Page 65 of Face Off
“Fine.” I pinch the bridge of my nose. I’m irritated. Pissed off and fuckingtiredof trying to convince her to think about mea certain way. If she wants to operate in her own little bubble, that’s on her. I’m done trying. “Sorry for bothering you.”
Her mouth opens like she wants to say something else, but she snaps it closed and leans her head against the window. “See you in Chicago.”
NINETEEN
EMMY
We get blownout by Chicago.
As a team, we’re off-kilter.
That cohesiveness we had my first week on the Stars disappeared, and it might be my fault.
Frustrations were high during intermissions in the locker room, and when the final buzzer sounded, Maverick stormed out of the arena like a kid who didn’t get his way.
The ride back to the hotel was silent, and after a quick debrief with Coach and instructions to be in the lobby at seven tomorrow morning for our flight home, we all went our separate ways.
Connor, Grant and Ethan invited me out to dinner, but I took the room service route. A bowl of spaghetti the size of my head and a glass of red wine in the peace and quiet is so much more appealing than a loud restaurant.
There’s also a pint of chocolate chip in the mini freezer, and the only things I plan to do the rest of the night involve a couple of episodes of reality television and the vibrator hidden in my suitcase.
I shovel the last bite of pasta in my mouth and toss my used napkins in the trash can. I grab my toy from my bag and stretch out on the bed, clicking it on.
I’ve been wound up tight the last couple of days. From the losses, to not playing well, to the conversation with Maverick I keep replaying in my head, I know a quick orgasm will help relieve the tension I’m holding on to.
I don’t know the last time I touched myself, butgod, it already feels good to turn my brain off and relax into the pleasure. I tease my nipples with the toy then drag it down to my shorts. The vibrations pulse against my clit, and a soft moan slips free.
Before I can sink into the mind-numbing bliss, a knock on my door has me throwing my toy in the air.
It nearly hits the ceiling then lands in the middle of the bed, still humming as I hear a louder knock.
I really can’t catch a break.
“Shit.” I turn off the vibrator and shove it under a pillow. “Who is it?”
“Open up, Hartwell,” a familiar voice says.
I narrow my eyes and jump off the bed, stalking toward the door. I open it and find Maverick standing there, looking obscenely attractive in his gray sweatpants and plain white shirt. The ends of his hair are wet, and there’s a small red mark on his cheekbone.
“Can I help you?” I ask politely, three seconds away from slamming the door in his face.
“We need to talk.” His dark eyes sweep over the shorts and tank top I slipped into after my shower, and he lets out a shallow breath. “Now.”
Maverick squeezes past me without an invitation inside. His hip grazes against mine as he makes his way into my room, and I don’t bother arguing with him.
“Why are you here?” I close the door and flip the deadbolt. “Does curfew not apply to you?”
“What the hell happened out there tonight?” He paces around the small living room and glares at me. “You were slow as shit.”
I laugh and push the strap of my shirt up my shoulder. He follows the movement, and his eyes gleam a shade darker. “I guess we’re getting everything out in the open, aren’t we?”
“You didn’t pass to me. Three separate times you went to someone else.”
“Because Seymour had the better shot, you selfish ass. Do you make room calls for everyone so you can criticize their playmaking? Or am I the only one lucky enough to be interrogated by you today?”
Maverick stops pacing. He steps toward me, his stride quick and determined. Before I can take a breath, my back is against the wall.
His hands rest on either side of my head, caging me in with nowhere to go, and a spark of adrenaline races up my spine.
