20. Griffin

W e had an off week last week for games, but I have been itching to get back on the ice. Especially after this last week with Blair. I need something to help me get some energy out.

When I had her legs around me in the kitchen, I was so close to kissing her and never stopping. Part of me is thankful that Chip interrupted because I was ready to show her exactly how she's been making me feel.

It's been so long since I let anyone get close to me, and it's fucking terrifying. What if something happens to her? That thought alone makes me want to curl into a ball. I hate knowing that I'm opening myself up for pain, but I can't resist my feelings for her any longer. I'd be lying to myself if I said that she isn't already completely intertwined with my heart. It's been hers since the day we met.

When I return home after this weekend, I will officially ask her out. I don't want there to be any doubt about my intentions. I want to make her mine, and it's as simple as that.

I also got word that the baseball player, Josh, has been released from the team for accusations of sexual assault and that the survivors are pursuing criminal charges. The school is also reviewing his enrollment and should be expelling him any day now for violating the university's policies.

Apparently, someone put a word in with the dean that these accusations were being brushed under the rug, someone whose word carries a lot of weight due to donations to the campus. Someone like me . It won't solve the root of the problem, but it's a start.

"Hawthorne," Coach calls out, and I look up at him from the bench in our locker room. "Are you with us?"

I shake out my nerves and the lingering thoughts of Blair and focus on the game ahead. "I'm here, Coach."

He nods. "Good," and directs his attention back to the group. "We've got a big weekend ahead of us—doubleheader games against our rival school. I know how hungry you guys are for the win."

"Damn straight!" Finn shouts, and cheers echo around us in response.

"Play your game out there. You guys are the best team when you work together and push each other. Leave everything on the ice, be smart, and you'll have nothing to worry about. Let's get out there, boys." He smacks his hand against the clipboard. "Walt, count us down," he says to one of the assistant coaches.

"Legends on three. One. Two. Three," he roars.

We all answer his call, shouting, "Legends! "

We rush down the hallway and line up outside of the board door onto the ice. One of the Knights staff opens the door, and Finn, our starting goalie, leads us out. The second my skates hit the ice, I inhale deeply, feeling excitement radiate across my body.

I grab a puck as I skate by the pile of them on the ice and glide toward the net, dumping it in as I fly past. The team and I continue to get a few shots in for the next minute before setting up our first drill.

We work through our regular warm-up routines, including passing and shooting drills, before heading back to the locker room.

As we skate toward the tunnel, I scan the crowd. I know she's not here, but I can't resist the urge to search for her anyway. I know I'm only going to be gone for the weekend, but I already miss her.

We beat the Knights last night in overtime, four to three. Tonight's game has the potential of being just as close, which means I'm going to need to be on my best behavior so I don't end up in the penalty box, which will put the other team on a power play.

Last night, number ninety-two laid a dirty fucking hit on Asher, and if the opportunity presents itself, I'm going to repay the favor. But I have to play smart and try not to draw attention from the officials .

Lining up for puck drop, I set up next to the player who laid that hit on Ash.

"Watch your back out there," I warn him, putting my stick down next to his.

"Is that right?" He laughs and drops his shoulder into me slightly as we wait for the puck.

Holding his stare, I emphasize every word. "Yeah. I'm coming for you."

The puck drops, stopping him from saying anything back. Asher wins the drop, dishing the puck back between his legs to Dean. He leads us into our offensive zone and passes it to Malik. Malik moves it over to Dean, who swings back and slaps it with his stick, sending it flying toward the goal.

Their goalie manages to get a stick on it, blocking it and kicking it out to the side. One of the Knights players grabs the puck and hangs back, passing it to his teammate behind the net. They are buying time to change a few of their players out, and we do the same, changing lines to get a new group of guys with fresh legs on the ice.

By the end of the first period, neither team scores nor spends any time in the penalty box. We are neck and neck the entire second period too. Thankfully, number ninety-two hasn't done anything to deserve any special attention from me … yet. His time will come. I meant what I said at the beginning of this game—I'm coming for him. I just have to be picky with when I do it. I don't want to catch him off guard. I want him to look me in the eyes when I bury him in the ice. He should've been thrown out of the game last night for his hit on Asher. He only got a two-minute minor, and the crowd was outraged by the decision. Everyone in the arena, aside from the refs, knew that he should've been thrown out and received a misconduct to keep his ass off the ice for tonight's game. Because now that the officials didn't penalize him fairly, I will have to do it for them.

We are halfway through the third and final period when the tie is broken, and Dean sinks the puck into the back of the net.

Digging my skates into the ice, I barrel toward him with my stick in the air. "Fuck yeah!"

"Fucking sniper out there!" Asher sings his praises as we pile onto Dean.

Our crowd in the audience goes wild, cheering for us. They might be small, but they are mighty.

We skate past our bench, Dean leading the way, and bump gloves with our teammates before changing out for the puck drop at center ice.

With three minutes left in the game, number ninety-two makes the move that seals his fate. As Dean skates past him next to the boards, he rears back and plows his elbow into his face, taking Dean down instantly. Dean drops to the ice, holding on to his face and rocking back and forth.

Taking off, I race across the ice, digging in as hard as I can. Ninety-two turns and looks at me, his eyes widening with fear. He knows what he did; he should have seen this coming. With as much force as possible, I plow into him, sending him flying headfirst straight into the glass. He crumples into a pile as I tower over him. The second he tries to get back up, I use my stick and shove him back down, over and over.

Another Knights' player flies over to me and grabs me, pulling me away from him. He throws a punch, but I don't even entertain him. My focus is still locked straight on ninety-two.

He looks up at me through his now-dented cage, and I see blood pouring down his face from his nose.

"That does not look good, bud. You might want to get that checked out, along with your fucking pride," I chirp at him, grinning from ear to ear.

"I'll fucking kill you!" he growls and takes off after me, but a linesman grabs him and drags him away as he lets loose a slew of curse words.

I laugh at him and point, which only pisses him off more. He says something to the ref before shoving him hard. The ref loses his balance and falls painfully to the ice.

"You're out of here!" the official ref yells at ninety-two and makes the hand motion, signaling his official call.

"Are you fucking kidding me? I barely touched him!" he whines as the ref escorts him to the benches. "This is fucking bullshit!" He continues to shout as he walks down the tunnel to the locker room, where he'll stay for the remainder of the game.

The Knights player releases me, and I head toward the penalty box. There's no doubt that I'll serve time for that hit. But at least ninety-two fucked up more than me. He's likely to be getting an unsportsmanlike conduct call along with a game misconduct, meaning he won't play the next game.

My guess is correct, and ninety-two rakes up the penalty minutes, helping us keep the score one to zero until the buzzer sounds at the end of the third period. I should send a thank-you card to that prick; after all, he did exactly what I wanted him to do.

After the game, the guys and I decide to have a little celebration at our hotel. Some puck bunny one of the guys knows brought beer to our hotel and snuck it in for us. Dean, Asher, Malik, and I grab a case and hang out in the twins' room.

Popping the cap off the bottle, I take a swig of beer and dig my phone out of my pocket.

Checking my notifications, I see a text from Blair.

Blair: Good game, Warden.

My chest flutters now that I know she might have been watching the game or, at the very least, cared enough to check the outcome.

Thank you. How is my little prisoner? Missing me yet?

Blair: Nope. Not one bit. Although I will say your bed is so much more comfortable than mine.

She's in my bed? Without me? Fucking hell.

I wonder if I'll be able to smell her in the sheets when I get back. I adjust my hips as I type my response out.

What do you think you're doing in my bed?

Blair: I'm finding out how incredible your silk sheets feel against my bare skin.

Fuck. She really is flirting with me right now, isn't she?

I take a few chugs of my beer before setting it down and giving my phone my full, undivided attention.

Bare skin, huh? What exactly are you wearing in my bed right now?

Text bubbles appear, disappear, and reappear before her next text comes through.

Blair: Who says I'm wearing anything?

Biting down on my bottom lip, I close my eyes as my cock twitches, and I fight the urge to hop on a plane ride home.

"You good over there, buddy?" Malik asks and raises his beer to me.

Stretching my neck from side to side, I grab my beer and stand up. "Yeah, I'm just a bit tired. I'm going to get some sleep."

Malik smirks at me. "Okay, yeah, sure. You seem so tired right now." He laughs. "Just text me when you're done jerking off."

Mockingly saluting him, I chuckle. "You got it. Good night, boys."

"Night, Griff," Asher says, and Dean joins in, "Good night. "

The second I'm in the hallway, I rush a few feet down to my room and step inside, pressing the Call button on Blair's contact the second I'm alone.

It rings once, twice, three times, and my heart races with nervousness that she won't pick up.

Shit . Maybe I shouldn't have called. Maybe that's too much.

"Hello?" she answers, her voice soft and cautious.

I flop onto my back on the bed and murmur, "Hey."

She stays quiet, so I take the lead and fill the silence.

"Not wearing anything in my bed, huh?"

She inhales and hesitates. "How else am I supposed to feel how luxurious the sheets are?"

"That's a good point. But do you want to know something? Your sheets are the exact same ones as mine," I tell her.

"That's weird because yours are so much better," she says, her tone soft and sensual.

"Is that so?" I mumble.

"Is that why you called? To inform me about the similarities of our bedding?" she challenges me, and I love the confidence she seems to be finding behind the phone.

I do the same. "No. I called because I wanted to hear your voice. Send me a selfie of you right now."

She gasps, "Griffin …" She trails off before hesitantly saying, "I don't send nudes."

"Relax. I don't want you to send that. I want to see what you look like, wrapped up in my bed," I correct her, grabbing my dick through my sweats.

"Hold on," she whispers, and I hear rustling on the phone. "Sent. "

Putting her on speaker, I click on her text and the picture.

" Holy fuck ," I growl, seeing her sexy self in my bed.

She's lying on her stomach, tangled in my golden sheets and comforter, with her messy hair flowing over her shoulders. Her tits are covered from my sheets, spilling over the top of the tightly pressed silk.

Rubbing my hand down my length, I take the phone off speaker and groan. "You are so goddamn perfect, Blair. I wish you were here."

"Yeah?" she asks breathily. "Why's that?"

I love how badly she wants to hear me say it.

"I wish you were here so I could show you how crazy you are driving me. I'm absolutely mad, completely losing my mind, all because of you," I tell her, hearing her sharp inhale from my confession. "I'm tired of lying in my bed every night, knowing you're right across the hall and not by my side. Twenty feet has never felt so far away."

"Griffin …" she whimpers into the phone, and I can see her pretty lips forming my name in my mind.

"You don't think the same? What about when I had you caged in on the kitchen counter? You didn't want me? You haven't imagined what that first kiss will be like a thousand times over? You haven't fantasized about how good I am going to make you feel when you let me touch you and how I am going to worship every single part of you? You haven't pictured me coming into your room at night, sliding under the covers, and making you mine?"

Her breathing is ragged and heavy.

"Because I have. It's all I fucking think about. You're all I think about." I'm practically panting when I finish. It's her turn now. I didn't hold back. I laid everything out there. It's her move if she wants to keep this going or end it.

"Do you remember Thursday night when you came into my room and said I looked flushed?" she murmurs.

I nod, wondering where she's going with this. "Yeah, of course I do."

"It's because I thought you'd heard me," she says. "I had just finished … using my vibrator. I said your name repeatedly before you knocked on the door."

I would give my soul to go back in time and hear that.

"You would've known if I'd heard you, baby. We would've been having this conversation that night instead of now," I tell her, sliding my hand down my pants and gripping my hard shaft.

"I, uhh, wasn't sure it was what you wanted …" She trails off.

"Fuck, Blair. I want you, only you," I admit to her unabashedly.

Her voice is thick and needy as she says, "I want you too."

Digging my head back into the bed, I groan. "I can't wait to see you tomorrow."

She giggles. "Now, I'm nervous."

"Don't be," I assure her. "It's just me."

"Yeah, just the guy who's paying for my school, my dad's treatment, and bills. What if you think I'm a terrible kisser and kick me out?" She chuckles nervously.

"Blair …" Her name rolls over my tongue. "I wouldn't do that to you. Even if you are the worst kisser in the wo rld, I don't fucking care. That just means we'll have to practice even more."

The hotel door opens, and Malik walks through, laughing obnoxiously loudly with Dean. They freeze and stare at me with wide eyes. Apparently, Malik forgot about our little deal. I'm going to kill him.

"Oh God, they haven't been there the whole time, right?" Blair asks desperately.

"No, I promise. They just barged in. And are going to leave." I glare at them as I say it.

"I should let you go. I'll see you tomorrow, Griffin," she says before the call ends.

"I swear to God, I am going to murder you two!" I growl and slam my phone onto the bed.

Malik grimaces, and Dean avoids all eye contact.

"I kind of thought you were joking about the jerking-off thing." He laughs. "My bad."

Clenching my jaw, I roll over and bury my erection in the bed.

"We'll give you some space," Dean says, and I can hear the laughter he's holding back in his voice.

"No point now," I sigh.

I could go into the bathroom and finish. I have that photo she sent me and my imagination. But I've gone this long without coming. I can wait another day if it means my release might be by her own hand … or mouth.