Page 45 of Full Tilt
He motions toward the parking lot exit. “I got an Uber here, and the ride wasn’t even a three-star. So, you’re taking me home. We can talk on the drive there.”
I scoff and turn off the engine. “Are you for real?”
“Deadly, Jenna. I came to watch your practice—which, by the way, is published on your team’s website—and now I want to head home.”
I could wring this guy’s fucking neck. The audacity rolls from him in waves.
“I’m not taking you home or talking to you. Yesterday was a huge mistake.”
He clicks his tongue. “A huge mistake you’ll definitely be making with me again.” He points toward the door where the players emerge from, and a couple of my teammates start filtering out. “And one you’ll have to explain away to Kendra in the next couple of minutes if we don’t get out of here.”
Reluctantly, I start the engine and shift into drive, pulling out of the lot and onto the main road.
“You’re going the wrong way. I live in the nice part of town.”
How the fuck did this happen? This morning, I vowed never to make eye contact with Tommy Schneider ever again. Yet by lunchtime, I’m giving the fucker a ride home.
“You can get the bus in a second,” I bite out, doing a U-turn in the road.
We head in the opposite direction, and Tommy tells me to take a left.
I stay silent, focusing on getting the ride over with as fast as possible.
“Are you sore?”
My foot slides off the accelerator, and I hit the brakes sharply when we approach a stoplight.
“Excuse me?” I reply, staring straight out the windshield.
“Your pussy, Jenna. Are you sore after yesterday?”
His voice is heady and thick, just like it was when he pinned me against my bedroom door, and I squeeze my thighs together. This guy is several years younger than me. He has no right to be this skilled at turning me on. Especially when I hate everything about him.
This time, I choose to give him eye contact. “No. I barely noticed you were inside.”
On a deep laugh, Tommy throws his head back into the seat.
The stoplight is still on red when Tommy leans toward me. The scent of his breath transports me back to my bedroom, where he dominated my body, leaving me breathless and comatose.
He pauses only an inch from my lips and breathes out slowly.
Instinctively, my tongue swipes across my bottom lip.
His eyes track the action, and he sits back in his chair. Satisfied with himself. “Yeah, that’s what I thought.”
A flush of warmth paints my cheeks as, mercifully, the light turns green. I hit the accelerator, and my car wheels spin against the wet road.
Fucking prick.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
TOMMY
“No way! Did you see that hit?!” My friend Jackson vibrated with excitement on the couch next to me.
We were watching the game between the Philadelphia Bolts and the New York Blades, and Alex Schneider had just Kronwalled the Bolts forward, Kyle James, for the second time in the same period.
Leaping from the couch, Jackson pointed toward the TV as James lay crumpled in a heap on the ice. “Do you think Schneider killed him?!”
