Page 133 of Treacherous
Oh, Sweetheart. With the things I want to do to you, nice is not the word to describe me.
Fucking hell. What the hell is wrong with me?
“We are at the rink, you said anything hockey-related means we have a truce.”
Willow scoffs. “That’s not what I said. But it doesn’t surprise me that you have selective hearing.”
I spray my palm over my heart. “You can’t seem to stop insulting me. Maybe it’s your love language?”
She snorts, her hands gripping the hockey stick until her knuckles are white. “I don’t have a love language, not when I’ve sworn off relationships forever.”
She skates away, not allowing me to reply. Why has she sworn off relationships? I hate that I need to know the answer. Was he a piece of shit like her last boyfriend?
No. I push those thoughts down, following Willow to the end of the ice. We practice our slap shots in silence until the rest of our teammates arrive. I sigh as everyone else piles into the arena. I steal one last glance at her before shoving her to the back of my mind.
Hockey is your priority.
The words float around me continuously, as if repeating them will ingrain them there. I need hockey and my future to remain the number one thought, because focusing on Willow brings chaos I can’t control.
And Ineedcontrol.
Chapter 13
Willow Rogers
Calloused fingertips grip my ass hard enough to bruise, as my eyes wander over his chest, down to his abs, and the carved V on his lower abdomen. I’m practically drooling. I drag my hands along his toned shoulders, skipping down to his jeans.
I claw at the belt, wanting nothing between us when he fucks me against the wall. It won’t be gentle–nothing ever is when it comes to me and him.
I unzip his pants, pulling his boxers down to pool at his feet. My hand wraps around his hard cock, appreciating every inch of him.
“Inside me. Now.” My words are breathless.
“Is that what you want, Willow? You want me to fuck this pretty little cunt?”
His voice is rugged and familiar, but I can’t figure out who’s it is.
“You’re such a greedy slut for me, Red.”
I can’t comprehend his words before he thrusts inside me. Oxygen escapes me, my grip on his shoulders is tight, causing me to dig my nails into his tan skin. Moans fall from my lips, despite trying to muffle them.
“Louder, Sweetheart.” Thrust. “I want our teammates to know you’re mine.” Thrust. “Say my name, Willow.”
His name drips from my lips without a second thought. “Jayden.”
My eyes snap open, and I sit straight up, the covers twisted around my sweat-ridden body.
Holy fucking shit. Did I just have a sex dream about Jayden Allen? My chest rises and falls as I attempt to gulp in air. This should not be happening to me.
How the fuck did I get into this situation?
Oh, that’s right. I wanted Jayden to kiss me–no devour me. His hot, minty breath brushing against my skin brought my vagina back to life. And now, she is forcing me to have dreams about the one man I will never have sex with.
I rub my thighs together, wetness pooling at my centre. I throw the covers off me and race to my shower.
Stripping off my pyjamas, I step under the cold spray and jump when the water hits my skin. I grind my teeth together, forcing myself to stay under.
After a long two minutes, I turn the hot water tap on. My breathing returns to a normal rhythm, warmth engulfing me like a tight hug.
