Page 37 of Break the Ice
I step to the urinal with my mind made up that she is absolutely that fucking stubborn.
I don’t hear the guys closing in behind me ’til it’s too late. My head’s slammed into the tiled wall and then I’m tossed on the ground. I’m still processing the sudden explosion of pain when a group of guys crowd around and begin kicking the shit out of me.
Somebody’s hired them to launch this attack. It’s the kind of beatdown that sends a message. They kick me up and down my side and in my face. Every time I try to push myself up to fight back, I’m head butting the ground, being crushed down.
Outnumbered seven to one, I’ve got no choice but to put up with the beatdown. But I do it with the antagonistic attitude I’m known for—cussing out the guys and laughing as they make me spit up more blood. If anybody in the media came across the scene and snapped a photograph for the public, they’d claim I was insane.
I’m not just the league’s bad boy. I’m the crazy motherfucker laughing with a mouth full of blood.
The mystery attackers flee the scene once they’ve sent their message. I’m left half-conscious on the floor, racking my brain for who would want to beat the shit out of me. I have no shortlist of enemies, but Axis is my place. I’m here several nights a week when in the city. Why would I suddenly be attacked now?
It has to be a vendetta of some kind. Whether personal or professional is up in the air.
I spit out a mouthful of blood in the bathroom sink, then run fingers through my unruly hair. Several strands hang over my brow, though they do nothing to hide my injuries. A deep-plum-shaded bruise has spread under my right eye and my lip’s split down the middle.
As good as I’m gonna get.
I leave Axis behind, not even bothering to close out my tab. My VIP section will probably spiral into groupies fawning over our backup, third line players. Things I don’t give a fuck about because my mind’s occupied elsewhere.
I’m driven by a need to know the mystery of the night. Not the men who brutally attacked me in the bathroom, but what did Marisse March do tonight?
Sane people would say I’ve lost the plot. I’ve let some fixation spread ’til it’s the only thing on my mind. Even earlier, during the game against the Bears, I’d been throwing glances at the team’s suite box to see if I caught Marisse. She wasn’t there.
It caused my fixation to become what it has—some pulsing, primitive urge to go on the hunt. I’m about to punish her little peach-shaped ass for once again misbehaving.
There’s no escaping the secret that ties us together. I’ll never let her forget it either.
For the second night in a week, I’m riding the light rail into Marisse’s neighborhood. Instead of lurking around outside her building like last time, I go straight inside. An elevator ride toward the top later, I’m pounding my fist to her door.
She opens with her horror making her jaw drop. She’s disturbed by the sight of me. I rush forward and shut her up before she can ask any questions, grabbing her and planting a deep kiss on her mouth.
12. Marisse
Rafe crushes his mouth to mine. My breath catches in my throat. I’m caught between deep shock and the immediate pulses of pleasure Rafe Golding’s kiss brings. The door slams shut, and I’m swept off my feet and carried through my own apartment like he owns the place. The alpha energy Rafe exudes has enveloped every inch of my home.
It’s made it impossible to think straight as I’m flung onto my sofa. Distantly, I’m aware I should at least be putting up some kind of fight.
Rafe claims my lips once more. Hot passion mixes with his aggression and the metallic taste of blood on him. I push against his chest despite how stiff and hard my nipples become the longer he kisses me.
“Are you fucking crazy? What the hell are you doing?!” I shove at the hard muscle that makes up his chest, noting how he feels impenetrable. His body’s resilient and stone-like.
He couldn’t be less affected.
“What were you doing tonight?”
Rafe silences me before I can ever answer. He bows his head toward mine in another fierce kiss. His long, skillful fingers find the base of my throat and his tongue glides over my lips. I open up for him in more ways than one—any resistance melts away and my body pulses with need. His tongue feels like sin exploring my mouth.
Deep passion burns to life between us ’til I’m clutching at his shirt and cradling his erection between my thighs.
It’s the strangest, most unexpected kiss of my life. Even beating the one in the hotel room from the other night.
One thing’s clear: I have no clue what the hell’s happening between me and Rafe, but the explosive chemistry is mutual.
“Tell me what’s going on!” I demand, finally pulling away, dodging his mouth. I turn my head to the side and use the seconds to catch my breath and find my mind. “Why are you bleeding? Where did these bruises come from?”
Rafe grabs me by the face and forces me to peer up at him. “What were you doing tonight?”
There’s a demanding edge to his tone and a flash of possessiveness in his glare. It pisses me off on some level that he would think it’s any of his business. Yet my body reacts with a thrum of excitement.
