Page 32 of Never Your Girl

With a snort, she slips past me before settling on the leather seat. “Chariot, my ass.”

Once she’s situated, I close the door and hustle around to the driver’s side.

Who would have ever thought Holland Tate would be sitting in my car and sleeping in my bed at night?

It all feels a little surreal.

And yet, I still can’t bring myself to regret the impulsive decision to bind her to me.

The drive to my place is made in silence as thick tension permeates the small space. Each unspoken word stretches uncomfortably between us as she stares out the window. Her expression might be unreadable, but I can feel the anger and frustration radiating off her in suffocating waves.

It’s strangely intoxicating.

The moment we pull up in front of my place, Holland bolts from the car before I have a chance to kill the engine. My attention stays riveted to her as I follow her up the stairs to the front porch.

She pauses outside the door, glancing at me with a dubious expression. “Can’t say I ever thought I’d be shacking up at the hockey house.”

And I’d fucking kill the guy she shacked up with.

The thought is so unexpected, it catches me off guard.

I bite back the sharp retort and reach around her, opening the door before muttering, “That makes two of us.”

She’s close enough for the rosemary and mint scent of her shampoo to slyly wrap around me. It’s so damn tempting to lean in and inhale a big breath of her.

But I don’t.

Are you fucking kidding?

Of course I don’t.

She’d probably junk punch me if I did. And then she’d kick me while I was curled up in the fetal position on the ground.

Her eyes narrow. “Did you just sniff me?”

Fuck.

I feign ignorance. “What? Of course not.”

I wasn’t kidding about the junk punching.

With a frown, she stalks inside the entryway before taking in her surroundings. Her body stiffens when she notices a couple of my younger teammates making themselves at home on our couch. There’s a girl or two cuddled up next to each of them. Their gazes stray to us, and I’m treated to a round of chin lifts.

Holland’s upper lip curls with disgust as she hitches her bag higher on her shoulder. “Just to be clear, I don’t plan on hanging out with your friends.”

“I wouldn’t expect it.”

“So, what happens next?” she asks, her tone turning to more of a challenge. When I continue to stare, she tacks on, “Care to share what nefarious plans you have in store for me now that you’ve dragged me back to your evil lair?”

I force a slow grin at the description. “What’s wrong, Tate? Frightened?”

The thought of Holland at my mercy and fingertips any time I want sends a rush of pleasure through me.

Her eyes blaze with a heady mix of anger and defiance. This is one girl who will never turn tail and run. With her, it’ll be a fight to the death.

“Just remember that I’m here because you blackmailed me, not because I want to be anywhere near you.”

Unable to help myself, I crowd her personal space.

---