Page 7

CHAPTER 7

Jordyn

S neaking through the patio doors, I listen for the shouting that shook the house before I went for a run. When Josh came home, Tristan flew into a rage, screaming about betrayal, puck bunnies, and being set up. Josh laughed until Tristan grabbed him by the neck and slammed him against the wall.

Although my stepbrother annoys the shit out of me, he’s the reason I’m not homeless right now, so I intervened, putting my hand on Tristan’s arm. Then I gently rubbed his back, my voice calm as I tried to soothe the rage that turned his eyes a deep shade of green. I must admit, when he first turned his head toward me, eyes blazing and baring his teeth, my panties became wet. Dropping my gaze to my feet, I kept talking until he released Josh.

Once I was sure he wasn’t going to kill my stepbrother, I fled the room like I was being chased by a ghost and grabbed my running shoes. I needed to calm the hell down before I did something stupid because the image of Tristan’s big cock was making me hot and bothered.

Although I hated to admit it, I was jealous of Janelle .

My gaze went to the trashcan that contained the used condom Tristan dropped earlier. It’s a reminder of what he is—a player.

Slipping inside, I tiptoe through the house and up the stairs. I breathe a sigh of relief when I reach my doorway. Until Tristan’s door flies open, and there he stands, shirtless, wearing only those damn gray sweatpants.

My eyes immediately drop to the outline of his cock. For the first time, I want to throw caution to the wind and do something foolish. Like drop to my knees and suck his cock.

Horrified by my thoughts, my eyes snap up when his woodsy scent infiltrates my nose. He’s so damn close that I could easily reach out and touch the bulge in his pants.

Dear God, what is wrong with me?

“Sorry if I scared you earlier.” His deep, raspy voice is like an intoxicating blend of alcohol and seduction, making me drunk and stupid. I want to do really bad things right now, like roll on the bed with him, naked.

Inhaling, I catch the scent of his shower gel mixing with the woodsy scent. Then I notice his damp hair. He must have taken a shower while I went for a run. I wonder if he thought about me ? —

Cutting off my thoughts, I flash him a smile that I hope is reassuring and not seductive. I’m not even sure I know how to smile like that anyway. “It’s okay. You had every right to be upset.” God, why does my voice sound breathless? Am I giving him fuck me eyes? His pupils dilated when I spoke.

“Yeah, but that’s the second time I’ve made a bad impression on you in one day.” His eyes drop to my lips, and I swallow hard, wondering what it would be like if he closed the distance and tasted me.

Stop it. He’s a jock who fucks puck bunnies. You’re not in his league .

“Jordyn.” The way he says my name has my attention snapping back to him. “Are you okay?”

No. But your dick could fix what ails me . “Yes. I’m fine,” I squeak, causing him to raise his brows skeptically.

Way to go. Now he’s really gonna think you’re strange.

“Are you sure?”

Goddamn. Did I imagine that he leaned closer, interest flaring in his eyes?

“Uh-huh. I’m sure.” Yeah, that’s why my voice sounds like I’m practicing for a job as a phone sex worker.

“Okay.” He leans against my door, trapping me against it. “If you need anything, just ask me.”

My mouth is as dry as the Sahara Desert, which is ironic because my pussy is so wet, I’m soaking my panties. If I stripped them off, I could probably wring them out.

Taking a deep breath, I slowly exhale, trying to get myself under control. It’s impossible with him leaning over me, his arm propped against the door frame like one of my book boyfriends. My imagination runs wild, picturing him grabbing my throat and devouring my mouth like he owns me.

“Jordyn. I’m gonna need you to say something.” He pins me with his intense green eyes. “Use your words.”

Oh, I’d like to use my mouth but not to speak any words.

“Umm… O-okay,” I finally stammered. “What was the question?”

The flirty smirk that curls his lips makes all reason flee from my head, and I melt into a puddle at his feet. “I said?—”

The front door slams, and Tristan jumps back. Avoiding my gaze, he runs a hand through his hair before his eyes meet mine. “Guess I’d better go. I just wanted to make sure you’re okay.”

I nod. “Fine,” I squeak out, biting my lip.

“Goddamn, I wish you wouldn’t do that,” he mutters, eyes locked on my mouth. He looks down the hallway as Josh’s footsteps on the stairs reach my ears. “I’ve gotta get outta here. See ya.”

I slump against my door frame as he walks away, my eyes following his every move. When he steps through his doorway, he looks over his shoulder, and the look he gives me incinerates my clothing, leaving me naked and exposed.

Then he steps inside and shuts the door while I burn into a pile of ashes.

As Josh’s footsteps grow louder, I slip into my room, quietly shutting the door. Heading to my laptop, I hit the mousepad, waking it up, and put on some music. Then I grab my cell phone and crawl onto my bed. Pressing the button to dial my best friend, Chelsea, rolling onto my back, waiting for her to answer.

“Hey, blondie. How’s life at Weston Heights?”

“Ugh. I don’t know how to answer that.” Pulling my legs up, my wet panties make me uncomfortable, so I spread my legs slightly.

“Oh, this sounds good.” I hear her moving around, then the slam of her door. “Tell me about it as I get a frozen mocha. I have a feeling I’m gonna need it.”

“I miss frozen mochas from Katie’s Coffees.” I pout as I envision the coffee shop across the street from my old apartment.

Chelsea laughs. “Yeah, but from the tone of your voice, you have more than frozen coffee on your mind.” The sound of her footsteps descending the stairs fills my ears. “What’s Tristan like?”

Hot. Muscular. Sexy as hell. Huge cock. “Complicated,” I finally say.

“Complicated, huh? So you wanna fuck him.”

“Chelsea Renee Brady. Do you kiss your mother with that mouth?”

“Nah, she kisses my father, and eww. Now that I think about it, I can’t remember the last time they kissed. Or the last time I’ve seen them.”

I frown, hating that her parents are always off, living their best lives, throwing money but not love or attention on their only daughter. As much as Chelsea claims she likes the freedom to do what she wants and the platinum credit cards, I know she’s lonely. “Where are they now?”

“Bora Bora. Mom said it was getting too cold in New York.” Her brittle laugh makes my heart ache. “Yeah, the balmy eighty-nine-degree temperature is absolutely freezing. I had to get out my winter coat.”

“Sorry, sweetie.”

“Eh, don’t worry about me.” Her voice lowers, and I can practically hear the gleam in her eyes when she says, “Tell me about Tristan. I know he’s hot?—”

“How do you know that?” Damn it. Not only did I admit it, but my voice sounded accusatory. Even slightly jealous.

“Ohh, he’s really hot.” The sound of traffic comes through the line. “What’s the hockey team’s name again? Wolverines?”

I don’t answer. Instead, I stare at the ceiling, irritation spreading like a disease.

“Here he is.”

“Are you looking at the team webpage?”

“Obviously, you’ve checked it out.” Her amused laughter makes me want to slap her. “So what happened? How was your first meeting?”

That’s a loaded question. I debate what to say, but she squeals in my ear before I can form the thoughts, nearly deafening me. “Oh, my God. Tell me right now, bish.”

“Well…” I chew on my lip, still unsure what to tell her.

“Fuuuck! You saw his dick!”

“Chelsea! Are you psychic? ”

“Yes. Yes, I am.” I hear the smug smile in her voice. “Now tell me.”

I recount everything that’s happened since I arrived, including how the jolt of electricity raced through me when I touched his chest and how he rattled me in my doorway just a few minutes ago.

“Sounds like chemistry to me. I think you should fuck him.”

“Chelsea, he’s a puck boy. Weren’t you listening when I told you about our first meeting?”

“Oh, I heard it. The best part was you standing there and watching like a voyeur.”

“Stop it.” I slap a hand over my face, my burning cheek heating my palm. “I know it was wrong to watch….”

“But you haven’t had sex in a long time, and when you did, your asshole ex and that one-time fling wouldn’t know where to find your clit if you drew them a map.”

“Well, yeah,” I admit, embarrassed at how well she knows me. “But it’s not just that…”

“Oh, he’s hung like a horse. Do tell.”

“Chelsea,” I squeal. “You’re terrible.”

“But you didn’t deny it. If he were a short dick man, you would’ve instantly denied it. Spill the tea.”

Laughing, I shake my head and stick my tongue out at her, even though she can’t see me. I’m glad I didn’t FaceTime her. This conversation is humiliating enough. “I mean, yeah, he has the biggest one I’ve ever seen. But it’s more than that.”

“So he was skilled with his dick? Even though you interrupted before you could witness the whole show.”

“God, Chelsea, you make it sound so sordid. My bag hit the floor before the grand finale, so I don’t know how good he is, but what I saw was impressive.”

“You did not just call it the grand finale.”

“I’m trying not to be crude. The point is, I didn’t watch the whole performance, so I?—”

Her loud laughter cuts me off. “Please stop talking about performance and finales like you were watching a damn circus instead of a hotter-than-hell hockey god fucking some busty bitch.”

Her laughter is irritating, as is her commentary. “You’re so damn annoying.”

“You know what I think? That you’re jealous because he was fucking someone else, and you like this guy already.” I open my mouth to interrupt, but she raises her voice, continuing before I can. “You’re trying to convince yourself he’s a stereotypical jock who fucks puck bunnies, but the truth is, he makes your head spin, and your panties explode. Not a bad combo, if you ask me.”

“First, I didn’t ask you. Second, you’re wrong.”

“Yet, you called me and spilled your guts. Clearly, you wanted my opinion. Second, I’m right, and you know it.” Her voice drops to a conspiratorial whisper. “Your panties are soaked, aren’t they?”

“Chel-sea.” I drag out her name, frustration welling inside me. The ringing of the bell above the coffee shop door as she steps inside causes a pang in my chest. I miss her and New York.

“I’m right. And the lady doth protest too much.” Her giggle grates on my nerves like nails on a chalkboard. “You like him, and that’s why you’re feeling confused. It’s easier to push him away if you think he’s a puck boy rather than a sweet man who bought you a floor-to-ceiling bookcase. By the way, any man who does that is marriage material.”

I can’t help the giggle that escapes my lips. “The bookcase was super sweet. But I’m not marrying him.”

“Yet. Hold on a sec while I order.”

I stare at the ceiling, my thoughts whirling with all that’s happened since I arrived. I wonder what Tristan is doing right now?

“Okay, I’m back. Sorry it took so long. I had to douse the fire you ignited with a long drink of coffee. Hot damn, girl.” The bell rings again as she pushes through the door, the sound of traffic filling the line. “Living with a hotter-than-hell hockey player who’s into you.”

“Wait a minute. I never said he was into me.”

“You didn’t have to. I can tell. Come on, Jordyn. He pinned you against the door frame and did the infamous book boyfriend lean. He’s not only dying to get into your pants, but the bookcase proves he likes you.”

“You’re incorrigible.”

“I’m right.”

My heart pounds faster beneath my sternum, though I do my best to ignore it. “Doesn’t matter. We’re too different. And he’s too much of a risk.”

“Whatever you say, Jordyn.” The gloating tone in her voice irritates me even more.

“Whatever, bish. I miss your face.”

“I miss you, too. I promise to come visit soon so I can hear all about how good Tristan fucked you.”

Rolling my eyes, I don’t say a word.

I’ll have to prove to her that Tristan and I will never be more than roommates.