the romantic sense anymore, but he still loves you.”
“I know.” Like a deflating balloon, Maddey sags, running a hand through her hair and sending her long blonde curls tumbling in disarray. It’s not discussed often, but even years later I can see how she still feels the weight of the three-carat diamond.
“And I love him too, but man…you alpha men are exhausting.”
This time I laugh hard enough to shake Melody, who’s watching us like a soap opera. At least the veil of mistrust seems to have lifted from her eyes.
Why, oh why, isn’t Jordan my evil twin? All we need is that and one of us to end up with amnesia and we could make it official. Move over Days of Our Lives, the BTU Alumni are about to take your crown. Joey Tribbiani taught me a lot. I could totally be the next Dr. Drake Ramoray.
“You do love to write about us, so we can’t be all bad.”
“Yeah, well, keep annoying me and see how I write you guys into my next book.”
It’s pathetic how much that threat keeps us in line.
“It’s not like Ry to act without cause. Did you get another gift?”
“I don’t want to talk about it.” Her tone turns sharp, and I hold my hands up in surrender.
Pissing Maddey off is not the objective of the night. Getting Melody to fall for me is. Time to turn this bad boy around.
Chapter Eleven
My mind flashes an alert that declares Not enough storage space as I try to process everything. I’ve heard countless stories of the harem of women Jase keeps, but at every turn, all he’s ever done is disprove the rumors.
There was Skye, who I assumed was sleeping in his bed when I heard her talk about staying over. Wrong. She’s his sister’s best friend and stayed in the guest room here.
Then there were the twins he talked about when we texted. I thought he was bragging about bedding two girls at once, but, wrong again; they were his nieces.
And when Maddey showed up, I assumed she was his girlfriend because she had the code to his apartment.
Serves you right, Mels. You know what they say happens when you assume.
All the stories I heard about how Jase would spend the day with his girlfriend and hit on bunnies at night makes me wonder if the girlfriend was actually just one of his close friends. Plus, I never really understood why I was even told them in the first place. Who am I to judge when people need to vent?
I know better than to listen to what other people say. I guess it’s a good thing I went with my gut and finally let Jase talk me into a date, because every day he’s done something to prove he is not only a good guy, he’s exceptional.
I haven’t said much since our unexpected guest showed up, but I’m learning so much sitting here listening.
The tension has grown thick enough to cut with a knife. There’s obviously something more going on with Maddey’s arrival than what’s being said, but it’s not my place to pry. Instead, I ask, “You’re an author?”
The dark expression lifts from her face. “Yup. I write romance.”
As a lover of all things happily ever after, I indulge in the occasional romance novel.
“Ooo, I wonder if I’ve read anything you’ve written.”
“You mean Trip hasn’t told you about his career moonlighting as one of my cover models?”
I whip around, the hand that was on my shoulder falling to my hip.
“You’ve been holding out on me, Donnelly?”
“I can’t give away all my secrets at once, baby. Gotta keep giving you little breadcrumbs, leave you wanting more so you keep coming back to me.”
Ba-bum. Ba-bum.
My damn heart is a traitor, tap-dancing for Jase.
Why’s he got to go around saying things like that? How’s a girl supposed to stay away?
That’s the problem—I can’t. Consequences be damned.
“I always knew you had hero inspiration potential, Jason Donnelly,” Maddey declares.
“Geez, not you too with the legal name, Madison.”
Maddey sucks in a breath through her teeth. “Don’t make me start calling you Jay.”
“You don’t like being called Jay?” Oh the possibilities.
“Don’t get any ideas, baby.”
But I am. So many ideas—ones that can never come to fruition.
“Jase has all my books on the top shelf.” Maddey points to a glass and chrome bookcase near the windows.
I jump from my seat instantly, Jase chuckling behind me.
It’s not just the top shelf—all of them are filled with neatly organized romance novels.
Warmth envelopes my back as Jase comes up behind me. All night he’s been in contact with me, but this? This is him surrounding me. His legs along my calves, the bump of his knees above where mine bend, the backs of my thighs lined up with the fronts of his, the hard muscles of his stomach pressed against my back. All of him covers all of me.
He curls around my shoulders, and I watch the flex of his forearm as he reaches to pluck two books from the middle of the Belle Willis section.
“These are mine.” One of his arms snakes around my middle, bringing me tighter against him, if that’s even possible.
I look down, and holy shit these are total one-click-worthy covers. He really is too attractive for his own good.
Time loses all meaning as I get lost in being envelop
ed by all things Jase. Maddey’s clap has me jumping like it’s the loud noise in the deathly-silent scene of a horror movie.
“Oh-kay then.” I look over the bulge of Jase’s biceps to see her bending down to pick up her bag. “Since the only action I’m getting lately is the scenes I write, I’m going to get out of here before the pheromones coming off you two get me pregnant.”
“Madz,” Jase growls, and I bury my face in the hollow of his armpit. It’s not my preferred place to stick my nose, but he’s so damn tall it’s how we fit together.
“Lighten up, Trip.” She pauses as she passes the kitchen table cluttered with the remnants of our meal. “You had Gem’s pot pie for dinner? So jelly.”
I tilt my head back over his arm and look up to see an adorable blush staining his cheeks. “I thought you said you made dinner?”
He cups the back of his neck as the color of his cheeks darkens to magenta. “I made the potatoes.”
“Oh, well”—I push up onto my toes, kissing the underside of his jaw—“seeing as that was the majority of the meal, I’ll give you a pass.”
“Oooo, busted.” Maddey laughs evilly. “Can’t wait for tonight’s Coven Conversation. Night,” she calls over her shoulder as she walks down the hall.
“Shit.”
I hear the barely audible curse slip past those lips that were so close to touching mine before his head drops, his forehead resting on the crown of mine.
“Coven Conversations?”
“It’s what we call the girls’ group chat.” He takes the books from me, returning them to the shelf. “Nothing good ever comes from them.”
Damn, Mels—breathe. Don’t jump to conclusions this time.
“And who’s Gem?”
“Another Covenette and my part-time personal chef. And yes she made the pot pies we had for dinner.”
I reach up to cup his warm cheeks. “You know…” My thumbs stroke across the thin layer of stubble he’s sporting. “You’re kinda cute when you’re embarrassed.”
“And you’re just beautiful all the time.”
Ba-bum. Ba-bum.
I’m so, so screwed.
What is it they say? It’s better to ask for forgiveness?
“I should probably go.” I don’t want to, but I need to. If I stay here any longer, I’ll end up acting out every one of Zoey and Ella’s suggestions.
No sex on the first date, Mels.
I shore up my resolve while trying my hardest not to whine like a toddler throwing a tantrum.
“If you must.” He sounds like the petulant child my subconscious is being.
“You do have a game tomorrow,” I remind him.
“Do you and the girls want to come?”
With that much hope in his voice, there’s no way I can say no. I have rehearsal during the day, and though my schedule is crazy, unlike when I have performances, it leaves most of my evenings free.
“Sure.” His face brightens at my acceptance, and that alone is worth the potential blowback. “And though I have a feeling I’ll live to regret it, Zoey can too.”
This time, instead of linking our hands, he keeps me tucked against his side, walking us to the front closet he stored my coat in earlier.
“What about Ella?”
“She has a performance.” I snap my fingers as if to say, Oh, shucks. Zoey is the worse of the two, but at least I won’t be tag-teamed by M1 and M2.
He makes a noise of acceptance in the back of his throat, and the growly sound rumbles through my body, hitting my sternum, traveling down my belly, settling in my clit and fanning the flames of desire he’d been adding to all night like one of the giant accordion fans they use in cartoons.
Yup, definitely time to exit stage right.
Slipping into a pair of Vans as I retrieve my gift, he grabs my coat, takes my hand in his, and leads me out into the hall, pressing the button for the elevator.
He’s quiet.
I’m quiet.
Does he want me to stay? What did he think of our date? Was it the best one he’s ever been on like it was for me?
“Hold on a second,” he says, my hand waving by my side as he drops it and turns back for his place.
He’s back almost as quickly as he left, and my eyes narrow suspiciously on the black and gray fabric draped over his shoulder.
“What did you just do?” I ask warily.
“Well.” He switches the material from his shoulder to mine. “Can’t have you supporting the enemy now that you’re my girl. And besides, we aren’t playing Boston tomorrow.”
Ba-bum. Ba-bum.
“Who said I’m your girl?” I challenge. Pushing his buttons is my new hobby.
“Oh, baby.” He shakes his head as if to say the subject is not up for debate, but I hold his stare.
Ping!
The elevator arrives, neither one of us moving for the doors, still locked in our standoff.
I should make things easier on us and just give in. Hell, we all know I’m going to. Showing up tonight was just the first step.
With a roll of my eyes, I turn on my heel, pushing the button to recall the elevator that closed as we lingered, and step inside when it opens right away, having not left the floor.
“You don’t give up, do you?” I look at him through the open doors.
“Not when it comes to something I want.”
There’s zero doubt to what that something is—me.
“Guess I have a lot to think about,” I toss out with a smirk as the doors start to slide closed.
“Fuck it.” I hear him say before an arm is thrown out, catching the doors before they can shut all the way.
My eyes are locked on the opening as he stalks—not walks, not strolls, stalks like I’m his prey—into the car, not stopping until my back hits the wall behind me and he pins me to it.
Hands tunnel their way into my hair, fingers tangling through the waves falling around my shoulders. The back of my head is cupped and he crashes into me, every smartass remark I was about to utter gone at the feel of Jase’s lips on mine.
I knew we had chemistry; it boiled between us all night.
But this…this isn’t a kiss. It’s ruination.
There’s no coming back from this.
His lips are soft pillows against mine, and I part them to allow our tongues to tangle, the metal of his piercing whirling inside my mouth, giving a whole new meaning to the term tonsil hockey.
My scalp burns where my hair is pulled, and I’m dragged closer to his hard body before he steps forward again, pinning me fully to wall of the elevator, the cold metal on my back a direct contrast to the inferno in front of me.
I was born to be on stage; no way am I going to be a member of the audience now. My coat and the jersey fall to the floor, followed by the gift box as I push up on my toes, my own hands grasping the short strands of his hair as I circle my arms around his thick neck.
We squeeze, tug, and pull as if we can’t get close enough.
The bottoming out of my stomach has nothing to do with the speed of the elevator’s descent and everything to do with Jase. Talk about defying gravity, Elphaba.
He sucks my bottom lip between his teeth, and as if that weren’t enough, he drags the cool metal of his tongue ring against it to soothe away the sting. How it manages to stay cold inside a mouth hot enough to set me on fire I’ll never know, but fucking hell it’s erotic.
Holy Tracy Turnblad, I can hear the bells.
“You do realize you live in the building and don’t have to maul the poor girl in the elevator, right, Donnelly?” A laughing male voice breaks in.
Spell broken, I finally notice the elevator has stopped moving.
Jase’s eyes, now a deep forest green, never leave mine as he speaks to whoever has interrupted us. “Fuck you, Cali.”
Great, busted by one of his teammates. I don’t know if I should send him a thank you card for stopping us before things took a turn for the naked, or if I should offer him a cigarette—it doesn’t
matter that I don’t smoke—to recover from the contact orgasm he might have if he steps inside the car with us.
“Sorry, man. You may look like a Hemsworth, but you’re not my type.”
“You’re a dick.” Jase’s laugh tells me he’s not angry.
Horny, maybe, at least if the pressure on my stomach is any indication, but no, not mad.
“And yet I’m still one of your closest friends. What does that say about you?” Callahan asks the rhetorical question, his gaze moving from his teammate to me. “I take it the date went well based on the PornHub-worthy kiss you guys had going on?”
My cheeks heat and I once again bury my face in Jase’s armpit. I need to remember to tell him how much I like his deodorant.
“Cali,” Jase warns, his arms tightening around me.
“What? I meant it as a good thing. This keeps me from having to listen to you bitch about how Melody keeps turning you down. Glad to see you managed to nut up and do something about this.”
“Cali.” Jase’s voice turns scary, taking on a dark quality I’ve never heard before.
“Relax. Don’t go all big bad enforcer on me, and also get out of the elevator so I can go home. We have an early skate in the morning and I need my beauty sleep.”
“Asshole,” Jase mutters, threading our fingers together and retrieving my dropped belongings. “I swear he’s just as bad as my family.” His complaint loses its edge to the grin curving his lips.
I focus on how I want those lips back on mine and not the surge of jealousy I feel at what an amazing family he has—both blood and extended. My parents can’t even be bothered to take three hours out of their year to see me in a show, yet his spend hundreds making sure not to miss a shift he plays on the ice.
At the glass doors of the building, I’m pulled to a stop. My hat is pulled onto my head and over my ears with a flick of the pom-pom on top and a kiss on the tip of my nose.
Ba-bum. Ba-bum.
Next, I’m helped into my coat, both his hands grasping the lapels and pulling me to him again. I brace myself with my hands on his chest, the muscles of his pecs flexing under my fingertips.
“As much as it pains me to admit it, I’ll probably have to thank the asshole for the interruption.”