Page 77 of Treacherous
Willow is on the forefront of my mind after she left the ice during the game.
The Bulls painted a target on her back from the drop of the first puck, and I could see she was hiding the extent of the injury as the game went on. But Willow may go down as the most stubborn person on the planet.
Eventually, Coach West made the decision to take her off, despite Willow’s plea to stay on. However, with the semi-finals on the horizon, we can’t afford to lose her.
More importantly, I don’t want to see Willow hurting. My stomach twisted every time my gaze wandered from the ice to the bench.
I dump my bag in my bedroom before heading to Willow’s bedroom. Swallowing back my nerves, I knock on the door.
“Come in,”
I open the door to Willow’s room, narrowing my gaze onto her slumped shoulders and the bags under her eyes. Willow’s hair is damp, staining her shirt with excess water. I try to calm my racing heart, approaching the edge of the bed.
“Are you okay?” I ask, taking a seat next to Willow.
“Yeah, just some muscle aches. Nothing ice can’t fix,” she says, pressing the ice pack below her breasts.
I eye her suspiciously. Willow always downplays her injuries because she doesn’t want to miss out on game time.
“Need another massage?”
Willow smiles. “I mean, I won’t say no.”
I laugh, moving to the middle of the bed. I tap the space between my legs, so Willow knows where I want her. She listens, placing her ass against my crotch and back on my torso.
Willow wiggles, grinding herself on me. I bring my hands to her skin, digging my thumbs into her shoulder blades.
A moan drips from her lips. I bring my head closer to her ear, letting my breath hit her pulse point. “Don’t start something you can’t finish.”
“Oh, I will finish. Maybe you will too if you’re lucky,”
I chuckle. “Willow, we are not having sex.” I continue to massage her back, trying to release the knots in her muscles.
Jesus. The tension Willow is carrying in her shoulders is ridiculous. I should have been doing this weeks ago.
Willow’s voice is breathless as she mutters her next words. “What if I beg?”
Fuck. She is trying to kill me. “No–”
“Please, I want you to touch me. I want you to make me feel good.”
I groan, my fingers itching to trail down Willow’s body. To grip her hips, her ass, anything that I can use to hold her against me.
Fuck. This is a terrible idea.
I move my right hand, trailing my thumb down Willow’s neck. Her pulse throbbing underneath my touch, her breath hitching. I’m obsessed with every noise that leaves her lips, and knowing that I did that to her, drives me crazier.
“If we do this, we take it slow.”
Willow turns to face me, blatantly rolling her eyes. That little brat. A rumble leaves my throat. “I’m serious, Willow.”
“Fine, but I want you on top.”
I scan her body, her t-shirt is covering her ribs, so I can’t see the extent of her injuries. I grab the hemline of her shirt, pulling it gently over her head. Fuck. My eyes drawn to the discoloured skin on her upper ribs.
“Willow–” I begin, but she interrupts me before I can finish.
“Don’t, Jayden. I need this.”
