by Vivian Lux
He was dressed in his street clothes and still hobbling. Under his warm-up shorts, I could see his knee was tightly taped. "But I gave you a name," Ian went on. "So you didn't get zero."
Coach Randall blinked and for some reason, he looked at me. "I didn't realize that was official," he said, his voice significantly lower in volume.
"I guess it really wasn't," Ian agreed. "So I'll make it official right now." He limped around the clustered pack of us and took his position next to Coach Randall like he belonged there. Because he did.
Then he looked right at me and opened his goddamned mouth. "I nominate Bradley Scott as team captain," he grinned.
*****
"You're an asshole."
Ian banged his locker shut. "So you've mentioned once or twice," he chuckled.
But I wasn't in the mood to joke with him. "Why the hell didn't you tell me you were nominating me?"
Ian lifted his chin. "Because you wouldn't have let me."
"Damn straight I wouldn't have let you. Why the hell do you think I should be captain?"
"Why wouldn't you be captain?" Ian gestured around the locker room to the rest of the team, all strenuously avoiding eye contact with us. "You're the most experienced guy here." He raised his voice a little. "The rest of this team is still in diapers." He patted my shoulder. "They need a father figure."
In any other instance, Ian's teasing and joking would be all I needed to lift the black cloud of anxiety that loomed over my head. But not today. Not about this.
I stepped closer, fists clenched, and lowered my voice. "I don't know why the fuck you'd pull this, Ian. You know why I can't represent the team." Heat flooded my face and along with it the tight tension in my neck and jaw. "Y-you know," I managed to spit out.
A flicker shadowed Ian's face.
"Holy shit," I exhaled. "You didn't even think about it at all."
"Well... no!" Ian exploded. He started pacing. "But, how much does it matter?" His voice was scolding and more than a little defensive. "You barely stutter anymore, dude...."
"Keep your goddamned voice d-down," I hissed. The rest of the team was still milling about, blatantly eavesdropping.
"You just need to relax."
"That is literally the w-worst thing you could s-say to me." I was losing it and the more I freaked out about losing it, the worse my speech would get. I slammed my locker shut, looked at Ian and then shook my head. Nothing was coming out, no matter how I tried to summon the words. I just clenched my fist and then pointed at him.
He needed to fix this. He knew what I was trying to say.
He ducked his head and turned back to his locker. I pressed my lips together and wordlessly walked out of the locker room.
Ian had done what he thought was best for me.
Thing was, he'd never considered what I wanted.
I was tired of setting myself aside. I was ever more tired of listening to people tell me what was good for me.
I knew perfectly well what I wanted.
A certain dark-haired woman being first on that list.
I walked out of practice and into the bright autumn sunlight. The Chicago heat wave had finally broken and the air was crisp. A light breeze blew in off the lake, a herald of the winter winds that would soon be whipping down the urban canyons.
I was home unexpectedly, with a surprise night off.
But I wasn't going to be spending it at my place.
Chapter 15
Olivia
The hostess with the pierced tongue smiled widely, and then shifted a little to her right to peer behind me. "Expecting anyone else, tonight, Miss Bryant?"
Part of me wanted to smile at her. It wasn't her fault, after all, that I was here alone tonight. She, of course, would know nothing about the rift that had opened up between Candace and me.
Things would be right between us. They always eventually turned out right. Maybe tomorrow I'd stop being angry at her for being so blunt about my worst faults. The things I had always feared were flawed about me - the deep, dark hurts I kept hidden - those were the things Candace had dragged out in the daylight and forced me to look at.
Bluntness was a character trait I admired in myself but didn't really enjoy in other people. I was the one who was supposed to be doing the dragging.
"No," I said to the hostess. "Just me tonight. I need some me-time."
"Of course." She grabbed for the menus but I stopped her. "Just pour me a glass of Fox Valley Chardonnay and leave the whole damn bottle behind."
The hostess, Hannah I think her name was, had the professional demeanor down cold and didn't widen her eyes. But I wouldn't have given a shit if she did. Tonight I was going to drink - alone - and patrol for some mindless man-candy. Brad was in Colorado tonight, so that meant I was free to have some no-strings-attached fun.
I grinned. There was an entirely different crowd here at the Grapery on Friday nights. I usually stopped by during the week after work, when it was filled up with neighborhood types, low-key locals who didn't go for flash.
But on weekends, it transformed. A baby grand I had never seen before now took up half the place. A beardy-hipster-type was rolling arpeggios up and down the keys while pulling constipated looking faces. Hannah brought over my bottle and poured the glass for me, and I sighed as I took my first sip.
This place was filled with jet-lagged business travelers and three-piece-suited stockbrokers who looked like they might be into some really kinky shit in the bedroom.
I'm going to have some fun tonight.
I was single. The terms I had laid out with Brad made that amply clear. And looking around at my competition, I couldn't help but smile and lick my lips. Oh, ladies, is that all you brought?
I sat back prettily, crossing my legs and leaning back so that my tits jutted out. I was wearing a brand new, black, tightly-fitted, body-con dress tonight. Sure this dress was a little slutty, a little more in-your-face than my usual sexy librarian look, but tonight, well...
I looked a little desperate because I was a little desperate.
From across the room, I caught eyes with a dark-haired man, leaning his elbows against the bar. I shot him a smile, looking him over once, then twice, letting my eyes slide down his figure. Sizing up the goods. Hair all in order. A nice bit of five o'clock shadow on an otherwise smooth cheek. His jawline was a little soft, his mouth a little feminine for my taste, but we weren't thinking long term here.
This was just a way of proving to myself that I meant it when I told Brad we were part time.
He was dressed in a three-piece suit. Goddamn, that really was lingerie for men. He stood up when I smiled, moving towards me like I had hooked him on a line. I smiled, and shifted in my seat, allowing my little scrap of a skirt to ride even higher.
"Hi there," he said. His voice was smooth, though a little higher than I'd like. He was wearing cologne - quite a lot of it, actually - but it was nice cologne. Heavy and musky and expensive smelling.
I licked my lips.
"Nice suit," I said.
He looked down. "You like my suit?"
I nodded, looking him right in the eye. "It's very becoming."
Fuck! Abort! Abort! But he was already looking at me curiously. "Becoming?"
I cleared my throat awkwardly. Why was I using this line, of all lines? "But then again, if I were on you, I'd be coming too," I said without any enthusiasm whatsoever.
Brad's line a little voice chastised me in my head. That was Brad's line.
I tried to wave the thought away, realized what I was doing, then settled my hand firmly down into my lap before this guy started thinking I was a crazy person.
But he didn't seem to notice how my soul suddenly died in front of him. His plucked eyebrows zoomed upward and he practically started salivating. At least I know the line works?
"Can I buy you a drink?"
I leaned back. "You can if you think you can afford to."
"Why, do you have expensive taste?"
"Wha
t have you got?" I shot back, looking him in the eye. Using Brad's line had thrown me off my game. I needed to regain the upper hand.
"What do you want?"
Man, this guy was shit at dirty talk. I tried to throw him a lifeline. "Why don't you get me something you think I'd like," I purred, casting meaningful glances towards the whiskey selection. If I was going to sleep with this dweeb, I needed to switch to the hard stuff.
"Um...," he dithered.
I rolled my eyes and turned away from him. There was movement over his shoulder. I don't know why my eye went there, maybe because I was already bored of this entire charade. But something stirring in the corner caught my eye.
Not something.
Someone.
My body reacted before my mind could and I bounced up from my seat. My skirt was hiked up to gynecological lengths, but I yanked it back down again.
It didn't matter, because I felt suddenly naked and laid bare, knowing that he was here.
He slouched, glowering in the corner, his long legs sticking out from under the table. A pair of familiar motorcycle boots that made my hands clench, my nails digging into my palms before the thought even connected in my brain.
"Brad," I said out loud.
"No, Pat I said, my name is Pat. Short for Patrick?" the suited guy corrected.
Brad unfurled himself from the shadows, and my heart seemed to stop mid-beat.
Then it started to thud so fast I could barely hear a word the suited guy was saying. Brad came right over to us, standing, no, looming. And the second he stood next to the suited guy, I wondered how I had ever thought that fancy-pantsed fucker could be adequate. Brad stood there in his white T-shirt and jeans - with nothing more than pure, unadulterated masculinity as his cologne - and just blew him away.
"Excuse me." Brad's voice was tight, controlled. I felt a flash of something wicked go through me with a jolt. My body was a traitor, through and through.
Pat turned and looked at him. "Can I help you?"
"Yeah. Get the fuck out of here."
"Excuse me?"
Brad stared down at him. "I said it's time for you to leave."
Pat looked at me and his voice inched higher. "Do you know who this asshole is?"
My mouth was dry, but I still swallowed convulsively, over and over. "Yeah. I know him," I said. Why was I feeling guilty?
Why was he here? He was supposed to be gone. He was supposed to leave tonight.
"One last time, my man. Go ahead and get out of here."
"I don't think I want to."
Brad's voice was low and dangerous and unlike anything I had ever heard come out of him. "Is this really the night you want to die?"
Pat turned white and ran away.
"Jesus Christ, Brad!" I exhaled. "What the hell was that? What are you doing here? Are you spying on me?" I asked threateningly.
He laughed and said nothing.
"Did you decide to cash in your part time fuck buddy card?" I challenged, craning my neck to get into his face. Damn. I loved how tiny he made me feel. At five foot nine, there weren't too many people in the world who made me feel small, but Brad had a full five inches on me, a gap I couldn't close even with my highest heels. I felt that shiver run through me when I smelled him, the clean scent of his soap, the way it turned to sweetness on his skin as the day wore on. "Figured it was time to use your home team advantage?"
I hoped like hell he would say yes.
But Brad didn't rise to the bait at all. "If I wanted that, I would have called you, don't you think?"
I blinked away the hurt. "I guess so."
He looked down at me. "I had an unexpected night off. Snow in Colorado."
Why didn't you call me? I didn't say. Instead, I said, "So you decided to come to a wine bar? That doesn't really seem like something you would do."
I expected him to laugh. I expected him to look sheepish, look away, disavow that this whole thing was happening. I definitely did not expect him to grab me by the shoulders and pull me close. "You don't know what I would do, Olivia."
He kissed me and it was the kiss in the restaurant all over again. Every time I tried to get a handle on things, arrange them back the way I liked them, Brad pulled the rug out from under me. Every time I tried to set down rules, he turned them on their head.
I pulled away, the heat from his mouth still searing my lips. I sounded almost drunk when I said, "I know you."
Maybe I was also trying to convince myself.
Brad gave a small shake of his head. Almost like he was saddened by what he had to say. "No. You don't."
I looked up at him and clenched my teeth. "I don't?"
"You think you do. But you have no idea."
Chapter 16
Brad
There was a fierce challenge in her eyes when she jutted her chin out at me. "So? Show me."
"Show you?"
Her eyes blazed. "What you would do. You think I don't know you, Brad?"
"No," I told her. "You don't. But that's okay because you're going to find out.
I squeezed her hand, yanking her close. She stumbled and laughed at me in surprise and maybe a little bit of anticipation. She knew how I got when I wanted to fuck, but this was something much more than she was used to and so she was confused.
She slid along the side of me, her breath against my ear. "Did you miss me or something?"
It was such an offhand little remark, but it demanded to be answered truthfully. I turned back looked at her, then bent her arms around her back as I folded her close against me.
Her teasing little smile dissolved off of her face and she looked up at me shocked.
"I've missed you," I said flatly.
I was done with pretending.
I bent her backward, and in full view of the bar, in full view of everyone, I kissed her. I heard several whoops and a few catcalls from the rest of the bar-goers. But I didn't give a fuck about that. I didn't give a fuck about anything except for the way that Olivia's body felt against mine. It felt right, her lips parting for me, opening up and allowing me inside her hot mouth, the ragged gasps that escaped it as I kissed her harder and deeper than I thought possible. I knew that with this kiss, I was trying to mark her, trying to claim her...
This girl who could never be claimed.
I needed to make her feel what I felt and the only way I could do that was to overpower her with the same overpowering desire that held me tight in its grasp.
"Goddammit," I growled into her mouth.
And then - I just fucking grabbed her, sweeping her legs out from under her and lifting her in one smooth motion.
"Oh my god!" she cried, startled. Her hands went instinctually around my neck, clutching tight as I swept her into my arms. I strode to the side exit and kicked the door open. "Oh my god! Brad?" She sounded a little panicked.
"Quiet," I growled. I needed to think. All the blood was rushing away from my brain, making that nearly impossible. My thoughts came only in vague images. A door. A wall.
An alley.
Bingo.
The metal door swung open into the crisp, cooling night. The air was thin in my lungs, and I felt like I couldn't get a deep enough breath, especially not with Olivia's hair filling my nostrils with the scent of her shampoo. "You smell like..." Driven to distraction, I flung her up against the alley wall, pinning her against it.
"Brad!" she sounded stricken, a little scared. "What are you doing?"
"I've missed you," I told her, holding her face still in my hands so that she couldn't turn away, couldn't roll her eyes, couldn't do anything but look straight at me as I repeated it again, and again until I was certain she had heard me. "Do you understand, Olivia? Part time doesn't cut it for me. I fucking missed you."
Fuck "missed," I needed her.
I'd come here, to her favorite bar, because I wanted her and was sick of fucking waiting to have her. I walked in ready to tell her that her "terms" were bullshit and it was time for us to do things my way.
Then I saw her and all that big talk fell silent before I even had a chance to say it out loud.
Wants versus needs. I wanted to win the Stanley Cup. I wanted my brother to move the hell out of my apartment. I wanted to retire at age thirty and get a house with a yard. And a dog. Or three. Those were my wants.
I needed Olivia.
"Brad, I…" She couldn't get the rest of the words out. Not when I was kissing her as hard as I was. I sank my fingers into her hair, deliberately messing it up. I liked her messy. The coiffed, glossy version of Olivia, perched at a table with her tits out, displaying for some asshole in a suit like some kind of demented peacock? That wasn't the Olivia I wanted. I wanted this one, the one that tasted like wine and desire. I inhaled sharply, taking in all of the scents that made up Olivia; her shampoo that smelled liked coconuts, her minty toothpaste, that peach body wash she liked. But the scent that filled my head was the scent that I knew was only... her. Both sharp and sweet, fresh like newly cut grass in the spring time.
That was the scent of the Olivia I had now, the one who is trembling in spite of herself as my hand roamed down and down. The taste of her, the feel of her, the smell of her, it all filled me up to the point where I felt like I would burst - like a superhero - out of my clothes.
Clothes. I growled again, suddenly angry at the barrier between us. I reached under her skirt, ignoring her little sound of shock.
"Take these off," I told her.
For a second I thought she'd laugh at me. Olivia was always laughing at me, taking none of my feelings seriously. Not this time. This time, she looked me right in the eye and something, something as new and amazing as surrender flickered across her eyes. She was giving up, giving herself to me. She reached up under her skirt, as if in a trance, and pulled down a red scrap of silk. I reached out my hand and she hesitated for just a fraction of a second before she handed them to me.
Holy shit, if I felt like a superhero before, right now I felt like a fucking god. I kissed the panties she handed me and then tucked them into my back pocket.
Then I used my knee to pry her legs open. The bare warmth of her pussy against my thigh was enough to have me growling again, pressing into her, slamming her up against the scratchy bricks. I slid my hand in between us, slipping a finger against that soft, slick skin.