My ribcage squeezed against my lungs as Ben said, “Yeah.” The word was clipped and Ben’s spine went stiff as he took Mark’s hand and shook it. “Stevie introduced us back in October, you’re the guy who plays games for a living.”
Oh God. Games for a living? I wanted to crawl into a hole with how rude his statement was. I sidled in next to Mark and he draped his arm around my waist. His hand firmly gripping my hip. Ben’s gaze fell to the connection and his eyes narrowed.
Mark released Ben’s hand with a chuckle. The sound of it was off, and because I knew him so well, I was the only one who noticed. “Game,” he corrected. “And it’s the best fucking one there is.”
Ben’s mouth pursed, never a fan of swearing, in general. “I suppose that’s a matter of opinion. I’ve always found hockey to be overly violent.”
“It’s not for the weak-hearted, that’s for sure.” Mark tilted his head, his crooked grin giving me goose bumps as he set the full weight of his gaze on me. “I’ve turned Stevie into quite the fan.”
Mark leaned down, his mouth hovering over mine for a half of a second, his eyes asking for forgiveness before he brushed his lips against me. My body warred against what it wanted and what was right. Ben wasn’t my husband anymore, but I didn’t want to hurt him, and this… this kiss was like parading my joy down his side street of misery. Mark’s mouth pressed against mine for the shortest of kisses, and when I looked at Ben again, I saw something in his eyes I’d never seen before. Jealous anger brewed inside the gray storm of his irises.
Trent coughed before he said, “Good to see you again as always, Mark.”
Mark nodded his chin. “Yeah…” He let go of my hip to thread his fingers through mine. “You, too.”
“Come find me if you need help with those expense reports,” Ben said to me with a tight jaw, before walking out of my office without a second glance at Mark.
Once the door was securely shut, I spun on my heel and smacked Mark in the chest. “What the hell was that?”
He laughed and the sound untied my nerves. “He was being a dick.”
“Still.” I couldn’t help the smile that tugged on my lips. Mark was here, and I’d missed him so much, more than I was used to. He pulled me into his body, his arms snaking around me. I exhaled and relaxed into his touch. “We should take the higher road. Ignore him, Mark, because all that matters to me is you.”
Mark pressed his lips to the top of my forehead, his nose burying itself in my hair. I smiled as he inhaled. “I missed this,” he whispered against my skin.
“Me, too.” I placed my hands on his chest and felt the hard and fast beat of his heart.
Desire poured down my limbs as his hands gripped my waist. He pulled back, his eyes consuming me from head to toe. “You look hot in this dress… like a pin-up girl.”
I never knew how to take his compliments. They set me on fire, made me feel more confident than I ever had in my life, but speechless all the same. I was wearing a forest green dress I’d found at a vintage store in Ybor. It was short sleeved, the neck line dipped to show a little cleavage, but nothing too saucy. The material flowed out into an A-line from the thin, black patent leather belt that cinched in my waist. It was cute and simple, definitely not sexy, but Mark was eating it up. “You’re thinking about your weird librarian fantasy right now, aren’t you?”
He raised his hand and unlatched the clip that held up my hair and put it in his pocket. The waved strands tickled my neck as they fell around my shoulders. “Maybe,” was all he said as he walked me backward until my butt hit the desk.
“Mark,” I warned, but I could admit it was a thin threat.
“Hmm?” His hands framed my face, his eyes hooded with lust and five nights’ worth of distance. “I need to kiss you.”
His lips lowered and dusted my cheek, my chin, his lips pressing to the hollow below my lower lip. A soft moan fell from my lips at the rough touch of his stubble. His hands slid down my hips, turning me abruptly. My back hit his chest as he inched the fabric of my dress into his fingers. I felt the cool air of the office on my legs and the warmth of his breath on my neck as I grasped the edge of my desk. His left hand held my hip, his right holding the hem of my dress in his fist. He pushed against me, the wood of the desk digging into the top of my upper thighs.
“This desk,” he mumbled, his lips brushing gently down my jaw, his teeth at my ear. “I want to fuck you, right here.”
His hand slipped under my dress and I grabbed his wrist. This didn’t feel right. I wanted to turn around, face him, feel his gentle eyes on mine, feel the slow heat of his gaze and let it drown me like it always did. “We… can’t.”
His hot breath coated my skin and I shivered as he spoke. His voice was unraveled, “Let me touch you.”
My cheeks stained with need and I let go of his wrist. I twisted my body, wanting to face him. My eyes flicked to my unlocked door and a fearful excitement hammered my heart against my sternum. Insecurity peaked and mixed with adrenaline. I wanted his hands on me, but not here. I wanted to be back at my place.
Mark’s thumb slid below the seam of my underwear, and he groaned as my arousal wet the tip of it. “Christ,” he whispered and nipped the lobe of my ear.
His hand was between my legs, my fingers twisted in his shirt as he melted our mouths together in lazy strokes. The kiss heightened from his familiar sweet, to smoke and cinders. Voices in the hall stilled my lips and Mark smiled against them as he dipped his fingers beneath the cotton of my underwear. I moaned involuntarily and the voices in the hall went silent.
“Oh my God,” I whispered and grabbed his wrist, pulling it away. Mark’s grin was salacious and it pissed me off. “Do you think they heard me?”
He chuckled as he lifted his big hands to my hips. “I hope so.”
“Why would you say that?” I tried to wriggle out of his hold but he pulled me closer.
His laugh was gentle. “I’m sorry. I guess I got carried away.”
My cheeks were hot with aggravation and embarrassment. “What if that was Trent… oh my God, or worse Mr. Elm. I could lose my job, Mark.”
His mouth broke into a smile. “You’re fired up.”
My eyes narrowed into what I hoped was a serious-looking glower. This wasn’t funny.
His smile faded and he scrubbed his palm along his jaw. “Shit, I’m sorry, I…” The long line of his throat bobbed. “I fucking missed you, and I wanted to surprise you, and he’s in your office, and I guess… it fucked with my head a little.”
“A little?”
His chest rose and fell with a long sigh. “I wasn’t trying to piss a circle around you, if that’s what you’re thinking.” He lowered his chin, kissed the tip of my nose, and my anger abated.
“Good, because that would be really uncalled for. I’m yours, remember.”
“Mine?”
I shook my head, my smile growing slowly. “All yours.”
“Can you leave early?” he asked, a little breathless.
I nodded, eager to get home, eager to be with him alone. “I need to grab a few things from the store on the way.”
“What are you making?” His light eyes beamed.
I loved that he got excited about his homecoming meals.
“Your favorite.”
“Grilled cheese?” His brows dipped with disappointment.
I laughed and raised onto my tiptoes, my mouth an inch from his. “Lasagna.”
“Fuck yeah.”
Mark’s mouth fell against my lips, and when he kissed me this time, it felt like him, like a thousand feathers were touching my skin, like always, like home.
The bar erupted into loud hoots and hollers as the five large-screen televisions played the highlight reel from tonight’s game. My teammates were rowdy enough as it was, when you added the cheers of the fans, it was like you were back in the arena all over again. I’d wanted to head back to my place after the game with Stevie, we had an early morning flight to catch, but Bryson had alw
ays been a persuasive fucker. He never went home for the holidays, and tomorrow was Christmas Eve. I couldn’t help but feel bad for the guy. His mother had passed away when he was little, and his dad, all that man cared about was how much money Bryson made. So when I’d told him I was taking off early, he’d razzed me about being pussy-whipped, but I’d known him long enough I hadn’t missed the sad flicker that had crossed his eyes. I’d faltered and now I was sitting at a table with my girl watching Bryson be a drunk asshole.
“Lord, he’s a sexy idiot,” Reagan said as she set her beer on the table and slid into her seat.
I chuckled. “The idiot part I get.”
Stevie giggled and I squeezed her thigh under the table. She was wearing skin tight jeans and the jersey I’d gotten her last week. My jersey. My number. The blue color made her skin glow, and my last name scrolled across her back spoke to the primal rumblings inside my chest. I’d been unsettled ever since Ben had rolled into town and back into Stevie’s life. When she’d first told me he was coming, I’d tried to not let it bother me. But it did. It bothered the hell out of me. The green monster Mia had kept well-fed for so long had woken up again, and I was angry with myself for letting the idea of Ben get the better of me. Stevie wasn’t Mia.
Stevie’s phone vibrated against the table, and as if I summoned him by the mere thought, I watched as the color drained from Stevie’s face.
She groaned. “I have to take this.”
“What? All the important people you know are at this table,” Reagan said with a sarcastic smirk.
Stevie exhaled an irritated breath. “It’s Ben. It’s probably about the expense reports I gave him to work on while I was gone.” She eyed me warily. “Two minutes.” She kissed my cheek, and my stiff shoulders relaxed enough I was able to fake my way through a smile.
I winced at the timid way she said, “Hello,” before walking toward the back hallway of the bar. Ben changed her. Insecurity fell off her in waves, and it drove me nuts he could make her feel that way with a simple phone call.
“Don’t let him get to you,” Reagan said, and I turned to look at her.
“That’s what Bryson’s been saying.” I chugged down the rest of my beer and placed the glass onto the table.
“Well, maybe Bryson is smart after all.” She gave me a big smile. “Ben’s an asshole, has always been an asshole, and will always be an asshole.”
“You think?”
“I know.” She twirled a piece of her pink hair between her thumb and forefinger. “Stevie has always been... bold … audacious… and she never knew how gorgeous she was either. I remember in high school, the guys we’d go to punk shows with, they practically drooled all over her dyed red hair and green chucks. She never noticed, always stayed in the friend zone, and then one day, this jerk, some rich prick in her AP math class, asks her out on a date, and she thinks she’s struck gold.”
“Ben?” I asked even though I already knew this story. Stevie told me she’d met him in high school.
“He was everything she wasn’t and I think it’s why she fell hard for him. Her mom… well, you’ve met her.”
I had met Stevie’s mom last month, briefly, after she’d brought her to a home game instead of Reagan. It was easy to see where Stevie had gotten her looks. Her mom was beautiful for an older woman, a touch on the hippy side like Stevie had mentioned. I remembered she’d actually woven flowers into her braid.
“Her mom went through men like I go through Oreos, I think Ben became an out.”
I knew all of this. Ben had been a security blanket. She’d told me everything Reagan was saying, but it still didn’t make me feel any less unsettled about her white knight being back in town.
“She’s different around him.”
Reagan nodded and took a long drag of her beer. “He wanted a wife, not Stevie. He wanted the ideal, not the awesome girl she was. He cut her down inch by inch, year by year, until she lost who she was. He tried to change her. And he had for a while, until she finally woke up. Thanks for that, by the way.”
“I didn’t do anything.”
“The night you guys first met, you gave her a push. You just didn’t know it.”
“Nothing happened.”
“Oh, I know, but I think you gave her back the fight.” She smiled at me. “You gave her back the bold.”
My heart was a hammer. The bass of the music blaring overhead made the rhythm of my pulse disorganized. I’d allowed jealousy to wind its way around my ribs and spine, and for what? I was pissed he got to spend more time with her than me. I’d hated how he’d looked at me last week in her office, like I wasn’t good enough for her. How he’d attempted to cut me down with his snide ass remark about my job. How his eyes had challenged me as if to say “you think you’ve won.” But maybe I had won after all. Stevie was with me.
Mia was with you, too.
The voice inside my head leaked through my confidence and my lips set into a line.
“I think he realizes what he lost. I think he wants her back.” My voice was stone and Reagan’s gaze softened at the corners.
“Mark…” She stared at me for a few seconds. “Don’t be that guy.”
I couldn’t help it but I laughed without humor. “What guy?”
“The jealous boyfriend. Ben is a fucking tool, trust me, Stevie is all about your ass.”
The grim line of my lips parted into a real and genuine laugh. “My ass?”
Reagan snorted. “You have nothing to worry about. Give Stevie some credit.”
My laugh quieted. I wasn’t giving Stevie any credit at all. Trust was something I struggled with, but that wasn’t Stevie’s fault. “I trust her.”
“Good.” She sipped her beer. “When are you going to give me your blessing?”
“Oh God, here we go.” Stevie’s voice made my heart jump, but it was the warmth of her hands, her fingers kneading into my stiff shoulders that made me melt a little.
“What am I missing?” I asked as Stevie lowered her hands and slipped into her seat.
I wrapped my arm around her waist and pulled her in for a quick kiss.
Reagan scoffed. “Bryson.”
I pulled away from Stevie’s lips dazed. “What about him?”
I was a jerk for thinking it, but I was more interested in asking Stevie what Ben had wanted.
“I’d like to know him better.” Reagan’s tone matched the coy grin growing on her face.
“Oh, hell no. Absolutely not.” I shook my head, and Stevie’s soft laugh made me smile.
“Why not?” Reagan whined.
“Are you serious?” I scratched my fingers along the bristle of my bearded jaw. “He’s a love `em and leave `em kind of guy, Ray. I wouldn’t want you to—”
“Get hurt? I’m a big girl.” She picked up her beer and stood. “Now if you’ll excuse me… there’s a hockey player I’d like to meet.”
“You warned her.” Stevie laughed softly, and I watched as Reagan eased her way into the pack of wolves.
I chuckled when Bryson painted on his million-dollar smile, pulling Reagan in for a hug instead of a handshake. It was his M.O. He was a good guy when he wasn’t thinking with his dick. He’d told me the same shit Reagan had told me. He’d said to trust my woman and to trust myself. I didn’t want to listen to the guy who’d never been in a real relationship, so it was nice to hear Reagan echo his sentiments.
“It’s bizarre.” Stevie leaned into me and I draped my arm behind her chair. “They look kind of cute together.”
“Don’t get any ideas. That man is only after one thing.”
“So is Ray.” She let out a long breath. “When she’s not with Pete.”
“I gotta meet this Pete guy.”
“You will.”
I shifted in my chair, my heart beating its way up my throat, as I asked as nonchalantly as possible, “So, what did Ben want?”
She yawned. “I messed up some of the figures.”
Her eyes met mine and I found a few speck
s of defeat muting the blue burst around her irises. I pushed a piece of her hair behind her ear. “That bad?”
She shrugged, and I wondered if I imagined the glassy appearance glittering behind her lashes.
“He was a jerk about it. Said I added more work for him.” Her voice was tight. “I told him I’d fix it on the plane tomorrow and send him the spreadsheet when I was finished, but he told me he didn’t want me to mess it up even more.” My jaw clenched as I watched her fight her emotion. “Then he said, ‘have a great time in New Hampshire’ and hung up on me. Everyone at the office is stressed. I get it. But I’m not the only one taking off for the holiday.”
It wasn’t the time off. It was that she was with me. Maybe I was jumping to conclusions, but I didn’t give a shit. Stevie looked like she was about to fucking cry, and all I wanted to do was drive over to her office and teach that prick some goddamn manners.
I took a few even breaths and lifted her chin with my thumb. “Mistakes happen.”
“It’s a quick fix, I don’t understand why he’s…” She let the statement fade and exhaled. “It doesn’t matter.” She smiled up at me and the space between my lungs and heart contracted. It ached as I witnessed her confidence fall away again. “I’m tired, ready to go?”
“Yeah, baby, let’s go home.”
The plane passed through the clouds slowly as we reached cruising altitude. Stevie took a sip from her mimosa, and I pressed my lips together, hiding my growing smile. Her hair was tied into a knot on the top of her head, her face was clean of makeup, and her eyes were bright as she stared out the window. She looked so beautiful, and as much as I wanted to blame the pressurized air of the cabin for my difficulty breathing, I couldn’t. She took my breath away.
“Nervous?” I asked and she turned to face me.
“A little.” She chewed the inside of her cheek.
I laced her fingers with mine. “Molly, my sister, she loves all that punk shit you listen to.”
Breakaway (The Rule Book Collection) Page 21