Page 22 of Troublemaker
“Well, if I can be this forward: I’d bring you up to my hotel room and do my best to make you come enough times to forget him.”
My eyes widened.
“Thatisforward.”
He chuckled. “I’m not sure if there’s any reason for us to waste time, Lacy.”
Then he was bending forward, wrapping his hand around my hair, and pulling me in to kiss me.
I felt nothing. Well, a hint of something, but compared to the way I’d felt this afternoon when Coach had thrown me over his shoulder…
The kiss turned open mouthed, urgent—on his side—and I closed my eyes and let myself fall into it. With my eyes closed, I could pretend he was someone else, and that helped.
Pulling back, he whistled.
“Yeah, that other man is a moron. What do you say?”
No.
I don’t want to go upstairs with you.
I could feel the thought in my very skin.
But I could also remember the derision in Coach’s eyes from earlier, and that settled that.
Instead of answering, I slid off the barstool and placed my hand in his.
“I say yes,” I told him, ignoring the way my body rejected each and every word.
“Lacy…” The bartender coughed, his eyes focused on something behind me.
“What?” I asked.
He shook his head. “Nothing.”
As Sam led me through the bar and into the hotel lobby, I swore I felt someone staring at me, burning my bare back with their gaze. But when I turned to look, no one was watching.
10
BLAKE
Iwasn’t going to pretend I wasn’t a violent man. My whole need for control stemmed from that deep-seated brutality within me. I’d been in fights with foster fathers, with classmates, and players from opposing teams. I knew I had a vicious soul. But I’d never realized just how vicious it was until I sat in a booth at the Ramore Hotel bar, nursing a whiskey, watching Lucy do tequila shots with some douchebag finance bro who was much too old for her.
I was in a shadowed corner where she wouldn’t notice me, making it easy to stew in my possessive rage as she flirted with the blond asshole. Even knowingI’dpushed her to do this, that this wasmyfault, didn’t lessen the need to punish her for her reckless behavior. I balled my free hand into a fist as if that would keep me from storming across the bar and punching that fucking asshole in the face. And then I’d shove Lucy over the bar, deliver swat after swat to her ass until it was glowing red and she and every other jackass in the place knew she was mine, right before I fucked that virgin pussy and claimed her for good…
The bartender currently serving Lucy and the douchebag flirting with her glanced up and caught my eyes. His went wide—very wide. I couldn’t see myself, but I must have looked scary enough to disturb him, so I turned back to my drink, trying to pretend I was lost in thought instead of staring at the beautiful vixen as she sucked on a lime and every man’s head swiveled to watch her do it. I palmed the top of the glass like I wanted to palm my dick. The thing was, Lucy wasn’t unaware of her beauty. She knew she was beautiful. She liked it. She used it. It didn’t turn me off, if anything, it made me respect her more for it. Her confidence made my cock hard, and even though I wanted to blind every other man in that bar, I didn’t blame her for embracing her sexuality head on.
Plucking out all those other jackasses’ eyeballs sounded like a good time, though.
Lucy said something to the man, and whatever he said in response made her jaw drop. She shook her head, her hair flying everywhere—hair I wanted to see spread acrossmypillow, not whipping some asshole in the face. I gripped the top of the glass tight in my hand. Could I convince her to wear a wig?
And then all thoughts of wigs disappeared as when that motherfucking cocky asshole, who must have had a death wish even if he didn’t realize it yet, grabbed Lucy’s hair and tugged her head back.
And fuckingkissedher.
Kissed Lucy.
MyLucy.
