by Ciz, Alley
A rack holding my costumes from earlier in the show is tucked against the only free wall to the right of the door. There’s a shelf above the couch that’s home to a Marilyn Monroe Funko Pop! doll and a couple of frames from past shows. I see his eyes widen when he spots Mr. Potato Head tucked into the back corner.
Of course he’s here. Is he really surprised?
At least I refrained from having a picture of us in the room. I would have, but it was too hard to see his face. Creeping on his social media was enough torture.
“You…” He trails off, reaching for the famous potato.
“I wanted to keep you close, even if you didn’t want me.”
The toy looks barely bigger than the spud it portrays inside his bear paws. His thumbs smooth over the smiling face reverently.
The rough wood of the door scrapes my back as I push off of it and add the jar to the shelf.
“It was never a question of wanting you.” His eyes remain locked on the toy as he speaks. “Was I blindsided by the information? Yes. Could I have handled how I reacted better? Absolutely.”
There’s so much sorrow in his voice, and I automatically step into him, anchoring myself with my hands on his hips. Finally, he lifts his gaze to mine, returning Mr. Potato Head to his place of honor and mirroring my stance.
“You didn’t hold my family against me. It’s not fair for me to hold yours against you.”
“Um…your family is awesome.”
“They’re fucking crazy.” His chest expands with a deep breath. “But they’re mine and I wouldn’t trade them in for the world.” His grip on me tightens. “Just like you.”
I swallow, wishing the words would come. Why the hell am I so nervous?
Chickening out, I ask, “Why do you and my brother hate each other?”
His eyes flare, flashing gold. “He didn’t tell you?”
I shake my head. “He’s barely spoken to me since Fallon told him we were a couple.”
“Oh, baby.” The corners of his eyes soften and his lips tip down. He pulls me in more, the sequins of my gown catching on the buttons of his shirt.
“I know part of it was about the Olympics, but I know there’s more. Will you tell me?” I plead.
He nods. “So much has played into it. You’re right—the whole debacle over me getting the spot on the Olympic team over him is only the most recent one. There was also when BTU beat his team in the Frozen Four, and you heard the gist of the Lake Placid stuff.”
“That doesn’t seem like enough to fuel the rivalry you have, though.”
“It is when you combine it with how his attacks”—he puts air quotes around the word—“hit too close to home.”
“Explain?” My arms loop all the way around his waist.
“All my life I’ve struggled with being Ryan Donnelly’s brother and being compared to him. I’ve had moments where I didn’t feel like I truly earned my place in hockey.”
“That’s the biggest crock of shit I’ve ever heard. I love Nate, and yes, he’s a great hockey player”—I squeeze Jase—“but I knew your stats long before we met.”
That cocky grin makes a reappearance. “Are you saying you were my puck bunny?”
I pinch his ass and he yelps. “Keep saying stupid shit like that and see what happens.”
“Sorry, baby. Please continue telling me all about how you pined for me from afar.”
I roll my eyes and he laughs.
Dipping my head to make eye contact, I wait until he’s focused on me, needing him to see as well as hear the sincerity of my words. “You are one of the best defenders in the league. Comparing you to Ryan is like comparing apples to oranges.”
“That’s pretty much what he said to me.” Again he drops his forehead to mine. “God I’m such an idiot.”
“But you’re my idiot.” I bite my bottom lip to hold back a smile.
“Really feeling the love, Sweet Potato,” he grumbles.
“Well you should, because I do.” He pulls back suddenly at my words. “I love you, Jase Donnelly.”
His eyes flare then his mouth crashes to mine, and I’m lost—in the press of his lips, the feel of his tongue stroking mine, that familiar cold metal whirling inside my mouth.
Teeth nip.
There’s sucking.
Groaning. Moaning. Sighs.
Hands move, his and mine. My face is cupped, his hair is pulled.
On and on we kiss. If we were in a car and not a virtual closet, the windows would be steamed to all hell.
The boy shorts I have on under my dress are completely destroyed; I’m so wet it’s like they’re nonexistent.
“Fuck.” He curses against my lips, not fully breaking the kiss. “I’ve missed this.”
I yank on his hair harder, grinding against the erection pressing into my belly. “Same.”
Kiss. Kiss.
Stroke. Stroke.
His tongue retreats, and I capture his ring in my teeth and suck. With a pained groan, I’m moved until I feel the edge of the vanity table digging into my ass.
I’m spun, my back pulled against his solid front. I’m pushed, bent slightly over the table, forcing me to brace myself on my hands to avoid getting a face full of reflective glass.
It’s his turn to grind into me, the hard length of his cock riding over the curve of ass.
The change of position is swift, but his actions are lazy.
In the mirror I watch him bend to nuzzle my neck before he drives me mad by dragging his piercing down the length of it.
His hands snake up my arms, starting at my wrists and swirling along my forearms, over my straightened elbows, up the ticklish skin of my triceps. Slipping underneath the spaghetti straps of my gown, he gives them a flick and they fall down. The material is weighted by sequins and beads, automatically sliding to my waist.
“What the hell is going on here?” He cups a breast in each hand, my head tipping back to his chest when he thumbs over where my straining nipples are hidden.
“Boob tape.”
His reflection gawks at me like I’m a calculus problem, only instead of solving for x, he’s trying to work out why I have no nipples.
“It adds a layer of support for the girls underneath costumes and help prevent them from giving me a black eye.”
He barks out a laugh. “Fuck, baby, I’ve missed you.”
Spinning in his arms, I loop my own around his neck, tugging him down for another intoxicating kiss. “I missed you too.” Another kiss. “So much.”
In a blink, my ass is on the vanity, the thigh-high slit of my gown allowing for my knees to fall open to accommodate his width. Hands cup the backs of my thighs, and my legs wrap around his waist, my ankles hooking at his back, the points of my stilettos digging into that delicious bubble butt of his, urging him closer.
Higher and higher his hands travel, the material of my dress converging at my waist like it’s a cape tied around my middle. Simultaneous groans echo in the room when I roll my hips against the hockey stick straining against his zipper.
“Jase.” I’m already reaching for his belt, pulling the leather free.
“Mels.”
I’ll have bruises on my ass from his grip, but who cares about a few battle wounds when the spoils are Jase inside me?
Metal clangs, belt hanging free. My thumb slips under the metal tab securing his pants, the button popping free followed by the hiss of a zipper.
I reach inside, teeth biting into my shoulder as I palm his hot length.
“Mels,” he warns when I drag my thumbnail over the mushroom cap head leaking precum. “Keep doing that and this will be over before it starts.”
“What happened to that stamina you used to boast about?”
“It’s been over two months since I’ve been inside you. Months, baby.”
He pinches my ass when I snicker. How can I help it when he makes it sound more like two decades? Even when he’s not trying to, he emanates exaggeration.
“Condom,” h
e growls, fumbling inside his jacket.
I slap his hands away, retrieving the thin leather wallet and liberating the foil packet from it. He’s sheathed, hooking my underwear to the side and moving into me quicker than the slap shot that won him hardest shot at the skills comp.
Though we exchanged the ultimate words of love earlier, there is nothing romantic about our coupling. This is raw, quick, down and dirty fucking at its finest. The slow, sweet love will have to happen when we have time and not when people could come knocking at any moment.
His hips pump and mine roll in a back-and-forth dance to orgasm. I cry his name only seconds before he roars mine.
“I love you.” I clutch him to me.
“I love you too, baby.”
God the way those words make me feel has me beaming brighter than any Broadway marquee.
“Though I gotta say, I feel like I cheated on you with the blonde wig and all.” He tugs on one of the curls hanging in my face. I wince, the glue securing it to my scalp pulling my skin, and he curses. “Sorry.”
“It’s okay. Transforming back into myself is sometimes a painful process.”
He slips out, tying off the condom and readjusting his clothes before helping me with mine. His hands linger on my shoulders, toying with the straps he’s just fixed, and we stare at each other dopily.
I still have so many questions about his beef with Nate.
Two quick knocks sound on the door, and it opens before we can respond.
“Surprise.”
Chapter Fifty-Six
The sight of Nate fucking Bishop is like a bucket of cold water to the face.
Really?
Fucking really? Homeboy had to show up now?
Can’t a guy get five minutes to bask in the afterglow of a brain-melting orgasm before being faced with the bane of his existence? Hell, my dick is barely dry after fucking his sister. Yes I’m mentally fist-pumping over that.
I’ve come to terms—sorta—with being the bigger man and leading the charge in us kissing and making up. Well, not literally. The only Bishop I’ll be kissing is the one with her legs currently wrapped around me.
To think, at one point I thought he deserved a hug from me—not fucking likely.
“Teddy!”
It soothes my ruffled feathers that Melody legitimately calls him this and it wasn’t a way for her to hide his true identity from me.
“Care Bear.” The disapproval in his tone has my teeth snapping together. I feel like I should offer him some prune juice, because the scowl he’s sporting makes him look constipated.
“You came.” Mels taps me to move so she can get down. It’s the last thing I want to do, especially with Judgey McJudgerson looking at us like we just made a human sacrifice. The only thing murdered in this room was Melody’s pussy when I took us to Poundtown. My lips quirk imagining the reaction I would get if I offered up that tidbit.
“Of course I did.” Nate pulls Mels into a hug, throwing so much shade in my direction I need a full snowsuit to survive it. “Unless I have a game, you know I always come to opening night.”
“I wasn’t sure since you blew me off in Boston.”
My hands clench into fists at how sad my baby sounds. Yes I know I walked away from her, but he’s her brother. No matter how mad I get at JD—and let’s be honest, that’s bound to happen with how headstrong she is—I will always be there for her. You show up when it counts. It’s what family does.
“I was still processing.”
Mels frowns, and I can tell she’s biting back a retort.
“I thought you two broke up.” His words come out like an accusation.
“We did. We just got back together,” Mels admits.
“Were you not watching us on stage?” I ask sarcastically.
I didn’t think it was possible, but his scowl deepens.
“You’re doing this to fuck with me, aren’t you?” Nate asks me.
“The fuck?”
Is this asshole for real?
“Was this all a game? Hoping hearing about you screwing my sister would mess up my concentration and give you an edge when we play?”
“You can’t be serious. Is that a legit question? Because if it is, you’re completely fucked in the head.” I cross my arms, hoping to keep from throwing a punch.
“What?” He shrugs, feigning innocence. “I wouldn’t put it past someone with your reputation.”
“You’re fucking kidding me, right?” Incredulity bleeds into my words. This fucker. This guy who would taunt me by spewing vile slurs about my twin and the other important women in my life to get under my skin is going to stand here and accuse me of using his sister.
Like hell I’ll stand for this shit. I purposely held back this particular issue I had with the older Bishop, but if he wants to throw stones, I’m going to launch some fucking boulders.
“You don’t want to do this with me, Bishop,” I warn. Like the fuckwad he is, he preens like a motherfucking peacock.
Shit. My temper is definitely flaring with this confrontation, because the amount of F-bombs I’m dropping increases tenfold.
“I’ll do whatever I have to do to keep my baby sister away from a subpar-playing playboy like you.”
With each word spoken, Melody’s eyes narrow fractionally, and if that wasn’t enough to broadcast her displeasure with him, the flaring of her nostrils is.
“Teddy!” Melody rounds on Nate. “What the fuck?”
“It’s fine, baby.” It’s not, but I can suck it up and be the bigger man for my girl. It’s not like I didn’t say worse to her.
“No. It’s not.”
“Insult me all you want.” Asshole, I think, but I keep that part to myself. “The stats speak for themselves. But tell me this: what kind of asshole ignores his sister over her choice of boyfriend?”
Okay, I guess I couldn’t hold back the asshole line like I thought I could. But for reals, when JD told me she knew about Nate being Melody’s brother before the whole Fallon incident, I didn’t stop speaking to her over it. I gave her shit, she raised hell over me not telling her about my feelings of inadequacy, we hugged it out, and we moved on. You don’t hold grudges when it comes to family.
“Care Bear,” Nate cajoles.
“Don’t, Nate.” She places a hand on his arm. “You both love me.” He scoffs at that. “Can’t you put aside your differences for me?”
“It’s because I love you that I can’t allow this to happen.”
Oh, wrong thing to say, buddy.
“Allow? You can’t allow it?”
Discreetly, I knuckle my eardrum. She’s reaching decibels not meant for human ears.
“Mels,” he tries again.
“Nate,” she deadpans.
“I’ll never be okay with this.” He gestures between Mels and me.
Who the fuck does he think he is?
“That’s not up for you to decide, Nathan.”
Does a part of me love how she’s sticking up for herself? For us? Yes.
Do I enjoy seeing her fight with the only family who—until recently—has been there for her? Not even a little bit.
“I’m sorry, Mels.” He sounds anything but. “I love you too much to sit back and let this asshat take advantage of you.”
I’ll show you who’s the asshat, fuckwad.
“What are you saying?” Melody eyes him warily.
“If you want me in your life”—he points an aggressive finger at me—“then he can’t be in it.”
“What?” she sobs, falling back a few paces.
“I can’t support this, and I won’t sit by and watch it blow up.”
Holy shit I wish I were live-streaming this for The Coven. They would tear him apart so bad there wouldn’t be enough left of him to bury—metaphorically speaking, of course.
Two more steps and my baby is at my side, pressing herself against me. My arm automatically wraps around her middle, hugging her in tight.
“I’m serious, Mels.” He watch
es us with disdain.
Another choked sob escapes the woman I love, and it feels like my insides are being sliced open with a skate. Walking away from her was the biggest mistake of my life, yet I’m about to do it for a second time.
I refuse to be the catalyst for my baby to lose the last vestige of family she has, even if it will be like reaching inside my chest and leaving my heart behind in the process.
“Fine.” I bring Mels around to face me, keeping her back to her traitorous brother. Cupping her beautiful face in my hands, I press my thumbs underneath her chin to tilt it up toward me. The tears streaking down her cheeks have me once again fighting the urge to bash Nate’s face in for daring to make her cry.
“Jase.”
“I know, baby.” I do. I really, really do. “I promised myself I would never walk away from you again, but I’m going to have to break that promise.” I reach up to wipe away another tear. “You know how I feel about family. I can’t be the cause of you losing yours.”
The tears fall freely now, and when she starts to weep, I nearly cave. I can’t though.
I may not have known she was talking about Nate when she told me the stories, but there was no missing how much they mean to each other. A broken heart is a small price to pay to ensure she doesn’t lose more than she bargained for.
“I’m sorry.” My body revolts as I bend to her ear so only she can hear me. My next words are for us and only us. “You’ll always be my Sweet Potato.” I press a kiss behind her ear, her nails digging into my sides as she clutches me to her tighter. “I love you.”
With one last kiss to her neck, I straighten and somehow manage to walk out of the room.
Chapter Fifty-Seven
After watching the man I love walk away from me for the second time in as many months, I shift my attention to my brother, not really sure how to process everything.
There was the performance of my life.
One hell of a grand gesture.
Declarations of love.
Sex so hot if I were to text the girls about it, I would use all the fire emojis.
