Page 34 of No Shot (The Toronto Tundra #2)

Penn

By the time we got off the plane and I made it back to my apartment, it was nearly two in the morning. It ’ s par for the course, though, I ’ ve grown used to it. NHL travel days are usually long, drawn out, and only survivable by resting when you can.

Except I was too worked up after seeing Bri getting ready for a date to nap before the game.

Adrenaline and irritation carried me through the three periods until I could crash on the flight home, but as soon as I took my seat, every time I closed my eyes, I pictured that Clark guy with his hands all over my girl.

The horror of facing my incredibly detailed imagination overrode any need for sleep. When I tiptoed into my place, it was dark, the lights of the city shining in through the windows. I didn ’ t unpack. Instead, I dropped my bag down in my dimly lit bedroom.

The night-lights on either side of my bed feel homey, and seeing them offered a flicker of peace in my otherwise unnerved body.

I grabbed my blanket off my bed, draped it around my tired frame, and dropped onto the couch.

I stayed in the dark all night, thinking maybe if I dulled one sense, the others would rise up—let me hear something, anything from next door.

Except, I haven ’ t heard a single sound.

No faint chatter or hushed laughter—nothing.

I ’ m not sure if I feel comforted by that or disturbed.

The thought of her, three hundred feet away, separated by nothing but a single wall, sleeping peacefully in her bed, is nice.

But the thought of someone else in that bed with her, their arms around her, makes me sick.

I sit quietly, watching out my window as the sun rises inch by inch over the horizon. Once it ’ s hovering at the skyline, the sky still spattered with pink, I get up, marching out of my apartment on my mission.

What that mission is? I ’ m not sure.

See if my competition is on the other side of this door?

Come face to face with the reality that she ’ s too good for me and doesn ’ t want me?

Chase some guy out of here by intimidating him with my giant dick?

Who knows, but I ’ m about to find out.

So, I raise my fist, knocking on the door, and wait. When she finally answers, she ’ s in a black tank top with frills on the top and matching pajama pants. She looks stunning, don ’ t get me wrong, but it ’ s not an overly sexual ensemble. That ’ s gotta be a good sign, right?

She stands in the doorway, her eyes slightly wide, fresh-faced with not a stitch of makeup on. A flicker of surprise passes over her, and suddenly, I ’ ve forgotten my very reason for coming over here.

“ Penn.”

Why did she have to say my name like that? Breathy, a mix of confusion and relief, like she ’ s been waiting— hoping —for me to storm over here. Like she ’ s as desperate for me as I am for her right now. My cock stirs to life as I walk through the door, past her.

I glance around the room, eyes sharp, taking in every detail. Her place is neat as usual, no clothes strewn on the floor, no sign of some wild makeout session, and most importantly, nothing but a pair of black heels at the door.

I grin, remembering exactly why I came over here.

“ He didn ’ t sleep over.” I turn to face her, noticing her arms already crossed like she ’ s ready to spar.

She narrows her eyes at me. “ Who ’ s to say he hasn ’ t already left?”

It ’ s a defense mechanism for my girl. Bite back, it ’ s safer for her that way.

“ If you were trying to make me jealous, let me tell you, it worked.” I take a step closer to her, seeing the way she flusters as I close the distance.

“ I wasn ’ t. We ’ re frie—”

“ I swear to God, Soup, if you say friends, I ’ m going to lose my damn mind.”

“ We ’ re not friends?” she asks, her head subconsciously tilting up toward me.

My hand rises to cup one side of her face.

We move slowly, neither of us rushing, though the moment grows heavier with each passing second.

Her pulse races beneath my fingers, a soft thrum that matches the rising heat between us.

Her eyes flicker down to my mouth as her tongue glides over her lips.

The air feels thick, charged, as if we ’ re teetering on the edge of something—a line we both know we ’ re about to cross.

“ Fuck being friends.”

My lips snap to hers, not wasting a second more. She opens her mouth on a pleased moan, and I take control, my tongue swirling with hers to taste more of her.

I ’ m addicted. Her scent, how she feels, how she fucking tastes— everything.

Her fists grab hold of my t-shirt, trying to pull my body closer.

I smile against her lips, heart racing at the relief of having her in my arms again.

My hands slide down the curve of her body, landing on her ass that I greedily grab a handful of.

I lift her around my waist, grinding her against my painfully hard cock.

We pull apart, both breathless, blinking at each other. Neither of us expected this—that much I ’ m sure—but we ’ re perfectly, infuriatingly, and unavoidably imperfect together. She has to see that. I ’ ll make sure of it.

I start walking us up the stairs to her loft as she clings to my neck, her pebbled nipples poking through the thin fabric of her top.

Once on the top step, I drop her to the bed, crawling over her body.

My fingers trace the delicate line of her collarbone as she shivers beneath me.

I drop one strap off her shoulder, then the other, pulling her top down.

Leaning forward, I hover overtop of her tits, moving my gaze to meet hers.

“ Did you let him kiss you?” I know the answer, but I want to hear her say it.

She takes her time, moving her head from left to right.

“ No.” Her voice is faint, like she ’ s struggling to focus on our conversation right now.

The level of relief that crashes through my system at that simple word is difficult to describe.

I eagerly suck one nipple into my mouth, relishing the sound of her whimpered response as my cock throbs in my sweats.

My tongue swirls before I pop her nipple out of my mouth and tilt my head up to her again.

“ Why not?” I inquire, with a wicked smirk. Her brain is processing, or at least trying to, but I don ’ t need her to respond. Instead, I move to her other nipple, trailing my teeth over it, pinching the other between my fingers as she writhes.

“ Because you were thinking about me?” I ask, looking up at her once more.

She sucks in a breath, hand lacing into my hair, guiding my mouth back to her body.

“ Wishing it was me next to you?” I cover her stomach in kisses, sucking hard enough to leave a few marks that I ’ ll admire later. Her breath hitches.

“ Because you knew you were mine to play with?” I drag her pajama pants down her legs, revealing her bare pussy to me. Fuck, it ’ s insane I ’ m the lucky one that gets to do this.

“ Mine to tease?” My fingers trail over where she wants me most.

“ Wanting it to be me making you this wet?” I dip a finger in to feel how much she ’ s dripping with need.

She nods her head frantically, eyes closing. “ Y-yes.” Damn right.

“ Fucking soaked,” I remark, dying to taste her.

I pull my finger out, bringing it to my mouth with a groan.

When I return, I slowly ease two fingers into her, lazily pumping them in and out.

Her eyes close again, hands coming up to pull on her nipples as her hips move in sync with my fingers.

There ’ s a vibration coming from her bedside table, and I stop, trying to identify the interruption culprit.

My hand starts to draw back, but she grabs onto my forearm. “ No, Penn. I need you.” Fuck. I spear her again with my fingers, watching her face contort into one of pleasure, and I grip her chin, bringing her gaze to mine.

“ Say it again, Bridgette.”

There ’ s no hesitation this time, as she says, “ I need you.”

Now my eyes close shut, wondering if I ’ ve maybe just been imagining this, but when her pussy clenches down on my fingers, I know I ’ m just that fucking lucky.

“ Who ’ s calling?” I ask, returning to my stroking.

Bri looks confused, eyes moving between where my hands are pumping in and out of her and her phone. “ I-I don ’ t know.”

“ Check.”

She huffs, but obliges, tilting the screen toward her. “ Clark.”

That ’ s what I thought. “ Answer it.”

“ W-what? No.”

I start to withdraw my fingers. “ Answer it or I stop.”

“ I—I.”

“ Do it, Bridgette.”

She grabs the phone, swiping accept at what I ’ m guessing was the last ring. She brings the phone to her ear, lightly clearing her throat. “ Hello?” Damn, I don ’ t usually get that innocent voice. Possessiveness surges through me.

“ I—um.” She tries to take a steadying breath, but it comes out shaky. “ Had a great time too, but I just—” I move my fingers faster inside her.

That ’ s it, tell him how you feel.

“ Think it feels more like—” She swirls her hips, moving so that my fingers hit deeper. “ A-a friendship to me.” The words fly out, like she ’ s rushing to get him off the phone. Damn right it ’ s a friendship.

I reward her by taking a slow swipe of her swollen clit while my fingers continue to work. “ Oh fuck,” she mumbles behind the hand that she ’ s thrown over her mouth. She ’ s squirming, and I love it.

The tip of my tongue swirls over the sensitive spot, and she is officially panting. Fuck, this is the hottest thing I ’ ve ever seen.

“ I ’ m glad you feel the sa-same way.”

Ha, loser ’ s pretending he just wanted to be friends too? She ’ s miles out of his league and saving face at this point.

“ Hang up the phone,” I whisper to her. She looks at me, our eyes catching, and then watches as I continue my work.

“Uh-huh.” She moves faster under my control. “ Y-yep, totally. Um—” One hand rises to her face like she can ’ t believe what ’ s happening, but her eyes stay locked on me. She ’ s close. She loves this. My dirty girl.