Hooked On Her: Ice Kings, #3

by Stacey Lynn

  Her bottom lip disappears between her teeth at the corner before she lets it loose again. “Well, yeah.”

  My silverware clangs to the plate, rattling not only the table and my food, but Tessa. I rest my elbows on the table and lean forward. “Let me get this straight. You ordered this food, planned this dinner, bought that dress looking, by the way, extremely fuckable in it, but you only did all of this so I would fuck you?”

  Across from me, she pales. “I didn’t mean—”

  “What? You didn’t mean to get all tricked out like that just to get my dick?”

  “Jason—”

  “Jesus, Tessa. Are you for real? I’ve been straight up with you about what I want.” I stand. I can’t believe this shit. I shove back from the table, food spilling off my plate. Who gives a shit. All of this was for this? “I might have scared you, pushed you too far too fast, but I haven’t hidden what I want from you.”

  “That’s not what I meant. Or what I wanted.”

  “Then what is it?”

  My arms cross over my chest. I’m glaring at her. Needles spike down my spine, irritating the fuck out of me, and more, so is Tessa. Looking so damn embarrassed, her chin wobbles as she sniffs. Shit.

  “I thought… you know what? I don’t know what I thought. Obviously it’s a mistake anyway.”

  She pushes away from the table, takes off running. On her damn sexy as hell heels through my place and the next thing I hear is the door to her room slamming, leaving me with the utter silence of the shitstorm I’ve just created.

  Shit.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Tessa

  * * *

  In my room, heart racing, eyes burning, I flip on the shower and strip off my clothes before jumping into the shower. Alone, encased in the glass enclosure, the water mixes with my tears and I cover my mouth so Jason can’t hear me scream in frustration and anger. I stand in the shower, scrubbing my face until my skin feels raw and the hot water pierces my skin like needles. It’ll take me more work to remove all the eye makeup I spent so much time trying to perfectly apply earlier.

  Thank you, YouTube makeup tutorials.

  Also, what a waste.

  Stupid. So stupid. I’ve never felt so stupid.

  Or so pissed off. How dare he assume that’s all I wanted and then turn into a complete dick when he wouldn’t give me a chance to explain. Sure, yeah, tonight was about what he suggested. A little bit, anyway. At least I was hoping that’s how it would end. But it’s not all I want from him and he didn’t even give me a second to collect my thoughts while he interrupted me.

  I needed a minute to collect my thoughts. I’d spent hours trying to come up with the perfect way to say, “Hey, let’s give this a chance. Let’s take our shot and see what happens despite being scared out of my brain and risking ruining everything between us and our families.”

  Jerk!

  I already spent years with a different jerk. A guy who made me promises and told me how much he cared for me and loved me to only then turn around and destroy that trust. The last thing I’m going to do is jump right into something with someone who won’t give me a single freaking second to explain myself!

  Ugh. Men. Do they all suck so much?

  I’m showered off, dressed in a pair of pale pink lounge pants with tiny little glasses of red wine all over them with a matching tank top. My hair is wrapped in a towel and my eyes are red and puffy from crying and all the scrubbing it took to make myself feel clean again when a knock hits my door.

  “I don’t want to talk to you,” I say through the door. There’s only one person who it can be and it’s the last person I want to see tonight. Unfortunately, he’s also standing between me and the rest of the wine I want to consume. How am I supposed to live here now?

  At that thought, I grab my phone. I’ll text the massive, epic failure to Debbie and I have no doubt I’ll be back at their place before the sun sets.

  “Come on, Tessa. I was a dick. At least let me apologize.”

  Point for Jason—he’s self-aware.

  “I don’t want to hear it.”

  “Tessa—”

  “No!” My hand grips my phone. I need to get out of here. Stat. “You didn’t let me talk earlier and I have no desire to listen to you now. Get over it.”

  The doorknob turns and ugh. Of course I didn’t lock the dumb thing. Right as it opens, my phone vibrates in my hand. I look down and curse.

  “Freaking hell. Can this night get any worse?” I mutter. Turning back, I don’t look at Jason even though I’m fully aware he’s opened the door and answer the phone. “Hello, this is Tessa.”

  “Tessa. Detective Stroble from the Toronto Police Department.”

  “Yes, I’m aware. What can I do for you?”

  On a Sunday night, nothing good, that’s for certain.

  “I’m calling to update on what we’ve discovered regarding your complaint with Will Statham. And unfortunately, there isn’t a whole lot of good news I have to share with you.”

  Of course not. At this point, given how my night has gone, I’m not the least bit surprised there’s more bad news headed my way.

  “Okay. So you haven’t found him?”

  “No, that’s not it. We’ve been able to track some of his movements based on the truck we saw leaving your apartment building and someone in your building claiming they saw him moving things out.”

  “Well, that’s not bad news.”

  “His last known movements based on the credit card he’s using is in Nova Scotia.”

  “What?” I spin, throw my hand through my wet hair and damn it. I totally forgot Jason is still here. At least he’s in the doorway, but every muscle of his body looks pulled tight and tense as he rests one shoulder against the doorframe.

  Damn the stupid jerk for looking so pissed off and protective when he started this roller coaster tonight. We should still be eating. Drinking. Perhaps kissing and canoodling. I stop that runaway train of thought, glare at him, and go back to trying to ignore his presence.

  Which is impossible, but worth the effort.

  “I wasn’t aware he had a credit card.”

  “A debit card, actually. From a new account he opened two weeks ago.”

  “With the money he stole from me?”

  “Since it’s a joint account—”

  “Yeah. I know. It’s joint there’s no way to prove, blah blah, you’ve already explained.” A shudder wracks my body. I’m not mad at this man. Currently, he’s the only man in my life I’m not mad at. “My apologies, Detective.”

  “Miss Chauncy—”

  “Tessa.”

  “Tessa, no need to apologize.” His warm, thick voice softens. It’s probably supposed to be his comforting the crazy person voice but I only hear his pity.

  “So what now?”

  “I’ve placed a call for the local police out there to go talk to him, but I have to tell you, based on the trail he’s leaving, I’m not sure there’s going to be a whole lot left behind of yours to find. He’s been making frequent deposits, small amounts which so far, I’m assuming based on the location of these deposits and their proximity to pawn shops, I believe—with no evidence, yet, mind you—he was selling your items on the way. We can collect it back, but since it might be hard to prove it was just yours and not his, you might have to pay for it.”

  Like I have the money for this. Or the time. Or the home to put it in.

  What am I doing?

  From the corner of my eye, I see movement and before I can blink, Jason is in front of me, concern wrinkling his brow. He reaches out, hand at my cheek. I lean into it, completely forgetting I’m pissed at him because it’s instinct to want to be close to him. His thumb brushes my cheek.

  A teardrop glistens on his thumb before he brushes it away.

  More tears. I haven’t realized I’m crying. Again.

  I should be out of tears.

  “Tessa,” he says, and his voice, so ragged, so heavy it undoes me.
<
br />   I fall toward him, forehead collapsing against his chest and remember I’m still on the phone when my phone bumps my ear.

  “Can I think about it overnight? Call you tomorrow, Detective.”

  “Certainly Miss Chauncy—”

  “Tessa,” I mutter but I’m sure my voice is muffled. I’m somehow burrowing into Jason like he’s the warmest blanket in existence. Which is silly. He’s not at all soft and cozy. He’s too muscular and strong.

  “Tessa,” Stroble says. “Call me tomorrow. Whenever you decide. In the meantime, I’ll call the Nova Scotia PD so if you decide to move forward, rounding him up can move quicker.”

  “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome. Have a good evening.”

  “Right,” I mutter, and I laugh at the absurdity. Have a good evening. I might need a new detective. This one sucks if he thinks I’m having a good evening or have any hopes of one now.

  I end the call and toss my phone to the bed. Jason’s arms are wrapped around me, and I can feel the side of his head pressed to the top of mine.

  “That didn’t sound like it went well.”

  “Detective in Toronto thinks Will’s been dropping and pawning my stuff on his road trip to Nova Scotia apparently.”

  Two arms wrapped around my lower back tighten. “You going to fight this? Get your shit back?”

  I shrug. I have no idea what I’m doing. If there’s a point. “I should probably call a lawyer and figure out if it’s worth it. Sounds expensive.”

  “I’ve got—”

  “Don’t.” I lift my hands to his chest and try to push away but he’s too strong and holding on to me too tightly. “Jason. Please.”

  Go away. Hold me closer. Kiss me. Make me forget. Get out of my room because you’re a big jerk, too.

  All the thoughts tumble and twist and flip in my brain and I can’t finish my thought because Jason’s looking down at me. So worried.

  So handsome. So beautiful.

  All thoughts flee except for the way he makes me feel when he’s close to me. The way he made me feel when he kissed me.

  I lift to my toes and I’m hesitant. But he doesn’t move away. In fact, I think he moves closer, too. And then my lips brush against his, tasting… testing. My spine straightens in preparation for his rejection but it doesn’t come.

  Instead, he groans my name and slides a hand at my back to my neck.

  And then he kisses me.

  And oh sweet dear baby Jesus and all my loved ones in Heaven, thank you for giving me this beautiful gift. He tastes like fresh mint and clean air and as he pries my lips open with a flick of his tongue, I eagerly open for him, surrendering.

  Good Lord, this man can kiss. My hands ball into fists, gripping his t-shirt, I lean in closer until I can’t tell where his body ends and mine begins. Our mouths are fused, tongues tangled and he has me wrapped so tightly in his arms, holding me closely and protectively I never.ever.want this moment to end.

  I feel myself being moved, tiny little steps push me backward until there’s fabric behind my legs and then I’m falling. Falling.

  Onto the bed behind me.

  And in love with the man on top of me.

  Which is a lie because I’ve loved him forever and I’m still pissed at him, but this was what I wanted earlier and how I wanted the night to end, so we can talk about everything else later.

  Right now I want to feel good and I want to forget the bad. His kisses and the heat and strength of his body pressed to me are going a long way in assisting me in doing both.

  I whimper, roll against the heat of his thigh pressed between my legs.

  Suddenly, his kiss ends and he pulls back, rolling his own hips into me and holy cow is there a large bulge at my hip. His face shoves into my throat and his mouth is there, breathing harshly.

  I cling to him and try to turn my head. I want him back.

  His mouth.

  His silence. He’s so much nicer when he’s kissing and not talking.

  “Please,” I gasp, still breathless from his kisses.

  “You gotta know I want this, Tessa. Swear to God, I know you can feel how bad I want this. But not like this.”

  “Please.” I’m desperate. Perhaps that’s my problem. I’m too damn desperate. At least lately.

  “Tessa. We were fighting. Now you’re crying. Will’s between us tonight and I don’t want that.”

  “I might always have the baggage of Will. Maybe not between us, but still in my rearview.”

  “Then that’s the risk I have to take.”

  He kisses my forehead, my cheek, and then the tip of my nose.

  Like I’m fourteen years old all over again and I’m the cute little sister.

  And that might be what hurts worse than watching him push himself off me, arms fully extended and then he’s off the bed, walking away. Closing the door behind him on his way out.

  Rejecting me again.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Jason

  * * *

  I feel like an ass for how I handled last night. All the parts of it.

  I shouldn’t have lost my cool when she approached me at dinner. I definitely should have given her a moment to explain before making her cry and run away from me.

  I most definitely should have hugged her when she started crying while on the phone with that detective.

  But I most definitely should not have kissed her. Or pressed my body to the top of hers while making out and getting off on the sweet little sounds she makes when I kiss her.

  I also should have ended it, and I meant and still mean every word I said to her. Last night was the wrong time to start anything.

  Unfortunately, she never came out of her room after and I didn’t see her this morning before I had to get to the first day of training camp.

  It means I went to bed hard, my hand wrapped around my dick and wishing it was sinking into the sweet pussy down the hall from me.

  It means I woke up this morning, hard all over again, wishing I could make things right before I had to take off.

  All of this battles in my brain, taking focus from the one—and only—place it needs to be right now and for the next several months.

  On the game.

  On my team.

  Instead, I’m pissed off all over again.

  At Will.

  I’m pissed at the circumstances that have brought us together.

  And I’m pissed as hell last night ever happened.

  My mind is not at all where it needs to be and I’m skating like shit. I don’t care if it’s only training camp and I’m in no danger of losing my spot on the team. I’m too valuable and too good. It’s too damn bad that Tessa has sent my sexual frustration running to level maximum. Which again… my own damn fault. Had I not reacted like some giant jerk last night we could have had a much different ending.

  “Hey!” That comes from Duke Fletcher, our defenseman and my skates come to a halt, spraying ice all over his lap. “What the hell is going on, Taylor?”

  Shit. This is a damn scrimmage for training camp and I’ve just checked my own damn teammate.

  “Fuck. Nothing.”

  “Bullshit,” Hendrix growls at me, getting in my face. “Where’s your head? Because it’s not here. We’re not the enemy today and you’ve been playing balls to the wall all damn morning.” Sebastian Hendrix, one of my closest friends outside Sawyer, rarely gets in my face.

  Although I suppose he rarely has a need to. “There’re kids here, man.” He shoves his gloved thumb in the direction of the boards where after this scrimmage is over, dozens of kids will take to the ice with us.

  “I said it’s nothing.”

  “Bullshit.” He’s not one to let me slide too much and usually I can be pretty honest with him, but in all honesty, as much as I’m trying to act nonchalant with Tessa in my home, I’m walking a thin wire and it feels like it’s eighty stories in the air.

  This… this is what I need. Someone in my face. Pushing me. Letting
me get all my damn frustration out. And fear… because what if she leaves?

  “Back off, Hendrix.”

  “No. This is fucking training camp, not the playoffs. You need to chill out.”

  Around us, it feels like silence has fallen. Pretty sure teammates don’t usually throw their gloves to the ice and rip off their face masks and go at each other during a team scrimmage. At least, it doesn’t happen often. And never on this team. Not since I’ve been on it.

  But hell, there’s a first time for everything and Tessa has me so damn screwed up I don’t know which end is up right now.

  Someone slaps me on the back and I spin, almost shoved to the side by the second line left winger, Pierce Conan. “Off the ice,” he snaps and damn. I’ve made him mad too.

  Shit. I should have jacked off before coming here instead of waiting around to see if Tessa would come out of her room.

  The problem is I’ve done that so much since she’s moved in, my dick is almost raw. And whose bright idea was that in the first place? Oh yeah.

  Mine.

  You’re such a dumbass.

  Yeah, yeah. I know this. Suddenly all the decisions I’ve made when it comes to her seems like one giant mistake and if I can’t get her out of my head when I skate onto the ice I’m going to be in serious deep shit.

  I jump the step as I get off the ice, ignoring the look Coach Woods gives me. I’m pretty sure it’s mixed with disbelief and irritation at how I’m not only playing but behaving today and flop onto the bench.

  Mikah is next to me and he hits his stick to mine. “What’s going on? Pissed at something?”

  Yes. Mostly at myself.

  Partly because I want to fuck someone into next week and make her mine. After last night, it’s possible I’ve royally messed up that possibility as well.

  Getting pissed at her for taking a step toward me when it’s all I’ve been wanting?

  Then walking away a second time?

  At this point I won’t be surprised if she’s either packed up and gone back to Debbie and Sawyer’s or if she’s on a flight back to Canada.

  I grab a bottled water from the holder in front of me. “Nope.”