Page 16

Chapter sixteen

~ROWAN~

The guys are already at it when I walk into the weight room, tossing jabs like we’re not about to bust our asses on the ice in twenty minutes. Ares is on the floor, stretching along with Langley and Noah. Damien, on the other hand, is pacing like he’s wound up and ready to knock someone’s teeth in.

“Morning, sunshine,” Damien says, grinning as I drop my bag.

“Morning,” I grunt, rolling my neck. I grab a mat and toss it next to his before dropping into a stretch. It’s the most boring part of practice but necessary if I don’t want to pull every muscle in my body.

Damien drops to stretch beside me.

“So, did you?” He smirks, leaning closer.

“Did I what?” I stretch my arms over my head, keeping my voice casual.

“Come on, man.” Damien nudges my knee. “You gonna make me spell it out? Did. You. Sleep. With. Her?”

I roll my shoulders, keeping my face blank.

I woke up this morning with her curled into me, her cheek pressed against my chest like I belonged there. Like she wanted me there next to her. Then I stayed and watched her sleep, naked and completely wrecked from everything I did to her.

She doesn’t even know what she did to me .

For the first time ever, I didn’t feel like getting the hell out of someone’s bed the second my eyes opened.

And that scared the shit out of me.

So, yeah, I ordered her breakfast to her house before I left. Big fucking deal.

Only…I know it is.

“Maybe,” I murmur. We usually don’t shy away from spilling all the details, but Livia’s not a puck bunny. She’s not a one-night stand. She trusted me with something huge, and I’m not about to let anyone have the damn visuals.

“Maybe?” Damien barks out a laugh, loud enough to echo off the walls. “Oh, get the hell out of here. You slept with her.”

I glance at Ares, who’s still stretching like he’s not hearing every goddamn word. His calm gaze meets mine, steady as always, and I can’t tell if he’s judging me or just waiting for me to explode.

“You’re awfully interested in my personal life, Damien,” I say, my tone clipped.

“Yeah, best friends usually are . ” He leans back on his elbows, grinning. “Come on, man, spill. What was it like?”

“Watch it.” My jaw tightens.

“I mean, how was it for you? I don’t mean it like that ,” he says, raising his hands. He scoffs, shaking his head. “I just wanna know how our plan’s coming along.”

“Let him breathe,” Ares finally says, his voice calm but firm as he strides toward us to grab his water from next to Damien. “The plan’s already changed anyway.”

Fuck. Of course, he knows. Ares can see what’s happening in someone’s head from miles away. His ability to read people is just as impressive as it is fucking terrifying.

“Plan’s still in motion,” I say, but it feels hollow, even as I say it.

“Right,” Ares says, but there’s something in his tone that pisses me off.

I grit my teeth, focusing on the stretch, but my mind is already back in her bed. The way she fit against me, soft and warm and everything I didn’t know I needed. The way she looked at me, like I was something good, someone she could trust. I want to show her that she wasn’t wrong. I want to prove to her that I can be someone she can count on. That I’m worth all the risks.

The rink smells like it always does—fresh ice, faintly metallic, like blood waiting to spill. The air is cold enough to sting, but I like it that way. It keeps me sharp, focused. I need that right now.

Damien slams into the boards during a drill, cursing loud enough to make Coach blow the whistle.

“Maybe don’t throw your whole damn body at the wall, Colton!” Coach shouts, shaking his head. “Save it for game day!”

Damien skates off, grinning like an idiot, his breath misting in the cold air.

I dig my blades into the ice and fire off the line. The puck snaps against my stick, and I weave through the cones like it’s second nature. This is where I’m in control. Not on some mat in a weight room, not in a studio with lights on me and reporters asking me questions, not in ballrooms. I belong here.

I wind up for a shot, the puck flying past the rookie goalie and slamming into the back of the net with a satisfying clang .

Damien skates up beside me, clapping me on the shoulder. “Nice shot, Cap. Too bad you can’t use that energy to lighten the hell up.”

“Get off my ass, Damien,” I mutter, skating away.

But he’s right. I’m on edge, and I know exactly why.

I glance up at the stands out of habit, expecting to see her there, watching me like she has been. But the seats are empty, just rows of cold metal staring back at me.

She’s not here.

I tell myself it doesn’t matter, that I don’t need her here. But the irritation boils under my skin. I can’t shake the feeling of wanting her there. Needing her eyes on me, even if she’s pretending not to notice how often I catch her staring.

Where are you, baby?

The next drill is full contact, and I’m ready for it. Ares lines up across from me; his expression is calm, but his pale eyes are always filled with murder. That’s what makes him such an intimidating opponent: the fact that he’ll absolutely bulldoze someone and do it while looking like he’s taking a walk.

“Ready?” he asks, gripping his stick like it’s an extension of his body.

“Always.”

The whistle blows, and we’re off, charging toward the puck like our lives depend on it. Ares is fast, too fast, but I know how my best friend moves too well. I angle my body just right, slamming into him before he can reach the puck. The impact reverberates through my body, and for a second, all I feel is the burn in my muscles and the sheer force of Ares’ hard body.

He recovers quickly, shoving me back with a grunt.

“You’re playing angry,” he says, his voice low.

“Maybe.” I grin, shoving him right back.

“Be careful with that.”

I don’t respond, focusing on the puck as it skids across the ice.

The rest of practice is a blur of sweat, ice, and adrenaline. I push myself harder than usual, my lungs burning and my muscles screaming by the time Coach finally calls it.

“Good work today,” he says, though his tone suggests he’s not entirely convinced.

Damien slings an arm around my shoulders as we head toward the locker room, his grin annoyingly smug.

“Feel better now, Cap? Or do I need to find you another fight?”

“Why? You wanna volunteer?”

He laughs, shoving me lightly before ducking into the locker room.

But as I strip off my gear and step into the shower, the tension in my chest doesn’t fade. It lingers, sharp and unrelenting, and I know exactly why.

She wasn’t there.

And for some reason, that pisses me off more than anything else.

The team’s stretching room is quiet, save for the soft hum of the air conditioning and the occasional creak of a floorboard. I wouldn’t have even come in here if the guys hadn’t told me someone had left their stuff behind.

It’s almost unnerving how loud my footsteps sound when I walk in.

Well, well.

Livia is on the far side of the room, her back to me. She’s bent forward in some stretch, arms reaching, long hair spilling over her shoulder. She’s dressed in skintight leggings again, paired with a workout top that rides up just enough to show a sliver of her waist when she moves.

I stop dead in my tracks, just watching her.

Her movements are slow, but there’s a stiffness in the way she shifts positions, like her body’s fighting her. Like she’s sore.

And then I notice the way she winces when she moves.

A smug, satisfied heat pools in my chest. Pride. Possessiveness. I did that to her. I made her ache in ways she’s never felt before—only me.

Satisfaction doesn’t begin to cover what I’m feeling, seeing what my cock did to her.

She stands, her back still turned, and reaches her arms overhead in another stretch. That’s when I notice another tiny wince.

My lips twitch into a smirk, and I step further into the room, closing the door behind me.

She startles, spinning to face me, and for a second, her wide eyes lock with mine.

“Rowan,” she says, her voice breathless, like she doesn’t know whether to run or stay.

“I’ve been looking for you,” I say, leaning against the door.

The admission feels strange on my tongue, but I’m past the point of pretending I can think straight without her.

“I’m on my lunch break.” She crosses her arms over her chest, shifting her weight. “Thought I’d get some yoga in.”

“How are you holding up?” I push off the door, closing the distance between us with a few slow steps.

“Holding up?” Her brows knit together, but I don’t miss the way her eyes drop to my workout shorts. I bite back a smile.

Missing it already, hellcat?

I let my gaze drop, too, dragging it over her body, savoring every inch. When I meet her eyes again, I make sure she sees the glint of amusement in mine.

Her cheeks flush instantly, and she looks away, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear.

“I’m okay,” she says a little too quickly. “Thank you for ordering breakfast,” she adds, trying to distract me from the fact that I just caught her staring at my dick. “You didn’t have to.”

I chuckle low in my throat, but the truth is, I want to make her stop being so damn uncomfortable around me. Flushed? Sure. Wet? Fuck, yes. Uncomfortable? Never.

I tilt my head, studying her. “I wanted to make sure you’re well-fed, not just well-fucked.”

Her lips part, and for a second, she looks like she doesn’t know whether to slap me or run.

“Careful,” she warns, that delicious defiance returning to her eyes.

“Can you feel me every time you move?” I take another step closer, her scent already reaching me. Fuck me, she smells so good.

She sucks in a sharp breath, her fists tightening at her sides. “I don’t—”

“Don’t what?” I cut her off, my tone softer now. “You think I don’t feel it, too?” I close the space between us, my voice dropping. “I can still feel you wrapped around me, Livia. I can still hear you moaning. I won’t pretend that it doesn’t mean everything to me.”

Her wide and glazed eyes flick to mine, and I can see the struggle playing out in her mind.

“Rowan, this isn’t the place to…” she falters with a small wince as she shifts on her feet. Oh, my girl is thoroughly fucked.

“Show me where it hurts.” I step even closer, brushing my hand over her hip, the heat of her body searing through the thin fabric. “So, I can take care of it.”

She swallows hard, her breath coming in shallow bursts now.

When she doesn’t answer, I slip my fingers to her waist, just holding her there, my touch firm but not demanding.

“Let me help you stretch,” I murmur, my lips so close to her ear that she shivers.

“I’m doing just fine,” she argues, looking up at me through long lashes.

“You’re doing it all wrong.”

Her brows knit together in confusion, and before she can argue further, I guide her into position. My hands move to her hips, tilting her body gently but deliberately. I keep my grip steady, my thumbs brushing over the curve of her waist.

“Let yourself sink into it. Don’t fight it.”

Her breathing hitches, and I catch the way her lips part as she tries to focus, to keep it together. But I’m not going to make it easy for her.

“That’s it,” I praise her, my fingers pressing just a little harder. “Now, hold it.”

I feel the slightest tremble run through her body.

“It burns,” she whispers, her voice shaky.

“I know, baby.” I lean in closer, my lips brushing against the curve of her neck.

She’s trembling under my hands now. I can feel every small, involuntary shiver that ripples through her body. She’s trying to hide it, trying to keep her breathing steady, but I’m too damn close not to notice.

“You’re still holding tension,” I murmur, my lips so close to her ear that I know she feels the heat of my breath. “Let it go.”

I keep my touch as gentle as possible, guiding her but not pushing. I want her to trust me, to let me in, just like she did last night.

She lets out a shaky exhale, her body stiffening for half a second before she tries to do as I say. But she’s overthinking it, fighting herself instead of sinking into me.

I lean in even closer, the line of my body brushing against hers. My hands slide down her hips, deliberately slow, settling on her thighs. I’ve been in this game long enough to be able to locate problem areas as if they’re colored in red paint.

“You’re tight right here.” My thumbs press into the soft muscles on the outside of her legs, massaging in slow circles.

She exhales slowly, and I feel the slightest sway of her body as she tries to steady herself.

“Does that feel good?” I murmur, keeping my touch steady.

She makes a small sound, somewhere between a sigh and a whimper, the sound making my balls tighten.

“Just like that,” I say, my voice dipping lower, darker. “Let me take care of you.”

Her head tilts slightly like she’s fighting the pull of my words, but she doesn’t move away. She doesn’t tell me to stop.

I press my thumbs in deeper, my hands gliding just a little higher up her thighs.

“Last night,” I say, keeping my tone casual even as my grip tightens slightly, “you didn’t have a problem with my hands on you.”

Her breath comes in faster now, her chest rising and falling in short, uneven bursts. Her lips are parted, her cheeks flushed, and her eyes hazy. She looks wrecked already, and I’ve barely even touched her.

I smile, sliding my hands up an inch higher. My thumbs brush the edge of her leggings, teasing the soft skin just above.

Her whole body stiffens, but she doesn’t move away. Instead, she lets out a breathless, almost frustrated sound and turns her head, refusing to look at me.

Oh, this is too good.

“You’re doing so good,” I continue to encourage her, my hands squeezing her thighs lightly. “You just have to relax and let me in.” I pause, letting the weight of those words hang in the air. “Just like last night. You took every inch of me like the good girl you are.”

Her head snaps back to me, her eyes blazing. I slide my hands higher, just barely skimming the curve of her hips.

“You’re still feeling me, aren’t you?” I murmur, my voice dropping to a near-growl. “Every time you move, every stretch you try to make.”

Her eyes flutter closed for a second, and I feel her knees shake. I wrap an arm around her waist, pushing her lower.

“Rowan,” she breathes, her voice trembling, “this isn’t—”

“A good idea?” I cut her off again, my hand sliding back down to her thighs, holding her steady. “Probably not.”

She doesn’t move away, doesn’t tell me to stop. Her chest is rising and falling like she’s been sprinting, and that flush is spreading down her neck, disappearing under the neckline of her tight workout top. My hands tighten on her thighs, and I let myself lean in closer, enough that the heat of her body seeps into mine.

“But you don’t want me to stop, do you?” I ask, my voice low and rough, my lips brushing the shell of her ear.

She’s trembling now, and when I slide one hand a little higher over the curve of her ass, her breath hitches hard.

“Rowan,” she finally manages, her voice breaking over my name. It’s not a protest; it’s a plea.

“What is it, baby?” I murmur, letting my lips graze her temple. “You can tell me. Do you want me to stop? Or do you want me to keep touching you?”

Her hand flies up to grip my wrist, but instead of pushing me away, she just holds on, her fingers digging into my skin.

“Keep touching me,” she whispers, so quiet I almost don’t hear it.

That’s all I needed.

“Hellcat,” I breathe, my voice thick with approval as I let my hand move from her hip to her stomach, just below the hem of her sports bra. Her skin is soft and warm under my palm, and I can feel her muscles tense as I trail my fingers lower, dipping just under the waistband of her leggings.

“Are you sore?” I ask, my voice dark and teasing. “Do you need me to rub it for you?” My fingers hover just above where I know she wants them, not giving her what she needs, not yet.

She makes a soft, frustrated sound, her grip on my wrist tightening.

Needy little thing.

Using my other hand, I spin her around so I can see every inch of her beautiful face. She’s panting, looking up at me with anticipation, her hand still trying to wrap around my wrist.

“Answer me, baby,” I command, my thumb brushing just below her belly button. “I’ll stop teasing if you’re honest with me. Are you still feeling me? Feeling the way we fit so good together?”

Her cheeks flush even deeper, and she bites her lip hard enough that I’m tempted to lean in and pull it free with my teeth.

“Yes,” she finally says, her voice shaking. “I feel you everywhere.”

I groan low in my throat, the sound vibrating in the space between us. My hand dips lower, my fingers brushing against the edge of her leggings.

She whimpers at that, her hips shifting slightly, almost unconsciously, as if she’s chasing my touch.

“Look at you,” I say as I slide my hand lower until I’m cupping her completely, the heat of her pussy searing through the thin fabric. “You’ve been aching for me, haven’t you? Thinking about how good we are?”

“God, yes.” Her head falls back against my chest, her breathing uneven and ragged as I start rubbing her through the fabric of her leggings.

“That’s my good girl,” I continue, pressing my thumb gently against her right where I know she needs it most. I rub slow, deliberate circles, making her gasp. “My cock has been missing you, too.”

Her hips jerk slightly. “Rowan, someone might—”

“Let them,” I interrupt, my voice dark and commanding as I press harder against her. “Let them see how good I make you feel.”

Her moan is muffled as I capture her lips, my kiss rough and demanding, my free hand tangling in her hair to hold her in place. She melts into me, her body going pliant, and when I finally pull back, her lips are swollen and red, her eyes glassy with want. And my dick is an inch away from poking a hole through my workout shorts.

Just as I lean in, about to steal another kiss, we hear shuffling outside the door, footsteps, and muffled voices echoing in the quiet stretching room. Panic flashes across Livia’s face, and before I can pull her back to me, she scrambles away from my reach.

“Rowan, we can’t,” she murmurs, her cheeks flushed a deep shade of crimson. She tugs at her hair, trying to regain some semblance of composure. “Not in here.”

“Wait.” I move towards her, but she steps back, putting distance between us. I can see the way she bites her lip, her eyes darting to the door, and I know she’s torn.

But I also see something else: the way she shifts, her body still trembling from what we just started.

“Are you really that eager to get away from me?” I tease, crossing my arms over my chest.

She takes a deep breath, and I can see the conflicting emotions swirling in her eyes.

“Rowan, listen to me,” she says, her voice regaining that strength. “People are going to start coming in. So, keep your hands and your dick to yourself unless you want to get us both in trouble.”

God, I love it when she gets like this.

But I know how she feels. That ache, that heat lingering between her legs, the ghost of my touch on her skin.

I suck my bottom lip between my teeth, my mouth stretching into a smirk as I watch her dart out the door.

I let out a small grunt, and my instincts kick in. I’ve never needed to have someone this bad. I’ve never craved someone like I crave her. And after getting a taste, I need more. Much more.

My heart races, but it’s not just adrenaline; it’s a primal urge to chase after her, to have her again. Until my name is the only coherent thought she can form in that pretty head of hers.

My hellcat can run…but she can’t hide.