Page 392 of The Morally Grey Billionaires Boxset

Gio

I take a step back, but Finn, damn him, catches my arm.

There’s a smirk on his face and a mischievous glint in his eyes.

I scowl at him, but his grin only widens.

Heavy steps approach us, but before Rick can reach us, Finn has pulled me in.

At the same time, Caspian—Mr. Prick himself—steps up behind me.

He’s not touching me. Neither is Finn—but for his fingers around my wrist—but I'm sure from where Rick stands, and considering how pissed off he sounds, it seems like I’m sandwiched between the two men.

A prospect I might have welcomed before I met my very own wet dream of a man.

"Let her go." Rick reaches us and glares at where Finn is holding me.

"Or what?" Finn says in a jovial voice.

"Or I’m going to sink my fist in your face." He turns that burning blue gaze onto Caspian. "And that goes for you, too, asshole."

"You’d raise a hand against your teammate?" Caspian scoffs.

"For her, I’d have gone against my own family. She comes first. Better get that into your thick skulls."

Finn and Caspian exchange glances, then Caspian holds out a hand. "You owe me."

Finn groans, then steps back, before pulling out a bill and stuffing it in Caspian’s outstretched palm. Instantly, Rick pulls me into him and tucks me under his arm.

Of course, I melt into his side. Tingles course up and down my body. That was…

"Arright—" Caspian holds up his other fist, and Finn bumps it. Caspian turns to Rick with a shit-eating grin on his face. "Keep this up, Rickster, and I’ll be singing all the way to the bank."

"Fuck the both of you. And why are you still here? Aren’t you late for practice?"

"So are you," Finn points out.

"Couldn’t miss the chance to get under your skin, and I have to say, it was disappointingly easy." Caspian laughs.

"I’m going to hand you your arses in practice." Rick’s voice is mild, but under my cheek, his heart is pumping so hard, he might as well be having a cardiac event.

I manage to lean my head back a little—because the man’s holding me so tightly, I can just about draw a breath. "You okay?"

"Why wouldn’t I be?" he asks without looking at me. "Out!" He glares at the two other men, then nods toward the door.

"We asked the bus to wait for us. You could thank us for that, by the way," Caspian murmurs.

"Also, we may have stretched the truth a bit. We have just enough time to get to the rink in time if you make it out in the next five minutes," Finn drawls.

"Get the fuck out you guys, or—"

"Bye Gio," Caspian calls out.

"That’s fucking Mac to you," Rick growls.

"Bye G—" Finn says in a sing-song voice.

Without releasing me, Rick reaches over, grabs a wooden ladle and lobs it at him. It misses Finn, who ducked, and is already at the door. His laughter reaches us as he heads toward the front door.

"Jesus, you’re in a violent mood," I scold him. "You could have hurt, Finn."

"Nah, I’m a crack shot." He looks into my eyes and it’s like I’m being struck by the intensity of his eyes for the first time. Those cerulean blues of his hold a world of pain and secrets, and am I ever going to get to know him enough to find out what’s playing out in his mind?

He holds my gaze for a few seconds more, then his own softens.

He tucks a strand of errant hair behind my ear.

"I wouldn’t have hit him unless I wanted to, which I did, but I wasn’t going to.

Also, arshole’s too fast. He has to be, to be the goalie.

His reflexes are still as sharp as when he played in the NHL.

The bastard hasn’t lost any of his agility—"

"Unlike you?" I search his features.

He looks rested, but his cheekbones are more prominent than when I first met him.

"Oh, I’m fast, but Finn’s always been the slippery one on ice. He’s fast, flexible, and has very quick reaction times, not to mention, his hand-eye coordination is incomparable. If anything, he’s faster than when he played at the NHL."

"But the two of you never played together, am I right?’

"He joined the NHL after I left."

"Why did you leave?"

He blows out a breath. "Let’s park that discussion for now, shall we?"

"But you’ll tell me?" I persist.

"I will, I promise," his voice grows lower in tone, all rumbly and growly, and my pussy instantly dampens.

"How are you feeling this morning?" he asks in that same edged-with-sex voice.

"Amazing."

"No cramps?" He looks between my eyes.

I shake my head.

"And the blood flow. Are you—"

"Jesus, Rick, can we stop talking about my period?"

He frowns. "Why? It’s nothing to be ashamed of."

"It’s not, but it’s also not something I want to talk about with my fiancê first thing in the morning the night after we—ah—" I clamp my lips together.

"After we? You mean, after I, don’t you?" The left side of his mouth twitches. Bastard’s having a good ol’ laugh at my expense.

"Fine, fine. After you massaged away my cramps, then made me come and forget all about the invasion of the red tide."

He blinks. "Invasion of the red tide?"

"Or you can call it Shark Week."

His lips twitch. "That one, I like."

"Of course, you would. " I roll my eyes.

He cups my cheek. "I’m glad you’re feeling better, Goldie, and you should know, a little period blood wouldn’t have stopped me, except you were in pain and I didn’t want to add to your discomfort.

The tenderness in his eyes throws me. Sure, he showed me last night how in tune with my needs he is.

In a way, no one ever has been before. Not my ex, and not my family.

Yeah, I avoid thinking about my family, unless I absolutely have to.

But after meeting Grams, I feel the lack of parental figures in my life even more.

That’s what happens when you never knew your dad and you have a junkie mom who loves to take out her frustrations on you by beating you up.

That’s what happens when you grow up in a trailer park and keep walking in on your mom turning tricks to score.

That’s what happens when your mother’s boyfriends start eyeing you up when you hit puberty.

Good thing I managed to leave home before any of them touched me.

It’s a tired story; one you must have heard before.

But when you’re in it, it scars you forever, and I’m living proof of it.

I'll save you the time of psychoanalyzing me. It’s the reason why I started starving myself, which was easy because there was never anything to eat at home.

But even later, once I started earning and could provide for myself, I felt guilty about eating.

As a result, I now have an unhealthy relationship with food.

It’s why I make long to-do lists, so I can take control of my life.

If I get through my list, everything will be okay.

If I cross things off, I’ve achieved something.

Not that my to-do lists ever get shorter.

I don’t need a shrink to tell me that every time I cross something off the list I get a burst of happy hormones in my system, which make me feel good. Like how you feel when you post on social media, and someone likes your update.

Which is why I also know I should see a shrink about my habit of not wanting to keep food down after I’ve eaten.

I thought I had it under control, too, until Dennis’ betrayal unraveled things and I felt myself slipping back.

Yeah, it shows me how delicate this balance is.

Something doesn’t go according to plan, and I slip back into old habits.

Not that it's a habit. It was a condition, I know, I know. But I had it under control… Until I didn’t.

It’s why I can’t afford to get involved with anyone else.

It’s why I’m pretending I don't have feelings for Rick. It’s the only thing that will keep Rick from getting involved with me for real.

Though, after last night, I’m not sure anymore.

Maybe he is catching feelings for me? Maybe I’ve begun to invest emotionally in him, too.

Gosh, this entire situation is another slippery slope, and I can’t afford to slip up. "Rick, don’t."