Page 16 of Power Play (Titans Hockey #2)

Chapter thirteen

Lacey

E ver have one of those days where everything goes wrong?

That's today.

We're on the road again doing a western series of away games. We played tonight in Colorado, before we fly to Dallas tomorrow to play the Dallas Stars, and then California to play Los Angeles and San Jose before we can finally fly home.

Somehow during the flight, my shampoo bottle exploded and ruined half of my clothes.

I spent hours trying to wash the shampoo off in the hotel bathroom before Tracey came in, all excited about how she requested we share a room.

The franchise was only too happy to save money, and Tracey's excitedly talking about all the quality time we're going to get together.

We lost in a complete shutout and the mood in the locker room afterwards was barely better than a funeral. Ward gave a short and inspirational speech. We lost fight, but the war is long. We'll get better. We'll come back and kick their ass next time. Keep your head in the game.

And it worked about as well as it could, but my first NHL loss still feels really shitty. I know I'm not physically the one out there on the ice chasing the puck or defending the net, but I really do feel like part of the team, so their loss is my loss.

And then somehow during the game I lost my purse. Because, of fucking course. I left it in the locker room in a corner where I left the rest of my stuff, figuring the boys wouldn't mess with it and the locker room had security so no random people can come in.

I tore through every corner I could find while twenty sweaty and sad men showered and changed around me. Ben asked if he could help, but I simply waved him away.

Mentally, I'm already planning on how I'm going to have to replace everything in it. Including my phone.

So, I'm the last one out of the arena and can't even Uber or call anyone to give me a ride back to my hotel. That's how I found myself walking alone in Denver, after midnight.

The streets felt too quiet, every shadow too long. My breath quickened as I crossed the overpass, my heart racing at the sound of footsteps behind me. I didn’t dare look back, focusing on the glow of the hotel sign ahead.

I had to cross two major highways, and I swear I was being followed at one point but managed to make it to my hotel unscathed. At least it meant less time trapped in a room with Tracey. I could feel myself wearing thin over these past two weeks and I'm not sure how much more I can take.

Hopefully I'd get to the hotel, explain to the desk clerk what happened, get a new key and by the time I got back to my room Tracey would be asleep. Or spending the night in someone else's room.

Exhausted, dirty, and completely defeated, the hotel clerk took pity on me and got me another key card after I confirmed my name, room number, and date of birth.

But did my bad luck stop there?

Of course, it fucking didn't .

I pass the hotel bar on the way to the elevators. I want a long soak in hot water and my bed. I know we have to be up in a few hours for our flight to California, but I just want to feel human again.

Unfortunately, there's a lone figure sitting at the bar, nursing a glass of dark amber liquid.

Jonesy.

God, I really don't want to deal with him right now. I'm still so confused about how I feel about him, and I really don't want him seeing me looking homeless.

But see me he does.

He throws a handful of bills on the bar and follows me to the elevator.

And it looks like he's aiming for a fight.

"What the hell happened to you?" Jonesy asks, wrinkling his nose as if I smell as bad as I look.

"Not now, Jonesy. Please."

"Seriously, is that a leaf in your hair?" He raises his hand to my hair and sure enough, pulls a leaf out of it.

I stare at the elevator display, letting me know it's on the fortieth floor, and slowly making its way down to me.

"Lost my purse. Didn't have cash or my phone to call for an Uber. Had to walk home."

"You look like you slept under a bridge."

"I thought about it." I said ruefully.

We step into the elevator car, but in this confined space, I'm forced to feel the nervous, chaotic energy thrumming off of him in waves. Something's wrong. And there's something predatory in his look. I swallow. I know that look .

It's someone in need of a victim. I wince. I thought we had come to some sort of working arrangement. I was attracted to him, and I thought he was attracted to me, but then he pulled that stunt with Tracey and things at work since the cabin have been... neutral. Or at least I thought they had.

"What's it like being the hot mess twin? Your sister's always so put together."

"Jonesy." I warn. I get needing a punching bag, and 99% of the time I'm calm enough to let whatever insults or backhanded compliments slide off of me.

But he was seeing me at my most vulnerable.

I'm tired, cold, and hungry and just so fucking done with this day.

And he can't even have the decency to just let me walk away.

I'm trapped in this elevator with him. An easy victim.

"What was it like growing up with Tracey? Must be hard playing second fiddle to your literal twin."

I bristle and my shoulders tighten. He's staring at the side of my face, grinning like a shark, but I stare straight ahead. I won't give him the satisfaction.

"I don't have any siblings, so I don't know what that would feel like. Not to be the center of my parents' attention."

I grind my molars and clench my hands into fists. He tracks the movements and his grin widens. He knows he's getting to me.

"Let me guess. You guys had birthday parties, but they were really only for her.

You had to go to all of her games and practices, but never participated in anything yourself.

You sat on the sidelines while your sister took up the spotlight.

" He gives a sardonic chuckle, not knowing just how close to the truth he was .

And like the asshole he is, he went in for the kill. "No offense, but I can see why guys would go for Tracey first. She has the 'it' factor. You have more of a 'friend-zone' factor."

He got it nearly right. Yes, most men flocked to Tracey, but I didn't care about that.

I cared about the men she tried, and some she succeeded in stealing from me.

Whether it was the culmination of the shittiest day of my life, Jonesy acting like a righteous asshole, or the fact that I wanted to stop him talking before he got closer to the actual truth, I lose my shit.

Angry, embarrassed energy surges through me and leaves my arms hot and tingly.

I spin on him, grabbing two handfuls of his shirt and using his surprise to shove him hard against the wall of the elevator. I punch the emergency stop button and the elevator lights dim, a red warning light appearing.

"I don't know where the fuck you get off," I growl, chest heaving in angry, sawing breaths.

"But you don't know shit about me, or my family.

You're not a bad guy, Jonesy, but you're acting like an absolute fucking douche, and I don't have to put up with it.

So shut the fuck up or I'll kick you in the balls so hard you can't keep talking. "

I hate how easily he can get under my skin, hate how his words echo the doubts I’ve fought to bury. But more than that, I hate how much I want to prove him wrong.

He's taller than me, so I'm glaring up at him. But in an instant, his grin turns from predatory to satisfied. I frown, confused.

That is, until I feel his hands on my hips, holding my lower half against him. That's when I realize. He isn't doing this to hurt me. He wants a reaction out of me, a fire. He wants to see me come alive.

The anger melts into confusion .

I'm about to ask him what the hell he was thinking when he curses lowly. "Fuck, Lace."

He grips my face in his hands and presses his lips to mine in a hungry, desperate kiss. I'm stunned. But still kind of pissed at him. I don't give a shit what game he's playing to get me to crack, he still said some hurtful things and I haven't forgiven him.

Our teeth clash as I kiss him back. Both of us seem angry, out of control. A wildfire about to burn us both.

I shove my hand down his pants roughly, not caring if I hurt him. "Is this what I have to do to shut you up?" I growl against his lips. He's hard in my hand and I squeeze him mercilessly. I'm aware I'm wet and wanting, but I'm more angry than anything. I want to punish him the way he punished me.

His hand snakes up my shirt, and he palms my breasts roughly before pinching my nipple painfully. Unfortunately for him, I fucking love it.

But I don't give him the satisfaction of a moan.

I undo and pull off his belt, throwing it to the side before unzipping his pants and tugging them down just enough I can free his cock.

I stroke it once, roughly, before gripping his balls hard in my hand.

I could hurt them, I could twist them, I could fucking bring him to his knees.

And while I want to punish him, I'm not that heartless.

"Are you wet for me?" He groans against my neck.

"Fuck off." I spit back, still full of rage.

He chuckles and shakes his head before biting me, hard, on the shoulder.

"I fucking hate you," I reply, knowing deep down it's a lie. I hate the way he's treated me. And I hate the conflicting feelings I have about him. But I don't hate him. He's shown me enough to know there's a good guy lurking under all this ‘fuck you’ asshole persona.

"No, you don't," he replies.

Blind with angry lust, I lift my leg and wrap it around his hip.

I never understood hate fucking until now.

The line between love and hate is thin, or so they say.

Right now, the line between punching him and fucking his brains out is thin.

But an orgasm promises to at least help me forget about this awful day.

He spins us, pinning my back against the wall, the hand bar digging painfully into my ass.

He pulls a condom from his back pocket, because of course he has one there.

He covers himself and tugs down my scrubs - which fucking hurts because they're tied at the waist - before thrusting himself home.

I'd like to think he didn't give me a chance to think about it, but that's a lie.

I didn't want to think about it. I didn't want to think about the pros and cons.

I didn't want to think about whether I should or shouldn't fuck Jonesy in an elevator.

I didn't want to think at all. It takes several seconds to put on a condom and pull down my scrubs and shove my panties aside. If I didn't say no, that's on me.

The only thing I know is that I trust him. He may act like an asshole, but he isn't one. And I do trust him with my body.

Because when he enters me, all the anger, all the noise, all the shittiness of the day, just evaporates.

I'm not Lacey Bennet, the new physical therapist for the Titans.

I'm not Lacey, Tracey's less impressive twin.

I'm not Lacey, my parents' biggest disappointment.

I'm nothing at all but blinding pleasure .

He closes his eyes and grunts as he thrusts into me at a punishing pace. I meet him thrust for thrust, though, digging my nails into his shoulders, fucking myself on his cock just as much as he's fucking me.

I expected this. Namely, faceless fucking. I'm nothing better than any of the many bunnies he's been with. I just so happened to walk by at two AM while he was alone and drinking.

But I don't fucking care. I'm using him as much as he's using me.

Until he comes.

When he comes, he opens his eyes and holds my face in his hands, whispering my name.

A sob and a tear threaten to break free, but my own orgasm is still rolling through me, so I focus on that. I don't want to think about what it means. Jonesy and I had hot, angry elevator sex. And we're done.

He pulls out and tucks himself in, still wearing the condom, while I fix my scrub pants.

I hit the emergency button again, and a second later, we're on my floor.

Talk about fucking awkward. Do I thank him? Tell him to fuck off?

"That will never happen again," I grumble. Yeah, my brain's still drunk on lust.

I expect him to be offended, or hurt, or fucking something, I don't know. But when I peek at him out of the corner of my eye, I see only confidence. "Whatever you say, doll."

I roll my eyes, annoyed.

But I leave the elevator car, find my room, scan my card and sneak in. The room is dark. Tracey seems to be asleep on her bed, but she's not snoring - something I know for sure she does when she's actually asleep .

I take a quick shower to wash off the day, the sex, and get myself in bed as quickly as possible.

But when I open the bathroom door, and the light from the bathroom spills across the bedroom, it illuminates something tucked under Tracey's nightstand.

My fucking purse.