Page 45

Javier

Tobie is standing outside my room, and she looks confused and sad.

“Is something wrong?”

“No,” she denies.

But something is.

She’s wearing one of the newer outfits Clarissa picked for her—a knee-length skirt and a blouse. It’s the same outfit she’d worn at the arena a couple of hours before. I’d needed to get to a class when practice ran over, and she’d still been sitting in the stands, her brows furrowed.

I take a step back, holding the door open for her. “Come on in.”

“You’re not busy?” she asks, not moving.

“Even if I were, it’s you. Come in.”

She briefly smiles at me, then walks in, her eyes flicking around my room.

My room is always clean and organized. I could pay someone to clean for me, but I like having things exactly how I want them. There’s something about ordering the things around you when you’ve lost control of the bigger parts of your life.

I don’t think Tobie is appreciating or noticing the cleanliness of my room. She doesn’t just look sad. She’s looking for something.

“Tobie?”

She jumps, her eyes flying to me. “Yeah?”

“What’s wrong?”

She puts her bag on the floor beside the door but shakes her head when I pull out the desk chair for her to sit. “I, uh… wanted to talk about the fake-date agreement.”

My muscles tense up. “Your ex said something.”

“Like what?” She scrunches her nose.

“He wants you back.” I regret not saying something sooner, and now it’s too late.

We all agreed to go slow with Tobie and let her figure out what she wants rather than have her think we’re railroading her into a relationship she might not want.

She seems to like all of us, which is a good thing—the best thing any of us could have hoped for. But she’s not saying that she wants this relationship to continue.

Now the ex has cornered her again, the way Caleb said he’d cornered her before, and convinced Tobie to take him back. That’s why she’s not sitting down. She’s here to tell me it’s over.

“Oh no.” She looks around my room. “Nothing like that.”

My shoulders relax, but the same rage flares up when I remember her telling me that her ex made her feel like an old slipper.

Her tone is dismissive as if he couldn’t possibly want her.

I’m not sure why it pisses me off that she doesn’t see how incredible she is.

“Tobie,” I snap.

She gulps. “Yeah?”

“Sit down for a second.”

Slowly, she retreats and perches on the edge of my bed.

I drop into a crouch in front of her and wait until she’s met my gaze.

“He doesn’t deserve you.”

Her eyes widen. “What?”

“One day soon, he’s going to realize that he made a big mistake. He will want you back. Do you love him?”

“Um…” She stares at me for a beat. “I was so mad at him when I asked him if he loved me, and he said he didn’t know. How can you not know something that has such a big feeling? But…”

He told her he didn’t know if he loved her?

“You look really pissed,” she says, studying me.

“Sorry,” I apologize. “It’s not at you.”

Her eyes soften, and once again, that same sadness returns. “No one has ever fought my corner the way you, Reid, and Caleb do. You get angrier about the things that hurt me than I do.”

I cradle the back of her head. “Because you’re ours.”

“But not really,” she whispers.

I wish I hadn’t heard those words.

The sadness and the lost look in her eyes in the arena amounts to one thing. “You came here to end things.”

“I’m not enough for you.”

“You are everything to us. Why would you think you weren’t?”

“Maybe now,” she says eventually. “But that won’t always be true.”

I get angry all over again. “Did Marc tell you that?” Distracted by her soft smile, I ask. “What is it?”

“Max wants to kick him down a flight of stairs. I thought she was joking before, but I think she really meant it.”

“After he tried to punch Caleb, he deserves it.”

Her smile fades. “Maybe he does. I’m hopeful about the small things. Like, if I accidentally put a red sock in the laundry, I’m sure all my white clothes won’t come out pink, you know?”

I nod. “And the big things?”

“Well, I always expect the big things to blow up in my face.”

“Why do you think that is?” I ask her quietly.

“Because they always do.”

She told me about her mom’s death. A stomach pain her mom told her not to worry about turned into a late cancer diagnosis that devastated her and her dad.

How she nearly gave up going to college to stay close to him.

Then her health tanked, and she lost control of the only thing she felt she had any control over—her body.

And now Marc.

“Come here.” I draw her into a hug. “I wish I knew the perfect thing to say, but you taught me the power of a hug and how much it can help.”

She hugs me back.

“This big thing won’t blow up in your face, Tobie.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I do.” I pull back to look at her. “What are your plans for spring break?”

“I’m going home to see my dad.”

“Do you think you can stay for a couple of days?”

“In Lamont?”

I nod. “And when that idiot works out he’s lost the best girl he’ll ever have and comes crawling back to you, can you hold up on taking him back until after? If that’s what you want.”

“You seem really certain it’s a foregone conclusion that Marc will suddenly start seeing me as the best thing ever.”

“You are.”

“I’m not. And if he did, it would only be because of what you did.”

I sit back on my heels. “Because of what I did?”

She gestures to her skirt and the blouse she’s tucked into it. “The clothes and the makeup lessons.”

I stroke my finger along her jaw. “You don’t need all this to be beautiful. If that asshole only sees you when you’re in makeup and a dress, he doesn’t deserve to see you at all.”

She swallows hard, and her eyes glisten. “But this makeover was your idea. You said…”

“You wanted revenge. That’s all this makeover was about. You don’t need all this to capture and hold a man’s attention. You never did. That fool was blind to?—”

She throws herself at me, lips fused to mine, arms wound around me.

I tip. We go to the floor, and I do nothing to save myself.

Crack .

Tobie breaks the kiss. “Shit. Are you okay?”

I wince, rubbing my head. “I think I just head-butted my office chair.”

She’s straddling me, her hair loose, looking pretty and concerned. “Oh, do you want me to kiss it better?”

Her sweet offer should not have the effect on me it does.

Dragging her toward me, I forget about my pounding head and deepen the kiss.

I’m busy yanking at Tobie’s clothes as she yanks to get mine off when it hits me that we shouldn’t be doing this on the floor.

Her fingers brush my cock.

I freeze before I can scoop her into my arms and onto the bed.

She’s on her knees between my spread legs. My shirt is open. So is her button-down blouse. I must have hiked her skirt up over her hips and tugged her bra down at some point.

For the longest moment, all I can do is stare at her, struggling to understand how she can’t see how beautiful she is. How could anyone not want her?

“I want to touch.” Her soft whisper makes my cock leap in response.

The breath sticks in my throat. “You can touch anything you like, Gatinha .”

This is new.

I like control. Crave it more in the bedroom than I do on the ice or anywhere else. But seeing Tobie like this, having her set the pace and explore her wants is something I never knew I needed.

I want to give her control over my body, over me. And I have never wanted that before.

Her touch is a little unsure, and I smile encouragingly. “Whatever you do, I will like it.”

“You’ve been with women who?—”

I take her hand and kiss her knuckles. “This is you, Tobie. It’s you, and it’s me. And I never cared about another woman the way I care about you. This is everything I want. You are everything I need.”

She gives me a searching look like she doesn’t believe me. I hold her gaze and let her see my need for her. The tension relaxes, and she carefully draws my zipper down.

I keep my eyes on her face as she brushes the tip of my cock. “Keep going. Explore.”

Her touch is light at first as she strokes, then closes her hand around me.

A breath wheezes from my throat. “Don’t be afraid of hurting me. Whatever you want to do to me, I can take it.”

She pumps.

I struggle to breathe, but I never take my eyes off her.

She jumps when I slip my hand between her thighs, nudge her damp panties aside, and slide my finger along her pussy.

She releases a soft breath. “I can’t concentrate when you touch me like that.”

My smile grows. “Then I’m doing something right.”

I brush my thumb against her swollen clit, and she widens her legs automatically.

And I see up her skirt. See everything. Swollen, plump nub, and the pink pussy lips I’m dragging my thumb through.

Shit.

“We need to get up off this floor,” I say, my eyes on her pussy and damp inner thighs.

She doesn’t respond.

My eyes flick to hers.

She has her head back, breathing hard, one hand cupping and squeezing her right breast as she rocks her hips in time to my caress. She has her other hand tight around my cock.

And it’s one of the most beautiful things I’ve ever seen.

I touch her again, stroking her until she scoots closer. My dick bumps her bare hip, leaving a smear of precum on her skin. I need to be inside her soon.

She pumps my cock as my eyes return to my fingers between her thighs, brushing her clit as she makes soft sounds of pleasure and leans into my touch.

We’re working at the same rhythm. She’s stroking me as I slide my finger deeper. Is she imagining it’s my cock sliding inside her?

I fucking hope she is.

When her breathing changes, I increase the pace as I finger fuck her.

“No. I need to feel you inside me,” she whimpers. “Please, Javier. I need you now.”