Page 47

WILLOW

T wo weeks, four days, a get together at the hockey house, and loads of cryptic text messages since we left Puerto Rico, and I find myself driving to the same Crestwood overlook where bored upperclassmen come to drink, fuck, or think about if there are other life forms outside of our universe.

It's the middle of winter, and the trees give off a creepy vibe against the sky that is slowly turning to night.

The lake is frozen solid, the parking lot a patchwork of black ice and snow. Nobody is out here.

And that’s the whole point.

I keep my engine running while I check my phone. No new messages. The silence between us lately is its own kind of communication. When I see headlights in my rearview mirror, coming up the hill behind me, my pulse flips. I already know it's Blaise, but I stare the vehicle down to confirm.

His car pulls up a few spaces away and I watch as his headlights that were cutting through the evening light go dark.

My heart hammers against my ribs as I watch his silhouette through the windshield.

Even from this distance, I can see the tension in his shoulders, the way his hands grip the steering wheel like he's fighting the same internal war I am.

The cold air seeps through my car windows, but my body runs hot because I know what’s coming. The memories of what he did to me in Puerto Rico have haunted me ever since, and I can’t wait for another round. It's been too long. Way too long.

I undo my seatbelt and grab my phone with shaky fingers. I somehow manage to quickly send him a message.

Me: Hi.

The response is immediate. I watch his door open before my phone even shows the message as delivered. He steps out into the frigid air, his breath forming clouds as he walks toward my passenger side.

When he reaches my car, I unlock the doors.

He slides into the passenger seat, and for a moment, we just sit there in silence.

This is the first time we’ve been alone since we hopped back on the plane taking us to Virginia, and it’s as if we don’t know what to say or do.

Blaise pulls off his beanie, and I can’t help but think that his blond hair is about to get even more messy if I have my way.

"Hey," he says quietly, his voice sounds rougher than usual.

"Hey yourself." I do my best to turn in my seat to face him properly, but having a steering wheel in front of me makes that difficult. “Just got done with the call with Leo’s management company.”

“Doesn’t sound like it went that well.”

“Well, it went okay on the surface,” I say.

“His manager was polite. Said all the right things. Promised to escalate it internally.” I pause.

“But it was all bullshit. No follow-up questions. No sense of urgency. It felt like he was just there so he didn’t get fired.

He did promise to reach back out to us with any findings so at least there’s that.

But I’m not sure how much I believe him. ”

I hesitate for a second, then add, “There was another person on the call named Talia from the company as well. She didn’t say much, but I’m not going to lie it felt good to have her there because it seemed like she got it.”

Blaise is quiet for a few seconds, then runs a hand through his hair like he’s trying to find the right words to say.

“That’s good and hopefully the next thing you’ll hear is that he’s getting the boot.

I hate that you even had to make that call,” he adds, glancing over at me.

“You shouldn’t have to be the one chasing accountability. ”

I study him for a moment and can sense the irritation and anger radiating off of him in waves. He’s angry for me. But there’s nothing I can do about the situation right now and I don’t want this to completely ruin this precious time we have together.

“Anyway,” I say, nudging his knee with mine. “How was practice?”

"Rough. Coach is pushing us hard for the next series coming up." He shifts, his knee bumping against the center console, but doesn’t comment on my changing the subject. "Knox mentioned you."

My stomach tightens cause I’m not sure where this is going. "What did he say?"

“Thanked me for looking out for you while in Puerto Rico, which is odd that he just brought it up. Too bad he doesn’t know how well I look after you, huh?”

This is the last thing I expected Blaise to say and I can’t deny that it takes my horniness up another level. I can already see where this is going, which is what I expected, but we should get the small talk out of the way.

"How's the team handling the workload?" I ask, trying to steer us into safer territory, Thankfully, it works.

"Fine. Good. Same as always." His answers come quickly, as if he’s distracted. He's staring out the windshield at the frozen lake now, but I can feel him watching me from the corner of his eye.

"You’re not going to tell me why you picked this spot?" he asks, still avoiding looking at me.

I shrug, then pick imaginary lint from my coat sleeve to give myself something to do. "I like the view. Also the chance of anyone else being up here was pretty small."

"Ah, so you just didn't want anyone to see us," Blaise says. He says it flat, quiet, and it could almost be a joke, but there’s nothing funny about the shape of his mouth.

"Well, it's not like we're subtle when we’re around each other," I say. "Somebody would notice eventually." I keep my eyes on the trees, finger tapping the steering wheel.

That’s what makes Blaise look at me. "That makes sense since I’m sure whenever we’re in the same space, my eyes will always find you. I haven't stopped thinking about you," he says. "I thought it would fade after we got back, that once we were back to our routines it would be…easier."

"Has it been?" I ask, trying to keep my voice neutral when it feels like I’m handling dynamite.

He shakes his head. "No. Not for one second."

I suck in a breath and watch it fog up the driver’s side window. “Not for me either," I admit. There. I finally said it out loud. "If anything, it's worse. Every time I walk past my mirror, I think about you because I remember…"

"Your mirror, huh?" he murmurs, and I can feel the heat in his words.

"Yeah." I rest my forehead on the steering wheel for a second. "This is so fucking stupid, Blaise."

“It is, but what other option do we have right now? You want to face your brother? I have no issue with that, but I know how you feel about it unless you’ve changed your mind.”

I haven't changed my mind about Knox, but sitting here talking about it feels like we're wasting precious time. My hand moves before I can think better of it, reaching across the center console to rest on his knee.

The moment my palm makes contact with his jeans, his entire body goes rigid. I glance down and notice his hands are clenched into fists on his thighs.

"You're gripping your legs like you're about to launch into orbit," I observe, letting my thumb trace a small circle against his knee. "What's that about?"

He lets out a ragged breath as if he has the whole world on his shoulders. "Willow…"

Thank fuck he let me change the conversation topic. "What? I'm just asking a question." I slide my hand higher, just slightly, watching the way his breathing changes. "You're sitting there all tense like you're afraid to move."

"I'm not afraid."

"No? Then what are you doing?" I lean closer, close enough that I can smell his shampoo. "Because from where I'm sitting, it looks like you're trying really hard not to touch me."

His eyes finally meet mine and there's something dark and hungry in them, which is the best way I can describe it. "Maybe I am."

"Why? Are you going to keep pretending this is just a casual conversation, or are you actually going to do something about the fact that we're finally alone?"

Something snaps in his expression. The careful control he's been maintaining since he got in my car fractures, and suddenly his hand is covering mine, pressing it firmly against his thigh.

"You want to know what I'm doing?" His voice is low and rough. "I'm trying not to drag you into the backseat and fuck you until you're screaming my name loud enough for the whole county to hear."

The crude words send heat straight to my pussy. "And what's stopping you?"

"The fact that it's fifteen degrees outside and your car windows will fog up so fast anyone driving by will know exactly what we're doing."

I laugh, surprised by how turned on I am by his restraint rather than frustrated. "And that’s why I picked this place. You’ve been thinking about this a lot, huh?"

"I've thought about nothing else for over two weeks." His thumb strokes across my knuckles. "Every night, every morning, every goddamn time I close my eyes."

The confession makes my confidence surge. I shift in my seat, angling my body toward him more fully. I lean across the center console and brush my lips against his ear. "Then maybe you should stop thinking and start acting."

Before he can respond, I'm already moving. The confined space of my car makes it awkward, but I manage to climb over the console and settle into his lap. Thankfully, we are in my car because there’s no way I would have been able to make it work if he was in the driver’s seat.

The look of shock and desire on his face makes every uncomfortable angle worth it.

"Willow—" he starts, his hands automatically reaching for my hips.

"Nope." I catch his wrists, pressing them back against the seat. "Hands stay right there. On the seat or on your thighs. Don't move them."

His eyes widen slightly. "What?"

"You heard me." I settle more fully into his lap, and his hard cock pressed against my core through our clothes makes us both inhale sharply. "I want to see how long you can behave yourself."

"This is already fucking torture," he says, but his hands stay exactly where I put them.