I loosened my fingers from where they were fisted in the blankets on either side of my body, moving them to splay from the underside of his jaw and across his cheeks. I applied the slightest pressure before pulling his face toward my own. Our lips brushed slightly as I said, “I need you to fuck me.”
Fire sparked behind his eyes, and a sexy smirk pulled over his lips. “Are you sure?”
“Mmm-hmm,” I moaned as he pushed into me slowly. “Fuck me. Harder.” I demanded before pulling his lips against my own. My body quaked as he obliged my wishes with a punishing rhythm.
The dangerous feeling of being pushed to the edge raged through my body as Devon’s railed against mine. His lips found the crook of my neck, and I rolled my head to the side with a moan. My nails carved a dangerous path down his back as he bit down gently. Goosebumps erupted over my body at his answering moan.
A disappointed sigh fell from my lips as Devon pulled away from me. His sweat slicked chest rose and fell heavily with the effort of his labored breathing. My hazy mind barely registered him pulling me over him as he rolled onto his back. My legs trembled as they straddled his waist, and my nails dug deeply into his pecs as he pushed himself into my entrance.
“Oh fuck,” I moaned as he reached forward to circle my clit with the pad of his thumb. A familiar heat brimmed in my core, and time seemed to still as our bodies moved together in a synchronized rhythm. My mind was hazy and pleasure-filled, but I couldn’t stop thinking about how right being with him felt.
“Oh god, I’m gonna—” I panted as the familiar tightening behind my navel started to build to nearly unbearable levels. Devon worked my clit faster as I ground against him desperately. Fire coursed through my veins as I fell apart above him, and I collapsed—spasming—onto his chest.
My body quaked with tremors, and my legs clenched almost painfully around his waist. Devon flipping us over barely registered in my orgasm-addled brain, but only a few moments more passed of him driving into me hard before he was groaning through his own climax and collapsing next to me on the bed. I rolled into his side and laid my head on his chest as we both panted in the afterglow. Holy shit. I couldn’t believe I denied myself that pleasure for so long.
My eyes drifted closed for a moment, and a small smile played across my lips. I couldn’t believe how right it felt lying in his arms.
Chapter 17
— D —
The first thought to cross my mind the next morning was how right waking up in Charlie’s bed felt. My muscles ached in ways that endurance training could never imitate, and I was downright exhausted. I grinned sleepily as the memory of the way her face looked as she rode me, beautiful, and sexy, and just so goddamn mesmerizing all at once. If I could fall asleep every night with her in my arms and wake up exhausted every morning from the previous night’s activities, I would die a happy man.
I stretched an arm out, craving the warmth of her body, but my hand brushed cold sheets instead of the soft skin I was expecting. I rolled to my side, noting the absolute disaster that was her side of the bed. Either she was a fitful sleeper, or she stayed up late into the night tossing and turning. In either scenario, I was the asshole that slept like the dead and didn’t notice.
My overactive imagination provided a scenario where Charlie laid in bed all night, disgusted with herself for sleeping with me. The make-believe image of her staring at me in the moonlight with a regret on her face had to be shaken violently from my mind. I gave myself another mental shakedown before throwing my legs over the side of the bed and starting the search for my clothes. The face that I recalled from the night before was the face of a woman in the throes of ecstasy, not regret.
I was just shuffling into my pants when the sound of a smoke detector and a stream of curse words caught my attention. The scent of something burning was unmistakable. I jogged to the kitchen to investigate the noises and smells.
My tongue stuck to the roof of my mouth when I skidded into the kitchen. Charlie stood on her tiptoes, stretching her arm as far above her head as she could in an attempt to reach the beeping device. The hem of my t-shirt brushed against her boy-shorts clad ass. I would probably come pretty close to murder to see her wrapped up in my jersey and nothing else.
Dirty thoughts were pushed from my mind as she batted at the smoke detector in frustration. I tried not to laugh as she stared at the smoke detector and ranted.
“I’m five foot goddamn ten; why can’t I fucking reach this thing? Seriously, did the Green-fucking-Giant himself install this fucker? Did a fleet of svelte seven-foot tall Swedish men design this godforsaken apartment? This is fucking garbage.”
I continued to fight my laughter as I stepped up behind Charlie, pressing my body tightly against her. Her movements stilled as I dropped a series of light kisses on the back of her neck and reached for the smoke detector. The beeping stopped, and she turned in my arms. I might’ve been a poor judge, but I was pretty sure the fiery kiss I got was fair payment for turning off the smoke detector.
— C —
Devon’s arms wrapped around my waist, and he pulled me closer as he deepened the kiss. His lips moved languidly against mine. I slid my hands up his bare torso, wrapping one arm around his thick neck as my other hand fisted in his unruly hair and pulled him even closer. He nipped at my bottom lip; and I pushed him away gently, fully aware that if he continued to kiss me, I would take full advantage of him there on the kitchen floor.
His eyes sparked with mirth as he released me and allowed me to move back toward the stove. He pointed to the t-shirt that clung to my curves gently, and I fought off a blush. Slipping into his t-shirt that morning felt a bit like coming home. The fact that he was muscly enough to need a shirt that would also fit over my curves was a huge turn on for me. I would never have dared to try to fit into a shirt of Mason’s, and I somehow felt that Devon wouldn’t care if my tits stretched the cotton material slightly.
“I wondered why I couldn’t find my shirt,” he said. His tone was dark in a husky sort of way, and I that he didn’t notice my legs clenching tightly together.
I shrugged as I studied him, not bothering to hide the fact that I was very much appreciating the sight of him standing shirtless in my kitchen. The time for embarrassment was gone. My body aching in the sweet sort of way that only post-sexual soreness could cause was evidence enough of that. If I knew he could make me feel the way he did, I probably would’ve tried to sleep with him the first night we met instead of pushing him away.
“What can I say,” I began as I pulled myself out of the phenomenal memories of the night before. I forced myself to turn back to the still-smoldering pancake on the stove, briefly wondering how any one person could manage to be such a disaster at every turn. “Your shirt is soft, I’m really lazy, and I knew you’d look sexy as sin standing in my kitchen half-naked.”
His head fell back as he laughed, and my eyes were drawn back to him. His skin glowed brilliantly in the natural light of the kitchen—the caramel planes of his abs rippling. He shook his head, and I noticed the faint laugh lines framing his face for the umpteenth time.
“I’d normally let you stare upon this wonder for the entire day.” I rolled my eyes at his cheeky words. “But I’m starving, and you seem to have really fucked up breakfast.”
“Hey!” I protested, and he chuckled at my ire. “Everyone knows the first pancake is the test pancake!”
He pointed toward the charcoal crisp in my one and only frying pan, and I sighed. I hoped he wouldn’t find out quite so early that I was an absolutely miserable cook.
“Love, someone needs to put that poor thing out of its misery.”
I wasn’t sure if he was talking about the pancake or my frying pan, and I couldn’t stop the grimace that crossed my face at his laughing tone. “It’s not that bad!”
“Okay, sure. Well, you can eat that thing if you want, but I’d rather go get something from someplace that doesn’t specialize in chargrilled breakfast foods.”
�
��Asshole,” I muttered while sliding the pancake into the trash. I considered tossing the frying pan in after it but decided Devon already had enough entertainment at my expense for the day.
I dropped the pan back on the stove, and he grabbed my arm gently. He pulled me in for a soft kiss before suggesting, “Seriously, I would love to take you to breakfast. Do you want to go get ready while I clean up in here?”
“Yes, of course.”
— D —
Charlie sashayed from the kitchen with a wink over her shoulder. It would have been so easy to follow her and give her a repeat performance of the night before. I chose to turn toward the disaster that was her kitchen instead.
I knew if I followed her into that bedroom I wouldn’t be able to keep my hands to myself. I busied my hands with her dishes and allowed myself to get lost in thoughts that I wasn’t prepared to share with him.
She was absolutely captivating, and I found myself falling for her more each day. But she was guarded with her heart. The hurt from her past was still evident sometimes. I wanted to gather her in my arms every day and tell her I loved her—that I would keep her safe and never hurt her. It was too soon for her, so I kept my intrusive feelings to myself. I hoped she would grow into her own feelings in time.
Shock coursed through my body at the sound of a key turning in her front door. Panic froze me in place, and I stared over her bar with wide eyes. Nothing could have prepared me for the sight of Charlie’s best friends spilling through the doorway followed by both of my roommates. Three faces stared at me in shock. The fourth stared at me with a sneer. Uncomfortable silence hung in the air around us, and I couldn’t pull my eyes away from Sean’s molten glare. I immediately moved toward the door with my arms raised; I needed Tremblay out of there immediately.
“You got awfully quiet,” Charlie called from the hallway. Five pairs of eyes honed in on her as she stepped into the kitchen still in my t-shirt. She stopped dead in her tracks, her eyes wide. The rapid rise and fall of her shoulders hinted at her sudden panic. I paused in my trek toward the door, my hands still held uncomfortably aloft before me.
FUCK!
My eyes met Sean’s again, and I was practically begging with my eyes for him to keep his damn mouth shut and not make a scene. He sneered in response, and I gulped. My eyes snapped toward Cam, and he shrugged. ‘I didn’t know you were here’ he mouthed. I ran a hand down my face.
“Charlie, are you and Devon…?” Lindsey started, waving her hand limply in the air between us as she trailed off.
“You just couldn’t stand to let me win this, could you?” Sean spat, not giving Charlie the chance to answer her best friend’s shocked question. Lindsey’s and Nate’s heads turned in his direction. Cam stared at both of us with an apologetic look crossing his face. I turned to see Charlie staring at the floor. My body shook slightly, and my fists clenched at my sides.
“Don’t,” I warned as I turned back to Sean. His sneer ticked upward, turning his expression into a nasty snarl, and my heart beat double time in my chest.
“What’s he talking about, Devon?” Charlie asked as she moved forward to grip my forearm.
“I’m talking about the bet we had that I could fuck you,” Sean boasted.
I tore myself away from Charlie and launched across the room toward him. Cam pushed against my chest, hold me at bay from my teammate, roommate, and arch-fucking-nemesis.
“What the fuck?” Nate shouted, and the fury lacing his tone was alarming. I turned back toward Charlie as her face crumbled. A low, pained moan met my ears. My body went cold, and I felt a deep, white-hot guilt beginning to burn in my gut.
“It’s not what it sounds like, Charlie.” Even I picked up the hint of desperation in my tone.
I started to move in her direction, but an intensely angry Nate stepped straight in my path. He shoved me slightly, and I pushed his hands away. If I could get to Charlie, I could help her understand that it sounded way worse than it actually was.
Her eyes narrowed with fury when Sean guffawed from his place near the front door. He crossed his arms over his chest and scoffed. “Are you fucking kidding yourself, Cote? It’s exactly what it sounds like.” He turned his vindictive gaze toward Charlie. “He bet me that I couldn’t fuck you and then did it himself when he thought I was getting too close to winning.”
“Why would you do this?” Guilt gnawed through my stomach at the wretched look on her face. Why? her hazel eyes begged, and I couldn’t make my lips move in response.
My entire world fell in around me as Sean answered Charlie’s spoken question. “I personally just like a good challenge. It’s Cote that likes fucking fat chicks.”
Cam couldn’t contain my fury as I launched myself at Tremblay. My anger was fueled by the sobs that were echoing through the room behind me. I landed against him, and we stumbled into the door. He held me at arm’s length as I tried to land a punch. Cam tried to push himself between us again.
“How could you?” I heard Charlie ask, and our scuffle ended as quickly as it started. I turned in time to see her rounding the bar between her kitchen and living room. A steady stream of tears fell down her face, and the anguished quality of her voice felt like a sucker punch.
I shoved away from Cam and Sean. My mouth fell open to respond, but her shoving hands against my bare chest made me pause. I didn’t have the words to explain my actions.
Charlie reached for the hem of my t-shirt, and my eyes widened in shock. Seeing her start to lift the shirt surprised me. She’d bared herself to me the night before, but the questioning way she’d stared into my eyes was a solid indication that she still didn’t realize how perfect she was. Knowing that about her made my heart pound painfully in my chest.
What type of torment was she feeling that she was pissed off and sad enough to strip half-naked in a room that was full of people? The way her chest heaved as she pulled the shirt over her head made my stomach churn. Her lip quivered as she tossed the shirt in my direction. A muffled sob met my ears as she turned quickly and raced through the apartment in her underwear. My t-shirt laid crumpled to the floor at my feet as Lindsey jogged to catch up with her hurting friend.
The fiery redhead turned an ugly sneer over her shoulder and snarled to Nate, “Get them the fuck out of here!”
My mind raced as my t-shirt was shoved into my hands. An incensed Nate led me roughly out of the apartment—pushing me none-too-gently through the door. I nodded along in a numb daze when he told me to leave. My thoughts were a jumbled mess. I couldn’t think clearly. I was reeling but one thing was certain—I needed to fix this, fast.
Chapter 18
— C —
Waking up with a wine hangover was never one of my favorite experiences. Granted, finding out that your boyfriend was only dating you so he could keep another man from winning a bet was never at the top of my list either. My gut ached, and I couldn’t quite pinpoint if the pain was from the bottle and a half of Riesling I drank or from the memory of the smug look on Sean’s face as he told me Devon liked to fuck fat girls. A hard lump began to form in my throat, and I fought to control my ragged breathing. Nearly a week had passed; I shouldn’t still feel so raw.
I tempered my breathing and blinked back the tears that threatened to fall. I’d already shown up to work every day this week with puffy eyes and a blotchy face. Ms. Gable was more pissed off at me than usual due to my “poor attitude” during my first ghost shift, and I was pretty the sour old bitch was on the verge of firing me. How poetic would it be for me to lose my job and my boyfriend in the same week? I steeled my reserve. I would not cry. I would not lose my job. I would not think about the could-have-beens with a man I might have eventually loved.
My legs shook as I walked across the room to the bookcase where I tossed my glasses and phone the night before. I reasoned with myself that I couldn’t have been too drunk if I could remember that minute detail. The display of my phone blinked with four missed calls and three voicemails, and I knew I was wrong.
My stomach dropped when I saw the time. 10:38 AM. I wondered if I could convince Ms. Gable that I misread my schedule and thought tonight was one of my ghost shifts.
I sighed as I leaned against the bookcase and unlocked my phone. One of the calls was from Devon; but for the first time, he didn’t leave a voicemail. My head sank toward my chest, my eyes closed, and I fought back another wave of tears. I would never understand his need to pull me in, to make me believe that he cared for me and to make me care for him in turn when all I ever was to him was a conquest. I didn’t give him the opportunity to explain himself that day in my apartment. No explanation was needed. He was a fucking asshole, and apparently, my radio silence was finally starting to set in.
I turned my attention back to the cell phone clutched in my fist. The next call was from Lindsey. I suddenly felt guilty for giving her the silent treatment for the better part of the week. She held me, and I clung to her desperately, sobbing at the realization that yet another cruel person had broken a piece of me.
A hot blush crept up my cheeks as I pressed play on her voicemail. I sighed as a tone tinged with caution floated wearily through the room on speakerphone. “Uh… hey girl. Just wanted to see how you’re doing. I missed a call from you last night around three. You sounded a little… well, honestly, you sounded pretty drunk. You were mumbling something about an archaeology assignment. Did you get drunk and watch Indiana Jones again? Anyway, I miss you, and I hope you’re doing okay. Let me know if you need anything or want to talk.”
I stared at my phone in confusion long after Lindsey’s voice faded from my ears. Did I drunkenly binge watch Indiana Jones the night before? I couldn’t recall, but it was pretty on-brand for me. Harrison Ford was my celebrity crush ever since I was a little girl, and I was known to self-medicate with booze and Indy in the past.
Breakaway: A Hockey Romance Page 19