Page 31 of What If I Hate You (Anaheim Stars Hockey #6)

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

BARRETT

I ’ve checked the clock five times in the last minute.

She’s not late. Not even close. I’m just impatient. Or maybe something worse.

Restless.

On edge.

Pacing my apartment like a dog who knows someone’s coming home with bacon in their pockets.

I crack open a beer and take a sip, trying to act normal. This is just a pizza and beer hangout with the girl I’ve already had my hands all over.

No big deal.

Totally casual.

Except my palms are sweating and my brain is a fucking mess because it’s not just some girl.

It’s Blakely fucking Rivers. The woman who hates me one minute and fucks me senseless the next.

The woman who listens to me when I’m vulnerable without a hint of judgement and then rips me apart in the press room without a lick of guilt.

She texted me twenty minutes ago.

Blakely: On my way. Craving pepperoni. And chaos.

And I’ve been hard ever since.

Chaos. That’s what she is to me. She walks into a room and my systems just… glitch. One look. One smirk. One of those smartass comments that’s somehow laced with affection now instead of venom, and I’m gone. I’m toast. She’s the perfect amount of unexpected chaos in my life.

Blakely Rivers has me by the balls and I wouldn’t have it any other way.

I adjust the waistband of my sweatpants for the third time because yeah, thinking about her does that to me, too. I’m a grown-ass man and I’ve been reduced to some fidgety teenage version of myself, half-hard, just waiting for the sound of her knock on my door.

The pizza’s getting cold, the beer’s going flat, and all I can picture is her on my couch in one of those stupid soft T-shirts she wears, legs curled up under her, laughing at something dumb I say, looking at me like maybe—maybe—this isn’t just a slow-burn disaster waiting to implode.

I run a hand through my hair and drop onto the couch, slouching deep into the cushions. I tell myself to relax. It’s not a date. It’s not serious. Just pizza. Just her mouth wrapped around the neck of a beer bottle and the sight of her licking tomato sauce off her thumb and?—

God. I’m so screwed.

I grab the remote and flip through channels I’m not watching. My knee bounces. I think about texting her again, but that’s stupid. I don’t want to look desperate. I’ve got enough pride not to?—

Knock knock.

I freeze for a beat. And then two…three…

Don’t look desperate.

It’s just pizza.

Then I’m up and across the floor like it’s the final thirty seconds of a tied game and open the door where my carefully constructed composure instantly shatters.

Blakely stands there wearing her team hoodie.

The same one I left her during practice today with my last name emblazoned across the back.

The coordinating sweatpants sit low on her hips, and her hair is pulled back in one of those cute messy buns women like to wear.

A few loose strands frame her face and she’s wearing no makeup.

I swear to God I’ve never seen someone more beautiful.

The smile she’s sporting is either casual or lethal—I haven’t figured out which yet—and she’s holding up a six-pack like it’s a peace offering.

“Hope you’re hungry,” she says.

“Oh, I am.” I nod, my eyes roaming her adorably fuckable self. “But not for pizza.”

I let the door swing open so she can come in but she doesn’t even get one foot in the door before I’m hoisting her up in my arms and burying my face in the crook of her neck, breathing her in as she giggles in my arms.

“What are you doing?”

“You smell amazing.” I spin us around and kick the door shut behind me, not willing to let her go for one fucking second.

"Christ, you're going to kill me," I murmur against her skin, my lips grazing the soft spot beneath her ear.

The six-pack dangles precariously from her fingers as I hold her against me.

"Bear!" She laughs, legs wrapping around my waist. "The beer's going to drop!"

I reluctantly set her down on the counter but keep her pressed against me, one hand sliding beneath the hoodie to find warm, soft skin. "I can't believe you're wearing this."

"You left them for me," she says, tilting her head with that smirk that drives me insane. "What was I supposed to do, not wear them?"

"You have no idea what seeing my name on your back does to me." I take the beer from her hand and set it on the counter next to her without looking, my eyes never leaving hers.

Killer meows from somewhere near our feet, but I ignore him. I’m way too focused on the way Blakely’s pupils dilate as I crowd her space.

"Is that right?" Blakely teases, her legs parting just enough to let me step between them. "And what exactly does it do to you, Cunningham?"

I grip her hips, pulling her to the edge of the counter until she's flush against me. There's no hiding how hard I am, how instantly she affects me.

"It makes me want to fuck you until you can't remember your own name," I growl against her ear. "Until the only name you remember is mine."

She shivers, her hands sliding up my bare chest. "That's pretty ambitious for a Tuesday night."

"I've got ambition to spare where you're concerned." I slide my hands up her thighs, feeling the soft material of the sweatpants beneath my palms. “And I’ve been craving you for the last four fucking days.”

“Hmm.” The knowing smirk on her face tells me she knows exactly what she’s doing. “So, I guess one night wasn’t enough huh?” she asks, her voice dropping to that husky tone that makes my dick twitch.

“That night was a fucking tease compared to what I want to do to you right now, sweetheart.” I capture her mouth in a kiss that's nothing like the gentle hello I'd planned.

It's hungry and desperate, my tongue sliding against hers as she moans into my mouth.

My hands slip under the hem of her hoodie, finding nothing but bare skin underneath.

"Jesus Christ," I groan, my fingers exploring the warm expanse of her bare stomach. "You're not wearing anything under this, are you?"

"I thought I'd save us some time," she says, biting her lower lip in that way that makes me want to devour her. "Since I know how impatient you can be."

"You're fucking perfect," I murmur against her lips before capturing her mouth again, my hands sliding higher until I'm cupping her breasts, thumbs brushing over her already hardened nipples. The sound she makes—half gasp, half moan—goes straight to my cock.

"Fuck the pizza," I growl, lifting her off the counter in one fluid motion. Her legs wrap around my waist instantly, and I can feel her heat pressed against me even through our clothes. "It'll still be there later."

"But I'm hungry," she teases, though her voice catches when I squeeze her ass through the sweatpants.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart. I’ve got something you can put in your mouth.”

Her laugh vibrates against my lips as I carry her toward the bedroom, but I don't make it that far. My need for her is too urgent, too primal. I turn and press her against the wall in the hallway, pinning her there with my body as I devour her mouth.

"What happened to the bedroom?" she asks when I break away to trail hot kisses down her neck.

"Too far," I declare, hiking her higher against my hips. "Need you now."

I push the sweatpants down her hips, and she kicks them off while I hold her against the wall.

"You have no idea what you do to me," I whisper against her collarbone, teeth grazing the sensitive skin there.

"Seeing you with my name on your clothes makes me fucking crazy.

" I yank down my jeans with one hand while keeping her pinned against the wall with my body.

My cock springs free, hard and aching against her bare thigh.

"Bear," she gasps, her fingers digging into my shoulders. "I need you inside me. Now."

I don't need to be told twice. I hitch her higher, positioning myself at her entrance, groaning when I feel how wet she already is. "Fuck, you're soaked for me."

"I've been thinking about this all day," she admits, her breath hot against my ear. "About you. About this. I’ve missed you."

With a powerful thrust, I bury myself inside her.

We both cry out, her back arching against the wall, my forehead dropping to her shoulder as the sensation of her tight heat around me nearly makes my knees buckle.

I stay still for a moment, both of us panting, adjusting to the overwhelming sensation of being connected this way.

"Fuck, I missed you too," I groan, my voice barely recognizable to my own ears. "Missed this."

"Then move," she commands, her nails digging crescents into my shoulders. "Make me feel it tomorrow."

Something primal awakens in me at her words. I withdraw almost completely before slamming back into her with enough force to make the picture frame on the wall rattle. She cries out, her head falling back against the wall, eyes rolling closed as pleasure overtakes her.

"Like that?" I growl, establishing a brutal pace that has her gasping with each thrust. "Want me to fuck you so hard you feel me for days?"

"Yes," she moans, her legs tightening around my waist. "God, yes!"

I drive into her with everything I have, my hands gripping her ass to hold her in place as I pound into her.

The picture frame finally gives up and crashes to the floor, but neither of us gives a shit.

All that matters is this. Her body wrapped around mine, her heat taking me deeper with each thrust, the way she cries out my name like a prayer.

"You feel so fucking good," I growl, adjusting my grip to hit that spot inside her that makes her clench around me. "So perfect for me."