Page 129 of Penalty Shot

“Cassie!” A deep voice carries from beyond the apartment door. Three thumps on the door follow. “It’s Lance. Open up.”

I stand and walk towards the sound, hardly believing the gall of this asshole, showing up here and demanding to be let in.

“Go away, Lance.” I look into my peephole to find his chest wrapped in a perfectly tailored button-down. He came straight from the club. Everything about him is polished perfection from the neck down. His face, however, is contorted in worry.

“No,” he bellows, eyes glowering into the peephole like he knows I’m right there. “Open up and let me in, Cassie,” he urges more gently.

“You’ll wake the neighbors, be quiet!” I say by the door.

“Sadie’s the one who let me in. Open up.”

I’m going to kill Sadie. She’s been teasing me about Lance since she met him. It was her bright idea to send him a picture of the gang, promising Gordon it would get Lance running to the club in no time. She was right in all the wrong ways.

The last thing I needed tonight was Lance reminding me I’m not desirable as a woman. That I’m not even a woman! I’m a kid?!Mentallya kid?! What the hell does that even mean? I know I’ve lived a privileged life, butshelteredandinnocentaren’t accurate, not when I’ve been supporting myself and my business for years.

I wasn’t going to sleep with Sergei. Still, it felt good to be wanted. Not that any of it matters. After what he heard, I’m sure he deleted my number the same time I deleted his.

“I swear, Cassie, I’m going to break this door. I’ll buy you another one tomorrow. But this door is opening, you hear me?”

“Fuck you, Lance.”

He’s quiet. I know he’s still there. His presence is a magnetic field that affects me whether or not there’s a door between us. I hear voices. No need to check to know it’s the sound of Sadie’s betrayal.

The lock turns before Lance bursts in.

“What the hell, Sadie!” I scream as she ducks into her apartment. I cannot believe she just handed him her key to my place. She’s never getting it back, the traitor.

“Don’t be mad at her,” he says, closing the door behind him.

“Why? Because you said so? Because you know everything about me, you jerk?!” I ignore the tingling behind my eyes and stomp towards him, ready to open the door and throw him out.

I’m so discombobulated, I stumble when reaching for the doorknob. In a beat, his arms wrap around me. Lance hugs me so tightly, I’m lifted. He buries his face deep in my hair, his words muffled.

“I didn’t mean it, Little Cassie. I didn’t mean it at all. Please believe me. I’m sorry I said what I said, but I didn’t mean it.” Anguish makes him sound shaky in a way I’ve never heard before.

“Let me down.” I push weakly, even if it’s the last thing I want. I’m enveloped in Lance’s warmth, his breath against my ear and his arms the perfect cocoon. He smells amazing, with the hint of manly sweat under sandalwood spice. I don’t want our embrace to end.

Still, my pride won’t let me forget. “I said let me down.”

He gently restores my feet to the ground. Instead of backing away, his hands cradle my chin to tilt it up. Lance’s brown eyes are nearly black, those perfectly shaped lips slightly open as if he’s as breathless as I am.

“That’s not what I think about your business and your talent and your dreams. The fact that you’re launching something you’re passionate about—that’s remarkable. I said it because those guys, they don’t deserve to know you that way, OK? They hook up with a different woman every other night.”

“What do you care if they hook up with me? I’m not a woman, is that it? Here’s a newsflash, Lance Harper Jefferson,” I state, full of bravado. I straighten my back and wiggle out of his hold.

Gripping my hips like a daytime television diva, I exclaim, “I am a grown woman who can make my own decisions. Which meansIcan sleep with a different hockey player every other night if I want to.”

“That’s enough, Cassie.” His voice has lowered to a feral-sounding growl. It riles me up more.

“Sergei treats me like a woman,” I say more intently. “I like it, you know. Feeling how much a man wants me.”

He looks tortured and furious. “I saidenough.”

“That’s not what Sergei said.”

I can’t believe what’s coming out of my mouth. I’ve sobered up since the club, yet the night continues its surreal quality, turning me into someone whowantsconflict. Craves it. I’m desperate to discard the lingering hurt of being treated like a child.

“Shut up, Cassie,” he growls. “You don’t want a guy like Sergei.”