Chapter 24

twenty-four

MADDOX

"You ready to head home?" Isla's friend Jess asks her as the night winds down. Guests say their goodbyes and claim their winnings. I'm not ready for the night to end. I'm not ready to let Isla go.

The azure-eyed vixen chews her bottom lip, eyes darting my way before swinging back to her friend. She hums as she shrugs. "Yeah, I guess if you guys are."

She doesn't want to go any more than I want her to. Running my knuckle down her arm, I suck in a deep breath before speaking. "I can bring you home. If you want."

Sapphire irises catch on me and linger. The attention sends zings of desire through my body. Images of those eyes looking up at me through heavy lids as I move inside her, my body braced over hers and caging her in, play in riotous technicolor in my mind.

Logan in those crusty boxer briefs he wore throughout the postseason last year without washing them. Griffin eating a freeze-dried tarantula on a dare. Bash putting a raw egg in Clamato juice after a night of heavy drinking. Thinking the un-sexiest thoughts possible, I keep my dick from straining to break free from my suit pants.

Luckily, Isla isn't privy to my scandalous thoughts, and after a moment of consideration and a couple of questioning looks at her friends, she nods. Her pretty red lips curve into a shy smile. "I'd like that. Thanks."

"They're both blushing," Griffin stage-whispers to Sebastian, who shakes his head at our friend. "Isn't that the cutest fucking thing you've ever seen?"

"Okay," Bash says, grabbing Griffin's elbow. "You've had a lot to drink tonight. Let's get you home."

Griffin nods, but then his eyes grow wide. "Wait! Has anyone seen Quinoa?"

Isla's friends share a confused look. Welcome to the club, ladies.

"I didn't get her number. She promised bendy sex," Griffin whines.

Bash rolls his eyes and pats our inebriated teammate on the shoulder. "Sorry, man. I don't see her anywhere. I'll take you to the circus the next time it comes to town. I'm sure you could find a bendy carnie to screw."

Isla tries to stifle a giggle, which has Sebastian giving her a friendly wink. When Griffin's face lights up like a kid on Christmas morning, she can no longer muffle the sound. And when he loudly says, "I actually have banged a carnie. She had a really well-groomed beard. It kinda tickled my balls when she gave me head," she loses it. We all lose it.

"Come on, bud. You can tell me all about it on the way home," Bash says. The tone of his voice is slow and patient, like a kindergarten teacher who has to humor twenty overly excited kids all day.

Isla and her friends laugh and hug as they say goodnight. Logan waves from across the room where he's chatting up a leggy brunette. And then I guide Isla to my car with a hand on her lower back. I parked it in the garage reserved exclusively for the players, and when we zip out onto the street and see the gaggle of photographers and reporters still camped out by the main entrance, I pat myself on the back for my foresight. Isla told me about the reporter asking her to comment on our relationship status. She didn't need to say how uncomfortable that made her. It was clear in the stiffness of her posture and the way she worried at her lip as she recounted the moment.

I'll have to do my best to shield her from that kind of attention once we start dating. Because we will date. Hopefully, she grows more comfortable with it as time goes on, but I suspect I'll need to be patient with her. I know nothing about her relationship with her ex, but I can tell he messed with her head. Hell, just seeing his best friend sent her into a panic.

"Did you have fun?" Lights play over Isla's pale skin as we drive, illuminating her face in washes of reds, greens, and diffused golden white. She's a work of art, and my right hand reaches out and laces our fingers together. Her high cheekbones round when a smile overtakes her face. She doesn't drop my hand.

"More than I thought I would. That kind of event isn't usually my scene." There's something in the way she says those words that has my ears twitching. She's not letting that douche from the bar get in her head, is she? My mind shouts to find out why her voice dipped and her volume dropped, but I don't. Now's not the time to push her. So I grin and agree with her.

"Mine either. I'd rather be somewhere quiet with a few people I like than surrounded by so many strangers."

Humming low in her throat, Isla gives me her full attention. "Is it weird that everyone knows your name even though you've never met them?"

"Yeah," I admit. "You get used to it after a while, but the more intrusive stuff—like fans thinking they know you and asking personal questions while you're grocery shopping in sweats and sunglasses and just trying to be anonymous—you can't really get used to that."

"I can only imagine." She squeezes my fingers. I feel it all the way to my chest. "I was uncomfortable being recognized by that reporter and that was just one person. And they'll probably forget all about me tomorrow. I'm sure it gets old." Her tone is soft, like she's embarrassed to admit her discomfort, and my chest inflates with protectiveness.

"I'm sorry that happened. I'll make sure no one finds out about our hot air balloon date." I want it to be perfect. That means no nosey reporters.

Isla shifts in her seat and turns those doe-eyes on me. "You were serious about that?"

"Of course I was. I want to take you out on a real date, and what's better than a magical hot air balloon ride?" My thumb traces along her hand. The pretty pink flush of her cheeks makes my cock ache when I steal a glance. But it's not just my dick that responds to her. It's all of me.

When was the last time I felt this way about a woman?

Things with Isla may never work out the way I'd like them to, but I already know she wouldn't sell some bullshit story to the tabloids if it all ended. She's not that type of person. I'm confident about that. My thumb traces along her soft hand. "Are you free Friday night?"

"I don't have much of a life these days," she responds, making a face. "So yeah, pretty sure I'm free." Her shoulders stiffen as her nose scrunches up and her eyes close. "Can we pretend I didn't say that? That sounded sad."

It's impossible to keep the corners of my lips from twitching, but I shrug and keep my eyes on the road. "Say what? All I heard was you're available to go out with me on Friday night."

That earns me a soft laugh. "It must have been hard for you."

I wait for her to finish speaking, but she trails off and I steal a glance at her. "What must have been hard?"

"Pretending to be such an asshole the night we met." She angles her body to face me. "Because you're just a big, slightly grumpy softie, aren't you?"

Her description has me chuckling. I don't know how big of a softie I truly am, and it was easier than I'd like to admit being a jerk that night because I'd been assuming the worst about her, but god, I love that she's giving me the benefit of the doubt. And not because she wants something from me, but because that's just who she is. She's kind and funny and good. Too good for me. Not that it'll stop me from pursuing her. I'm not that good.

"Grumpy, yes. Softie? I'm not so sure about that."

"You've come to my rescue a few times now," she says quietly. "Maybe some people don't take the time to see it, but it's pretty obvious you're a good guy."

My throat tightens at the earnestness in her voice, and my heart thumps away in my chest. "What if I just want you to think that?"

She huffs out a soft laugh. "No, you wanted me to think you were a selfish jerk."

Fair enough. I had. Not anymore, though. Now I want her to see me for who I truly am, and that's a terrifying thought. The only people who fully see me are my mom, sister, and the guys. Back before I started playing professional hockey, I never worried about letting someone see the real me. No more than anyone else worries, at any rate. But that changed as soon as I signed that contract with all those zeros.

Maybe it's na?ve, but I don't think Isla gives a damn about my money.

She watches me with a smirk, her hand still in mine.

"And you don't think I'm a selfish jerk?"

She hums and wiggles her head from side to side. "Mmm, you could still prove me wrong, but no. I don't think that's who you are."

"Thanks for giving me a second chance."

"Oh, I wouldn't have," she says with a devious twinkle in her eyes. "But then you almost made what's-his-name at the bar pee himself, and I decided you'd earned it."

My laughter fills the car as we pull into her apartment building lot. Isla shifts in her seat, her gaze pinging between her apartment and me. She's nervous. "Can I walk you to your door?"

That pretty pink stains her cheeks again. "Sure."

I park in an open visitor spot and reluctantly release her hand. I'm around the car and opening her door before she can do it herself, and her blush deepens. Offering her my hand, I help her step out of the SUV, making sure she keeps her balance in her heels. Our fingers intertwine as we make our way to the building entrance. Her hand is so small and warm in mine. Delicate. It makes the caveman part of my brain want to protect her from everything and everyone that might hurt her. It's the part of me that lights up when an opposing team's agitator starts chirping at one of my teammates and gets in their head. The part of me that slams any threat into the boards with forceful precision and zero hesitation.

We walk up to the third floor in silence. Warmth fills me as Isla presses close to my side, her head resting on my shoulder. "Tired?"

She blinks slowly a couple of times and nods. "Yeah. I guess I am."

"Come on then, Short-Stack." I tug at her hand and lead her toward her apartment as she huffs in annoyance at the nickname.

"I'm not that short."

"Compared to me, you are. You're so cute and little." That earns me an elbow to my side, and I laugh. I love riling her up.

"Laugh it up, you giant ogre," she mumbles while fishing her keys out of her purse.

"I am giant." I smirk as her eyes widen. This time, her blush goes all the way down to her pale chest. Before she can put her key in the lock, I press her back against the door. One hand goes to her hip, the other tangles in her long red hair at the base of her skull. Isla's breathing picks up as I invade her space, my head dropping so my lips hover over hers. It's a struggle not to push my hips into her as her nipples harden through her dress and brush against my chest with every heaving breath. "See?" I murmur. "So damned cute, and little enough to cover with my body."

Isla's eyes are wide and her lips part with jagged breaths. I bet if I skimmed my fingers up the inside of her creamy thighs and pressed them beneath the fabric of her panties, I'd find her dripping for me. But I won't do that. Not yet. Instead, I lower my lips so they hover millimeters away from hers. Holding her gaze, I silently ask for permission to kiss her. But Isla's the one to bridge the gap between us.

Her mouth is heaven. Soft, full lips move against mine in a sensual dance. When I sweep my tongue along the seam of her mouth, she opens for me with a gasp. She tastes like cherries and champagne, and she's soft everywhere she presses against me. I groan when her breasts rub against my chest, deepening our kiss.

It's intoxicating. The taste of her. The feel of her. My dick is painfully hard, and when I lose myself in the sensation of kissing this gorgeous woman, I forget my efforts to keep from grinding into her. She gasps again as my erection presses against her lower belly and her hips roll.

Holy hell.

A quiet whimper passes from her open mouth to mine and I fist her hair harder, tugging on it just enough to angle her head the way I want to deepen the kiss. This kiss that I never want to end.

Delicate fingers play nimbly over my chest and arms as my own grip her hip. It's torture, being touched by her like this. Because all I want is to demand she open the door and let me in so I can rip her clothes off, spread her out on her bed, and feast on her pussy until she's writhing with so much pleasure she can barely whimper my name .

I loosen my grip on her hip and slow our kiss. I can't screw this up because I'm thinking with my smaller head. I want more than one night of great sex with this woman.

She chases my lips as I pull away, resting my forehead against hers. Our chests brush together as we both suck in great gulps of air. At least I'm not the only one deeply affected, if her grip on my jacket is anything to go by.

The hallway is silent except for our heavy breathing as we stare at one another. She's so beautiful. Flushed cheeks, wide, glassy blue eyes, and lips swollen from our fevered kisses. It's a sight I want to enjoy again and again. And hopefully, I will. If I play my cards right with her.

Straightening, I press a lingering kiss on her forehead and brush my knuckles across her cheek. "Goodnight, beautiful. Call you tomorrow?"

She nods, looking slightly dazed. "Okay. Night, Maddox. Thanks for bringing me home."

I grin, leaning down to steal one last quick kiss before stepping away and tucking my hands in my pants pockets to keep myself from reaching out for her again. "Sweet dreams, Short-Stack."

Her lips twitch. "Sweet dreams, Ogre."

ISLA

Oh. My. God. That kiss.

Sagging against the inside of my apartment door, I run my fingers over my tingling lips. No one has ever kissed me the way Maddox Graves just did. I felt it down to my toes. My whole body still vibrates with shock and arousal .

In a daze, I pad into my bedroom, peel the dress from my body, kick off my heels, and flop down onto my bed with a deep, dreamy sigh in nothing but my black lace bra and matching panties. Phantom echoes of his touch light up my skin, and I groan. Despite the flirting we've been doing over text this past week, I never expected the night to end this way. With Maddox's mouth claiming mine as though it was always meant to be his.

In all the years I spent with Alex, thinking we were destined for each other and believing there was no one else out there for me, I have never been kissed so thoroughly that I lost my wits. I totally get what they mean in romance novels when they talk about being claimed by a man when he kisses the heroine. And oh. My. God. I want more.

My phone buzzes in my purse, and I practically leap off the bed to grab it. What if it's Maddox? Maybe he's still in the parking lot, obsessing about that kiss the same way I am and he wants to come up? Would I say yes? Could I say no? My body sure as hell doesn't want the night to end.

But it's not Maddox's name that flashes across the screen, it's Jess's.

Jess

Are you home? And alone?

Grinning, I reply that I am, and my phone rings almost instantly. I answer, putting it on speakerphone, and both of my best friends pepper me with rapid-fire questions.

"Guys," I nearly shout. "Chill and I'll tell you everything."

And I do. Everything except for the way my heart gets all squishy when I think about Maddox. Everything except for the way I can't stop wondering if meeting him was fate or destiny or some other epic thing that wouldn't normally happen to an English teacher from Minneapolis. They'd never let that go, and I'm not entirely sure I'm ready to let myself go there. Not yet. I was too quick to go all-in with Alex and I won't make that mistake again. I don't want to fall for someone who doesn't actually love me for who I am.

Oh my god. Why am I even thinking about this?

"So, is he a good kisser?" Nev demands.

Now that I will talk about. "You guys have no idea."