Page 90 of Call the Shots (For The Arena #1)

BEAR

HOT FUDGE SUNDAE PROMISES

Peeling an orange, I relaxed on one of the fancy, stiff chairs in the living room, watching June with her new weapon of choice—a fire poker.

She leveraged it like a baseball bat and, really, the TV had it coming.

It was big and expensive and so fragile.

It just made sense. With a scream, she smashed the fire poker into it.

“Good job, baby.” I popped an orange slice in my mouth. “Use your elbows.”

“Warren!” Shawna screeched. “Do something!”

I shrugged. “I can take your kid to the police and this is all over?—”

“You’re not taking my son anywhere!”

“That’s enough, Bear,” my dad interrupted. “We agree! Xavier won’t go near her. Tell her to stop!”

“Oh, you don’t get this dynamic.” I nodded towards June, spectacularly throwing a heavy jar at a window. “She calls the shots, I’m just here if she needs me.”

“Someone has to grab her!” Xavier insisted.

I shrugged. “Try to get close to her—go ahead—see what happens.”

“Warren, stop her! ” Shawna shouted.

“Nobody’s stopping her,” I remarked. “Nobody’s touching her.”

“What do you want me to do?” my dad snapped at his wife, ignoring me. “ Your son got himself into this?—”

“My son?!” She sucked in breaths. “She—she can’t do this?—”

“Call the police,” I suggested and smiled when she glared.

“You know, from my angle, it looks like both Xavier and June are destroying the house.” I glanced at the small table next to me.

That was a pretty lamp. I hefted it in my hand and tossed it to the entry, breaking it into a hundred pieces. “Xavier, why would you do that?”

“I’m not dealing with this. I’m going to bed,” my dad muttered. He stopped by me, eyes narrowed. “I better not see you when I wake up.”

I ate another orange slice. “I already packed my stuff.”

June must’ve reached the kitchen, I could hear the sound of crystal, plates, anything breakable was breaking. A smile tugged up on my face and I finished my half of the orange while June demolished the house.

“ Motherfucker! ” she belted, and something cracked in the other room. “MOTHERFUCKER, MOTHERFUCKER! ”

“That’s right, baby,” I threw over my shoulder. “Let me know when you’re done!”

However long it took—I didn’t know, I was having a great time—June emerged from the back of the house, dirty, covered in dust, her shirt drenched in sweat, her blonde hair halfway out of her ponytail, breathing hard. I had our stuff ready by the door and offered her the rest of the orange.

“Thank you,” she mumbled, following me to her car. I called Nick and he was en route to pick up mine, so we’d take hers. I dug her keys out of her bag and slipped into the driver’s seat. “I love you.”

June ate the orange, shaking. “I’m sorry.”

“I know, baby. Is this the worst of it?”

“What do you mean?”

“This is like, the worst, right? You’re not a habitual cheater or whatever?”

She shook her head.

“Yeah, I can live with this.” I shrugged. “I mean, I broke into your laptop, jerked off on your bed, and I’m the reason your best friend bled out a quart of blood. This evens us out a little.”

“I’m so wired,” she confessed. “I don’t know how I’m going to sleep.”

“How about burgers?”

“I’d love a burger,” she whimpered.

“French fries or onion rings?”

“Onion rings.”

“That’s my girl.”

I typed up directions to a twenty-four-hour, greasy burger shop. The neon sign flickered ‘open’ and the guy behind the cash register looked annoyed that we were even there. It was perfect. At an outside table, June devoured her burger between shoving onion rings in her mouth.

“I love you,” I murmured. She gave me a tired smile and I held up my hot fudge sundae cup. She clinked hers with mine and I grinned. “This is the kind of love you can’t pass up.”

None of the bullshit mattered because if my girlfriend making fun of me in the past was the worst of it—that didn’t matter. I wasn’t missing out on this.

“You’re moving in with me,” I told her. “That’s non-negotiable.”

“Mm-hmm.” She nodded, squeezing out more ketchup packets for her onion rings. “And moving to Boston together?”

“Uh-huh.” I pointed at myself with my sundae. “Hockey.” I gestured towards her. “Law school.”

“What are you doing after hockey?”

“I don’t know. Not in the peripheral at the moment.”

“You could make video games. You’d be great at it.”

Damn, she knew how to get me. My grin widened. “Kids?”

“Mm-hmm.”

“Big house?”

“Not too big,” she said, taking another huge bite of her burger. “But big garden. Swing sets and slides and stuff.”

“Nice.”

“I want to own my own practice by thirty-five,” June said.

“I want to be a hockey captain.”

“I want to take you to my dad’s losing-election party.”

“I want to show you where my mom’s gravestone is.”

We clinked our sundaes again, more promises between each other, and I wrapped an arm around her waist, nudging her closer. We had a drive back to Marrs left and then, sleeping together, like we were supposed to.

She sighed. “I love you.”

“I’m fucking crazy for you, killer,” I admitted, kissing her hair.

When we finally made it back to Roman Villa, all was quiet and peaceful, the perfect night. June was so tired, she could barely keep her eyes open. She heaved a sigh. “I can’t dirty the sheets like this.”

“I can wash them in the morning?—”

“I need a shower.”

“You sure?”

June fumbled with the inner hook of her slacks and I took over, unclasping the metal pieces when she touched my hand. Our eyes met and I gazed into those wide green eyes, sparkling sea glass.

Contradicting feelings hit me, warming me from the inside out.

I knew what her touch meant, and I definitely reciprocated; I wanted to put my dick inside her, but there was something else.

It was a tingling feeling at the ends of my fingertips.

There was this overwhelming need to protect her and take care of her, especially after tonight, which didn’t mean sex.

I wanted to hold her close and listen to her breathing even as she fell asleep. That need outweighed everything else.

“You’re exhausted, baby,” I whispered, gently tugging off her shirt.

“Wear me out,” she whispered back.

My cock stirred but I shook my head, tossing away the last of her dirty clothes until she stood naked in front of me. “We can do whatever tomorrow, you need to crash.”

“I—I need—” She struggled with her words and held out her hand, flat in the air. “I need us at an equilibrium.”

“Equil—what?”

“Like, I need us on this mental road together, on the—” June paused, frustrated, and spoke faster. “Like you and I on the same?—”

“The same wavelength?”

“Yes.” She blinked at me, surprised. “That’s it.”

“Like with sex?” I nodded quickly. “Like, we’re both doing the same thing and it zeroes out the rest of the unimportant stuff until it’s just us. Nothing else.”

“You get it,” she breathed out.

Excitement gripped me because I knew exactly what she was talking about, but I was never able to put it to words or explain it before. “It’s like a secret handshake?—”

“It’s like a secret language.”

“Yeah, that’s fucking it!” My smile faltered when I thought about how easy it was for her to understand. “Sex has…always been like that for you?”

“Sex with you is exactly like that.”

“With me?”

“With you,” she promised, her voice soft.

I took her chin between my fingers and crashed my lips to hers, kissing her insistently, backing her up to the sink. I tore off my clothes while June panted against me, locking her arms around my neck until I carried her to the shower.

Sex wasn’t an addition to the night or an extra thought with her. It was the pieces falling into place, our own secret language.

My hands were on her and I nipped and bit my way down, sinking my teeth into her hip, drawing out her moans and sharp curses under her breath. There were hidden messages sealed with each kiss. When we finished together, everything was how it was supposed to be.

I took my time washing her hair and drying her off before I had her naked in my bed with a bottle of her lotion.

I ran my hands over her, gently biting her so she wouldn’t fully wake up.

We’d spent so many nights like this. She called it my routine, and maybe she was right, because I couldn’t imagine any other way I wanted to go to sleep.

“Goodnight, baby,” she murmured, wrapping her arms around my neck when I came close.

I pulled the blankets over us and buried my face in the crook of her neck where the smell of her lotion, her conditioner, and June , relaxed the tension I didn’t realize I was holding on to. I smiled, moving closer. “Goodnight, love.”