Page 2 of Breakout (Walker University #3)

one

SOPHOMORE YEAR OF COLLEGE

I ’m standing outside of what Walker University dubs the hockey house. It’s the house where the captain and his three chosen players live each year.

It happens to be where my best friend Grace lives with her boyfriend Clay.

That’s not why I’m here, though. I’m here to see him.

Beckett Hayes.

He’s my guilty pleasure. The man I know I shouldn’t be seeing, but yet at three a.m., I show up at his place.

He never turns me away. He always answers the door.

It’s a sick cycle we are stuck in. Mean to each other when the others are around, but so very nice to one another when we are alone, and the clothes come off.

I guess it’s a friends-with-benefits arrangement even if we don’t feel much like friends. We argue more than we don’t. Yet he’s a friend of sorts. We share the same friend group after all.

Pulling my phone out, I shoot him a text.

It’s one of two texts I send him most nights.

Me

You up?

He always responds as if he were waiting.

Beckett

On my way down.

It’s our routine. One we are comfortable in.

Moments later, the door opens, revealing a shirtless Beckett with his basketball shorts hanging low on his hips.

Women salivate over this man. I don’t blame them. I swear his abs have abs. That’s how fit he is. It doesn’t hurt that he has wavy light brown hair, so light it is almost like it is sun-kissed. It gives him this boyish charm that adds to his appeal.

That’s not what draws me to him, though. There’s something about the way he always pushes me. He never holds back what he wants to say. At first, it annoyed me, but the more I got to know him, the more I found that part of him alluring.

It’s messed up, and I know it.

It doesn’t stop me, though.

I take his hand as he holds it out for me. Pulling me inside, he closes the door quietly behind me before locking it.

I lead the way up the stairs, not waiting for him to finish locking the door. Neither of us dares to speak. What we have going on is fragile. We agreed that no one can ever know about it.

As soon as we cross the threshold to his room and the door clicks shut, it’s as if a switch is flicked.

He pulls me into his body, kissing me deeply as his hands cup my ass. My own hands find their way into his hair, pulling on it hard enough to make him growl. In retaliation, he bites my lip, the sting feeling amazing.

“Too many clothes,” he says against my lips.

I step back from him, taking my shirt off. He doesn’t hesitate, reaching forward to take my bra off. As if we have done it a million times, we undress me, then him, until we are both standing naked.

Then we are on the bed, his fingers inside of me as he lavishes my breasts with kisses and nips.

He knows how to play my body. Each touch is purposeful. He wants to bring me pleasure. It’s always this way with him. He refuses to even consider his own pleasure until I’ve had at least one orgasm.

It’s another reason why I keep coming back. The man is selfless in the bedroom. It’s all about me and how he is making my body feel.

He will make some girl a lucky wife one day.

The thought gives me a pang of hurt when I realize that someone else will get this man and all his glory. She will spend the rest of her life being worshipped by him.

It won’t be me, though.

It can’t be. I’m not good enough for a man like him. I’m his fling from college he remembers fondly on occasion.

It hurts, but it’s the truth. For me, he will always be the one who got away.

“Hey, where did you go?” he whispers against my skin.

He always can tell when my mind gets the best of me.

“I’m here,” I whisper back.

He looks up at me before he continues his ministrations. Kissing his way down my stomach, he continues to finger me as he makes his way to my clit. When he sucks it between his teeth as he presses up with his fingers, I come hard. All thoughts flee my head as I swear I can see stars.

There’s the rip of a condom being opened, then I feel him press into me. He’s so big and makes me feel so full.

It’s when he is on top of me that I don’t feel so alone in this world. When he is close, I feel like everything is going to be all right.

Pushing on his chest, he takes my hint as he flips me so that I’m on top. Digging my nails into his chest, I ride him. He grips my hips tightly as I do, keeping me steady as I give myself over to the pleasure. He hisses when my nails leave marks on him, drawing a little blood.

He doesn’t stop, though. Neither do I.

I’d never admit it to him, but seeing my marks on his chest gives me a sense of ownership over him. Everyone who sees it will know what it came from, even if they don’t know it’s me specifically. It turns me on like nothing else.

Reaching my peak, I start to scream out, but he leans up, pushing my face into his shoulder. My teeth sink into his skin as my body shivers with my release.

He grunts as he continues to thrust up inside of me until his cock jerks, causing aftershocks in me. We sit like that for several long moments, Beckett pressing kisses to my skin.

Once I recover, I pull myself off of him. Getting off the bed, I find my clothes and begin to redress.

“You should stay the night. I don’t like you driving this late at night,” Beckett tells me.

“Those aren’t the rules,” I tell him. “I’m going back to my dorm.”

The rules. The stupid rules I put in place, but they are there to protect my heart.

#1—No messing around with other people.

#2—No telling anyone.

#3—No staying over.

#4—No public displays of affection.

#5—If any feelings develop, it ends.

It’s supposed to keep things simple, and it does. Still, it hurts leaving him every time, knowing that he’s taken another little piece of me.

“See you tomorrow?” he asks.

“Maybe,” I tell him before I slip out of his room.

He’s my addiction. My dirty little secret.

Soon enough he will have so many pieces of me, there will be nothing left when he’s gone.

Where will that leave me?

I’m on my way to class when I see her.

Peyton Anderson.

Her long blonde hair shines in the sun as she walks with Grace.

I love the way it splays out underneath her as I stare into her beautiful hazel eyes before making them roll into the back of her head.

She is fucking gorgeous. Her body is perfect for me, curves in all the right places.

The fact that she is a good five inches shorter than me makes me feel like she’s fun-sized.

Perfect for me to pick up and carry around.

She is perfect for me.

She occupies every single part of my mind, and she doesn’t even know it. I can’t tell her because she is skittish as fuck. She would run in a heartbeat.

I’ve never chased a woman the way I do Peyton. She’s worth it, though. I only wish she could see how good we could be together.

Sure, she knows I can rock her world as I do it nearly every night. She draws the line there, though. Outside of the bedroom, I am firmly in the friend zone, and I hate it.

Right now, I want nothing more than to run up to her and take her in my arms as I kiss her. That’s against the rules though.

Stupid fucking rules.

I’m playing the long game with Peyton. I knew the moment I met her, she was special. The more I got to know her, the more I realized she’s the one.

Now I just need to convince her of it.

I’m a patient man. I’ll wear her down little by little until she has no choice but to fall madly in love with me. Until then, I’ll keep up the facade.

Going up to her as she walks with Grace, I wrap Grace in a hug from behind.

“Ah, you scared me.” Grace laughs as she hugs my arms.

“Sorry, little sis. Come on, Peyton. You know you want one too,” I tell her as I open my arms and move toward her.

She pushes my chest, making the scratches from last night burn a little. I love it. Love the reminder that she loves to brand me as hers. I don’t think she realizes she is doing it, but I’ll never stop her.

“You are a Neanderthal. Don’t come any closer. I don’t want your cooties.”

I smirk at her, giving her a knowing look. She blushes but looks away.

“I swear you two bicker like an old married couple. When’s the wedding again?” Grace jokes.

“Oh, come on, PeyPey can’t handle all of this.” I rub my hand down my chest as I sling an arm over Grace’s shoulder.

I hate playing these games, but it’s the only way I can keep everyone from seeing the truth.

I’m hopelessly in love with Peyton. Have been for a while.

“Oh yeah. The cocky attitude is way too much for me to handle. I’m not sure he’d even know I was in the same room as him with the size of his ego,” Peyton throws back.

The dig hurts, but I laugh it off.

“My ego isn’t the only thing big, baby. Want to feel for yourself?” I ask, cupping myself with my free hand.

“Okay, gross. I am right here.” Grace pushes me off of her.

I laugh, trailing behind them.

When my phone rings, I pull it out, cringing when I see my father’s name on the screen.

“You two have fun in class. I need to take this,” I tell them.

A brief look passes Peyton’s face before she puts her mask back in place. “Probably his next booty call.”

“Oh, I hear them sometimes. He picks the loud ones,” Grace says, as they walk away from me.

I withhold a smirk at the slight panic on Peyton’s face. Serves her right.

Quickly, I answer the phone before it rings over to voicemail.

“Father.”

“I need you to come to the office today. We have to discuss your future with the company.”

It’s always the same with him. He doesn’t even care that I’m likely to be a first-round draft pick in the PHL. All he cares about is his precious company.

As if I actually want to go into stock trading. Sure, it has made him millions, but it’s dull as hell. I don’t give a fuck about earning other people money while taking my cut off the top. All I want to do is play the game I love.

Not that he would ever hear it.

“I have class right now,” I remind him.

It’s the only thing he lets me have. He agreed to let me play hockey, but I’d need to take business courses.

It’s not what I want, but I do what I have to.

With his income, there was no way I would qualify for financial aid, so it is either him paying my tuition, or I don’t go to college and, by extension, no hockey.

Could I get a scholarship? Maybe, but then I would be taking it away from someone else.

Little does he know, I’ve already got my exit plan in place. I just need to hope that everything goes the way I need it to.

“I’m well aware of your schedule, Beckett. I get updates on your progress weekly. After your class, you will come here.”

I wince. “I have practice.”

“Skip it. You will be here at four p.m. sharp. Do you understand me?”

I don’t need him to spell out his threat. He pays my tuition by the semester. With this being the last one, he can’t threaten that, but he can cut me off, which would put the guys in a bad place if I can’t pay for my share of the expenses.

Only a little longer.

“Yes, sir. I will be there.”

I hate it. I hate him.

He hangs up without a response.

I squeeze my phone as anger courses through me. I take a deep breath and breathe it out slowly. He had me where he wanted me. Fully dependent on him. At least, he thinks he does.

Truth is I plan to go professional. It might not be a long-term solution, but it’s one that will make me happy.

Shooting a text to Coach, I let him know I won’t be at practice due to family reasons.

I don’t need to say anymore. He’s met my father. They had an argument about my place on the team when I started. Coach hates Father. Father hates Coach. For that reason, Coach won’t argue with me. He feels pity for me for having to deal with the man.

So I’m off the hook.

At least for now.

It will all be over soon enough.

It’s the only peace of mind I have over the entire thing.