Page 111 of Brutal Game

Her eyes flew open, blurry with need and pain.

“I hate you,” I told her again, because I loved her, and the two four-letter words were beginning to sound like the same thing.

I fucked her all night, her pussy, her throat, her ass. On the bed, against the wall, on the floor. I lost track of positions, of how many times she came, fuck, of how many times I came.

By the time the sun rose, my promise had come true. My cock and her pussy were so raw, there was blood on the sheets. I couldn’t have fucked her again, even if I wanted to, so I contented myself by latching my mouth onto her pussy and refusing to stop making her come until her alarm went off.

Finally, I released her. We had an away game and I needed to get my shit together and meet the team at the bus. She collapsed against the bed, whimpering quietly. I reached for a bottle of water on her nightstand, opened the cap, and gently tilted her head up, feeding it to her. She drank, and that simple act of providing water for her made my practically broken cock twitch again as something sweet and satisfied settled in my cock.

The team could wait. I scooped her up like a bride—my favorite way to carry her—and brought her to the bathroom, turning on the shower and making sure it was hot and not too hot before setting her down inside and joining her there. I took my time, lathering up her hair with shampoo and rinsing it, careful not to get any soap in her eyes, before working conditioner through the tangles. I soaped up her body, drawing slow, gentle circles around her skin, chasing it with water and then with my mouth.

I wanted her, wanted to be inside her again, but I resisted. This was about her, not me.

She stayed quiet the whole time, although she let me take care of her. I told myself that was a good sign, but my gut didn’t believe it.

After, I quickly washed my own body and hair, toweling her off slowly and me off quickly, before carrying her back to her room. “Take the day off of class and sleep. But come to the game tonight,” I told her as I kissed her, lowered her to her bed, and tucked her back in. “I’ll make sure you have a ride—it’s only an hour away. And I’ll get someone over here to fix the door.”

“Jack,” she said, or tried to say. She’d lost her voice screaming from all the orgasms I forced on her, and I couldn’t help but be pleased about that.

“Yeah?”

“Can you believe that Asher is telling the truth? Can you help me?”

I paused above her.

Because the answer needed to be no. If it wasn’t, I’d give up my entire world.

But then, wouldn’t it be worth it?

And hadn’t I started to doubt, anyway? I’d be lying if I pretended I wasn’t.

“Just come to the game, little fury,” I finally said. And then, even though it was a word I never used: “Please.”

She murmured something that I decided was “yes,” so with one last look at her, I dressed and left her apartment.

Aviva was right. I was a liar. I was lying to myself.

Because she hadn’t said yes.

She’d said no.

37

Jack

Where the hell was Aviva?

As I warmed up on the ice, stretching out my hip abductors to the sounds of women cheering in the stands, as if we did it for them, I stared at the away team side of the arena. Aviva was nowhere.

The driver I’d hired told me she’d never showed, and last I’d checked the app on my phone, she was in the library. I’d texted her, but she hadn’t responded.

Some people had showed. Micah sat next to her empty seat, eyebrow raised. To his right was Kara, a big fuzzy hat on her head, and to her right were my brothers’ other partners, Conor and Luke. In the row above them, Marcus sat next to his friends and business partners—Billy, and some creepy, quiet guy they always referred to as “Doc” that I knew better than to cross.

Billy said something to Marcus, who laughed. Doc stared out at me. Kara waved.

Isaac skated over to me. “Looks like your whole family showed.”

I sighed, pushing up with my arms and standing. “And then some.”

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